Hello everyone. It's us, your hosts Maddie Pelling and Anthony Delaney.

But before we begin the show, we want to ask for a few seconds of your time.

If you're enjoying After Dark, and we love you, if you are, we would love you just a little bit more.

If you could vote for us in the listeners choice category at the British Podcast Awards.

So go to the show notes now, click the link and just then search for After Dark.

Fill in your name and your email and don't forget to confirm. They will send you an email.

You need to confirm. The whole process probably takes about 30 seconds.

If you've already voted, we are so, so grateful. If you haven't, stop what you are doing right now.

Vote for us before you enjoy this show.

It's a cold January night in 1804 and we're walking along a lane in Hammersmith on the edge of London.

Peppered along the road are small houses, cottages, taverns. All are lit up with an orange glow,

their inhabitants gathered round warm halves in attempts to stave off the seasonal chill. Outside it's quiet.

The only sound is our footsteps in the half-frozen slurry.

The wind has an icy edge to it, and everywhere remnants of snowfall gather in doorways and against walls refusing to budge.

We're nearing the parish church. Its squat, medieval form, is enveloped in darkness,

as is the graveyard that surrounds it. Only the stones of the nearest graves can be made out,

the tops of their pale forms just visible as we pass by.

All is silent until a scream rents the air,

and then we see it.

A white, tall figure shrouded in a billowing sheet

rears up over a woman so terrified, she's fallen to the floor amongst the dead.

It raises its arms, almost formless above her. We call out, the being, whatever it is,

...