Y01 E01 - “Silhouette”

Year 1, Part 1

“Silhouette”

The mid-afternoon sun baked down from overhead in a cloudless sky. The sixteen-year-old boy Jack Candace stood at the end of the slope near his parents’ house, bouncing with mischievous excitement. His friend John Kerr ran towards him with a look of equal cunning and anticipation. Following in John’s wake was a girl of similar age, Kirsty O’Brien. The girl struggled to keep up with the two boys.

“Get a move on!”, Jack shouted tauntingly to his friends.

John arrived where Jack was waiting and stumbled to the ground, exhausted from running, and drowned in the heat of summer. The sun’s magnificence bounced off the black tarmac road and scorched John’s hands as he rested on the floor. The three friends had spent the last hour running around the estate of Guest Veil, running and hiding. Jack had just dared the other two to enter the Dark Woods, which lay at the south of the housing estate, and a place that their respective parents had all warned them on many occasions through the years not to enter alone. Until now, it had never occurred to the friends to question this rule or break it.

“So I guess I win then?!” laughed Jack, pointing to the Woods in the distance but well within visual range.

“You had a head start you wank-!”, Kirsty started, wiping beads of sweat from her brow with the pink sweatband she wore on her wrist. If it was pink, the chances were that Kirsty owned it.

“Ha, yeah well I bet you still won’t go in there!”, John said, cutting Kirsty off. The boy pulled the red replica football shirt he was wearing half way up his chest – partly to cool himself down, and partly to display his toned stomach to Kirsty. She didn’t pay any attention.

“Wanna bet?” replied Jack with a smirk. He too wore a red football shirt, but not of the same club that John supported.

“I’m not going in there!”, Kirsty complained. She was an attractive girl, with long brown hair and light blue eyes.

“Wimp!”, Jack taunted.

“Me and Jack have been in there before, Kirsty!”, John encouraged.

“Really?”

“Yeah!” Jack said, “well, a few steps in. I threw a ball in there for the dog years ago.”

“And you went in afterwards??”, Kirsty stood with her hands on her hips, legs apart, totally incredulous to Jack’s claim. John sat admiring Kirsty’s legs with no subtlety.

“Well, I went in with my dad”, Jack replied, backtracking. “Never did find that bastard ball.”

Kirsty tilted her head and raised her eyebrows.

“Come on, it’s the middle of the day, what could go wrong!” Jack replied. “I’m going anyway!”

“I’ve heard all sorts of stories”, Kirsty said, “my dad reckons that druggies and people like that go in there. And my mum just thinks it’s haunted! So if you wanna go all Derek Acorah on that place, be my guest!”

Jack turned and started walking towards the woods without a word. He turned around with a smile and waved for his friends to follow. John leaped up off the floor and faced towards Jack. Kirsty walked slowly in Jack’s direction and past John. As she did so, John pinched her backside, then ran off towards Jack.

“Hey, perv!” Kirsty shouted.

John laughed wickedly and joined Jack.

“At least it’ll be cool in there!” John said, again pulling at the sweat-ridden tee shirt around his neck, and signalling at the woods.

The three friends now approached the threshold of the woods. A small wooden sign stood in the way of a beaten path that allowed entrance. The sign read Dark Woods.

The Dark Woods were approximately half a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide with unusually high trees. The wood lay between several housing estates, and there were many small beaten paths running through the wood that connected the estates together. There was never litter in or nearby the Dark Woods.

Jack chuckled to himself and walked past the sign, and tiptoed his way across the soft and dead ground, over several large stone and prickly bushes, and then jumped onto the black floor beyond. He breathed in deeply, savouring the cooler air that contrasted to the stagnant heat outside. He turned to face his friends with another grin of satisfaction.

“See?” he said. “It’s just a bunch of trees!”

John followed with pace.

“Nuh-uh”, Kirsty shook her head. “I’ll wait here!”

John and Jack didn’t bother trying to convince her anymore.

“Let’s walk to Oakdale and then out and back along the path to where Kirsty is”, suggested Jack. He referred to another housing estate not far away where his friends Fray and Matthew lived.

“Cool”, replied John.

“Back in a sec, Kirst”, Jack said, not looking back.

The boys made their way through the woods, heading further south, jumping over fallen trees and rocks.

“It is really cool in here isn’t it? You wouldn’t think it was scorching outside.” Jack noted, “look!” He pointed up to the tops of the trees overhead. The huge wooden sentinels were densely leaved and shut out most of the sun. Even in the small gaps between the trees, the sky beyond looked dimmer than usual. “There’s hardly any light coming through at all!”

They continued south until John’s attention was caught by something. He stopped moving.

“What’s up?” Jack asked, staring at his friend who stood motionless and looking to his left, to the east, deeper into the woods.

“Do you hear that?” John asked. “Like a crackling sort of noise coming from over there.” John waved his finger in the general direction that the sound seemed to be emanating from.

Jack walked closer to John and stood still, holding his breath. He closed his eyes to accentuate his concentration on what he could hear. The air was fairly still, and not a bird could be heard in the sky. Intermittently, the tops of the trees overhead swooshed.

“I can hear it now”, Jack said, opening his eyes and looking in the direction of the sound. “And look, there was a flash.”

“It must be the sunlight off something reflective in here”, said John.

“Let’s go and have a look!” Jack said enthusiastically.

He started off in the general direction of the noise. The two friends walked for two minutes, until the noise reached its loudest level.

“It must be around here somewhere”, said Jack.

They stood near a wide natural chasm in the ground, over which a long stone bridge ran. There were tall trees on the other side of the chasm, but the ground on the near side was relatively flat with only a few sparse bushes around. The floor was muddy. In the chasm below, some water trickled.

The noise they heard seemed to be emanating from under the bridge. The sound resembled electric sparking, as if static charges shot out through the air, providing a popping and crackling sound. The light level reached its lowest point here in the woods, and allowed the display of flashing to be seen coming from under the bridge. John and Jack moved further along the edge of the chasm, looking to their right and crouching to inspect under the bridge.

“Could it be an electrical cable?” asked John, “maybe it’s been exposed somehow and it’s sparking?”

Jack stood at the edge of the chasm and jumped down into it. It was about ten foot deep, but Jack leaped onto a small ledge and then onto the base of the chasm, straddling the small stream in the centre. He stood directly facing the underneath of the stone bridge.

“Can you see anything?” John asked.

“Nothing that you can’t see”, Jack replied.

The boys exchanged a look of great confusion.

“Maybe it’s haunted after all!”, John joked.

Now underneath the bridge, the air itself started to flash, and a small glowing electrical bubble hovered in midair. From a tiny pinpoint, it slowly increased in size and intensity, lashing out brilliant azure and fantastic purple flashes of energy in random directions.

John backed away, and Jack started to scale the chasm. John extended a hand and dragged his friend up. They both ran to what they considered a safe distance, but still within sight of the bridge’s underside.

“What the hell is that?!”, exclaimed Jack. “It must be a kind of atmospheric disturbance.”

“Doesn’t look like any tornado or storm I’ve ever seen!”, John said doubtfully. “Maybe it’s static electricity?”

“We should get a camera”, suggested Jack.

“Kirsty has one of her phone”, replied John. “I know, coz she had it tucked into her knickers.”

“Is that all you think about?”, Jack shook his head.

John shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and smiled.

“Come on, let’s go get her camera!”, he added. “This could be on the news tonight!”

The two friends started off in the direction of Kirsty near the entrance to the woods. Natural barriers forced them to run past the disturbance however, and as they did, several beams of beautiful intense light and energy of all colours blasted out in a dozen random directions, two of which struck the boys. The energy waves knocked the pair of their feet and sent them hurtling in opposite directions. Sparks of energy ran through John’s torso and limbs, and Jack’s head was struck by a powerful discharge. Both boys were left with unearthly flashes and glows of blue and purple pulsing through whichever part of their bodiies had been impacted the most by the freakish disturbance.

John was the first to rouse himself and get to his feet, dusting his clothes off. He inspected himself for damage, but discovered only two grazed knees and sore hands. He saw Jack still lying on the ground. Jack was face up, so John could see he was conscious, but Jack looked dazed and confused. He went and crouched alongside his friend.

“You ok mate?” he asked.

Jack blinked heavily, and put his hands to his head, rubbing his temples.

“Yeah, I think so”, Jack replied, extending a hand so that John could help him up. Jack stood up, but staggered slightly, and lowered his head with his hands on his knees as if trying to catch his breath. “My head feels funny.”

“It looks pretty odd too”, mocked John.

Jack didn’t acknowledge the insult, but stood up fully and started walking back the way they’d came. John followed a step behind, eyeing his friend curiously to make sure Jack was okay.

Just as they left the vicinity of the anomaly, two final blasts of energy shot forth and the strange disturbance disappeared inside itself. The blasts hit a tree overhead in two places, snapping two large branches clean off, which dropped with speed onto Jack and John below. The first branch came first, and John stepped quickly out of the way and tried to knock it aside. The branch sprung away is if it had impacted a trampoline. The second one now followed, and neither boy had time to step aside. Jack closed his eyes and looked away, merely extending a token arm out for shelter. John tried to catch it as best he could, wincing with fearful anticipation.

The boys opened their eyes simultaneously, and fell speechless. John held one end of this heavy long branch in both arms above his head. The other end was supported above Jack’s outstretched arm by – nothing! The branch floated in midair over Jack. As Jack flexed and slightly moved the muscles in his hand, he could feel the branch. But not in his hand, as he couldn’t detect the texture or temperature of it, he felt it as a weight in his mind. It was as if invisible ribbons flowed from his brain and wrapped themselves around the log. By adjusting his concentration and feeling the bough in his mind, he could manipulate its movement and position. But the weight grew heavy very quickly, and once Jack lowered his arm he found it even harder to control the branch. He stepped aside, and let it go with a thought. This end dropped towards the ground, but John’s grip stopped the branch collapsing altogether. Instead, John strained his muscles and spun the branch around, hurling it in the other direction, where he now faced.

Jack stared after the hurtled bough, and then met John’s gaze when he finally turned around. The boys laughed, then smiled, then scratched their heads.

“What the f…”, John trailed his own sentence off into silence.

Totally lacking the words to describe the events, and in disbelief as though nothing had happened, they boys started to walk silently towards the exit.

Finally they reached the entrance to the woods, but where Kirsty should have been stood waiting, they saw no one. As they exited, they now saw Kirsty, but she was lay on the floor with slight sparks of unusual energy flashing around her head. As the boys ran to kneel next to her, the sparks disappeared.

“Kirsty, you ok?”, Jack asked.

The girl opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Jack. He was cute, she thought. Could do with a bit of stubble, or even being able to shave, but he was cute. Kirsty didn’t usually go for boyish good looks, but all of sudden, Jack seemed attractive to her, something she had never considered before. She’d known of him for years in school but never got to befriend him until recently.

John helped Kirsty up.

“You ok O’Brien?”, John asked, noticing that Kirsty hadn’t answered Jack’s question.

“Yeah I’m cool”, she replied, still maintaining eye contact with Jack. Jack looked away, and found he couldn’t return her gaze. There was something in it that made him shy. “I was stood here, and about five minutes ago I was hit by something. I don’t remember what it was.”

“Same thing happened to us!” said Jack. “We were in the woods and something hit us too. Like a lightning bolt. It came from, urm…”

“Yeah, it came from something in the woods”, John picked up Jack’s sentence. “There was a, urm, a thing. I, can’t remember now!”

“Neither can I”, said Jack, “how bloody annoying is that?! It was…”

He waved his hand trying to jog his memory, but couldn’t recall the incident.

The three friends turned and faced the Dark Woods, looking deep into them as far as the eye could say, as if demanding an explanation. Now Jack spoke again, slowly.

“I just don’t remember…”

Three years and seven months later

“Is she coming?”, asked Jack.

The nineteen-year-old stood in the middle of the wide main road outside his house. He breathed in deeply, savouring the fresh sharpness of the air. He looked up, and across the bluey-black waterless sea adorned with stars. He noted to himself the more familiar constellations.

It was a cold January night, and the waxing gibbous moon bathed the small industrial English town of Riverside in milky white light.

Despite the frostiness in the air, there was no wind, and the barren trees that were interspersed around Guest Veil loomed high and menacing; huge black claws thrust out toward the moonlit sky.

Feeling the cold a little more as he stood still, Jack fixed the black scarf around his neck to cover every possible inlet for the cold, and plunged his hands as deep as possible into the pockets of his long black coat. Next to him stood John, who as usual, was dressed more casually than Jack.

“Should be any hour now”, John replied.

“Her middle name should be diuretic!”, said Jack. “Kirsty Diuretic O’Brien – has a certain ring to it.

“She’s one of those great unsolved mysteries” John replied, “You know, like why does that man with the annoying voice do the trailer for every movie? And how does San Miguel manage to sell when it tastes like urine? Why couldn’t FRIENDS end after its fifth season? And why does Kirsty take fifteen minutes with every toilet visit?”

“She must have a bladder like a peanut”, Jack said, amused by his own comment. “Here she comes now.”

The noise of heels could be heard, clicking rapidly, conjuring up the image of the young lady shuffling yet trying to retain as much grace as possible. From around the corner that led to Jack’s house, Kirsty appeared. Jack took in as much of her as possible without being obvious. The young lady was several inches shorter than him and was dressed very fashionably as always. Jack tried to hide how attractive he found her.

“Sorry, did we keep you?” said John, feigning sincerity.

“What took you so long?” asked Jack, “did you have trouble finding it??”

“Yeah that’s it exactly – now I know how you must feel”, retorted Kirsty, her parlance oscillated between delicate and feminine at one moment to frank and somewhat abrasive the next. She looked around. “Wow, look at the moonlight everywhere!”

“Yeah, a power cut – well sexy”, replied Jack.

“I think it’s romantic actually”, quipped John, “it’s a good job you came along; I was starting to get frisky with Jack.”

The three friends faced down the road on the slope, and began to slowly walk.

“You’re not my type”, Jack joked. “I go for blondes”.

“Really?” asked Kirsty, the 19-year old immediately winced at her transparency. Jack smiled to himself – his comment had had the desired effect!

“Nah”, Jack responded, as nonchalantly as possible, retrieving the mobile phone from his pocket to add to the casualness of his tone. “Depends on the person obviously, I’m not going to turn down a hot girl just because of her hair colour!” He pressed several buttons and then returned the phone to his pocket.

“Or guy…” interrupted John.

“It’s not gonna happen John!”, Jack replied.

“No fair”, retorted John, feigning sincerity, “well, at least I haven’t got a girl’s name!”

“What time did Matt and Fray say they were getting to the Woodside for?” asked Kirsty, before Jack to respond to John’s taunt.

The Woodside was a large old English pub just beyond Guest Veil and near the Dark Woods. Like the Woods, it lay in the centre of several housing estates in the area. The nearest estate to it was Oakdale.

The road the group were walking down ended shortly ahead, and a small path led off under a stone bridge, and beyond that lay The Woodside. The footpath ran alongside a fairly large wood. As they approached the end of the road, they passed John’s house on the right. A repetitive beat could be heard coming from the house.

“Who’s partying in yours?” asked Jack to John.

“Oh, that time!” said Kirsty, “excellent, thanks.”

“Sorry!”, said Jack “they said they were getting there at eight to get seats.”

“It’s Sarah”, said John, answering Jack’s question. “She’s got some friends around and they’re having a house party.”

“Ah house parties”, mused Jack, “the music, the secret kissing, the drinking…those were the days!”

“Calm down old man”, joked Kirsty.

“Hey, I’m not eighteen anymore!” Jack exclaimed.

“You’re nineteen” stated John.

“And you’re older than me missy!”, Jack retorted to Kirsty.

“Only by a few months”, Kirsty replied quickly.

“I’m all partied out after New Year’s anyway”, explained Jack.

“How old is your Sarah now John?” asked Kirsty.

“Sixteen”, answered John. “Just turned. Well, at the start of December.”

After a few minutes the group had reached the small path near the woods. Kirsty made an observation.

“Hard to believe that sign has stood all this time without being smashed or having graffiti on it.”

She was referring to a small wooden signpost just off the path that stood in front of the wood. It read Dark Woods.

“Nobody hangs around here long enough to do anything to it”, suggested John.

The ground was hard and black, and the trees stretched almost endlessly in the night. The moon which had penetrated the clear darkness minutes earlier could not seem to illuminate the wood, despite the leafless trees. The trees themselves were dark yet not rotten, as though some ethereal soot had been washing against them for eons. An occasional noise and eerie whistle could be heard coming from the blackness beyond. Though not densely packed together, it was as though the trees themselves conspired to bind blackness between each other, and shut out the light. Even in the middle of the day, the wood was never fully lit. Now, at night, the silhouettes of trees, bushes, and rocks could just be observed; a colourless depthless horizon of black. Now and again a click, a sigh from the wind, a faint breath or grunt of something inhuman, whispered out from the wood.

“I never get used to this place”, muttered John as they passed by, an air of contempt in his voice.

“Hmmm”, Jack responded, appreciating the meaning of John’s words.

The mood changed, the jocularity gone, silence fell upon the group as they continued walking. Suddenly, a horrifying cry shot out through the woods and disturbed the still night.

“What the f-”

“It came from the woods!” exclaimed Kirsty, cutting off John’s sentence.

The three friends looked at each other in astonishment and trepidation, each waiting for one of the others to say something.

“We’re going to have to go in”, Jack finally said reluctantly, turning to his friends. A moment later he and John moved off quickly in to the night.

“My boots!” moaned Kirsty, as she grudgingly followed.

* * * * * *

Fray Cohen leaned against the bar in the Woodside pub, positioning his arms to look as casual as possible whilst avoiding a wet patch on the wooden bar that he tried to convince himself was only beer.

The nineteen year old surveyed his surroundings with customary disinterest. He stood in the main central area of the pub across from the dancefloor and DJ box which was positioned on a stage. The stage was just large enough to hold a small band, although none was playing this particular night. Instead, a small middle-age man stood behind the DJ box with earphones on, taking more pleasure in his choice of music than probably anybody else in the pub, a fact that was demonstrated by the man jiggling away to his own beat.

Farther ahead of Fray was a smaller section of the Woodside that housed a pool table and large screen television. No matter what the day or time of day, this television always seemed to have a football match on it.

He looked to the right as two girls in their mid-twenties coasted past, the younger of which glanced over her friend’s shoulder to return Fray’s interested gaze. Fray was a good looking young man, although frequently described by even his friends as “a total bastard at times”. Fray continued to eye the ladies until they sat down at their destination; a small table in another area of the pub whose walls were lined were books.

Behind him was a large section with seats and couches against the wall on all three sides. This section was set higher up than the rest of the pub, with a small set of steps leading up to it.

The Woodside was almost full, with the noise of talk and laughter almost drowning out the music blaring from the DJ box. Fray had been waiting to be served for about five minutes. He looked around to the more elevated section of the pub behind him, and saw his friend Matthew sitting patiently, beerless, at a table. They exchanged a knowing roll of the eyeballs at the delay.

“What’ll it be love?” asked the barmaid, a short plump woman in her mid forties. Fray resisted the urge to say ‘midnight, before long!”.

“Two pints of lager and a pack-” he cut himself off, his accent not out of place in Riverside but betraying his upbringing in the city of Chester not far away, “yeah just two pints of Carlsberg please.”

The barmaid stepped over to the tap and filled two pints up then returned, placing both drinks in the pool of liquid Fray had been scrutinising earlier. He frowned disapprovingly.

“Four eighty love” stated the barmaid.

“Robbing bastards” muttered Fray under his breath as he handed over a five pound note and walked off, pints in hands. He put two steps together when he collided with a young woman, spilling some of the pints onto the floor. She calmly and quickly moved her foot out of the way without even looking down.

“Oh bollocks” said Fray, looking up to make eye contact with the woman.

She was in her early to mid-twenties, with long straight black hair down to her chest, and was quite pale. Fray’s attention was drawn immediately to her eyes, bright and unusual in colour – they appeared purple. She was slim, and had a good figure. As much as what appearances alone could portray, she seemed to be intelligent and mature. There was not a mark on her immaculate complexion, and she wore some eye makeup.

“I’m sorry”, she said.

“It’s ok, I wasn’t looking where I was going” said Fray, apologising to the woman. “You ok?”

“Yes”, the woman replied, “I was just looking for…something.”

“Well if it’s a drink from the bar I’d go somewhere else if I were you”, joked Fray.

“I like you too”, the girl said, her attention distracted.

“Wow, I am really obvious huh? Yeah you’re really hot”, replied Fray, “would you like a drink?”

“I meant the band”, the girl replied, drawing Fray’s attention to the music from the DJ box behind Fray. “The band U2.”

“Oh”, Fray smiled ironically, “I wish I was stuck in a moment.”

The girl smiled in appreciation of the joke, but her attention was still not on Fray. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. I need to find someone.” She looked around behind Fray towards the exit in the other direction.

“Ok”, said Fray, “well, it was nice to embarrass myself in front of you.”

The girl smiled, almost sadly, and moved past Fray towards the exit.

Fray followed her with his eyes and paused briefly even after she made her way through the large wooden doors across the pub. He then walked along the dance-floor and up the steps to join Matthew on their table. They both sat on the same side, against the wall, facing out to the rest of the Woodside.

“Get lost did you?” asked Matthew sarcastically. The young man who was slightly younger than Fray brushed the blond hair out of his face. He wasn’t as tall as Fray, nor as well-built. He had a boy-band look about him – a fact that was commented on from time to time by his friends.

“Did you see that?” replied Fray. “She was, like, wow. That’s the nicest bird I’ve chatted up in…well, hours!”

“Lucky lucky girl” replied Matthew, tonelessly.

“I think she might come back later. She was in a rush I think”, said Fray.

“What did you say to her?” Matthew asked.

“What, you want me to let you in on my techniques??”, exclaimed Fray. “All I can say mate is to play it cool and don’t say anything stupid and go from there.”

“Ah”, Matthew said. “When you say it, it sounds so simple.”

Fray smiled and winked knowingly.

Matthew was about to take another drink from his when the mobile phone sat on the table beeped. He opened up the text message. The timestamp was 8:15.

“It’s from Jack Woah…”

* * * * *

Jack, John, and Kirsty moved slowly through the Dark Woods, trying to avoid stumbling on unseen obstacles below.

“We need a torch”, said John. “You can get them on eBay really cheaply.”

“I’ll be putting my money towards a new pair of shoes”, said Kirsty, looking dejectedly at her feet and at her surroundings.

“Urm, hello people?”, said Jack, “horrible scream came from somewhere in here! Try and focus?”

“Can’t focus when I can’t see anything”, muttered Kirsty.

“Let your eyes adjust to the darkness”, suggested Jack. “Close your eyes for ten seconds then open them again.”

The three friends walked a little farther, Jack in front. Suddenly there was a crash, the rustle of dead leaves, and a crack of twigs, as Kirsty fell to the floor.

“I didn’t mean keep walking with your eyes closed, Kirst”, said Jack without looking back. He resisted every urge to rush over and help her up.

“Benito Mussolini called, guys”, said Kirsty as she got back to her feet, “he wants to know why you weren’t as his Chivalry and Etiquette lecture last night.”

“Over there!” shouted Jack as he ran forward to where a huge tree lay horizontally in the woods. Protruding over the top of the tree was a hand. Jack, John, and Kirsty quickly made their way to the tree, and behind it was the body of a man. The body was covered in blood and badly mutilated, as if some wild animal had ripped it to pieces. John got his mobile phone out and dialled 999.

“I can barely get reception”, he said. “I swear these trees are made out of metal.”

“Oh my god!”, exclaimed Kirsty, the nausea apparent in her voice, “what could have done this?”

“I’m guessing”, started Jack, “- that”, pointing ahead of them.

Kirsty let out a muted scream.

“Fuck me”, John gasped.

Jack said nothing, but terror filled his veins like a poison.

There stood a monstrous black bipedal figure. Two huge arms hung down, and instead of hands the creature had fierce claws that it moved slowly about as if sampling the air. It had no neck, but a large head and big dark soulless eyes. Its muzzle ran from its inhuman and grotesque head and was filled with long cruel teeth that it bared wickedly whilst looking at the three friends. Its body was black, but the outline of ribs and muscles could be seen. It was apparently naked, but covered in an odourless viscous slime that dripped over part of its monstrous physique. It was approximately seven foot in height. It snarled and sneered as it moved slowly towards the group, eyeing them with a passionless thoughtless disregard, like a predator examining what it considered to be its next meal and nothing more. As it moved closer it picked up speed. The distance that lay between them of about twenty metres was covered in no time.

Immediately Jack shot his hand out to the floor nearby, and a thick heavy branch shook slightly and then flew into his hand. John moved alongside his friend and braced himself. The creature launched at Jack but he used the branch to deflect the impact of the creature’s claws, one of which plunged into the wood and became stuck. Jack was thrown back onto the floor and breathed heavily as he landed with force. The creature turned and threw a punch toward John, who raised his own arm and blocked it. The creature stopped suddenly, momentarily, as if surprised its strength had been countered. This gave John the time to raise his leg and launch it with all his might into the creature’s mid-rift, sending it flying backwards, crashing into several branches which broke instantly under the monster’s weight.

As the creature struggled to get to its feet, Jack, still lying painfully on the floor, concentrated on several large rocks nearby and willed them off the floor. The rocks obeyed and flew forward, hitting the entity. It gave a shriek of anger but continued to move, although slowly now and awkwardly. Then it began to shake and dropped to its knees.

Jack picked himself up and took Kirsty by the hand, moving forward to where John stood, keeping Kirsty behind the two of them.

The creature shook violently and began to splutter, lowering its repulsive head and coughing up yellow fluid. Its head now rose, looking at the three friends with panic and desperation in its eyes, yet that of animal. Its claws now moved to its chest, as if it were choking, struggling to breathe. Finally, it collapsed and fell down lifeless to the dirt.

“I’ve seen some creatures around here before”, said John, “but nothing like that.”

“Call 999”, said Jack. John did so.

Just as John finished his conversation to the emergency services, the dead creature on the floor burst into flames and was reduced to dust within seconds.

Jack got his mobile phone out and brought up Matthew Pryde’s name in his phonebook. He entered a brief text message describing what had happened and sent it. The timestamp on the message was 8:15.

Kirsty moved toward the body of the man. Through the ripped clothes she could make out a tattoo on his shoulder blade. It was a simple black circle. She moved her hands to the tattoo, as if it was calling to her. She ran her fingers over it; it felt rough. Kirsty slowly stood back up, a puzzled look on her face. She sensed something, a presence, and looked over her shoulder. Through the darkness another shape appeared moving toward her.

“Guys”, she said, clicking her fingers. John and Jack turned around to face the same direction as Kirsty. The noise of the figure moving toward them was more telling than its shape. It moved softly, deliberately, humanly.

“Hello?” said John loudly into the night.

The figure grew closer and became fully visible. It was a female, a girl in her early to mid wenties, pale looking with black hair. Good looking, with enchanting eyes. She walked up to the three friends and saw the body on the floor, immediately ignoring them and squatting alongside it. She turned the body half over to reveal the face.

“I don’t think you should disturb the body”, said Jack. “Do you know him?”

The woman looked up at Jack with a glare at his first remark, as if the suggestion was an insult in itself, and then said “I knew him. For a long time. Did you see what did this?”

Kirsty and John looked at each other, as if silently deciding how to answer. Jack turned to face the woman who was still crouching beside the body.

“Yes. But, urm, you probably wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”

“You’d be surprised what I’d believe”, she replied. “Where did it go?”

Kirsty and John looked at each other, confused at her choice of words; as if she’d already surmised that an unusual entity of some kind was responsible.

“It didn’t go anywhere” replied Jack, “It – it burned to flames all by itself, right there.” He pointed several metres away to the black ash on the floor. “And then turned to dust. We didn’t see it happen to your friend. We heard a scream and then ran in here. Just as we found the body the thing attacked us.”

“It, attacked you?” the girl replied, standing up and facing Jack square on. Her gaze made Jack uncomfortable, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “And you’re still here?” She stressed every word of this question. “How could you possible survive what did this?” She glanced at the body.

“We just, did”, Jack said plainly. “You wouldn’t, urm-“

“What? Wouldn’t believe you?” the girl cut Jack off.

She looked at the three of them, and then at the body, her eyes now welling up. She sighed as if frustrated and annoyed with the friends, and then walked passed them.

“Doesn’t she have to stay with it being a crime scene like?” said Kirsty, turning to the boys. John shrugged his shoulders. Jack silently watched the girl disappear into the night.

Now, piercing the darkness came the flash of red and blue lights a short distance away, signalling the arrival of an ambulance and police car. As the three friends exited the woods walking towards the light, they saw Matthew and Fray walking briskly along the footpath to join them.

“This better be good”, shouted Fray as both groups got into range of each other. “I sacrificed a perfectly good pint for this!”

* * * * *

Jack lay on his bed looking across his room to the large window – outside he could see the tall tree that stood on the front garden of his house. His bedroom was dark, save for a blue lamp on his bedside table that was filling the room with a relaxing glow.

The police had interviewed Jack and the four of his friends with regard to the body, and how they happened to come across it. Fortunately, Jack reasoned, there was no proof of their encounter with the creature that had apparently killed the man, and therefore no need to explain how they defeated it. Or even more inexplicably, what had happened to the creature once it had seemingly asphyxiated.

Jack had explained that they heard the scream, which was true. And that they ran to find the man and discovered the body lying dead in the ground, which was true. When the police asked if the friends had any idea what killed the man, Jack replied that it must have been something big and dreadful, which was also true. When the officer asked if they did actually see it, Jack replied no, which was false. Answering yes would have opened up too many questions that Jack wasn’t prepared to answer, as the telekinetic powers he possessed and the abnormal strength that John had, were a secret to all, except the friends that had met this night.

Jack played the events of earlier back in his head several times, and couldn’t envisage any truthful answers that would avoid divulging the secrets the friends possessed. He kept seeing the image of the mutilated body in his mind. The lower torso was gashed open, and Jack fancied he could see spinal cord and organs amidst the sea of blood. The experience, the fight, the interview with the police, had destroyed the friends’ mood for an enjoyable evening in the pub. All except Fray that is, who insisted on going back to the Woodside, dragging Matthew back with him.

After coming home, Jack had to explain to his parents what exactly had happened. His younger sister of sixteen, Megan, was also there.

This wasn’t the first time Jack had encountered an unusual creature in the vicinity of his house, but such events were not common either. The Dark Woods were infamous for being dangerous and fearsome, yet people avoided the subject as much as possible. The Woods were the perfect hiding ground for anything that wanted to retreat to the shadows. And there were plenty of Unknowns and Things in Riverside.

Jack heard a beep. It was his mobile phone was lay on the bed next to him. It was a text message from Kirsty.

“You ok?” it read.

Jack slowly got off his bed and stood up, moving to the window. As he looked out to his left across the road, he saw Kirsty’s house. The blind on her bedroom window was down but the light was on. He thought about what it would be like to be in her bedroom, again. He imagined being in her bed, next to her, feeling her naked body next to his; running his fingers through her hairr kissing her. His daydream took him away, until another text message brought him back:

“Fine ignore me then you spaz!”

Jack smiled. He texted Kirsty back as quickly as he could, telling her that he was fine and asking how she was.

He looked out of the window again. He couldn’t see the Dark Woods, for they lay behind his house which faced north. Once again his mind wandered back in time to the body, and to the creature, and to the woman that appeared from nowhere and was apparently connected to the murdered man. Jack had mentioned her to the police. Of all the mysteries surrounding this event, she seemed the biggest, and least unpleasant.

Jack walked over and stood in front of his wardrobe, the wooden floorboards under his feet creaking. He felt restless and impatient, yet sombre and melancholy. He picked up his shoes from the pile in which he’d discarded them earlier and slipped them on. He opened the door to his bedroom carefully and listened out. He could hear the television downstairs and the sound of his family talking. He walked across the landing, down the spiral staircase and into the hall, opening the front door.

“I’m just nipping to John’s”, he shouted. He heard some non-descript noise of acknowledgment in return. If there was anything else to hear, he didn’t catch it as he closed the door behind him.

Jack walked out onto the road, past the tree that stood on his front garden and around the large fence that separated the garden from the road on the other side. He walked onto the main road and began to walk down the slope, heading south, toward the Dark Woods. The bright moon was directly overhead now. Due to a localised power failure, the street lights in Guest Veil were not functioning. The air was still and cold, and Jack’s breath escaped like evanescent grey ghosts that died in the night. He looked behind himself and to the right. The blind in Kirsty’s bedroom was still down, but there was no light coming from the room now. He continued walking forward, checking his phone – Kirsty hadn’t replied. He passed John’s house. The music they had heard earlier was still audible.

“Not even a gruesome murder could stop a teenager’s party”, mused Jack to himself. “Having said that, if I hear one more 50 Cent track I might do some killing of my own”.

At the bottom of the road, Jack could see the Dark Woods in the distance. There was police tape attached to a few large trees. A small metal stand with a sign read “Police Incident Here”. There were no police cars or coroner vans to be seen, but Jack could hear talking coming from the blackness, and assumed that there were still investigators on the scene. He continued walking along the footpath that would eventually split into two. The path to the left led to Oakdale, and the path to the right led under the bridge to the Woodside pub. Jack took the path to the left and followed it for a few minutes. In front of the housing estate he was approaching, there was a small detached bungalow. It was old but not in disrepair. Jack had known of this small home ever since he’d lived in Guest Veil, but he’d never seen it occupied, which it now seemed to be. He heard the sound of heels clicking against the concrete path and turned around. There stood the mysterious young lady from earlier.

“Hi”, said Jack, frowning internally at the most unoriginal of greetings.

“You again”, the girl replied.

“Are you ok?” Jack asked, recalling that despite her frosty countenance she had recently lost a friend.

“I’ve been better”, she replied. “What are you doing here, wandering about on your own near the woods? Especially after everything that’s happened? Trying to be a hero?”

Jack became annoyed. “No”, he snapped back. “I – I just felt like getting out of the house. I felt like walking here for some reason.”

The girl looked around. “Hmmm, the Dark Woods in Riverside after dark. Not exactly Britain’s number one holiday destination.”

“What are you doing here?” demanded Jack.

The girl was visibly taken back by the directness of the question, as if she never expected to be challenged herself. “Who wants to know?” she asked.

“You show me yours I’ll show you mine”, said Jack, wishing he would have phrased that sentence differently.

“I’m not showing you anything of mine”, the girl replied.

“I mean, I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours?” said Jack, blessing the poor lighting for concealing his embarrassment. “I’m Jack Candace. I live about five minutes away. Me and my friends were walking to the Woodside a few hours ago when we heard a scream, and ran into the woods and that’s where we found that body.”

“Candace, as in the girl’s name?”

“No, not like the girl’s name!” Jack said, “It’s just my surname!” There was silence for an uncomfortable number of seconds. “Sooooo, what’s your name?”

“Tell me how you defeated the creature that killed my friend”, the girl said, “and I’ll tell you who I am.”

Jack smiled, and sighed with a resigned look on his face. “What the hell”, he declared, then looked around at the floor and saw a rock lying on the ground. He opened his hand to a flat palm. The rock shook and then slowly began to rise off the floor to the level of Jack’s hand. He moved his palm under it and clasped a fist around it. Looking up at the girl, he saw a look of astonishment and incredulity on her face. He smiled again, and dropped the rock to the floor. Looking around again, he noticed a small smooth black pebble, almost perfectly round. After levitating the pebble to his palm, he tossed it to the girl. She caught it effortlessly with lightning reflexes.

“My name’s Violet”, the girl replied, putting the pebble into a pocket in her jeans, and pulled a small knife from a concealed pouch. She ran the blade across her hand, drawing blood easily. She raised her hand to show the wound to Jack. He looked at her like she was crazy. She then wiped the blood from her hand onto her jeans and showed her palm again to Jack. The blood had gone, and the wound had sealed already although a mark was visible.

“I can’t believe you did that”, said Jack.

“It’s ok, it’ll wash out”, Violet replied, looking at the bloodstain on her jeans.

“No, I mean your hand”, Jack replied, looking up and making eye contact with her. Violet looked back at him. He didn’t want to look away.

“I guess we have a lot to talk about”, she said.

* * * * *

Fray and Matthew exited the Woodside through the large wooden doors. The pub was almost empty, and the boys stepped out into the bitter chill of winter.

“Well that was a good night”, declared Fray. “And that’s the most I’ve drunk since…”

“Since this time yesterday?” interrupted Matthew.

“All in all, it was a good night”, Fray continued unabated.

“Yeah – fun, laughs, drinks, and an evisceration”, Matthew added. “A typical Friday night in Riverside. You know this place will probably kill us?”

“Yeah and that’s just the pollution”, retorted Fray, getting his mobile phone from his pocket.

Fray had met a young lady in the Woodside earlier in the evening by using the phenomenal story of the body in the woods to attract attention. Matthew was happy to talk to the young lady’s friends but he could tell they were not particularly interested in him romantically. Matthew had little time for small talk, and this didn’t always help him when talking to strangers, especially girls. He preferred to talk about subjects that mattered to him, otherwise he would usually remain quiet.

The young man started walking along the footpath to their homes in Oakdale.

“Don’t tell me you’re texting her first?”, Matthew asked.

“Don’t be soft”, Fray replied with a silly smile on his face. “I’m just making sure I typed her number in correctly so that when she texts me first, in about ten minutes probably, I’ll know it’s her!”

“Ah”, Matthew declared sarcastically.

“You seemed to be getting on well with her friends?” Fray said.

“Yeah we were having a good political discussion actually”, replied Matthew, “about immigration. Which isn’t easy when you’ve been drinking!”

“How did that go?” asked Fray.

“Well it was going pretty well until someone interrupted the conversation and suggested that all illegal immigrants should be, and I quote: ‘put out to sea and sunk’.”

“Ha, no way”, replied Fray, “that sounds like something I’d say.”

“It was you who said it! I’ve known South Park episodes that are less offensive than you.”

The two walked along the path that ran parallel to the Dark Woods.

“Eugh, I wish there was another way home without walking past that dump”, Matthew said, looking into the Dark Woods. “We should just burn it dow-.”

His sentence was ended prematurely as he tripped over something on the ground. “Who puts a rock in the middle of a path?!” he fumed. “What a wanker.”

They approached the housing estate of Oakdale, where they both lived. The power failure that temporarily afflicted Guest Veil’s street lights hadn’t struck here, and yellow sodium-vapour lamps provided a bright glow. The sound of shuffling feet, scraping against the tidy bricked road could be heard.

A limping businessman came into view, his tie half unfastened and hanging low around his neck. His well-tailored expensive-looking suit had a dust mark on the left knee and the knuckles on his left hand were bloody. The man was panting and looked furious. He was about six feet tall and well built, and in his late thirties or early forties.

“Are you all right?” Matthew asked.

“No”, the man replied, “some bastards have just mugged me. Took my cash.”

“But they didn’t take your wallet”, Fray said, picking it up from the floor nearby.

“I didn’t think we got that kinda scum around here much”, Matthew commented.

“That’s just it, they weren’t chavs”, the businessman replied, “they were actually quite polite. When they first approached me I thought they were just after the time or something! They actually asked for my money, can you believe that?!”

“A polite thief”, said Fray, “that must be a first.”

“Haven’t you heard of the Chancellor of the Exchequer?”, retorted Matthew.

“No, I’m not into Dungeons and Dragons mate.”

Matthew winced and shook his head.

“I’ve got a phone, do you want me to call the police?” Fray offered.

“No, I’ve got mine”, the businessman replied, then stopped in his tracks.

The three men all looked at each other as they shared the exact same thought. “They didn’t take your phone?” Matthew asked, verbalising it.

“No, strange that eh?” the man replied. “Once I refused to hand over my money one of them caught me off guard with a punch. They had my wallet out and the cash whilst I was on the floor. One of them said something about me deserving it; that people like me deserved it. And said it was for a good cause!”

“Did they know you?” asked Matthew. “It sounds like it was personal.”

“No, I don’t know them from Adam!” replied the man. “I don’t see how they could know me or what their problem with me was.”

“They were probably just on drugs mate”, Fray replied.

“You should call the police now”, said Matthew, “at least nothing irreplaceable or any credit cards were taken. How much was in your wallet if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Ninety pound”, the businessman replied. “I’ll call the police now. Where do you lads live?”

“Not far from here”, Matthew replied. “I’m just around the corner, number sixty. He’s sixty-six. What about you?”

“Right here”, the man pointed behind himself to a smart house with a black Mercedes on the drive. The house number was 5. He had regained his composure now and seemed relaxed and thoughtful. Matthew got the impression this was his regular manner. “Anyway I’ll see you lads later.” He made his way toward his house.

“No worries”, Matthew replied, “I’m Matthew anyway, this is Fray. If the police need to ask us any questions that’s fine.”

The businessman leaned forward and shook both their hands. “I’m Leonard”, he introduced himself.

“Have a good night”, Matthew replied.

Fray and Matthew walked off and along the bricked road in the neat and well-kept estate of Oakdale. They heard the clunk of a front door as the man disappeared inside his house.

“That was weird wasn’t it?” asked Matthew.

“Yeah, what kind of a name is Leonard?” Fray replied.

“The mugging was weird!”, Matthew clarified. “Even by Riverside’s standards, this has been one freaky night!”

* * * * *

Earlier that night

Jack and Violet walked to the top of the highest point in Riverside. They had travelled from the Dark Woods to Castle Hill which had taken them twenty minutes. It was now 11pm. On the hill was an old abandoned castle.

At the bottom of Castle Hill was a small village with centuries-old houses that had been refurbished. A long steep north-facing slope led from the village up to the summit. The road was uneven and battered by years of traffic and weather. On the left of the slope as one walked up it was a huge brick wall that separated the large back garden of an affluent household nearby from the road. On the right were three small terraced houses with cars parked outside. Midway up the slope the height of the huge wall was equalled by the elevation of the hill and the wall disappeared into the floor. At this point another even steeper rise ran off to the left, and ran in-between the private property of back gardens on the left and a large detached house to the right. This house belonged to the local vicar and it stood next to a church. The house had a huge blue oak front door and large windows in the upstairs and downstairs. Outside was a sign on a stand which gave the times and days for local sermons. To the right of the hill at this point was an alley that ran steeply all the way down to the bottom of the hill on the other side. The alley was interlaced with solid cumbersome concrete steps. The only lighting came from street lights at the bottom of the hill in the village below, and the moon overhead. On one side of the alley was the wall of the last of the three terraced houses, and on the other was a giant brick wall that kept the wild gardens that surrounded the castle in check. These gardens were really a chaotic mass of thorny bushes and small trees. They were not maintained and had been allowed to grow disorderly all over the unpopulated areas of Castle Hill. There were several foot-trodden paths that ran from the apex to the base, and cut a rugged clearing through the wild growth.

The Castle itself had high stone walls on its perimeter with huge towers in each corner originally used for observation and the firing of ranged weapons. It had a flat grassy courtyard on the other side of the walls, and the interior of the castle was a series of dark cold corridors and dank chambers of many sizes. Riverside had many relics and monuments from ancient times, all of which were officially protected sights by the government. The Castle was such a site, yet there no were barriers to physically stop people entering the ancient landmark. Despite this, the castle was left very much alone. Like the Dark Woods, the unpleasant atmosphere and eerie ambience of the area warded away humans and animals alike.

Artificial lighting at the top of the hill was scarce and weak, and was only provided by several yellow lights dotted along the small footpath that encircled the ancient monstrosity. The misshapen ruins provided vast areas of blackness, and the lofty stone walls on the outside of the dilapidated building prevented any light from penetrating the shadow. In front of the castle were three patches of grass. The first, on the right ran out from the bushes that matted the hill. The second sat directly in front of the castle and was circled by a road; it functioned as a natural roundabout. The third area of green carpeted the rest of the summit and also stretched along to the old church that stood across from the castle. The appearance of the church: small, well-kept, and opulent, was antithetical to the form of the castle. This area of grass itself culminated in a high knoll that allowed anyone standing on top to look out upon the whole of Riverside, and beyond.

It was on this knoll that Jack and Violet now stood. Looking north, a beautiful sea of artificial light was separated by a stretch of deep blackness. This was where the River Maeres lay. Beyond the river to the north was the industrial town of Windsdale. On the near side of the river was Western Riverside. In the night with only the street lights below, no major landmarks could be picked out. Violet looked at her surroundings to the south, bypassing the church and looking beyond to the rest of Riverside, the direction in which Guest Veil and the Dark Woods lay. They were barely visible from this position and distance.

Violet and Jack had spent the short journey discussing Riverside, its features, and its demographic. Jack had attempted to point out several constellations to Violet along the way, but she had finished his sentences and identified all the star formations, including those Jack didn’t know.

After taking a visual sweep of her location, Violet turned to Jack, and then pointed to a wooden bench nearby. They sat down on it, Jack patting it first with his hand to test it for dryness. The bench faced west towards the magnificent vista.

“Beautiful night isn’t it?” asked Jack. “I like it when it’s like this.”

“Most people I’ve met don’t like the winter”, replied Violet.

“Well at least it’s not raining”, said Jack. “It’s clear, and fresh, and dry. I think it’s invigorating really. I like the mist and the moonlight – there’s something almost magical about winter.” Jack flashed a look at Violet, becoming aware of his own choice of words. “And, I urm, like beer and woman!”

“Very butch – well rescued”, Violet replied, then smiled. “Let me guess, is Halloween your favourite holiday?”

“Yeah it is actually”, Jack replied. “You?”

“I like Halloween too”, said Violet, “it’s celebrated better in America though. And when I was in America, I used to love Thanksgiving. And Bastille Day always used to be a great occasion.”

“You’ve been around a bit”, commented Jack, “how old are you?”

“You first”, Violet replied.

“Nineteen”, answered Jack. “But I’m twenty in the summer. Some of my friends are twenty in the next few months!”

“Oh”, Violet replied, “you look younger. I’m not very good guessing peoples’ ages anymore.”

Jack looked oddly at Violet.

“So how long have you been telekinetic?” she asked before Jack could voice his confusion.

“About three and a half years”, said Jack. “It was just after my sixteenth birthday, and it happened in the Dark Woods. My friend and I were struck by some kind of energy, and after that everything changed. I’m not very good at using it though. Most of the time I have little control over it and it takes a lot of effort.”

“You can move objects with the power of your mind”, Violet said out loud, though it wasn’t phrased as a question. “Who knows about this?” Violet asked.

“Well, most of my friends do – the ones you met tonight, that is. And Matthew and Fray. . None of my family though.”

“Why not?” enquired Violet.

“Well John knows because he was there in the Dark Woods when it happened. He got struck by this weird energy, and it seemed to treble his strength. Kirsty was outside the woods at the time. I think something happened to her too, but I don’t think it affected her in the same way as us. As for my family, I can’t tell them because I don’t want to worry them or have them treat me any differently. Also, it would be even harder to keep it a secret if they knew. And if John and I want to live anything like a normal life, we have to keep it a secret.” Jack had a resigned expression on his face. “Matthew and Fray know because they’ve seen me and John having to use our powers. But how it happened is really hazy. I remember this beautiful mystical sort of energy, but that’s it. I don’t know where it came from.”

“So that’s how and John you defeated the creature in Vlarongare? With these abilities?”, Violet stated.

“If you’re going to start making stuff up I’m not telling you any more secrets”, Jack said cheekily.

Violet frowned. “The Woods – that region, used to be called Vlarongare. A long time ago, though. There are stories and legends about the woods that go back longer than you might think.”

Jack took a moment to think on Violet’s words. He had so many questions and wasn’t sure where to start.

“So, what are you?” asked Jack, “you’ve got dark hair, you’re pale, good with the eye-makeup, and can’t be killed. Are you a Marilyn Manson fan??”

“Eugh, no I don’t like Marilyn Manson”, Violet replied. “Now Bono…there’s a man. When he’s not whinging about the world that is.”

Jack looked suspiciously at Violet. “You’re a vampire aren’t you?”

Violet burst out laughing. “No! Vampires don’t exist, Jack. Not the bloodsucking ones anyway.”

“What are you then?” Jack asked.

“I don’t know”, she replied. “Not entirely normal it seems. I can be hurt. I guess I can be killed – although it’s never actually happened, obviously. I think the cells in my body continually regenerate at a very fast rate. It means I can overcome most injuries in no time at all.”

She looked down as if choosing her words carefully.

“Something happened to me years ago: I had an accident and lost my memory. Perhaps if I could remember, I’d known what exactly I am. I had to learn about myself all over again. I didn’t even know my name.”

“Well how did you find out what it was?” asked Jack, “where are your family and friends?”

“I don’t know”, Violet replied. “I don’t know what my name was or who my family are, or were.”

“Did you name yourself then?” Jack asked.

“No. Someone else did”, replied Violet. “A friend. It was a nickname that stuck, because of my eyes. As for my family, this happened when I was…away from home. I’ve never met my family.”

“I’m sorry to hear that”, Jack said, pitying the girl across from him, her cool exterior melting away slowly but surely. “Who was the man who was killed in the woods, if you don’t mind me asking?” said Jack.

“He was a friend. Someone I’d known for a long time. His name was Rayne”, Violet answered. “I’m glad you killed what killed him.”

Violet looked down, visibly despondent. Jack moved his hand forward and tentatively, delicately, brushed the hair out of her face and pushed it to her ear, cupping it slightly.

“Sorry”, Jack apologised, moving his arm away suddenly.

“It’s ok”, Violet replied, as if the notion of impropriety hadn’t occurred to her.

“Do you know what killed him”, asked Jack, “you must have had an idea? The idea of a monster killing him didn’t seem to surprise you. And what were you doing in the woods anyway?” The questions flooded Jack’s mind.

“I was looking for Rayne”, responded Violet, “I warned him about going in, but he wouldn’t wait. He said he had to see for himself; had to discover what was in there.”

“What did you warn him of?”, asked Jack, “what’s the big deal with the Woods?”

“There are things in existence that you don’t know of”, said Violet. “There is more to this world than meets the eye.”

“Are you talking about the supernatural or something?”

“No. Not in the way you mean it”, Violet shook her head slowly. “The old stories tell of different worlds, different places. They overlap with this world from time to time. Rayne believed the legends that tell of beings from these other places.”

“You mean like other dimensions? That seems a little far-fetched”, replied Jack.

“I didn’t believe either until I saw the entities that the ancient books describe. And I saw, other things, that can’t be from this earth. Haven’t you ever wondered why so many abominations creep and skulk in Riverside? Why all these unbelievable things occur? You must know what I’m talking about.”

“I can’t deny that weird things happen”, replied Jack. “What you’ve just said is the stuff of sci-fi. But…it does explain a lot. But, what does this have to do with the Dark Woods?”

Violet shook her head again. “I don’t know. Rayne thought the Woods were connected to these other worlds. Those Woods have stood there for as long as history can show. The earliest stories refer to that land as Vralongare.”

“Sounds like a bad name for a heavy metal band.”

“There’s no one direct translation”, replied Violet, “it means Darkness, Despair, Death, something Otherwordly. Something that doesn’t belong.”

“What are these stories then, and where are they?” Jack asked.

“Rayne stored them in his home, in France. He spent all the time I’d known him translating the manuscripts. They’re the oldest written works in existence.”

“I think the bible scholars might have something to say about that”, Jack replied.

“Not many people know of these writings. And that’s for the best.”

“If you say so.” Jack was not totally convinced by what Violet had said, but he had no reason to believe she was lying.

“Unfortunately, Rayne was the expert on these creatures and the stories of Other Places”, Violet continued. “I came with him to Riverside because he wanted to learn more about the other worlds – for some reason there are more sightings here than anywhere else. And all I know of these matters is what he told me.”

“Tell me more”, asked Jack, looking intently into Violet’s eyes. This time she didn’t look away.

* * * * *

Meanwhile…

Across town in the south-east of Riverside, in a dark old village called The Priory a large number of people gathered in a house. The only lighting was provided by flames on huge candlesticks that were adorned at the perimeter of a large room. All the attendees were hooded and dressed in black cloaks and robes. Some were stood up near the candles talking amongst each other. The rest were sat around a huge wide long oak table.

A cloaked figure at the head of the table stood. This action alone brought the table to silence, and those stood around the room whispered the word ‘Skov’Thrik’ and ceased their conversations, taking a place at the table. The cloaked figure now spoke. The voice was masculine, but slow, deep, and malevolent.

“How did the attack fare?” it asked.

A robed figure from further down the table stood and spoke with a young man’s voice. “It was a success. The target was attacked and resources accrued.”

“Excellent”, the cloaked figure replied, “for the greater good we must continue. This is only the beginning.”

~ by evanescent on March 10, 2008.