Tuesday, 29 November 2011

The Feral Boy

Hey! Another story for you this week - aren't you lucky! I've wanted to write about this for ages but I never got round to it. The idea sprouted from the wreckage of an old supermarket near where I live. I started wondering who might live there, and well, the story just came from there. It's got a twist in the end as well :D I hope you guys enjoy it!

P.S. Its been raining non-stop in Scotland, but on the bright-side, I've got a day off tomorrow! Going to spend it baking and Christmas shopping :D

The Feral Boy

“Why don’t you just go talk to him?”

“I can’t just go talk to him! He’s an Unregistered! He’s feral!”

“Come on, Amelia, we all know the real reason you don’t want to talk to him. Come on. I dare you. No, I triple quadruple dare you! You can’t get out of it now...”

Amelia stood on the pavement and stared out at the abandoned wasteland. The wind whispered in her ear, teasing her to lift her foot, to step across the line, to find the feral boy...

 “Ha! There’s nothing you can do now!”

Amelia glanced up at her friend. Jessica stood across from her, a grin painted across her face.  They were as close as sisters, but sometimes Jessica annoyed her.  She always went too far.

“I can’t talk to him - you aren’t allowed to talk to the Unregistered. It is against the law, Jess!” Amelia took a deep breath. “Section 5.3 of the Skyy Laws and Statutes says ‘The Unregistered, or ‘feral’ as they are sometimes known, are classified as citizens who have failed to sign the agreement of Skyy laws and statutes. They are outlaws and citizens of Skyy must not-”

-“talk to the Unregistered under any circumstances.’ Yeah, I know, I know...” Jessica bounced on the balls of her feet and shrugged. “Who cares about the law? It’s a dare, a bit of fun. It’ll take you two seconds to go talk to him! Look, you can see him from here!”

Amelia squinted. They were standing on what used to be an old warehouse, before it was knocked down. Now all that was left was a pile of rubble, grey and brown, glinting with silver specks of metal.  It was a prime place for the Unregistered to gather - well, it used to be until the cops cleared the place out. Now there was only a single boy roaming the barren plot of land. Amelia could just make out his blurred figure on the horizon, bent in his hunt for scrap metal.

“Can you see him?”

Amelia nodded.

“Well then, on you go!” Jessica pushed Amelia forward, making her stumble over a large chunk of rock.

“Hey! I told you already - I’m not going to talk to him.” Amelia righted herself and crossed her arms.

Jessica frowned. “I’ve talked to a feral before. And she didn’t try bite me or anything.”

Amelia sighed. “I know. You talked to a girl when you were on holiday. But that’s not the point! My mum and dad would kill me!”

 “Too bad. I dared you. You can’t chicken out either.”

“But I don’t want to go!”

“Aw, come on! One little chat won’t hurt!” Jessica whined. “You can dare me afterwards.”

Amelia smiled. She never got to dare Jessica. Her mind started racing with the possibilities.

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Jessica whooped with joy.

“Thank you! I’ll be over here if you need me!”

Amelia smiled and closed her eyes. One foot lifted off the ground and stepped onto the cold, hard clumps of rock. Another foot forward and then another. She could feel Jessica fading away and the boy getting closer. A few more steps and she opened her eyes.

She was a few metres from where she started and the boy was as far away as ever. Amelia whipped her head round to shout at Jessica, but she was gone. The pavement was empty.

Amelia smiled. Jessica always knew when to disappear, when to give Amelia some space. She was good like that. She always knew what to say, what to do, how to react...


Amelia glanced up and her mouth opened in shock. The boy was lying at her feet, a hand pressed to his side. She must have walked farther than she thought.

“Oh! I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?” She reached out to help the boy up but he pushed it away and struggled to his feet.

“Only if standing on me counts as hurting someone.” The boy rubbed himself down, a shower of dust coming off his ragged clothes. He was wearing a pair of tatty jeans and a vest top. It probably was white some time ago, but now it was stained brown with dirt and dust.

The boy glanced up and suddenly tensed. His body became rigid and he backed away, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Brown hair swept along his forehead, hiding his pale blue eyes.

“I don’t want any trouble.”He raised his hands above his head. “I didn’t touch you, ok?”

Amelia creased her brow and took a step forward. “No, you didn’t touch me. Why? What’s wrong?”

The boy laughed, but it was fake and hard like plastic. “You aren’t allowed to talk to me. That means you’re either here to get me in trouble, or here to get me in trouble. I didn’t do anything wrong! Why are you here?”

“I-I just wanted to speak to you...”

“Speak to me? Me? A feral?” The boy laughed again, but this time it sounded genuine. “You must be crazy. 
Can’t do me no harm.” The boy lowered his hands.

“Javen. And you?”

“Amelia.” She reached out to shake the boys hand and then thought the better of it.

“So...what age are you?”

Javen pushed his hair back. “Thirteen.” He bent down and picked up a shining piece of metal. Shoving it into his pocket, he shrugged as a way of explanation. “Gotta make a living.”

Amelia nodded. “I’m twelve.” There was an awkward silence. “So, eh, what do you do?”

Javen shrugged again. “Same as every feral. Run from the law, find metal to sell on, eat people...”

Amelia jumped backwards in surprise. Her heart was beating in her chest at a million miles an hour. “E-e-eat people!”

Javen laughed and tentatively placed his hand on Amelia’s shoulder.  She felt a spark of electricity travel down her body, tingling and quivering as it went.

“I was joking,” he laughed. The noise echoed through Amelia’s ears, as rich as chocolate. Javen’s hand dropped to his side and he grinned. “What are you doing up here? Don’t get many Comforts up this end.” He bent down and grabbed another shard of metal.


Javen nodded and shoved the metal into his pocket. Straightening up, he said, “Yeah, Comforts. You’re not the only one with the nicknames. You, you guys are comforts ‘cause you don’t have to live in the wild. You’re comfortable. So, what you here for? I saw you standing over there by yourself but I didn’t think nothing of it.”

Amelia swallowed. “This might sound bad, but my friend wanted me to come talk to you. She dared me.” She glanced up and smiled. “It’s not that I didn’t want to talk to you or anything...it’s just, well, you’re...”

“...a feral, I know. Get it all the time.” Javen hopped to the side and picked up a bent square of iron.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say. I-I’ve,” Amelia gulped. “I think you’re cute.” She blushed bright crimson and buried her face in her hands.

“You what?”

Amelia took a deep breath and looked up. “I like you. I’ve been watching you for a while. You seemed...lonely.”

Javen’s mouth was hanging open. “You, you like me?”

Amelia nodded. Her eyes were wrought with worry. What if he started laughing, or if he ran off?

Javen gently placed his hand on Amelia’ shoulder and said, “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m taken. We can still meet up though, ok?”

Amelia felt tears well up in her eyes. He was taken? She suddenly felt a deep pang of jealousy as she thought of the lucky girl.

“Amelia? We can meet up, ok? Please don’t cry...”

Amelia looked up and crossed her arms. “I wasn’t going to cry.” She blinked the tears back into their ducts. 

“I’ll see you around Javen, ok? I have to go, my friend Jessica is waiting.”
Javen nodded and beamed. “It’ll be nice to have some company. I’m here every day from 9am. I’ll tell you when I change location.”

“Thanks. Bye, Javen.” Amelia turned around and started walking back towards the pavement. She felt quite good, despite the crushing disappointment that had inhabited her a few moments earlier. She had talked, not only to a feral, of all people, but to the one person she had a crush on! Amelia’s heart started beating like a butterfly, fluttering in her chest. She had actually talked to him! And they were going to meet up again! Amelia grinned and started skipping across the stones. She had a lot to thank Jessica for...

“You mentioned my name!”

Amelia looked up. Jessica was skipping alongside her, her golden hair flowing as she moved. “So...how did it go?”

Amelia laughed. “You know how it went! You were there!”

Jessica paused and tilted her head as though deep in thought. “Oh, yeah, so I was! That went well, I think. So what if he’s got a girlfriend? Maybe they’ll argue...”
Amelia flew her hand out to whack Jessica, but of course, it fell right through her. “Ha! You missed!”

Amelia slowed to a walk. “Come on, Jess. Leave me alone for a bit, will you?”

Jessica shrugged. “Suit yourself.”  She vanished and Amelia smiled. She had a lot to thank Jessica for. Making her more confident, making her stand up for herself...after all that was what friends were for. It didn't matter that she was annoying sometimes, or that she went too far. She was there to push Amelia into doing things she wanted to do, but couldn't.  That was her purpose.

Amelia stepped onto the pavement. Who cared if she was imaginary? She was the best friend a girl could have - she didn’t bitch about you behind your back, she was always there for support - she was just generally amazing.

Jessica appeared and said, “You wanted someone to walk home with.” She spread her arms wide. “Well, here I am. Oh, and thanks for singing my praises. I’m not all amazing though. Remember when I told you to shave your doll?”

Amelia giggled and linked arms with Jessica, entwining real and fiction in one never-ending circle. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

Monday, 21 November 2011


Hi! This is a story I started months ago, but only finished today. The ending's terrible, I know, so cut me some slack on that part! despite that, feel free to comment, criticise, etc..You know the drill. I hope you enjoy it! Oh, and before I go, I've entered two writing competitions!

P.S. It's quite long, so be prepared!


The noise of the airport was deafening in Jake’s ears. The scuffling of shoes of the floor, the scraping of suitcases as they were placed haphazardly on the conveyer belt. Jake forced himself ignored it. He hurried onwards to the check-in, eyes lowered, clutching his old, worn suitcase in his hand. It was heavy, pulling his body to the left. He occasionally glanced up from the tiled floor, checking he was in the right lane, the right place – the plane to Tenerife. He was ready. He glanced nervously at his watch. 8:56. His plane left at 10:00. He sniffed and let his eyes wander around the airport. There was nothing much to it – white tiles, grey walls, glass ceiling. The people, however, where much more interesting. A young teenage girl clutching a swollen stomach. A small, weedy man glancing around nervously. A woman gently rocking a crying child. He wondered where they were going. Florida, Spain, Turkey? Jake sighed. He was going somewhere much less interesting. He unconsciously glanced up at the sky through the ceiling. It was grey, cloudy and wet. Jake looked back at the queue. It was huge. Grumbling silently, he picked his suitcase back up and waited for the queue to slowly ebb away.

Jake was a small, nervous man in his late 40s. He liked to think that he had once been handsome – a tall, dark haired hero. But since Anna’s “demise” he had wilted and shrunk. Wrinkles now lined his face and eyes and his brown eyes were now stuck in a constant state of terror and nervousness. His nails were ragged and bitten, his suit crumpled and ruffled. Jake didn’t care about appearances. Not since Anna and Melanie fell...

“Hello. What’s your name?” Jake glanced up. He was at the front of the queue. He peered behind him. The queue was even longer now, lines and rows of suitcases waiting to board the plane, waiting to go on an adventure in another country. “Excuse me, Sir?” Jake turned back and looked at the receptionist. Her long blonde hair was swept back into a bun and her face was sun-kissed and freckled. She had a large brown mole on the side of her face. She looked a little bit like Anna. Tears welled in his eyes just thinking about her. 

“Your name, please?” the receptionist said, her fingers waiting patiently to type his details into the computer.

“Jake McAllister.” He blinked the tears back into their ducts and gave a weak smile. The receptionist looked at him blankly before turning to the computer and typing his name into the computer. Her fingers were a blur of pink nail varnish as they swept across the keyboard.

“Jake McAllister, going to Tenerife at 10:00 o’clock, economy class,” she stated, looking at him for confirmation. Jake nodded slightly and the receptionist turned back to the computer. A few minutes later she handed him his ticket and motioned for him to put his bag on the conveyer belt.

“Eh...just a second. Need my hand luggage,” Jake said shyly, smiling and tucking the ticket into his pocket. 

He paused and hurriedly opened his bag, rummaging through the main section of the suitcase. He grasped his rucksack, felt its familiar fabric and smelt its familiar aroma. He touched the cold metal that lay inside. He yanked the rucksack out and slowly zipped up the pocket. He nervously placed the suitcase on the scales. There was nothing important in it – just a pile of mismatched clothes, a few books. He swung the rucksack round one shoulder as the receptionist placed it on the conveyer belt. He watched as it sped away, ready to go on its final journey.

“That’s you, Sir.” Jake smiled shyly at the receptionist before walking out of the check-in and into the foyer beyond.

Half an hour later, Jake was sitting in a plane seat, his legs crushed in the tiny space. The cabin was noisy, busy, loud. Children cried, mothers shushed, husbands discussed the latest car magazine. Jake ignored them and wrung his hands. He glanced at his watch. 10:13. Jake sighed quietly and pressed a button on his left. The seat slid back slightly, a comfortable position. Jake scratched his arm and closing his eyes, slowly drifted off into a fitful sleep.

She was standing there, clutching Melanie’s hand. Her face was blank, a demented calm that frightened Jake more than the prospect of a life without her. “I’m going to jump.” She spoke slowly and smoothly, unaware the terrifying reality of where she was, unaware of her child crying and struggling beside her. Melanie’s cheeks were streaked with tears and she cried out for her Dad, for him. He shouted back to her but the wind carried his words way. Jake cried and screamed, pleaded and begged but it was no use. She was waiting. Jake rattled the door but it was locked – there was no way to reach Anna and Melanie. He called the police and prayed. Still, she waited. Waited for him to say that one word – sorry. He had screamed it to the heavens and beyond when he heard her silent plea, realised what she wanted. Maybe then she would come down. He said sorry for the mistake. Anna looked at him when she noticed his apology. Tears welled in her eyes and, for a split second, she stepped back, off of the edge. She blew him a kiss and then with a single solitary smile she stepped forward, off the roof, carrying Melanie with her. They were spiralling into the air, broken dolls with broken limbs. They were falling...Anna was falling...he was falling...

Suddenly, a bump jolted Jake upright. He grasped his rucksack that was lying neglected on his lap. He looked around frantically before breathing heavily and counting to four. He could hear the voices and moans of the passengers behind him, a padding of footsteps walking into the toilet. Jake glanced at his watch. 11:17. 

He slumped backwards into his seat and put his head in his hands. The therapist said there was nothing he could have done. Anna was crazy, she said. He couldn’t have saved her and Melanie. Jake sobbed. He knew differently. He saw the possibilities every time he dreamed. He could have caught her, he could have coaxed her down, he could have-

“Mister, watch me tie my shoe!” Jake looked up and slowly swivelled round on his seat. There was a little girl jumping up and down in front of him, her eyes wide and sparkling. She sat down and smiled before focusing on her mini trainers, her grubby hands fumbling with the shoelaces.  She was tiny with long brown hair that swept past her shoulders, poker straight and held back with a small, purple hair band. Freckles dotted her pale skin and her little pink tongue protruded from her mouth as she concentrated on her task.  She looked about 4, the chubbiness of youth in her cheeks. Jake stared at her. She was so...innocent. Perfect. She reminded him of Melanie.  He tried to block out the memory. He fingered his rucksack, feeling the familiar shape, cupping it in his hand.

Jake smiled and waited patiently for the little girl to finish. “I did it!” she squealed a few minutes later. Jake clapped and grinned as she bowed dramatically, her hand behind her back. 

“Well done!” Jake said, smiling slightly. “What’s your name?”

“Jessica,” the little girl replied, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

“And where’s your mummy, Jessica?”

Jessica frowned. “She’s in heaven with Daddy.”

“Oh.” Jake paused. “Who are you with then?”

“I’m with Sandra.”

“Who’s she?”

“She’s my other mummy. The alive one.” Jessica absentmindedly kicked the side of his chair and looked up him with large chocolate brown eyes. “What about you Mister? Are you here with your mummy?”

Jake almost laughed. His mother had died years ago, of a heart attack. He couldn’t care less – he hadn’t even gone to her funeral. She was a horrible woman in his opinion. She hadn’t approved of Anna – called her an evil woman, She was short, stout and it was his long held belief that she had the devil on her back. She had a fiery tongue and had spent years trying to ruin his relationship with Anna. Tears welled in Jake’s eyes. Anna....

He snapped himself out of his precious memory. “No, Jessica, I’m here alone. Where is Sandra?”

“She’s on the toilet.” Jessica giggled. Jake smiled at her innocence.

“Ok, Jessica. You stay with me until she comes out, is that alright?”

Jessica nodded and jumped onto his lap, her brown hair hitting him on the nose. She started to play with his tie. Jake glanced at his watch. 11:20. The plane was due to land in forty minutes. He felt the fabric of his rucksack, the shape of the handgun. Jake swallowed and moved his hand away, placing the rucksack on the floor beside his feet. The gun was a safety measure. It was a precaution – in case he wanted out. That was the purpose of the trip, after all. Melanie had loved the annual holiday to Tenerife. If he was going to kill himself, he would do it when she was at her happiest.

“Mister...what’s this?” Jake stared. Jessica was holding the rucksack, pressing her finger around the fabric to produce the outline of the gun. His gun. Jake looked around frantically. Everyone was talking or watching a movie. No one had noticed it ...yet.  He snatched the rucksack and threw it onto the window seat. Jessica looked at him like he was mad. “Mister, you don’t throw guns...if you do they could go bang-bang!” She mimed a gun firing, pointing it at people in the cabin. The passengers were turning their heads now. Looking at him.

“Don’t worry,” Jake joked, his face lined with sweat. “She has a wild imagination. Don’t you Jessica?” he touched the end of Jessica’s nose. She laughed and grinning, turned back to look at the crowd.  

“Mister has a bad thing in his bag... but sssshhhhhh!” She pressed her finger to her lips and then, still smiling, ran off into the arms of a middle-aged woman. Sandra...the other mother. Jake smiled weakly and wiped the sweat off his brow. He was in trouble now. He could see the hushed whispers of the passengers spreading like wildfire through the cabin, the sound of footsteps as the hostess ran to get the pilot or security. Everyone was looking at him now. The man in front of him stepped to the other side of the cabin, his arms raised in alarm.

Suddenly a voice came over the intercom. “Everyone move to the far side of the plane. We are making an emergency landing.” Jake could hear a collective moan from the other cabins, the ones that didn’t know what was going on.  “Security is on its way.”

Jake sat stunned in his seat. This wasn’t meant to happen like this. It was meant to be quick, clean, professional - not strewn with panic and disarray! Passengers barged past him, rushing into the other cabins, and from a distance he could hear the security guards racing towards him. The clink of their handcuffs echoed through the plane. He was going to jail. He couldn’t go to prison! He couldn’t! They would kill him, a weedy man like him.

Jake scrambled in his seat, trying to escape. The guards were coming closer - he could hear their heavy footsteps. The gun. Jake grabbed his rucksack off the seat and unzipped the pocket. The shiny black gun fell into his lap. Gingerly, Jake felt it with his hands. It was cool to the touch, frozen. Jake picked it up and became strangely calm. He was ready. It wasn’t perfect, but he would see Melanie and Anna in heaven. If he got there.

Security burst into the cabin, their guns raised. “Put the gun down, sir.” They were American - one beefy black guy and white guy. They could have been brothers in their shape and muscle. “Put the gun down, sir.”

Jake shook his head. This had happened so quick, everything was going so well...

Jake stared at the security guards and pressed the gun to his head. “Do you have a child? Or a wife?” he asked. Tears started welling in his eyes. Anna...Melanie...

“Yes, sir, I do. Now put the gun down, or I will shoot!”

Jake lowered his head and let his silvery tears spill onto the floor. “Then you see why I have to do this.” He smiled and with the fleeting glimpse of one last memory, he pulled the trigger.

Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Jamrach's Menagerie - Book Review :D

Hey! I decided to do a book review this week for two reasons - a) I haven't done one in ages and b) This is to good a book to miss!

 It is 1857. 8-year-old Jaffy Brown is running along a street in London's East End when he comes face to face with an escaped circus animal. Plucked from the jaws of death by Mr Jamrach - explorer, entrepreneur and collector of the world's strangest creatures - the two strike up a friendship. Before he knows it, Jaffy finds himself on board a ship bound for the Dutch East Indies with his best friend Tim, on an unusual commission for Mr Jamrach. His journey - if he survives it - will push faith, love and friendship to their utmost limits.

Genre - I honestly have no idea! Adventure maybe?
Author - Carol Birch
Rating - 5/5


My gran bought me this book when I was staying with her, and when I first saw it, I was unimpressed. I don't usually read this type of book - adult adventure - so, I started it reluctantly. A few pages in, however, and I was engrossed.

The first thing I need to say about the book, is that the blurb doesn't give it credit. When I first picked the book up, I was thinking that an 8-year-old would go on said adventure - wrong. Jaffy, the main character, is introduced to Mr Jamrach (the guy that collects animals to sell to zoos) when he was 8, but he doesn't go on the trip until he is 15. This didn't make much of a difference though, and a reader can adjust to it pretty quickly.

The other thing about the blurb is that it makes the book sound, well, boring. It is everything but boring! There are dragons, whales, sailors, rum, swashbuckling fun and dangerous undertones. It is simply a fantastic book! It is written very well, showing Jaffy's feelings throughout, with superb descriptions and language.

The one thing I would mark the author down for though, is the swearing. I admit it, there is some swearing in the book, along with alcohol and prostitutes. These appear very little in the book though, and it is an adult book, so Carol birch cannot be blamed. Just remember though, if you're going to read it, be ready for strong language!

All in all, this is an amazing book, perfect for anyone who enjoys adventure, or any genre for that matter.

Amazon - Varies in price but round about £5.00

Tuesday, 8 November 2011

A little update...

Heya! No story today guys :( I'm sorry, but I can't do it all...maybe next week :P

So, on the news today - The kittens are doing well. As I write this, Noah is biting my foot and Marley is trying to  write his own wee story. I keep on having to lift him of the keyboard :D I am meant to be revising for a test just now, but shush!

On the writing side of things, I've written 27660 words of Wolfbane, in total! I'm doing better than I thought :D Only another 22440 words left to go ;) I also want to enter a competition, so I need to write a 1000 word story for that....and I have another competitoion to do... :/ I have a busy life!

On the subject of NaNoWriMo, guess what I found! Well, I found two things actually :)

1. A super awesome tumblr account for anyone and everyone doing NNWM. There's quotes, advice, stories of the writers experiences and loads more! Find it here - http://wordscount.tumblr.com/

2. I found these on the NaNoWriMo website.

For those of you who can't see what it is, it is a USB bracelet! How cool is that :P Never to forget your novel again...a constant reminder...that and you will never lose it to a faulty computer! These ones are available off the NaNoWriMo website for $20, but for those of you in the U.K there is a far cheaper option. I did some browsing. Apparently, companies go nuts for these, so you can buy 10 USB bracelets of your preferred colour for approx £5! I want one of these for my Christmas...hint hint, wink wink, nudge nudge....

So anyway, I'd better be off :) Happy writing!!

Wednesday, 2 November 2011

Over and Out - Part 2

Hi! Sorry this is quick but I've got homework to do! Enjoy!

Over and Out - Part 2

Alex had no time to shout a warning. Tim had been sucked into the moonless night, and in the distance, she could hear the animalistic cries.  “Everybody move!” she ordered. Bruce and Lionel frowned. “MOVE!” They didn't have to be told a third time. The two men jumped behind Alex. The cries were getting louder and louder, becoming high pitched and crazed by the scent of blood. Alex took a step away from the door and swung it shut. Her arms ached to reach out and grab Tim from the grasp of the creature, but she couldn’t risk it. A speck of pus, blood, sweat on her skin and she would be dead.

Bruce tapped her on the shoulder.  “Alex, I hear someone. Listen.”


The voice was sweet and sugary, barely audible over the sounds of the creatures’ cries.

“It’s the creatures.  Ignore it,” said Alex, turning back towards the door.  She could hear footsteps now.  It wouldn’t be long until the creatures came for them.  Half a minute at most.

“But Alex, the creatures don’t have two brain cells to rub together. It can’t be th-”

“Listen to me. We leave the voice. It’s our imagination and we have more pressing concerns just now, like being eaten. Are we clear?” Bruce opened his mouth to argue and then promptly shut it.

“Good.”Alex nodded and then turned back towards the door. “When these things burst through we slaughter ‘em, ok?” Alex saw Lionel grin out the corner of her eye.

“Sure thing.” He cocked his gun and clutched it tightly to his chest. Bruce hesitated and then did the same. They were ready.

Clunk. Clunk. Bang! The creatures rammed themselves up against the door. Alex could hear their laboured breathing, smell the sweat and pus oozing from their pores.  It was disgusting. Alex squeezed the handle of her axe. Clunk. Clunk clunk clunk clunk!

“Trick-or-Treat...please let me in! Trick-or-Treat!”

The voice was louder now. Alex frowned just as Bruce said, “There’s someone out there!” He started forward and pressed his hand on the door handle.

“No!” Alex caught him by the shoulder and yanked him backwards.  “Are you mad? You can’t go outside.” Alex pushed Bruce back and he stumbled onto the floor. “It’s the confinement – it’s doing things to your head. Now, get back into position.”

Bruce stood up and glowered. “There’s someone out there,” he growled.

Alex was losing her patience. “No, there’s not! You’re imagining things – its Halloween, for crying out loud! Now, sit down and get ready, or I swear the next head that will be falling on the floor will be yours!”

The door suddenly burst open. An army of creatures’ ran through the opening, hollering and drooling. Their cold, red eyes took a moment to find their pray, and when they lunged. Alex was knocked backwards and pinned to the floor by an aggressive male. He was salivating and his mouth was forced into a lopsided grin. He looked hungry, bloodthirsty.  Alex acted on instinct. Her axe hacked at the creature’s arm forcing it to let go and stumble backwards in pain. Alex bounced up off the floor and swung her bloody axe.  It hit the man’s neck and cut the windpipe. The man dropped to the floor and, gasping, Alex looked round.

She was thankful to see that Bruce and Lionel were faring better than her. Bullets rained down in front of them, flooring any creature that got close. A sudden movement caught Alex’s eye. A shadow in the background, moving stealthily forward towards Bruce and Lionel...

Alex ran towards them hacking at the men and women around her. It was too late to yell a warning – she would have to take this one down by herself. Alex dodged the groping hands of the creatures and sprinted behind Bruce and Lionel, her axe raised above her head. The shadow retreated into further into the darkness at the sight of her, but that didn’t matter.

“ARRGGG!” Alex roared and threw herself on the creature. It squirmed under Alex’s grip, and yelped as Alex raised her axe. Alex could barely see – her vision was red with rage – but even so there was something different about this creature...smooth skin...sweet smelling...but that didn’t matter. It was still a creature, crazy and bloodthirsty. Alex felt the heavy axe in her hand and with a frenzied determination, brought it down hard.

The axe hit off the cold, hard floor of the warehouse, sending a shudder up Alex’s arm. Rage boiled in Alex’s veins. The creature had escaped!  Alex roared and turned her head. The warehouse was a writhing mass of bodies, most of them dead or barely living. The creature could be anywhere. No wait, there further up the wall, a tiny figure reaching for Bruce’s arm.

“I’ve got you now!” Alex ran towards the creature and smiling, swung her axe. The figure ducked and started crying, weeping. Alex paused. Creatures couldn’t cry; it was physically impossible for them.

“Pl-please don’ kill me...” The figure sobbed and put its hands above its head. Alex gulped and slowly knelt down. Her hand reached out and felt the airy whisper of hair, brushing the figures shoulder. A girl. Alex felt a lump in her throat.

She reached out and wrapped her arms around the girl. She felt a small head pushing down into her chest and then everything faded into darkness...


Date: 1/11/16                                    Author: Alex R

Last night was the worst battle we’ve ever had. We lost Tim – me and Bruce found his knife and shoes this morning – and Lionel got infected. We had to throw him out.  It was a good farewell though, we all cried and air-hugged. Lionel promised that before his transformation he would kill at least one of the creatures. Lighten our load. And then, he left.

The little girl we found (and that I almost killed) regained cun concioosnes consciousness a few hours after the fight had finished. I couldn’t stay with her forever, so I tucked her up in a box with a blanket, so that I could resume fighting. Later, she told us her name was Emily and that she was 7 years old. She has straw coloured hair, matted, and her body is covered in bruises and blood.  I scrubbed her down last night, and thankfully, she had no pus on her skin. She’s clean.

So, we’ve lost two and gained one. Losing Tim and Lionel was horrible but at least now we know that there are more people out there. Why shouldn’t there be? If Emily can make it, other people can as well.  In a few days, we’ll move and search for them. And we’ll find them, and together, maybe, just maybe, we can start a new life.

Over and Out.