Black soul rose by John Jones... - HTML preview

Kieran

It hadn’t sunk in yet. Not really. He thought perhaps Brett would walk in as normal as if nothing was wrong.

He didn’t like to be in the house around this time. His mother and father were inconsolable, and he liked to be out to clear what was going on inside his head, even though that was nigh on impossible.

He found himself with his friends in the nearby town, just beyond the university in a small park that had one path cutting through with spaced benches. They were more morose than usual. Didn’t know what to say other than the standard sympathies and sorrys.

Except for Bean-head and two of his friends, Sandy and Janet, 17 year old twins who did not look exactly alike, his three other friends made their excuses and left. Kieran knew they would head for the arcade, but he didn’t care.

“I’m convinced now,” Kieran said. “Those kids are possessed by those pensioners. Brett went to play golf with Ian and Jordan who went missing on that field-trip. He never came home. They found him drowned in a bath with an apparent suicide note. I mean how the fuck do you drown yourself in a bath?”

No-one answered.

He continued: “I ran into Jordan in the morning. Him and Brett used to be good mates. It seemed like he didn’t care he was dead. Do you know what he said to me? One down one to go”.

“Did he?” said Sandy, eyes wide. “There’s got to be more to it than that. I’ve heard tales of possessions before”.

“I once read a story about a dog that got possessed. One minute it was terrified of cats, the next it was attacking them.” Janet said.

“See,” said Bean-head, “there’s more to this world than meets the eye. But what are you going to do? I mean you can’t just go accusing this Jordan of murder can you? Do you have any evidence?”

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“No, the police are investigating. They haven’t ruled it as suicide yet though.

But what am I going to do? I’m thinking of telling the police what I think but they’ll probably just laugh at me”.

“They’ll take your statement, tell you to sod-off with your stupid beliefs and then do nothing about it”, said Bean-head.

“Those field-trip kids murdered my brother and I don’t know what to do”.

“I’ve got some mates who are paranormal fanatics. Colin and Maisie,” said Janet.

“No not Colin,” said Bean-head. “Please don’t bring him along. He’s a conspiracy nutter. Believes every conspiracy theory, and even makes some up himself, then believes it”.

“Oh yes, I suppose. Okay, Maisie and Herbie.”

“Herbie, yes, I guess so. He’ll sniff out whether they’re possessed or not”.

“Or why not filter them out,” said Sandy.

“Filter them out?” asked Kieran.

“Yes. If you say they are possessed by adults. I think it will be very hard for them to act like children. At least until they get used to their bodies and how to act within their families. They’ll make mistakes, and should give themselves away sometimes. So make it harder for them, by telling everyone about your beliefs. Interrogate those kids. Ask questions. Get others to ask them. Others may come suspicious then. You’ll get other believers. Get other people to suss them out”.

Kieran nodded.

“Tell everyone,” he said, musing, “filter those little fuckers out”.

The field-trip gang were gathered together again at the front of the assembly hall with their social worker. A door opened and a police constable they did not recognise approached them as if she was about to give them bad, sensitive news.

“Tell me again we’re not suspects,” Glenn said, arms folded, scowling.

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“Well,” she said, “you’re not anymore because we’ve concluded our investigations of the scene and we believe he committed suicide. We found a golf club in the bushes and there was also an issue with the body position. He was face up, an odd way to drown yourself. So the poor kid, traumatised with something similar to survivor guilt, throws the club away in frustration, leaves his note, because we believe he knew he was going to do it, and gets in the bath to drown himself. We know bodies can turn in the water due to weather conditions and buoyancy. The pathologist has ruled the verdict suicide and we accept their decision. Our investigation has concluded that there are no suspicious circumstances”.

“Great,” said Jordan, “can we all fuck-off back to class now? I really want to know all about how ancient mosaics were made”.

They all stood up and followed Jordan, but stopped when the social worker spoke:

“No suspicious circumstances. I’m sorry but this just doesn’t add up”.

“Well you know better than the police do you?” piped up Charlotte. “The police with all their investigators and scientists looking into this. You know better…well whatever”.

“An eight-year-old boy should not have any concept of suicide. Okay, they’ll learn about it at some point, but the very notion should not occur in a young boys mind, especially just because some of his friends got lost for three hours.

Survivor guilt in a child because of that doesn’t make sense to me. Why should he feel guilty?”

“I can show you a copy of the suicide note where he gives his reason,” said the constable. “Also, it is rare for a child to commit suicide at all, let alone for a reason such as this, but who knows what goes on inside a child’s mind”.

Chantelle laughed, “Exactly. You have no idea what goes on inside a kid’s mind”. She tapped the side of her head, smiled, and followed the others.

“They really are very odd,” said the social worker.