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

Boyd

Boyd was quite despondent, even though he was in an empty house which he had to himself. It was because he may not get a chance to enjoy it. Here he was with a house, possibly shared by the others, and they may not get to enjoy it.

They may have to make a hasty exit.

Back to square one.

Back to finding people to possess, and then doing so which was no easy feat.

Force-feed them a seed, and swallow one yourself. Then it was goodbye consciousness, hello the new me. He smiled slightly, but he had settled, like the others into this body now. He could relax for the next seventy years, until it was time to take out the seeds and start again.

Who would he get though? literally taking over their lives. A daunting prospect but one which may have to be done, should Kieran or a parent escape.

They can’t escape. If so, they were fucked.

124

Absolutely back to square one.

He wandered around the house as if it might be the last time he would see it, and ended up in the front room where on a small table was an empty bottle of wine from last night.

That would make a good weapon, he thought, and picked it up, covered his face with the crux of his elbow, smashing it against the wall.

If I come back here to live, I’ll clean that up. What he was left with in his hand was a sharp vicious weapon, which he wrapped in a small towel, and put in a plastic-bag he found in a kitchen cupboard. He left the house, leaving the door slightly ajar, should he be returning later in haste.

Six of them were stood outside the school, bathed in street-light, but the school itself was clouded in shadow, a huge behemoth building that held its memories of children from yesteryear, shouting, running in the corridor, crying. The walls have ears and perhaps record everything, although for now it was silent, the windows reflecting nothing, almost as if the building itself was in slumber.

“Where’s Charlotte?” said Boyd. They all looked around as if they could see her, and it was Glenn who did, pointing.

“Here she is,” she was jogging down, as if late.

“Right, okay Jordan, lead the way,” So they traipsed along roads, a few people out and about looking at the troupe of eight-year-olds walking along. Looking with trepidation, hoping they were not a gang of anti-social youths up to no good.

Yet, kids out late at night was not very unusual in any town, so they didn’t warrant too much attention.

When they reached the area where Kieran lived, there was only one person that walked past with a dog.

They gathered on the opposite side to the house.

“Alright guys,” said Sam. “we do this, we’re home and dry”.

“No more murder,” said Dorothy.

125

“No…well, not really unless they’re a threat to us, but you know that. Anyway, Jordan, you knock and we’ll come in behind. Two of us on each of them, and one blocking the door,”

“What about the back door?” asked Ian.

“Well, yes, if it’s open. Chances are it’ll be closed. Look we’ll just have to play it by ear”.

“Remember folks, as if you need telling, go for the throat, because if anyone of them screams, everyone will hear it”.

“Come on then, let’s do this” They crossed the road, Boyd taking out the bottle-neck and throwing away the towel and plastic-bag. A small lamp was on in the front room, indicating someone was in there.

Jordan knocked, and a few moments later, the door opened and Kieran’s mother Martha answered.

Jordan immediately stepped in to hug her.

“I’m really sorry and upset about Brett,” he said, feigning tears. She was taken aback and confused for a moment when Jordan stabbed her in the thigh with the knitting needle. She yelled and he pushed her back where she fell into the hallway.

The ‘children’ set upon her. Sam and Ian went into the living-room to find Kieran’s father Percy sitting watching television. He was cracked on the fore-head by the wrench and Sam leapt on him to stab him repeatedly with his box-cutter craft knife. He violently bucked as if Sam had leapt onto a bull, but was slashed in the face and stabbed in the stomach and cracked again and again by the wrench.

He screamed as he collapsed to the floor. A scream which halted everybody in the house. A loud guttural shriek of sheer terror, where the whole street could hear, but Sam found the opening into his throat and stabbed him there, over and over again until his neck was a ragged mess of skin, muscle and gouting blood.

Three had ran upstairs. Kieran had slammed shut his door but Boyd and Glenn kicked and pushed at it.

“Open up Kieran, you know what’s coming. Let’s get this over with”. Kieran pushed against the door when it open slightly, his fingers curling around, which were then slashed at. He yelled in pain and staggered back. Glenn kicked the door open and they both advanced on him, weapons raised.

126

Downstairs in the hallway. Dorothy and Jordan and Chantelle were stabbing Martha in the face and neck and stomach, even though she was dead.

Sam stabbed his weapon into Percy’s eye, straight into the brain, even though he too was dead.

Kieran made himself small and tried to block the slashing and jabbing. He received a slash across the face and a stab in the calf, his fore-arms slashed in defence. Blood had sprayed the wallpaper, but Kieran, in a burst of strength, stood up and hurled himself towards the doorway. The two boys were cast aside and out he went, dashing down the stairs, only to see three of them in his way.

The front door was open, and it was his goal. There was no way he was going to let some kids stop him as he barrelled past, receiving a slash on the thigh from Jordan.

He was determined however, his pain masked by adrenaline, and easily surged past them, out into the open where he ran as fast as he could.

The gang did nothing. They were quiet, knowing that giving chase would be fruitless. Even if one of them caught him, Kieran was bigger and stronger and could probably fight them off, and he would be long gone by now.

Boyd and Glenn slowly walked down the stairs, and they all gathered in the living-room, some standing in Kieran’s father’s blood.

“Well, that’s it then,” said Sam, “we’re changing bodies. Boyd, we’re staying in yours tonight. No-one will come looking there. In the morning we leave for the clubhouse. Kieran’s about to bring the whole cavalry down on this house, which means we’ve got about five minutes, so let’s not fuck about and go”.

So they left, taking their weapons back with them, except Boyd who angrily smashed his bloodied bottle-neck to the pavement. They followed him back to his house which took around fifteen minutes, no-one speaking. Two people saw them, not really seeing that some were splattered in blood because the street-lights gave out muted light.

Plus they gave a wide berth to the gang of youths who were quietly focused on where they were going.

One of them, Herbie, entered the pathway of a house, cloaked in darkness and tall privet hedges, watching them walk away.

127

Eventually they arrived at Boyd’s, Dorothy looking around to see if anybody was watching.

She didn’t see Herbie, because he was hidden, but he saw her.

They filed into the house, and closed the door quietly.