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

Kieran

As the police-station was fairly small and remote in mid-Wales, certain rules sometimes were ‘eased’ or ‘relaxed’, unknown to head-office in London where it would be frowned upon. One of those rules was an unsupervised phone-call by Kieran, asking Bean-head to come visit. Kieran under the impression that he may be staying a while if he keeps attacking officers. Yet they knew why he was doing it, and kind of felt sorry for him. His assaults were mere attempted punches to the face which were stopped or unsuccessful.

Kieran was not a threat. Just a misguided youth with psychological problems.

The station didn’t even provide mental health assessment. So they allowed Bean-head to visit, and could talk about possessed kids all they liked.

202

Well, ‘supervised’ visit, in a way. In visitor reception, the desk sergeant clearly wasn’t listening to a word.

“…you can’t keep assaulting the police just to stay inside…” said Bean-head.

“I know, they know that. They know I want to stay here because they think I’m nutso about possessed children, and the fact they want to murder me. Once my time in here is up and they’re not charging me with anything I have to leave.

I’m going to have to do something serious outside to get myself locked away from those maniacs”.

“What like?” Kieran lowered his voice, even though the desk sergeant had his attention elsewhere.

“Probably stab a policeman in the leg or something. That should get me put away for a few weeks at least. Maybe they could transfer me away from here.

There’s nothing to keep me here, and at least I’d be away from the psycho’s.

I want them brought to justice for what they did, but how? How am I going to do that?”

“They’re up at the horse sanctuary. I think they’re staying there, but I don’t know what we can do. It was kids that killed your Brett and parents. These are adults. You may get some student witnesses, especially because one of them murdered a student in cold blood in front of everyone. And now they’re out looking for them but he’s not been found. It's a manhunt basically, but this is a small village, and the police presence has increased, but not by much. Despite me insulting the police every chance I get, although not to their face, there’s only so much they can do”.

“Like doctors,” Kieran said, “people insult and whine at them, but when they need them, who are the first people they run to?” Bean-head nodded.

“I don’t know what to do Bean-head. If they let me out of here they’re going to kill me”.

“Well, you’ll just have to go into hiding. They’ll still keep that tag on you, won’t they?” Kieran nodded.

“They haven’t taken it off, so I guess I could just keep running outside of the area so I’ll get picked up and spend the night here”.

“What about your house? The police should be done with that now shouldn’t they?”

203

“I think they may look for me there. Even if I remain hidden in the loft, they might come looking. I need to remain completely hidden from anyone. Maybe a tent in woods or something, where only you know where I am so you can bring me food or something like that,” Kieran sighed, knowing that could be a real possibility.

“You need to convince the police to visit the sanctuary. That’s where Herbie is with the others”.

“If they’ve taken the place over, then what’s happened to the owners? They will probably have killed them, so their bodies will be around. If I convince them to check, well then it may scare them away”.

“Worth a try though,” Bean-head put in, “if the police turn up asking questions, they will probably just tell them they’ve bought the property and the owners have left”.

“But they will need proof, like documents or something. If they can’t provide them then the police will search the place. Well I think they will, either way it all looks suspicious. I suppose it is worth a try, because even if the police show up at all, it will scare them. They may even leave, but that will be no good to me”. There was silence for a few moments, then Bean-head said:

“I’ve had contact from two other paranormal investigators who want to speak to you. One’s another podcaster and the others a video…blogger or whatever they do, so I said I’d ask you”. Kieran shrugged.

“Well the others didn’t get anything so I don’t know what these are going to find”.

“Same probably,”

“Well, whatever, bring them down”.

He soon went back to his cell, and was told that an application to hold him for 36 hours was granted, but still, once that was up, he was out, assaulting officers or not. So it was either go into hiding, or stab a policeman.

He had barely settled back into his cell before the man, Sergeant Charlton. Tall, droopy moustache, always seemed lethargic, as though he’d just woken up, came back and told him he had another visitor. They just turned up, asking to speak to him, so the sergeant allowed it. Last one though. If head-office find out…

204

Charlton said he didn’t know who it was, and Kieran had visions of it being one of the possessed who had found him and maybe didn’t care now about remaining hidden. They were just going to kill him and that was that, but when he saw who it was, he breathed a sigh of relief. It was his auntie. Lynn, who looked like an auntie, quite stocky with clothes from the sixties, always wearing a cream beret.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked, sitting down.

“I rang your phone, and one of the policemen answered”. Are they allowed to do that? Kieran thought, sure that they weren’t.

“I’m here to tell you that you’re still not welcome to come and stay with me yet, until you’ve sorted out whatever it is you’ve got yourself involved with, but when you do, you can come and stay”.

“There are possessed people staying in the horse sanctuary, and they want to kill me”.

“That’s not far from where I live,” she said with a frown, “have you told the police?”.

“I’ve tried, but they just think I’m a crackpot. I’ve assaulted them a few times to get them to keep me in here, because it’s the safest place for me from them. If I go outside I don’t know who is who or what they look like now, so I might as well tell you I’m going to commit a crime when I’m out. A serious one that should get me locked up”.

“Oh Kieran,” she said, looking quite upset. “Why? What did you do to them?”

“Do you believe me? Do you believe I’m being stalked by people who are possessed?” She nodded, dabbing a handkerchief on her eye as a tear of mascara ran down.

“I don’t know what to believe but I think I do. I’ve seen ghosts, and I think my Jerry sometimes tries to contact me from the other side. There’s more to this world that we don’t understand”.

“There certainly is, so what’s been happening in the village then?”

“I’ve still had policemen knocking on my door a few times, about your parents and Brett, and sometimes where you are, but here you are in a police-station and they’re asking where you are”.

“Lack of communication,” Kieran said, “I’ve got this tag to prevent me leaving, but I might just get on a train or something and leave. Yet, they’ll bring me 205

straight back here. They don’t believe me. I’m just an annoying kid to them banging on about possessed children, even though my parents were killed by them, but there’s no evidence whatsoever, and now adults are after me, but the police are obsessed with evidence. Unless there’s crystal clear evidence, they’re going to take forever. Plus lack of investigators. Other crimes taking their attention away. Soon it’ll be put away in a file somewhere in unsolved and forgotten about, and poor Brett won’t get any justice”.

“Leave it to me,” she said, “I’ll give them a kick up the rear”.

“Actually, what I was going to ask them, but maybe you would be more persuasive, is that you can get them to investigate the horse sanctuary because it seems to have been taken over by the ones who are trying to kill me. The possessed. The ones who used to be those children. Anyway, ask them to show their documents, and I’ll bet you they can’t. If the police can’t solve a murder, they’ll arrest the easy cases such as illegal occupancy. They’ll be onto that alright. Get them to go the sanctuary and see what they can find”. His auntie leaned back in the chair, contemplating it.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do. And don’t forget, once this is sorted, and nobody is trying to kill you, there’s a bed in my house”.

Kieran was back in his cell, sitting on the floor, back against the door. Even from here he could hear voices from the checking-in area, but he couldn’t make out every word.

“…Sanctuary…possessed…murderers”.

“Evidence…Kieran…assault…therapy”.

“Scared…people…children…murder”.

“He’s not…trial…charges…proof”.

“Horse…owners…documentation…none”. The officer raised his voice slightly, and Kieran could hear clearly:

“What? are you telling me the new owners of the horse sanctuary don’t have any documentation? well don’t worry, we’ll be paying them a visit”.

206

Boyd held the keys in the bungalow to Herbie’s house.

“Shall I go and check it out? see what’s what”. Sam and Dorothy just looked at each other and shrugged.

“May as well,” Dorothy said, “actually, I think I’ll come with you, because you’re a young teenage boy you could help me out with something. Along the way I want to stop off at my old house, and see if the girl Sylvie is there. She needs rescuing from the shit family she’s with”.

“Ah yes,“ said Sam rambler woman. “I’d forgot you’ve developed a conscience.

But, if it’s going to satisfy your murderous urges, rescue her and kill the family.

Of course I don’t need to tell you to be careful, you already know that, but, you know, be fucking careful and don’t bring the girl here”.

“No, no, I’ll just rescue her from those cunts and leave her to fend for herself or whatever. She’s not coming here”.

“Hang on, what do you want me to do?” said Boyd, “just walk in and murder a family? I can’t do that”.

“No, I’ll make sure Sylvie is safe, then you can burn the house down with them all in it”.

“Oh, okay, I’ll go and make up some molotovs”. He went out the back.

“Throwing molotovs through a window may be a little dangerous for us,” said Sam.

“No, we’ll be more subtle than that. It’ll be fine. I may not even get to rescue her, May just have to leave her”.

“That would be fine also,” Sam said. “Get rid of that conscience of yours once and for all,” he said with a wry grin, “and when you get to Herbie’s house, check under the bed or at the back of cupboards for suitcases or shoe-boxes full of money. A lot of pensioners don’t trust banks”.

“True, we don’t use them, and how old are we?”

207

Ten minutes later, Dorothy and Boyd were approaching her old house from across the road.

Sylvie’s brother Max was in the front yard, talking to a boy of similar age.

They both stopped near a van so they didn’t look too obvious.

“Remember our psychiatrist in school? the one who blew her brains out, well, he’s the one I got the gun from. I’m surprised he’s still alive, but it doesn’t matter if he’s in the house when the fire starts,” said Dorothy.

“Right,” said Boyd, “I’ll just go over there. Rescue the girl and kill everyone else,” he said with sarcasm.

“No, just, well, maybe, fuck it, come over”. She walked across the road and confronted Max. His friend who was on a bike was on the pavement side of the fence.

“I’ll see you later Max,“ he said, then rode away. Max just squinted up at Dorothy as the sun had emerged from behind clouds.

“Hello, young man. How are you still here? I thought you were getting beaten up by the guy that gave you a gun which you then lost”.

“What? How did you know..?”

“I hear rumours”. The boy was quiet for a few moments, the inner workings of his brain trying to fathom out who she was. He couldn’t work it out, but answered her anyway:

“My mate got beaten up by his big brother for losing the gun. Then he kept getting beaten up because he couldn’t get it back. Then he beat me up because I couldn’t get it back, and then it was forgotten about. My mate had to pay a load of money, then because he still owed he had to work it off or something like that. He was good because he left me out of it. He’s not a grass, but he still beat me up. So he’s not my friend anymore”.

“I think I’ve got the gist of this place,” said Boyd, “it’s one of those houses where they sell drugs and addicts just come and go. Like a shop. Come here and get your fix. So anyone can walk in and no-one will bat and eyelid”.

“I don’t think it’s as easy as just walking in,”

A youth who Dorothy did not recognise from when she lived here appeared at the front door and lit a cigarette. He looked over with curiosity but said nothing.

“Where’s Sylvie?” she asked, and Max just told her.

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“She’s staying at grannie’s house down there”. He pointed to the right.

“Ah, so she’s not in, what about Peanut, where’s he?”

“How do you kn..? he’s upstairs with my mum”.

“Is he? okay.” She looked at Boyd, “if you only kill one, make sure it’s Peanut, now light it up”.

Boyd simply opened the gate and approached the youth, who stepped aside, confirming his belief that it was the type of place where ‘customers’ could come and go.

There were two youths in the living-room who were lounging, smoking, and didn’t bat an eyelash. The back-room was empty but a teenage boy and girl where out on the patio, the girl drinking from a wine-bottle and talking loudly.

Boyd went across and closed the patio doors. The youths didn’t notice. He locked them, then went through into the kitchen where a man of late forties who looked older was leaning against the counter talking on a mobile phone. He glanced at Boyd but said nothing. He still said nothing when Boyd locked the door and pocketed the key. Only when he walked back past him out into the hallway did he take the phone from his ear.

“You alright mate..?” he asked, but Peanut was coming down the stairs and slowed when he saw Boyd.

“What you after?” he asked.

“Are you Peanut?”

“Yes, who the fuck is asking? What do you want?”

“I just want my fix please sir. I don’t want no trouble. I’ve got money”. Boyd set about getting money out of the rucksack.

“Alright okay fucks-sake lad. Dennis,” he said to the man in the kitchen, “sort him out”, and he walked through with the intention of going into the back yard.

The smoking youth at the front had gone back into the front room.

Boyd set the rucksack down and retrieved a Molotov cocktail and lighter.

Dorothy joined Boyd in the hallway. The man on the phone stopped when he saw them both, Boyd about to light the weapon.

209

“Who the fuck locked the door?” Peanut said from the kitchen, “and where’s the key?” he came back and saw them both.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Hello Peanut,” Dorothy said, “you don’t remember me do you? I used to live here”.

“What?”

“Boyd, burn the fucking house down”. With the cocktail lit, and Peanut and the dealer about three metres away, he took a few steps forward. Before it could compute in Peanut’s head, with it all happening too quickly for him, Boyd hurled the bottle at his face, and it smashed, with glass and fire tearing into him.

Boyd had brought three, and the other two cocktails were lit and thrown into the living room doorway and one up the stairs. Waves of heat washed over them already as the fires took hold, and they left the house slamming the front door behind them.

Max was still squinting at them, not sure entirely what was happening, but Dorothy and Boyd walked quickly away.

“Follow your friend,” Dorothy said to the boy, “or just run away or whatever.

Things are about to heat up around here”. It was too early for him to understand the house was burning down, so he took her advice, and followed his friend.

Before nosy neighbours could perk up and identify them. Before they realised anything was going on. Before people knew there was a fire, Boyd and Dorothy had gone, heading towards Herbie’s house.

One nosy neighbour’s curiosity was piqued by screaming. Looking out of the window she heard more screaming, and all the windows blazing. People in those windows flailing, panicking, the windows cracking. A wooden chair smashing through the front pane, and burning Peanut trying to escape, only to impale himself on jagged glass, nearly cutting himself in half, his innards slopping out down the wall into the front garden.

The nosy neighbour reached for the landline telephone.

Herbie’s house was small and compact, and it didn’t take them both long to bag the rest of the edible food. They found no money hidden away, and it was tempting to simply burn this house down as well, but they didn’t, and even from this distance, almost two miles, they heard the faint sound of sirens.

210

En-route back to the sanctuary, they gave a very wide berth to the chaos going on at Dorothy’s old house.

Kieran was just staring at the wall, and didn’t comprehend the jangling of keys, or the door opening.

“Come on, time for you to go”. It took a few seconds for him to regain composure, and then he understood what was going on, so stood and approached the officer, throwing a punch at his face, but the man stepped back and dodged.

“No, come on, we’re not doing that,” and Kieran knew it was fruitless. He wasn’t going to be charged with assault.

“I don’t know why you want to live in here kid, but your times up. You’re not being charged but you’re still tagged because we still need to talk to you about the murder of…er, your parents. Come on lets go”.

“You know they’re going to try and kill me out there,” he said, following him out and through to reception.

“For someone talking about possessed kids who wants to live in a police cell and thinks people are out to get him, the police-station is not the institution where you belong, but my hands are tied kid, and there’s nothing I can do, you’re free, and that’s that”. He received his phone and paltry money, and signed out.

“I’m going to this horse sanctuary to see if they have the correct documentation.

Will they be crazy, foaming at the mouth? Will I need back-up? Will they have long claws and glowing red eyes?” Officer Charlton said.

Kieran tried to ignore him, but failed.

“They’re not possessed by demons. They’re possessed by other people. You won’t know that because they will act normal, but I’m sure you won’t get the deeds or whatever it is you’re after, so you’ll spend ages sorting all that out. In the mean-time, they’ll be coming after me”. Charlton sighed.

211

“I just need to go and see Fergus, but kid, stop treating this place like a hotel, okay,” and he vanished through double-doors. Kieran walked out onto the pavement and stopped.

He found he could not move. Fear rooted him to the spot.

They could be anyone, anywhere. That old lady across the road. That student with the orange backpack on. Anyone in a passing car. Do they know I’m here?

Do they know I’m out?

Now what? What am I going to do?

Bean-head. He would ring him to see if he could help, because as of now, he might very well be spending the night in a tent in a forest, or if he found a knife he could stab a policeman in the leg.

Yet he was still virtually rooted to the spot. Could be attacked anytime, anywhere.

Everybody was a suspect.

He rang Bean-head, and the phone was answered fairly quickly.

“Kieran, good to hear from you, I’m guessing you’re out. I was going to ring you because I’m at the train station with the two people I mentioned, and we were gonna come see if we could interview you if you were still at the station, then make our way up to the sanctuary and see if we can speak to the ones who are there”.

“The police are on their way up there now, but just to see if they’ve got the correct documentation. So I could ask him to pick you up if you like and you could go”.

“What about you? Don’t you want to come with us?” The thought never occurred to him.

Do I want to go and face the murderers of Brett and my parents, who have been trying to kill me?

Like fuck I want to go up there.

Then he guessed, maybe he would be in constant hiding. On the run forever more even outside of Wales. If he went to another country, would they pursue him?

Yet maybe those two guys Bean-head is with can get some answers out of them, will be able to find out if they are possessed or not. That and the visual aspect of 212

the policeman, which would no doubt scare them, even if he is only there to see some documents. He would have the protection of them all, in a way, as it was only him they were trying to murder. Also simply by showing up at all. Showing his face, it would be like a ‘fuck-you’ to them. I’m not scared. Even though he was. He was terrified, but didn’t want them to know that. So by showing up with the others, he would show them that they can’t go on hiding.

Also, justice for Brett and his parents, and their images in his mind eroded the fear, morphing it into anger.

Those cunts murdered my whole family. Fuck them.

“Yes,” he found himself saying, “I do want to go along”.

Officer Charlton came out of the station and headed for the lone vehicle in one of the parking bays.

“You still here?” he said, walking by.

“You’re going the horse sanctuary,” he asked, just to confirm he was.

“Yes, and they’ll be in trouble if they haven’t got what I need to see”.

“Can you do me a favour?” The policeman stopped in his tracks and turned, folding his arms, car-keys in one hand.

“My friend Bean-head is at the train-station with a podcaster and a video streamer journalist or something like that, and they want to go to the sanctuary, so can you run us all up there?”

“Can I run you all up there now, to the horse sanctuary?” Kieran nodded, hope joining his anger.

“Once I’ve got what I’m going for you can all do what you like and I’m not waiting and running you all home”.

“No, we just need a lift up there,” Kieran said without thinking, then realising maybe he would actually need a lift back after all. Perhaps he could find a weapon and stab his leg, but then Charlton won’t be able to drive. What could he do to make sure the policeman drove him straight back to the station and hauled him into the cell?

He didn’t know.

The man made an exaggerated sigh, “Get in,” he said, and Kieran hurried across to the car and got in the back.

213

With traffic not being too congested around there, and places not too far away from each other, it was only five minutes to the train-station where Bean-head was waiting with two men who were there with bags and media equipment.

“You doing something for TV?” Charlton asked his passenger.

“I don’t think so, I hope not”. Bean-head came across and Kieran buzzed down the window.

“What’s this? I thought I was just being asked a few questions”.

“I don’t know, I’m not sure what they were hoping. They’re going to do some filming”.

“We’re on our way up to the horse sanctuary now,” Kieran said, “so we’ve come to pick you up and take you there”.

“I’m not bringing you back though,” the officer reminded him. Bean-head waved them across. A tall, thin, reedy man with long hair, and a man who looked a little younger, perhaps mid-thirties, blonde, baggy white T-shirt, maybe straight out of university came across, lugging ruck-sacks, two tripods, and small cases of cameras and lenses.

The officer exaggeratedly sighed and got out of the vehicle and opened the boot.

The men stowed away their gear, and a minute later, Bean-head was in the front, and Kieran was sandwiched between the two men in the back, en-route to the horse sanctuary.

“So, what is it you want from me?” Kieran asked, his anger and hatred on pause as he sat hunched up.

“We just need to know why you feel they’re possessed, because there’s been a lot of strange goings on around here”,

“Really,” put in Charlton, “murders, suicides in this Welsh town where not much ever happens,” he said with a hint of sarcasm.

“We’ll suss them out,” put in the other man. “I can tell if somebody is possessed or not”.

“Okay,” continued Charlton, “and how many possessed people have you discovered so far? Let me guess, none”.

“Alright, it’s none, but I know the signs”.

“You have no idea how dangerous these people are,” Kieran said.

214

“We’ll be alright,” said the podcaster.

“They shouldn’t try anything,” said Bean-head, “because if they want to remain hidden, and we show up, they’ll try anything to appear normal, to get us away”.

“It’s me they want,” Kieran muttered, as the car turned in the sanctuary direction, “and here I am, throwing myself into the Lion’s den”.

Sam had gathered them all together in the lounge of the bungalow. An impromptu ‘meeting’ to discuss where they were going.

“Okay, basically I want to discuss just what the fuck we’re going to do. Where are we going? Are we going to live here? Are we staying in these bodies or are we going to find other children to possess so we can grow into adulthood again.

Come on folks what do you think?”

“Well,” said Herbie, “once we find and kill Kieran, then we can find other children and live their lives like we did here until he fucked everything up for us”. The others muttered agreements.

“Kieran’s gone,” Sam put in, “well, for now. He’s in a police-station and we don’t know for how long. And when he gets out we still won’t know where he’ll go”.

“I may be able to find him,” Herbie said, “that Bean-head, I think I have his number and may be able to arrange a meeting. Then I’ll threaten him into telling me where he is”.

“Or he might tell you if you ask him,” said rambler man Jordan. “He won’t be impossible to find”.

“Herbie if you want to obsess over Kieran then go right ahead, but don’t fuck it all up for us,” said teenage girl Glenda.

“Kieran does need to die,” said Kat. “We were settled in the kids bodies and getting used to our families”.

“Exactly,” said Herbie, “once he’s dead we can move on. Move out of here”.

215

“Yes I get that,” Sam said, “but what if he really has gone? We can’t just live here obsessing over him, hiding away, we need to get out there and integrate.

Maybe we just have to let him go”.

Silence.

“Let’s just start trying to get back into society. Find new bodies, because as far as I’m concerned these were temporary. We shouldn’t have touched those seeds until we were pensioners,” said Jordan.

“Until Kieran fucked it up,” said Herbie.

“Yes, until Kieran fucked it up. We simply may just have to start again. Target the school. How are we going to possess them?”

“We could simply live here, in the sanctuary,” said Kat. “If the place is closed and it’s not easy to get to or find, we could simply stay”. The others disagreed.

“No,” Dorothy said, “this was always going to be temporary. We were staying here because Kieran forced us. We were staying until he was dead, because as far as I know he’s the only one who knows about us”.

“And that Bean-head fucker,” said Herbie.

“So we need to kill two,” Dorothy continued. “We stay here and work out how to kill them, and once they’re dead, we possess more children and integrate back into society, because even just being here as we are, we’re more exposed than what we would be possessing kids and living with their families”.

“I agree,” said Sam, “but we have to deal with the possibility that Kieran, and this Bean-head, are gone. If they really are gone then there’s nothing we can do, so we might as well possess more kids”.

“Thing is though,” put in Kat, “if we go ahead and possess kids now, while Kieran and Bean-head are alive, they could find and expose us again”. They agreed.

“Alright,” Sam said, “I say we take a vote. We assume Kieran and Bean-head are lost, and we can’t find them, so we just go and possess kids now, and integrate back. Or we stay here until we see if we can hunt them down and kill them, because when they are dead I think we can be truly hidden then”.

“Or option three,” Jordan said, “we all live here and call this home”. The others disagreed again. It was not an option.

“Okay,” Sam continued, “hands up for option one. We go and possess kids now.

Leave Kieran”.

216

Jordan and Kat put their hands up.

“Well it’s agreed then. We stay awhile until we see if Kieran and Bean-head really are gone, and if not, kill them then possess kids and integrate back into society”. The others put their hands up.

“Alright,” Sam said, “now, we need to all agree on a proper story as to why we’re here now, and the owners disappearance, because we’ve had to turn away several people at the gate”.

“They went to a bigger ranch in America,” said Jordan, “and they gave us this place as a gift”.

“Okay, where in America?”

“I don’t know, the mid-west”.

“See, we need to nail down exact details. They went to America to the mid-west to a big horse ranch. That tells me that you’re lying. The more details you include the more believable it is. If you’re lying then the details are quite scant, so where in America?”

“Wyoming,” said Kat, “I think I heard they have ranches out there,”

“Well, okay. They bought a horse ranch out in Wyoming where they can train more horses”.

“But what about leaving this place as a gift? Why would they do that? I mean who are we to them?” Sam asked.

“It doesn’t matter too much. Who we are to them is nobody’s business. We’re just friends of the family who helped out, maybe financially. They shouldn’t question it”.

“Okay,” said Glenda, “what about the white horse out the back? Are we keeping, or killing it?”

“Well if we’re a horse sanctuary, we might as well have at least one horse,” said Sam.

Out of the corner of his eye, Herbie noticed the net curtains at the front windows of the bungalow were flashing blue. It was quite indistinct, but caused him to wander across and look out of the window. The main gate was just across the way, and beyond it the top half of a police car with a silent flashing blue light.

“Guys!” he shouted, looking back. They all looked up like Meerkats.

217

“The police!” he watched as the officer left the vehicle, and two other men with Bean-head and Kieran.

“It’s Kieran and he’s brought the police.” The others scrambled to the window and swept the curtain back.

There they were, beyond the gate.

“Fuck,” shouted Sam, “we need to leave right now”. They all knew it. Change of plan. Escape.

“The seeds,” Jordan said, and dashed across to the small cupboard where they had been returned, taking out the metallic flask and heading for the rear of the bungalow with the others, out into the garage.

“Grab a weapon,” said Glenda, picking up a screw-driver. The others all picked up something small that could do damage. A hammer, a spanner, a vanadium steel ratchet.

They left and ran past the stables to a path at the rear where the horses would walk out into the lanes and fields. They didn’t know where they were going.

Just away.

Rambler woman Sam was at the back, and just in front was Dorothy.

“So Kieran comes to us and we’re running away,” she said.

“Yes, but did you not see the policemen? We can’t fight them under these circumstances, because you know they will bring a tonne of fucking heat on us.

We need to hide. Find somewhere quickly to change bodies”.

They headed down the lane.

“Hello,” Officer Charlton called at the entrance, looking around. The place seemed barren. He called a few more times before trying the gate.

They were soon walking into the yard.

He went across to the door of the bungalow and knocked a few times. No answer.

“I don’t think they’re here,” said Kieran, “they probably saw us and ran off”.

They wandered in different directions, and the policeman, video-blogger, and Kieran ended up out in the yard at the back, Charlton looking at the nonchalant white horse, Kieran wandering past the stables, noticing a vile stench wafting 218

over him. It was the social media streamer though, that wandered into the nearest stall.

He couldn’t comprehend what he was looking at at first, but when it sank in, he panicked.

“Officer!” he yelled, and Charlton came across. Kieran, although curious as to what he had found, saw ahead, down the path, probably at around eighty metres, distant figures heading away.

Charlton repeated what the streamer had done. He looked at the carnage before him, taking it in. The destroyed horse. The destroyed man. A carpet of flesh, bone, blood and choking viscera.

He spoke into his radio.

“This is Officer Charlton at the horse sanctuary. I need back-up and I need it now”.

Bean-head and the podcaster came into the yard and wondered what was going on.

“Officer,” said Kieran, pointing down the lane. The man breathed heavily, taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair.

He looked in the direction Kieran was pointing, and squinted to see the figures in the distance.

“That’s them,” Kieran said, “that’s them”.

Bean-head watched also the distant figures as they turned a bend, disappearing from view.

“Come on,” he said, slapping Kieran on the shoulder, “we need to follow them,”

and jogged ahead.

“No,” cried Charlton, “do not engage with them”.

“we’re just going to see where they go so we don’t lose them,” Kieran said, following Bean-head. They had got them on the run, and hatred, anger, frustration, and the desire to see justice done fuelled his fire, and he ran past Bean-head.

The officer went to protest, but then stopped himself. What was the protocol in this situation? He didn’t remember his training when it came to this, so knew he had to play it by ear.

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Even the podcaster and video-streamer were heading down the path.

Sod it, he thought, and followed them. They could not get away.

Sam looked back as he was about to vanish from view beyond the curve, Kieran about seventy metres away, followed by the others.

“Come on guys, faster!” he said, speeding up.

The lane they were on led back into the village, and chocolate-box bungalows here were on the fringe of the countryside, so it wasn’t too far back down to a T-junction of traffic lights. Which meant that up here, there was a restaurant, and further along, a public house and cricket social club where no actual cricket took place.

The restaurant was an exclusive place. Not too far for people to get to, but out of the way enough to be called cosy, as trees grew up either side of it. It was a seafood place ‘Maurit’s sea palace,’ the type of place where the owner can’t think of name for it, so just puts their name in the title.

It’s my place. I bought it, so I’m including my name.

It was half full, people simply enjoying their food and company. Jordan stopped and pointed at the large window where people had not noticed him.

“We need to go in there and possess them now”. The road into the village was too long at around a hundred metres, and there was nobody to possess. They knew it was pointless to keep running.

They all gathered, and agreed, hefting their weapons and advancing on the entrance.

The customers inside caught on, and soon panic spread as the group walked in swinging at them.

Then the screaming started, and people’s survival mechanism kicked in. They scrambled for the entrance, despite receiving hammer blows to the head, screwdriver stabs to the thighs, and craft-knife slashes as the group tried to stop anyone from leaving.

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They failed however, as the waiters were caught up in it as well, and even the kitchen staff.

They all panicked to get away from the tool-wielding maniacs.

A chair was hurled at the glass front, and it smashed easily, creating a new escape route.

After a few moments, there was nobody left. They had all escaped, some staggering, bleeding and limping their way into the village. The gang knew it was pointless chasing them. They needed to hide.

Glenda was lying on her back at the restaurant entrance, and gradually got to her feet.

“Well it looks like we’re fucked,” she said, walking into the place. The others were panicking, fretting around about where to go and what to do.

“Through the back,” she said, “into the kitchen”. They could nothing but obey, and all burst through, breathing heavily.

“Fucking Kieran!” Jordan yelled.

“Cunt!” shouted Herbie, “we can’t just keep running and there’s no-one to possess. We’re just going to have to try and kill them”. The others agreed, gripping tightly to their weapons.

Glenda stepped forward and pointed to the base of the back door.

“Guys,” she said. They all looked in that direction.

“Oh…fuck,” said Sam.

Kieran was still at the front, but out of breath, Bean-head also out of breath behind. The podcaster and streamer further back, without any recording media.

The policeman at the back, trying to shout at them to not follow, but not being heard.

Bean-head overtook Kieran, and when he came around to the restaurant, stopped, breathing heavily, saw people in the distance hurrying away, drips of blood on the floor, saw the smashed glass and wasn’t too sure what to make of it.

Kieran joined him and read the situation.

“They’ve got to be in there,”

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“But it’s so quiet, they’ve probably gone through and out the back”. He went inside the barren restaurant, looking around.

“Bean-head, it could be a trap. They might be hiding, waiting to attack”. He thought that unlikely however, because they were desperate, and wanted to kill him, but here he was, and they were running.

He walked into the restaurant and saw Bean-head approaching the swing doors to the kitchens at the back.

Then realised that they may have given up, and were standing their ground and fighting back.

So it really could be a trap.

“Bean-head,” he shouted, but wasn’t heard. His friend was looking through a small diamond-shaped window into the kitchen.

“Fuck,” Kieran heard him say. He was gestured over, and Bean-head pushed open one of the doors.

“They’re all dead”. Seven bodies were sprawled on the floor. Kieran stared at them.

“Fuck,” was all he could say. Then realised it still could be a trap, but Beanhead walked in and looked down at the body of rambler man Jordan.

“Bean-head it still could be a trap. They might be alive”.

“What?” he said, crouching down for a closer inspection.

They all looked dead, however, even though there was no evidence of any trauma, and none of them seemed to be breathing.

They both looked at them all for a few moments, and Kieran surmised that they really were dead.

Which meant their souls had passed on.

“They’ve possessed someone,” he said.

“Those people running away,” Bean-head said. They then heard voices outside.

Charlton had caught up, and was out of breath, but the streamer and podcaster weren’t, as they kept healthy with exercise.

Bean-head and Kieran went out into the restaurant, and could do nothing but bring them in to show the kitchen.

Again, the officer took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair.

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“They killed themselves,” he said as a statement.

“No,” said Kieran, “they’ve possessed others”. The man looked at him as though insane, but then said:

“This is a crime scene, you can’t be here,” then headed for the front of the restaurant. Clearly he was overwhelmed and needed his colleagues with him, so he was talking into his radio with exasperation.

The podcasters were shaken up and had to go and sit down in the restaurant.

Kieran looked back at the kitchen. Several saucepans were cooking on a well-used stove, and burgers were sizzling on a grill. Plates, cutlery and tea-towels were dotted around on most surfaces, some unwashed. A kettle billowed out steam, and bright daylight streamed through windows near the ceiling at the back wall.

“D’you think they really had time to possess those people running away. I’m not so sure. He walked back into the kitchen and looked around”.

“Well who else could they have possessed?” asked Bean-head, joining him.

Kieran almost resigned himself to that.

They had escaped, and were heading away into the village where they could vanish, regroup, and try and kill him all over again.

Bean-head was stepping over the bodies and looking around, not looking for anything in particular, but with curiosity.

It was then that something caught his eye, at the fire-escape door at the back. He stopped and stared, looking at the base.

“Kieran.” Kieran was looking around despondently. The police would descend on the place and that would be that. He would be out. They wouldn’t believe him, and he would have to hide or commit a major crime to get himself locked up.

“Kieran,” Bean-head repeated, and pointed to the base of the door. Kieran looked in that direction, and walked closer, stepping over bodies.

He reached the door and crouched down.

“That’s them”.

Six cockroaches were scrabbling at the door, trying to get under it, but there was only three millimetres, so not even a cockroach could get through that.

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They looked panicky, as though somebody had turned a light on and they ran for the dark.

These however, were scrabbling to escape.

Bean-head joined him.

“Alright,” he said, “before Officer Fucknut brings the heat, if you want to give Brett justice, it’s now or never”.

“Fucking cockroaches,” Kieran said, watching them panic.

“We’re gonna need to pick them up. Put them in the sink. They won’t be able to get out of that”. With distaste on his face, Kieran picked up two and hurried to the empty sink where he plugged it. Bean-head didn’t care. They didn’t bother him.

Soon, all six roaches were panicking around the sink, trying to climb up the sides but falling back, two huge human figures looming over them.

Kieran reached down and pressed his thumb on the back of one.

“Do it slowly,” Bean-head said, and little teenage boy cockroach Boyd, was crushed.

Bean-head reached in and picked up cockroach Herbie. He put it in his mouth and crushed him with his teeth.

“Eww…Bean-head,” Kieran said with distaste. It was spat out back into the sink. Kieran picked up cockroach Jordan in his fist.

“Slowly,” Bean-head said, and the little insect was crushed. He threw it back in the sink. They then heard voices outside the restaurant.

Voices they didn’t recognise.

“Hurry,” said Bean-head, “look,” he saw that on the work-top beside the sink, clearly regularly used and plugged in, was an empty smoothie blender.

The other roaches were placed inside, and again, scrabbled around, panicking.

Two huge faces loomed at them, and the roaches knew it was over, so they stopped and leaned up at the plastic, as if to plead for their lives.

“Look,” said Bean-head, “they know”.

“Yes they do. Yes they do. They know they’re fucked”. Voices outside were now inside the restaurant.

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His finger hovered over the button that would turn it on, the vicious blades ready to rip them to shreds.

He just looked at the pleading cockroaches.

“This is for Brett you fucking little cunts,” and roach Kat, roach Glenda, and roach Sam knew it was up. No more possessions.

He pressed the button, and the blades tore into them in an instant, turning them into insect slush.

He kept his finger pressed.

“Come on,” said Bean-head, “it’s done”.

The doors opened and two other policemen came in, surveying the scene. It took around ten seconds for them to comprehend it, and see the two youths near the back at the sink.

“Oi! you two, out! this is a crime scene”.

Kieran and Bean-head tentatively walked back, stepping over the bodies, and out into the restaurant.

The streamer was sat down, snivelling and trembling. The podcaster was stood trying to console him, but looking distraught himself.

“Is it over?” Kieran said, “am I really safe?”

“I’ve got to be honest Kieran, I don’t know, because there were seven bodies, and six cockroaches”.

“They’ll have gone though, won’t they? They’ll be the one that got out. Got under the door and escaped. They shouldn’t go after me now should they?

They’ll be a cockroach, and how can a cockroach possess anyone?”

“I don’t know how they did it,” Bean-head said quietly, “but as a cockroach I should think it would be difficult. Plus they’re not going to know where you are.

Actually where will you go?”

“Auntie’s, she said once this is over I can use the spare room,” Bean-head nodded.

“Is it over though?” Kieran asked, as if Bean-head knew exactly.

“I would say probably, because they’ll be a cockroach running away through the grass now. They’ll be gone”. Kieran nodded quite dejectedly.

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“I can’t keep hiding. I’m not going to stay in the forest in a tent. I’ll just have to got to aunties and see if I can get myself back in college. Try and forget. You know I actually thought of joining the police at one point. Well fuck that, I don’t care now what I’m going to do”.

“Well if you go to college, there’ll be a bed in the caravan park,” Bean-head said, “let’s leave this place.” They went to walk out but Charlton spotted them.

“We’ll need statements from you two, so don’t be wandering off.” There were three police cars outside the restaurant, and two scenes-of-crime officers approached Charlton. His attention was diverted.

“Come on,” Kieran said, and gestured to his tag, “it’s not like they can’t find me whenever they like, and they’ve got my phone number”. They both wandered along the lane down to the village. Nobody stopped them.

They didn’t say much on the way back as they came to the T-junction. To the left was a pavement featuring three decorative wooden boxes with flowers and plants. They were maintained by volunteers. Mainly one neighbour with a penchant for gardening.

Just beyond them another road branched to the left. A road which slowly sloped upwards. Ninety metres along was where his auntie lived. They both walked to a halt.

“Right, well I’m going back to the caravan,” Bean-head said.

“Okay, “ Kieran said, nodding, “you do think everything’s alright now don’t you?”

“Yes,” said Bean-head without much conviction. “One of them is a cockroach that doesn’t know where you are, and it’s running away”. Kieran was satisfied with this.

“See you later,” Bean-head then continued across the road, heading back towards the caravans.

Kieran looked up the road, and made towards his aunties, finding it harder going than he would have thought. He was trembling slightly.

It’s over, he thought. It’s over, and the images of Brett and his parents washed into his mind as he walked.

At one point he had to stop and lean on a garden wall. They flooded his minds-eye as he continued, weighing heavily as each step became more difficult.

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It took willpower to not just collapse and cry. The tears were on their way though, and nothing was going to stop them.

However, he gathered his composure, and walked the rest of the way to his auntie’s. A quaint little abode behind well maintained privet hedges. He placed a trembling hand on the gate, Brett’s face swimming around in his mind. Happy.

The floodgates were rattling behind his eyes, but he made it along the short path to the porch and pressed the doorbell.

Moments later, the inner door opened and his auntie slid the glass porch door back.

She said nothing. Could read him easily. She smiled, as did he.

“I can grieve now,” he said quietly, and they hugged.

The following morning was sunny, but noisy inside the restaurant as boots and voices filled the atmosphere. The kitchen was brighter than usual because the back door had been opened, and a policeman stood there, smoking a cigarette.

It was one of those doors that once opened, slowly closed back over, so to stop it, a brick had been wedged at its base while he smoked.

A few minutes later he finished up and went back inside, leaving the door open.

This was just the opportunity Dorothy was waiting for.

Nobody had bothered to check the metal bucket and mop in the corner nearest the door, because inside the wet fabric, a cockroach emerged, and scuttled along the back of several cupboards, avoiding a few other roaches along the way, until they came to the open door.

Pandemonium was still going strong by the bodies, in the restaurant and out the front, but nobody noticed the little cockroach that scuttled its way outside into the small unkempt yard, where there was a low wall which bordered a small grassy area, not big enough to be called a field, but too big to be called a garden.

She knew where she was going. There was a gap in the wall, where once a small gate had been, and she ‘ran’ as fast as she could where she vanished around it, out of sight. There were patches of dried mud and tufts of grass at the wall base, 227

and she scuttled her way along to where there was a rather bigger patch of light brown soil.

This was where she had thrown several seeds earlier.

While the others were panicking, trying to get the cockroaches to eat the seeds, which they did very successfully, as the roaches took to them immediately, Dorothy thought ahead and made sure she was the last. Glenda handed her the flask before collapsing, and soon she was standing amongst their bodies.

Better place a few seeds outside in case we do escape and somehow transfer back to humans. Better safe than sorry, because placing the flask outside would not be the best idea either, she had thought. Hiding it in a bush, or stashed away somewhere where it would probably be found when the police arrive, and the forensics was dangerous. The place will be gone over and the seeds found, put away in a police store-room as evidence.

So where could she place them that should mean no-one gives it a second glance?

In a kitchen. In a cupboard amongst plastic tuppaware boxes and unused spatulas. Which is where it was placed. A flask in a restaurant cupboard would be more hidden than in a bush outside.

So she opened the back door and walked across to the low wall and threw some seeds down onto the large patch of soil, and looked across the grass to the trees and bushes beyond, where houses nestled.

She rushed back in, not noticing that the door was inching slowly back to being shut.

The other cockroaches were in panic mode still, probably because of the realisation that they were a cockroach, and trying to quickly adapt to being one.

With two seeds in hand, there was another roach at the base of a cupboard, and she gave it a seed. Something about them meant the roach was ravenous over it.

They had never known whether they could possess animals, let alone insects, and whether they could possess someone if the seed was chewed instead of swallowed whole. However, time was of the essence, and Dorothy stood up and looked though one of the kitchen door windows, and because of an obscuring post, saw about five inches of Bean-head outside.

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Here they were, and she swallowed the seed, sending her consciousness into the small creature.

The others had gathered their bearings and were scrabbling at the huge fire-door which had closed.

Dorothy could see it was pointless following them. They were not getting under there.

Better to play a waiting game, and she saw in a corner a mop and bucket, a good hiding place where nobody should come looking. Possibly not even police or the forensic team.

All she had to do was hide in the mop and wait for back door to open, and she was out.

Now though, little Dorothy the cockroach knew she had to play another waiting game. She was on the patch of soil surrounded by the seeds, and knowing that each one was precious, gathered them together in her mandibles and put them at the base of the wall next to a stone in the wall shadow. In the middle of the light brown soil patch, she placed one seed, and another in her mouth also, ready to eat, because up there in the trees, somewhere, there were sparrows, and one would soon see the seed and swoop down. She hoped.

So she went back to the grass and waited, hearing the commotion going on in the restaurant, but that didn’t matter now.

Her friends were gone. She had heard Kieran and Bean-head killing them.

A cockroach however, cannot cry, and it cannot scream, so she had to hide in the mop as her lifelong friends died, and her anger built. Somehow, she would get to that fucking Kieran.

It took half-an-hour before a sparrow swooped down and ate the seed.

Dorothy quickly ate hers, and a few seconds after it had taken flight, the bird went unconscious, and fell, bouncing on the grass.

The cockroach’s lights went out, and after a minute, the bird woke up. Dorothy flailed and flapped around.

‘Fuck, I’m a sparrow!’ she thought as she calmed down to take stock, and spent the next hour adapting to the body and trying to fly. She manged a few times to get a few metres in the air but ended up flapping around and falling back to the grass.

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It was like trying to ride a bike. The first several attempts were the brain’s attempts in coming to terms with what was asked of it, and then the neurons rewiring so it was possible.

There was a small tree nearby, and Dorothy managed to fly all the way up there and land on a branch, where she promptly fell off, flapped around in the air and landed in the grass.

Try and try again is what she did, and was soon sitting on the branch, watching the back of the restaurant, as police came and went, people not in uniform, people in white forensic suits poking around.

At one point another sparrow landed next to her, but Dorothy pecked at it. ‘Fuck off!’ she shouted in her mind, and the bird flew away.

Still, Kieran played on her mind, and she felt brave enough to fly around the village to look for him. She would stay clear of the ground as much as possible where there were cats, and stick to rooftops.

She flew around the area first to get herself a mental map of where everything was, and looked down at the horse sanctuary to see more white-suited forensics milling around.

The police don’t half go to town when there’s a murder, she thought. I mean what are they really hoping to find?

Her birds-eye view saw that the village wasn’t too big. It got bigger towards the next town after the caravan park, where she flew from roof to roof in that direction, landing in a tree near the small reception building which seemed smaller than a caravan. She surveyed the area, where several students chatted and laughed. There were still cordons around the burnt caravan, and the scene of the murder, but no activity was taking place there. They seemed to go unnoticed by the students.

Do students actually do any work? Dorothy thought. They always seemed to be out, not doing any learning. Still though, a sparrow in a tree went unnoticed by anyone, and she flew around the park, but could see no Kieran, so resigned herself to flying back towards the restaurant.

On the way, she saw the school, and diverted across, landing on the railings while the children were in the playground. Not having any sense of time, Dorothy assumed it must be break or lunch-time.

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Without a care in the world, the children played, the age before adult complexities took over. Money worries. Politics. A child’s world was turned upside down if they’d lost their chocolate bar.

Dorothy settled on the railing and just watched. Jealous. Little fuckers. That should be me, she thought. I should still be Dorothy the child. When they were called in, quiet descended, and she flew back, roof to roof, to the branch behind the restaurant.

Finding she was hungry, Dorothy managed to find, further back from where she had settled as a base, the tree behind the restaurant, a blackberry bush, and not having any knowledge of what birds ate, and whether or not it was dangerous, she knew blackberries were fine, remembering picking them, and stuck to nothing but those.

At one point it rained, and Dorothy just sat on the branch for several hours, watching the comings and goings of the restaurant, and when the weather allowed, made her way back across to the caravan park, but again, several students milled around, talking and laughing, but no Kieran.

Maybe he wasn’t here at all. Was it worth settling here as a base until I see him?

she thought.

Yes, it probably was, and thought that maybe he had gone back to his parent’s house, but where was that? She couldn’t remember. However, the village was hers to traverse until she found him.

There didn’t seem to be too much by way of food at the caravan park, and she was apprehensive to try anything but the blackberries, and there were not as many trees here. It was more open, but still, all she needed was one tree, and frequented the park, and the grassy ‘garden’ which nobody maintained behind the restaurant, flitting from roof to roof, trying to find him, but she settled more and more in the tree next to the small reception building near the entrance to the caravan park, and watched the students come and go. He was bound to appear at some point, and it was when a police car appeared and an officer got out, that Kieran emerged. He detached himself from a group of students ahead and headed for the police car.

So Dorothy watched as he got in, and the vehicle drove around a mile to his parent’s house where it was still cordoned off. They both got out and Kieran looked reluctant to enter. Bad memories, Dorothy guessed. Another patrol car was parked outside, and a woman in a grey suit left the vehicle, a clipboard in hand. Kieran pointed at the slashed tyres of his car, but they didn’t seem all that interested, and all entered the house.

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Could be just a routine visit where the police will occasionally call in a suspect, or a victim for more information or to help them in their investigations, Dorothy wondered.

It was probably just a formality. The Sparrow settled on a rooftop opposite, and an hour later, he emerged with the policeman and mystery official, then was driven back to the caravan park.

So Dorothy kept her eye on him, watched as he went into a caravan with a group of students. Watched as he left two hours later. The stupid fucker seemed happier, getting on with things now. Him who had murdered all my friends. Not a care in the world. Nobody knew they were gone. Nobody knew who they were. There’ll be no tears shed for them, not even from Dorothy, but it didn’t matter how it was done. Kieran needed to die.

The bird watched as Kieran entered another caravan, and about 45 minutes later, left with Bean-head. Another cunt that needs to die, Dorothy thought.

Bean-head went into another caravan, and Kieran walked away alone, heading for the park exit.

So Dorothy swooped and flitted, following him as he made his way along roads, into a small convenience store where he emerged ten minutes later with a plastic bag of shopping, and made his way past the school and up in the direction of the horse sanctuary. She saw he wasn’t headed there, but up a road to where he opened a gate and got out a key to a small house.

So you have a key, Dorothy thought, perched on the roof of the house opposite.

This is where you live.

She needed to confirm it though, and stayed on the roof for hours, to make sure he didn’t leave. It rained, it went dark, the temperature dropped, and there was a slight breeze occasionally, but she stayed vigilant, trying not to sleep, but failing. Waking. Trying to stay awake. Failing, until dawn when she knew she could stay alert and observant.

Around 8am, an elderly lady emerged and walked down the lane.

That must be who he’s staying with, she thought. An auntie, a relative. Dorothy had to assume he was still in there.

So there he was, inside the house. Alone, and here I am, a bloody sparrow where I can do nothing at the moment.

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Was it worth flying back to get the seeds to try and possess a person, then going to the house to try and kill Kieran.

She decided. Yes it was.

However, the door opened, and Kieran came out, so Dorothy followed him again as he made his way seemingly back to the caravan park.

Despite being a sparrow, all the flying and landing did take a slight toll on energy, because she had not eaten anything since the previous day. She needed to focus on Kieran, who made his way back to the caravan park, where he met a few others, including Bean-head, and they continued out through the other entrance, heading towards the town.

They took a left and continued along a main road where across to the right was a university campus, and Dorothy guessed that that was where they were headed. She was right. They crossed a small car-park and went into a revolving door entrance.

Dorothy landed on top of a street-light. Now what? she thought. He could be in there ten minutes, or hours. It seemed to be some sort of open day, because he could see some people standing around with ‘Happy to help’ on a sign they were holding, and there were people to-ing and fro-ing. People who did not seem to be students. Parents, aunties.

So feeling a little self-conscious, Dorothy flew across the road to another street-light, where she could still easily see whether Kieran would leave by the same entrance. He could however, leave elsewhere and she wouldn’t know. So perhaps assume that he does live with his auntie, and go and possess somebody else, then go and kill him.

She wanted to be sure though, to convince herself 100 per cent that that was where he was now staying, because she didn’t want to let him out of her sight, so decided to stay, and see if he did leave. Or was he going to spend the whole day here?

Around an hour later, he emerged from the revolving doors, alone, and headed back.

There you are, she thought. He was carrying a folder.

He wound his way back to the caravan park, but didn’t stop, continued through, and walked on into the convenience store, Dorothy resting on a garden wall opposite. Then she realised she was too close to the ground as there may be cats, so flew back up to the house roof.

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Kieran emerged with a bag of shopping and made his way back to the same house where he let himself in.

Dorothy landed on the house opposite and decided yes, she can let him out of her sight now. This was where he was staying. His ‘base’.

Which meant that when she possessed another human, she would go and murder him there. No witnesses except the auntie maybe, and she may die as well, because if she knocks and he’s not there, only the auntie, she would kill her then stay in and wait for him to turn up.

Dorothy returned to the restaurant to find it all quiet, except that it was cordoned off, and one police car was nearby with an officer that looked asleep inside.

Now was good time to possess someone, she thought. That officer was out of bounds though as his window was up.

How to do it. How to possess a human if I am a sparrow.

After eating ‘breakfast’ of a few blackberries, she thought the lane from the horse sanctuary that continued onwards after it branched off down to the restaurant, might not be a bad place to wait for someone. There was a four-foot wall. No cats or predators around that had sparrow on the menu, and it was out of sight of anyone. The police car was parked up beyond the cordon past the restaurant. However, anyone that did come this way would see that they could go no further because of the police-tape. No turning down to the restaurant, and no going to the horse sanctuary.

Still, there should be people along the path at some point, and she knew how to do it. How to possess a human. It would take precision, but it could be done.

She would fly above them, out of their sight, then swoop down to their mouth and grip onto the lower lip with the sharp talons. They’ll be so surprised they’ll yell out or instinctively open their mouth to shout.

That’s when she plants the seed into their throat. They would be able to do nothing but swallow.

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It would have to be done in a second or less, as she knew full well the danger of sharp teeth slicing her in half.

So she flew back and landed by the stone where the seeds were and retrieved one in her beak, then flew to the four-foot wall along the route to the sanctuary.

The wall was about ten inches wide, and jagged all the way along. It had probably been built around the same time, or even before, Dorothy had been born.

Beyond the wall were fields, and some sheep and cattle, the place where they had changed bodies. Dorothy wondered if it might be worth flying out there because there might be more chance of possessing somebody. Maybe even more choice.

However, she decided to wait on the wall for a while, having retrieved a second seed and placed them both before her, as she waited for a human to come along.

While she waited, the sun decided to come out from behind a few clouds and throw down its heat. It was fairly warm anyway, but everywhere brightened up.

The area was quiet. A bumblebee flew around shrubbery, and a few other birds were out in the distance. She still kept her eye out for predators. Cats, Sparrowhawks, Owls. Yet she seemed okay, and didn’t feel in any danger.

If she went out into the countryside though, where they had changed bodies, there may be predators out there which would make a nice tasty snack of a sparrow.

Too risky, she thought.

Anyway, here comes a human.

It was another rambler type, or hiker, and as Dorothy watched them get closer she realised she couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. They looked to be late thirties, early forties, wearing combat trousers and denim jacket with shortish hair, part of which had been dyed red. It was definitely a woman, Dorothy realised, but a ‘tomboyish’ type.

She picked up a seed and launched into the air. The woman came closer, a rucksack slung over her shoulder. The sparrow circled about ten-feet above her. The hiker came to a halt when she noticed the police cordon, put down her rucksack and retrieved a bottle of water. As she took a swig, Dorothy hovered for a second, and when the bottle was removed, swooped down and grabbed her 235

lower lip, forcing her head into her mouth and placing the seed at the back of her tongue where her reflex swallowed it. She got out quickly and flew up.

The woman staggered back.

“What the..?” swiping the air at nothing. She coughed and spluttered for a few moments, then looked around as if searching for the culprit.

The culprit was perched on the wall, but she didn’t see the bird, as the hiker collapsed.

Dorothy picked up the other seed in her beak and swallowed it, flying down onto the lane, where she went unconscious.

For around a minute, not much stirred. Another bumblebee flew over the body, and a dormouse ran across the lane further up.

The woman slowly opened her eyes, then began to move. She gradually got to her feet as if she had been on the losing end of a boxing match, but without the injuries.

Smiling, she stretched and walked around for a few minutes, getting used to the body.

“Alright,” she said, picking up the bag, and hefting it over her shoulder. Hang on, she thought, what’s in this?

Putting the bag back down she opened it up to find clothing, spare boots, a tablet, electric toothbrush, hair straighteners, water bottles, shampoo, small mirror. So it was all tipped out near the dead sparrow.

She kept the bottles of water, some money, a credit card, and found in the jacket she was wearing, a mobile phone.

Won’t be needing that, she thought, throwing it over the wall.

Hefting the bag over her shoulder, she wondered how to get back to the restaurant. It was vital she get there, and now was as good a time as she was going to get with there being no activity inside, and one police car. However, the only way there was along the lane, beneath the cordon, where Officer Sleepychops might not take too kindly to someone just blatantly walking in, if he was awake that is. How could she find out if he was? because the road was at such an angle that if he saw her at all from any position, he would know she had passed the cordon, so another route to the back of the restaurant was needed.

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Further down there was another cottage type abode, and she headed there.

Having been flitting around the trees and bushes, Dorothy surmised that the blackberry bushes where somewhere behind the house, so if she went through it she may be able to go out the back. She didn’t have any weapons though, so depending on who answered the door, Dorothy just may have to walk through.

Opening the gate and walking along the path to a porch door, she rang the doorbell and heard it chime inside.

She waited a couple of minutes, thinking that perhaps nobody was home, when she saw movement. The door opened, and a pensioner with a zimmer-frame looked out.

Hang on, Dorothy thought, I can just open this porch door, and she did, stepping inside. The old lady was wide-eyed with surprise. No stranger had ever done that before.

She pushed through, and the woman collapsed back into the hallway, fear on her face.

“I would guess you are in your nineties,” said Dorothy, looming over her.

“Well, you’ll never believe how old I am. And it’s a lot older than you”.

“Poli…police…I’m calling the…”

“Call them, they’re only around the corner, or maybe you should press that button thing you’ve got around your neck, but by the time anyone arrives I’ll be long gone”. Dorothy walked out into the kitchen and saw on the kitchen-top chopping board, half of a fruit and nut cake, so found some kitchen towel, wrapped it up and put it in her bag, then went out into the surprisingly small back garden. A wooden door which looked like it hadn’t been opened in years was beside a shed that also looked rickety and unused. Locked for a very long time. She tried the door, and it moved, but didn’t open straight away. It took effort, but she had the strength and wrenched it back. The wood at one of the hinges was rotted, and that came away.

She was faced with twigs and brambles, and thought there was no other way through, so forced her way, eyes tight shut, poked and scraped, through the bush and out to where her sparrow ate the blackberries.

She stood up properly, brushed herself down and saw that the back door of the restaurant was still open. Still wedged with a brick.

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Before entering though, she went back to the place where she had left the other seeds, and gathered them all up, looking at them in her hand, then decided, why not? and set about planting them around.

She didn’t know how long they would take to flower, and knew she wouldn’t be around long enough to see them. It didn’t matter. Whoever found them would probably be curious, and flower geeks would be thrilled with them.

Would they discover what they could do though? like the Nurabi tribe. Maybe not, but after a while, possibly.

Fuck ‘em, she thought, I’ll show people what it can do, then sit back and watch the human race fuck itself over.

Inside the kitchen of the restaurant, all was quiet. The bodies had gone, but the place was very untidy. She crossed straight to the cupboard where the flask had been placed. It was still there, and was placed in her ruck-sack.

She stared in the sink at the crushed bodies of roaches, and the blender containing the mush of her friends.

She looked at them with hate and anger, and revenge.

Fucking Kieran.

Hanging up above the sink was a set of knives. She picked a shiny, sharp steak-knife and put it in her inside pocket in her denim jacket, then turned away and walked out into the restaurant itself, but not before taking from a counter some raspberry shortcakes.

She guessed the police, forensics and press would be back soon. Someone will anyway, so knew she could not hang around, and would have to deal with the policeman outside. She knew where Kieran lived, and knew how to get there. It was a ten-minute walk from here. Going around the patrol car out of its sight was not an option, so there was no choice but to leave the restaurant through the front.

Which she did, and headed in the vehicles direction, ducking beneath the cordon. Officer sleepychops was awake and wound down his window when he saw her in the wing-mirror.

He leaned out.

“Excuse me, you can’t be here. This is a crime scene.”

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“What?” said Dorothy, “is it? I came to see if I can book a table. You see it’s my Grandad’s 100th birthday and I wanted to surprise him, so came to enquire but…”

“No no no…it’s a crime scene. The restaurant is closed for now. It’ll re-open”.

“Will it, when?”

“I don’t know, but you can’t be here.”

“I thought it odd that the place was empty. Why what happened?”

“Sorry I cannot disclose that information”. Dorothy nodded as if she was in the wrong.

“Sorry officer I didn’t know,” then she continued walking, and the man did nothing else except say:

“Like I say it should reopen in a couple of days” .

“Okay, thank-you officer, I’ll come back then, Grandad will be really surprised”.

Not as surprised as he would have been, she thought, had she needed to stab him.

Hefting up the ruck-sack, she continued with nothing but Kieran on her mind.

Okay cunt, she thought, time to fucking die.

The sun seemed to turn up the temperature slightly, and she felt beads of sweat on her brow, wiping it with her sleeve.

Turning left, she knew there was no rush to go to Kieran’s, so stopped and sat at one of the flower-boxes, resting and taking out a bottle of water.

The anger and hatred she had for Kieran, she was surprised to find, was not as it once was. She wanted to go up there and kill him right now. Gut him and cut his head off, but the urge, the temptation, the drive for revenge was not burning as strong as it was.

He destroyed my friends, and changed the path of my life, she thought.

Yet the desire was not intense. Didn’t make her march up there right now, stab his auntie and him, which at one point she would have done without a second thought.

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…and she knew why.

…because she was free.

Kieran had freed her from the others, even though they were united in their secret. Together forever. Quite literally, or until the Earth burned.

Which it may do a lot sooner now if human greed intensifies, wanting the seeds.

Not that Dorothy was shackled to the others, but their collective secret was such that they had to remain hidden to go on living throughout time.

Yet, here she was, alone for the first time in her lives.

Now what?

Still kill him?

He might have done me a favour. He’s changed my life, and that actually may be for the better. Now she could go where she liked. Maybe even go abroad. No

‘family’ or gang to consult where she would go along with the consensus.

Now she was unshackled from the chains she had put on herself. Thanks to Kieran.

Yes, ‘thanks’ to Kieran.

She took the knife out of her pocket, and sighed with almost disappointment, getting to her feet. Between the flower boxes there were silver birch trees, and she stepped across to the nearest, stabbing the blade into the bark.

Dorothy still wanted to meet with him. She took out the flask, and in all three flower boxes planted a few seeds.

Maybe there was some last frustration to get out. Some dying embers. She would give the world the seeds, and let it fuck itself over.

It wouldn’t happen in Kieran’s lifetime though.

Or Dorothys.

She decided that she would live out her life in this body, and would die in it.

The seeds would not be her responsibility anymore.

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After five minutes, she was standing in front of Kieran’s aunties house, just looking at it. Then went and rang the doorbell.

His Auntie Lynn answered after a few moments, looking with apprehensive curiosity through the glass.

“Is Kieran around? I need to speak to him. I’m his tutor at the university and I need to talk to him about an assignment”. Lynn smiled and opened the porch.

“Oh, that was quick, he’s just applied, and you’ve just missed him. He’s gone to the caravan park with his friend Bean-head”.

“Has he? Oh, alright, thanks.” Moments later, Dorothy was walking quickly in the direction of the park.

It didn’t take long, because after two minutes.

There he was.

An opportunity to kill them now. They were fifty metres ahead, just casually chatting.

Run back, grab the knife, then stab them both in the neck. Chances are she would get away with it as well, as there were not many people in this area at present.

They were heading towards the school where she knew they would turn in the direction of the caravan park.

Dorothy’s emotions roiled within her. Here he was, Kieran, the one who has fucked us over, killed my friends and altered the path of my life. There he is right now. Your one-minute window of opportunity to kill the cunt.

Yet, she realised there was no anger left. Not even hatred. She watched as he walked ahead, oblivious to Dorothy behind.

Last chance saloon, she thought. He’s nearing the school, and more people will be around.

However, she just watched him casually chatting, and made a wry, humourless smile as she understood that although the window was here, was open now, she chose not to take it, and was also apprehensive about talking to him, which she would do. Perhaps now wasn’t ideal, running up to him in the street.

Let him settle where he is going first, then talk to him, like she would have done had he been at the house.

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So she kept to around sixty or seventy metres behind, and at two points they had to cross roads, and looked in her direction.

It didn’t matter whether they saw her or not. They would not recognise Dorothy, and as far as they were concerned, she was just a stranger in the street so they paid her no heed.

When Bean-head went in alone to the convenience store, Kieran waited outside and started looking at his phone.

She could just come up behind him and stab his throat. If she had the knife.

This’ll probably be the best opportunity I will ever get. Yet, here I am, leaning against this bus-stop to blend in, to be inconspicuous.

He was thirty metres away. Totally oblivious to Dorothy watching him.

After a minute or so, Bean-head came out with a bottle of fruit-juice and they continued on towards the caravan park.

As did Dorothy.

She held back to around fifty metres, but did not want to risk losing sight of him, hoping they weren’t going to carry on through towards the university.

When they reached the entrance she closed the gap to around forty metres, and when they passed by the reception building it was twenty.

Kieran and Bean-head however, did not immediately go to any of the abodes.

Instead, just to the side of the building, there were four wooden picnic tables for residents to use, and even though there were still students around, only one was occupied by one student.

Kieran and Bean-head sat opposite each other and continued chatting. Dorothy stopped and watched them for a moment.

Alright, she thought. Fuck it.

…and approached the table.

They both stopped talking while Dorothy sat herself down beside Bean-head.

She retrieved the flask from the rucksack and placed it before her.

“Hello Kieran,” she said, “I don’t suppose you know who I am.”

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“Erm…no,” he looked at Bean-head as if he knew, but Bean-head was just looking at her with curious eyes.

Then the realisation dawned over Kieran’s face and fear took over.

“The one that got away,” he said, standing up, as did Bean-head.

“Relax, relax. I am not here to kill you, I promise. I have wanted to, really, but I’ve come to realise I need to thank-you. I can assure you I am not going to kill you”. All Kieran’s instincts were telling him to run, but, if telling the truth, she has not got murder in mind, then see what she wants, because part of his instinct was telling him she was for real.

Nothing about her seemed like she wanted to kill anyone. Even Bean-head’s instincts told him the same thing. I’m ready to run, but she also seemed genuine.

“Sit down, both of you. I have something I want to give you”.

“You killed my brother and my parents”. Kieran said. Dorothy nodded.

“Yes, yes we did. Because they were a threat to us. Brett and you could have exposed us and needed to be removed, but things have changed, thanks to you, and I really mean that. I’ve wanted to kill you for so long, but in a way, you’ve set me free, but don’t forget, you killed my friends as well.”

“But your friends were stone-cold psychopathic murderers,” Bean-head said, hands on hips.

“Yes they were. I get it. We’re not really equal, You would have killed me given the chance, but you freed me from them. Don’t get me wrong, we were bonded over the years by this,” and she opened the flask and shook out a few seeds, placing them on the table and holding one up.

“Each one of these is precious, and I’m giving them to you. I will not take any with me. I will die in this body”. Kieran and Bean-head looked at each other, and cautiously, sat back down.

“What are they?” Bean-head asked.

“Seeds of the black rose. They’re how we possess people. You see, these sprout real black roses. Any you can get elsewhere are human manipulated. Created artificially. These are from nature, and I’m giving them to you to do what you will with them. People will kill for this, so you could say we’ve been protecting society from its violent, greedy nature, but here it is, and you can either protect them like we did, or they will get out into society. But here I am around students, so there’s no way this is going to be kept secret, but it doesn’t matter 243

to me anymore. The human race will kill itself over this, but it won’t be in our life-time. You’ll probably enjoy good lives, and you won’t need to look over your shoulder for me. I won’t be there. We’ll watch as society unravels, as brother kills brother. Parents kill offspring, and blood will run through the streets like rivers. Well, maybe”.

“Yes, human nature can be fickle,” Bean-head said. “If you take two people who have been good friends for years, and they both see money on the floor at an equal distance away, and they both see it at the same time. Well, they could fight over it, and there ends a friendship like that,” he clicked his fingers.

“How?” Kieran asked, looking at the seeds. “How do you possess people?”

“Can I recommend neither of you try it? Just stay as you are…well, find the person you want to possess. Or animal, and get them to swallow a seed. Then swallow one yourself. You will both fall unconscious. However, you will still be aware, and it’s at that point that you focus your attention on the other person.

You project your spirit, or soul, into them, like having an out-of-body experience. Your soul can enter the other persons mind, and you push out their spirit, and replace it with yours. You become them. The other person dies, but you take over their body, retaining the same consciousness you’ve always had”.

Kieran and Bean-head were looking at the seeds curious, but confused.

“I was born in 1721 and I’ve been in many bodies since. Thanks to you I discovered I can possess birds and cockroaches. Anyway, you both look like you need a demonstration. However, do not try it yourselves”.

Both Kieran and Bean-head picked up a seed and examined them.

“Don’t do it,” she said, and they believed her.

“No, we do believe you,” Bean-head said.

“Sorry, sorry I couldn’t help but overhear this,” the voice came from the other table, where the student had been eavesdropping. He was an ‘emo’, and had black and white hair and several earrings. He came over and sat beside Kieran.

“Are you saying possession is real? That these seeds can make you possess someone?” Dorothy nodded.

“Oh come on! utter nonsense. I heard you say you could demonstrate. Well if these two believe in it, I want to see”.

“Not unless you want someone to die, which, trust me kid, doesn’t bother me one bit. In fact you’re welcome to try it yourself. Go and find someone who is 244

willing to swallow one of these”. The youth looked at the seeds for a few moments, deciding.

“Alright, I’ll debunk this nonsense,” he said, “I’ll go and get Scooter, and we’ll show you that’s it’s all in the mind”.

“You’re kind of right, it is in the mind. My mind would replace yours, and I take over your body”.

“Oh come on, I need to see this. I’ll be back in a minute,” and he upped and left.

Kieran and Bean-head had apprehension on their faces.

“Yes,” said Dorothy, “a student is about to die, but it’s their choice. They don’t have to do it. You’re welcome to stop them”.

“That’s one of the student skeptic club members. In uni they have debating sessions on all kinds of topics, and skeptism is one,” said Bean-head.

“So they meet to discuss what they don’t believe in,” Dorothy said as a statement, “ESP, don’t believe in that. Ghosts, nope, not real. Let me guess.

Science or nothing, Closed fucking minded people that think they know everything. Student know-it-alls that won’t believe the truth if they tripped over it, and will always believe what they want to believe even in the face of contradictory evidence. Everyone finds proof for what they want to believe, and will find proof against what they don’t want to believe, thinking they know ‘the truth,’ whatever the fuck that is. There’s a difference between what you know, and what you believe. Nobody fucking knows the truth. No-one”.

The youth came back with three more students.

“Alright,” he said, “this is the one who is going to prove possession.” They didn’t laugh, but looked at each other as if to say: ‘really?’.

“Like I say kid,” said Dorothy, standing up and handing him two seeds. “Both swallow one, then project yourself into the others mind.”

“Hang-on,” said Bean-head, “can’t the other person project back into the other body? Basically swap bodies”.

“To be honest,” Dorothy said, “of all the experiments we did down the years, that’s one we never tried, but the person who we want to possess doesn’t know to project themself, and will be in shock at having been pushed out of their body. Then the process begins where they drift into the afterlife”.

“Now there’s an afterlife,” said the student. Dorothy ignored him and continued.

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“The moment of shock at having been pushed out of your body lasts about a minute before your soul departs for wherever, and in that minute you’re still in control of your mind, so you can enter another person, and take control of their physical body, bringing your consciousness, memories, personality with you, and you possess the other person”.

“How old are you?” asked another student.

“I don’t know to be honest. I was born in 1721, so over 200 years old,” then the surrounding youths laughed, because they knew she was being serious. Kieran and Bean-head however, didn’t laugh at all.

“Okay, said the skeptic student, “let’s see this demonstration.” Scooter, another emo, smaller, all in black with a nose-ring stepped forward and took a seed.

They formed a makeshift circle as other students drifted across to see what was going on.

“What’s going on?” one asked.

Another student answered, “This girl says she can prove possession, and their gonna demonstrate”.

“Really, I’ve got to see this.”

“Are all students skeptics?” Dorothy asked, “don’t any of you believe in anything spiritual?”

Some of them looked at each other and nodded, but a few shook their heads.

“Everything is science,” one of them said.

“Yes,” Dorothy said, “but where did science come from? Did it make itself? If so how?”

“Well, you see…” the student said, and Dorothy could see he was about to launch into a lecture.

“Come on come on I want to see this. We’re going to prove possession,” said student skeptic, and his sarcastic tone enhanced.

“Alright, so I’m going to swallow this seed, and you swallow your seed,” he said to Scooter, and some of the others giggled.

“Yes, very funny,” Dorothy muttered, “swallowing seed”.

“So after three we’re gonna swallow, and we both project our minds okay, because you know, we’ll possess each others bodies”.

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“Don’t,” said Bean-head, “don’t do it”. Dorothy pointed at Bean-head.

“You really should listen to him.”

“No come on, let’s debunk this nonsense…3.2.1”, and they both swallowed their black rose seeds.

Then for a few seconds they closed their eyes trying to force their consciousness into the other.

Some students had smirks on their faces.

…but not for long.

They both collapsed, and the other students stood looking at them, thinking they were play-acting. They still thought they were play-acting when both of them stirred.

Dorothy stared at them wide-eyed.

“Fuck,” she said, “they really can swap bodies.” She watched as they slowly got to their feet, blinked and stretched.

…then they realised.

…their consciousness was in the others body.

…and they screamed.

The students went into panic mode, forgetting Dorothy. Kieran and Bean-head were watching with trepidation on their faces.

Dorothy didn’t sit down. She picked up her ruck-sack and hefted it over her shoulder.

“Okay Kieran,” she said, and he looked at her with apprehension in his eyes.

She pushed the flask towards him.

“There must be about three thousand seeds in there. I’ve already planted a few around. Thanks again I suppose for changing my life. These are all yours now to do with what you will. Farewell,” and she walked through the students who took no notice of her. She walked along the path, circled the police cordon, and left at the other entrance.

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Kieran and Bean-head said nothing. It was still a sunny day, and Kieran took out and held up to look at, a seed of the black rose.

Origins

It didn’t take long, but was still a very long time.

The students couldn’t keep it secret. Not that they tried. Plenty of seeds were planted around the town and its abuse gradually built.

People who were attractive, ‘beautiful’, were targets. Force-fed the seeds and souls transferred. Some died. Some were swapped, and people whom could be called ugly, unattractive, mediocre, and even attractive people who wanted to look even better started kidnapping and force-feeding them the seed to transfer.

It spread beyond Wales, and more and more people began to catch on. It made its way into science laboratories, under the microscope, but, like some of nature’s mysteries, it did not give up its secrets.

Even some of the scientists wanted to possess people younger than them.

Including children, kidnapped, force-fed by people who had never even thought about committing a crime.

The opportunity to be younger, to start again, to right the wrongs they did in the other body, such as not starting to smoke, or fix a limp caused by a car-crash was too overwhelming. They would have their whole lives in front of them, and when older, could find another child.

It spread across the whole British Isles, and couldn’t be contained, gradually making its way abroad. Pensioners kidnapped children. Kidnapped attractive people. The government waded in, and kept it for themselves so they could monetise it.

There were fields of black roses, and each seed would be expensive. Yet they needed two per possession.

The police and army joined forces, but it became like drugs. They could try and stop criminals getting hold of it, but it was impossible, and even they became corrupted.

So the police system and army became shadows of their former selves. Crime involving black roses and every other sort of crime they would attend was too 248

much, no matter what the government said, and even they too, started showing cracks.

Until the whole of the UK was chaos, followed by other countries as well, people craving the flower. Craving youth.

Kidnapping attractive people. Kidnapping children. Seeds appeared on the black market. Normal people would kill for them, and again, governments tried to regulate and control it, and of course, as is with every institution, every innovation, there are always the naysayers, The ones who will disagree. So gangs were formed to go out and destroy the flower.

They tried. They really did. Factions appeared in all countries, realising how corrupt it made people. It was dangerous to be attractive.

Yet some members of those factions became corrupted by it, and faded away.

They had barely made a dent in the population of black roses, and failed dismally to wipe it out, having only eradicated about 2% worldwide.

Of course the flower came back stronger, and every single country on the planet had black roses, including the island where it was originally discovered.

Women were kidnapped, raped pregnant by people who would have abhored it, but they wanted youth, and babies were sold and stolen.

Nature.

Raw.

In tooth and claw.

…became rampant for about two thousand years as the human population ripped itself apart with greed and corruption. Money became secondary to human obsessions.

However, none of it did anything for the human population.

As it slowly started fading away, the world didn’t become populated by beautiful people. Genetics continued to diverse. It would create all kinds of beauty, as it always had, and all kinds of mutations. Ugly and beautiful went hand in hand, as it had always done. That never changed.

So over the following thousand or so years, humans were on a downward trend,

…and showed no signs of recovery.

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Siberia was the first country to have a human population of zero. Next came Chile, then Australia.

The animals didn’t notice too much. Or cared. It was the pets that noticed the most, and out in the wild were tasty morsels for the animals which now had the run of the world.

On an island in the Philippines, an elderly lady was walking along a beach, an elderly lady that had survived to old age. She had never been the most attractive anyway, and nobody had ever wanted to possess her, and she retained goodness in her heart to not do it to somebody else, so she sat back as humans decimated themselves. She was survivor. Her lack of beauty served her well. Protected her.

As she wandered along the beach at the shoreline, she collapsed, and died.

Of old age.

She was the last human on Earth.

So there was a vacancy. Humans were the only ones with self-awareness.

Intelligence. Imagination, and animals simply got on with the job of survival, like the dinosaurs, which ruled the planet back in yesteryear.

So for another five thousand years, animals got along fine, evolution doing exactly what it had always done. Adapt, change.

One of the creatures changed more so than the others, as if nature had decided it needed that vacancy filling. It was time to enhance the brain of the cockroach.

So they mutated over the years, gradually getting bigger and bigger. The size of a cat. The size of a fully grown pig, until the adults came to a stop at around four feet long.

They began to make sounds, and their back legs grew stronger.

Another few hundred years, and they were upright, and made language.

Forming groups, factions, hierarchies. Nature had brought through that which it had given to humans.

They had strong walking legs, and four pincer ‘arms’. Chitin ‘wings,’ which they could wrap around themselves like a blanket, although they could not fly very far, maybe to around eighty metres at most and a height of around thirty feet.

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The language was a kind of a reedy clicking. Universal at first before countries started to form, and they began to make a kind of currency to barter for goods and work.

The ravages of human cities would be smoothed over and rebuilt for their own, keeping some things as historical artefacts.

They did not become like humans in roach form. More their own species, but ended up unknowingly emulating them.

The climate had altered as well. Spring and Autumn were only around a month each. They had no concept of years, and would discover mathematics. Summer and Winter were the most dominant, lasting for months at a time, but they had no concept of months either, and would form their own calendar.

As for the black rose. It still grew, but not as much. It could be found mainly in jungles, but its power to possess, had gone.

It was simply a flower now.

So, thousands of years from when the last human washed into the sea, evolution had formed and adapted the cockroach to replace humans as the new, intelligent, dominant species.

About the author:

As a native of the world in one city, Liverpool, England, I write twisted tales of horror, crime and mystery. I have written over a hundred short stories, three novels, and appeared in various publications. When I am not writing, I enjoy drawing and painting.

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