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Marcus: Chapter 22: The Gauntlet to the Golf Course

To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

(These chapters are early drafts, the final edition of ‘Marcus’ is available in paperback and on Kindle. The Kindle edition is available on Amazon.co.uk and from Amazon.com, as well as all Amazon websites worldwide, simply search for ‘Marcus John Bray’. The paperback is available from Fun Junction in either Crieff or Perth). If you would like to read ‘Marcus’ from the beginning on this site you can click here for chapter 1.

Marcus’ plan had worked but they had no time to celebrate. James and Taz had the bag. Taz had had enough of bones for a lifetime. James did the honours (he needed the distraction after leaving Theo behind with Nicky).

They had the tiniest of head starts. They had seen what Marcus’ ‘family’ could do and they had a good idea about what to expect from Mr Thomas. In fact everything they knew told them this was pointless. They ran all the same.

In fact they paid so much attention to who might be following that they didn’t think of who they might run into. Taz was a few feet in the lead but he still didn’t slow down enough to avoid running into the side of the flashing police car.

A man in expensive shoes and a tweed jacket stepped out to catch him. This man exuded authority, even without a uniform he embodied ‘official’:

“No need to rush sir. What appears to be the emergency?”

Taz just had enough time to realise how bad things had gone before James ran into the two of them.

The cloth bag landed on the pavement beside the police officer’s feet. A grin sneaked on from the corner of his mouth:

“And what might this be? You gents been taking something that doesn’t belong to you?”

His face drained when he saw inside the bag. He just had time to yell for another officer before throwing up on the boot of the police car.

James and Taz were read their rights, cuffed, and thrown into the back of the car before they could even say ‘but…’

The sack was placed with care into the boot. The man in the tweed jacket wouldn’t even look at them. He locked the police car and went round the corner, mobile phone in hand talking to himself:

“I am not equipped for this. Only made detective two months ago. They warn you in training but…”

The other officer accompanied him, a comforting hand on his shoulder. James and Taz looked at one another then glared at the floor.

Idiots! What sort of fool runs towards a police car with a sack of human bones?

Taz broke the silence:

“So what do we do now?”

James shook his head:

“I have literally no idea. You didn’t swipe his keys by any chance did you?”

Taz gave a dry laugh:

“No, I wish. Only one slight of hand in me tonight and I used it already.”

James smiled at his old friend:

“I suppose you did.”

The officers clearly had no intention of coming back soon. Taz adjusted himself to feel more comfortable (it wasn’t easy with his hands handcuffed behind his back).

The car pinged and clicked. The metal contracting in the growing cold.

The road sounded odd too. Like a ‘crunch’ surrounded by a bubble of silence. James looked out the window:

“What do you think that is?”

Taz shook his head:

“Shhh.”

Footprints from nowhere appeared in the frost, growing closer to them with each step. Stopping outside Taz’s door.

The locking mechanism in the door clinked, grinded, then ‘pinged’. The door handle lifted by itself and the wind howled in from outside:

“…out…”

James stared but Taz knew better, with a simple ‘come on’ to his friend, Taz shuffled his way out of the door.

Meanwhile the car boot was grinding and crunching too. Another ‘ping’ and it released itself springing open to reveal the cloth bag.

James looked round for a clue about what was happening only to feel thick, rough, hands of ice grab at the handcuffs behind his back and tear the chain apart.

A loud ‘clink’ from behind Taz’s back told him his friend was free as well.

James grabbed the bag and looked to his friend. Taz shrugged:

“I’ll explain later. For now we run. This time we look where we’re going.”

James nodded:

“Agreed.”

Two men ran like they did when they were kids. Like an escaped tiger was on their heels. It wasn’t far from the truth.

A cloud of green smoke trailed up the hill towards them. Unnoticed, it weaved through bush). Through front gardens and back gardens, weaving towards the men.

It drifted into a back garden then flooded into the road catching in their mouths as they ran through it. Taz broke out of his run and grabbed James for support:

“Is that?”

James nodded:

The cloud materialised into the form of a boy. Tall for his age and bearing a close resemblance to Marcus. He grinned, his expression had nothing in common with his uncle. It oozed malice as though he held his hate as a ball of spit waiting behind his lips:

“…leave the bones and I’ll see your children are spared…”

James declined. There was nothing to hint that this creature wanted anything but harm to come to others.

The boy laughed:

“…just as well. You invaders don’t deserve this place. It was so wild before you all came. So free…”

He slipped past them faster than they could imagine. Grabbing hold of the bag as he did:

“…once we gain the power we will wreck this place. It will return to what it was…”

James hung onto the bag, heaving against the strength of the ghoul-child. Taz joined in the tug of war and all three fell to the ground wrestling for possession.

James yelled to the boy:

“You’re delusional. The only change you’ll bring about is the deaths of dozens of children. There’s nothing good in that.”

The boy’s eyes clouded over, he threw himself at James, screaming in rage. James wrestled, managing to fire off a single word in Taz’s direction:

“Go!”

The boy had both hands on James’ throat and none on the bag. Taz grabbed it, scraping and skidding on the road as he threw himself into great leaps of speed. Only his toes touched the road surface.

He steadied his pace once he felt he had a clear run towards the golf course. Light, steady, brushing sounds told him the boy was on his feet and catching up.

There was a second sound, steady, hard, laboured, then a loud crunch as James tackled the ghoul-boy into a wall. Taz did his best to stay focussed, to keep his eyes on the gates up ahead.

He forced himself to ignore the crunch of bone on the stone wall. Taz suspected the ghoul-boy was pretty much boneless. He wouldn’t make that sound, but James would. Taz couldn’t bank on his friend’s assistance again.

He raced past the gates and made straight for the stone circle. There in the centre were the diggers, still hard at work but with no more bones to feed to the stones.

The sound of the ghoul-boy stopped. That wasn’t a good thing. Taz’s eyes jumped in every direction waiting for the cloud. He caught a glimpse, it could have been nothing but if it were the boy Taz would never get the bag there in time.

He swung the bundle with all his might towards the circle. The green cloud poured towards it. It was too slow. The bag landed a few feet shy of the others. Louise reacted without thinking, before her mum could do anything.

She stepped out of the circle, grabbed the bag, and threw it to her mum. The green cloud descended and the ghoul-boy stood over her, grasping her hair in one hand and her throat with the other:

“…you do anything with those bones and I squeeze. The girl will never breathe again…”

A boulder came down on the boy’s head. Louise had the tiniest moment of release and took it. Her mum hauled her over the stones to safety. Her eyes whirled back at the sound of a crunch. The boy now had the boulder and Taz had a very broken leg.

Andrew flung bones under the stones in great handfuls. Surely that was a full skeleton?

The ghoul-boy raised the boulder and Taz rolled away in time to receive little more than a glancing blow to the shoulder.

Tash, Louise, Ross, and Willow all grabbed handfuls of putrid bones, sliding them into place under the stones. The bag grew lighter, but still no sign they had completed a skeleton.

Marcus knew he could do nothing if the ghoul-child at the door found him. It would take him back to Mr Thomas. Marcus wasn’t sure what to expect after that but nothing about it felt good.

A hand reached through the door, scrambling up the wall for a light switch. It found it but with no electricity it offered only a simple, empty ‘click’. The school had been without electricity for a few years now.

The ghoul was out of touch. She slid the door open and moonlight slipped in. Drifting along the floor from the open doorway. Pale blue light snaked over Marcus’ hand but he held still. Perhaps she hadn’t seen.

The ghoul-girl leaned out the door and called with a small snigger:

“…he’s in here. Not moving. Poor ‘uncle Marcus’ must be worn out.”

The mock sympathy hurt Marcus more than he expected. He strained to get up, preparing for a fight. Another set of footsteps swished along the corridor outside, growing closer by the second. And then they stopped.

His nephew was gone. The girl at the door dropped to her knees. She turned on her struggling uncle:

“…what did you do to him? Where did you send him?…”

It was then that Marcus’ gut filled with power. A rich blue glow shone from his skin. He no longer struggled. No longer felt glued to the floor. Every movement was effortless. Marcus stood up.

Marcus stood up.

Keep up with the story

Click here to go to ‘Marcus: Chapter 23: A monster in the Drummond‘.

Social media feeds are an oddity. What you say can be seen by millions but it can also slip away and be missed with ease. I always post new chapters on social media (Facebook and Twitter) but there’s no guarantee that we’ll both be on at the same time.

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Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 21: The forgotten boy

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To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

Willow arrived at the stone circle at a sprint. There was barely a breath left in her but she recounted the message in minute detail to Tash:

“Tash! Marcus says ‘Get in the car. Everyone will be safe once you’re in the driving seat.’ He made it sound really important. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Tash looked at Willow, red-faced, exhausted, terrified:

“Willow get inside the stone circle. They can’t get to you here. We can talk about the message after.”

“Tash you need to go to the car. He was insistent. Please go to the car.”

Tash glanced round. Waiting, watching for the trap to reveal itself. Marcus had done this sort of thing before. She shook her head as she looked into Willow’s tear blotched eyes:

“Please Tash. It’s the only reason he let me go. He’s still got James. He has Theo as well. He has my son.”

Tash looked at her own kids, safe behind the barrier. Then to Willow’s little boy Harry sitting beside them, now stock-still with worry over his dad and big brother.

Tash grabbed Gordon’s car keys from her pocket and stepped over the boundary. For a single breath she hung at the edge one foot inside the circle. Then her feet were pounding on wet grass launching her forward.

Only when she was in sight of the car did her mind wander to visions of ghoul-children waiting to grab her ankles. She focussed on the keys. On the lock. Trying to slide the metal into place. Her muddy, freezing hands. The keys slipping onto the ground. She allowed herself a quick glimpse around before trying again with the keys.

Sounds rippled around her, rustles in the trees and the bushes. Just the wind. Just the wind.

The key slid into place and the central locking gave a satisfying ‘thunk’ noise as all the doors opened in unison. Tash leapt inside and adjusted herself into the driving seat. She had no intention of going anywhere but she knew Marcus. There was something she had to do.

Her foot rustled against something on the floor. A plastic groceries bag. She lifted it onto her lap.

If the smell of sweet, peaty earth didn’t convince her the note sitting on top of the bones was more than enough.

It’s time. The first will wait to last. Always your friend, goodbye, Marcus

Tash remembered the odd way Marcus had turned up to gloat after each abduction. Preceding every visit the bags of bones had rattled. Tash had assumed it was some kind of magic equivalent of magnetism. But now she understood.

Marcus had topped up the bone stash bit by bit. All this time he had been on their side. But how would they know when it was time for his bones to meet the circle? Would there be some signal?

42AD ‘Victoria’ (Roman Name, original name lost to time) Damnonii stronghold (what is now Dalginross, 7 miles West of Crieff)

The Romans were winning. Their general, a legionary by the name of Magnus Gallum (the great Gaul) was unstoppable in battle. It was said that spears shattered on contact with his skin. That he could fight for days without rest. He was also said to be the oldest legionary warrior for hundreds of miles.

The Damnonii tribe had a theory about his power. Stories were told about a boy, who, twenty-five years earlier had been taken to the healing stones to the east. It was said that the healing was broken, corrupted, by the arrival of a group of Romans.

The boy’s energy tangled with that of a Legionary warrior and he grew strong as the boy grew weak. The boy died in front of his parents. Wrapped in what he was wearing, he was buried near the stones.

The healers claimed that they could not undo this abomination. Could not break the boy’s energy away from the soldier’s. Though there would be a small chance perhaps once in each generation when the power of the stones grew to its strongest.

The time had come to test the healers’ theory. If children of his blood could take his bones it was thought that the spell might be broken and the great Roman ‘hero’ destroyed at last.

Four cousins put their names forward. They were young but quick and brave beyond measure. Full of the sureness of youth they set out for the healing circle.

It was a short trip, they were accompanied only by a small group of protectors. Their trip brought little to impede their way.

On their first night it is said that the spirit of their Uncle came to them. Still in the form of a boy. Confused about his fate but glad of their company he asked to stay with them. They explained everything to the spirit and he approved.

On the second night, with their Uncle’s help, they found his grave. His body was removed and preparations were made for the required ritual. The boy thanked them for his impending release.

That night their camp was raided by Roman soldiers. They killed the Damnonii watchman but the children, their other protectors, and their Uncle got away. The bones were left forgotten as they escaped. It is thought the soldiers took them for their own dark ends.

On the third night one of the children vanished. Their defenders doubled the guard and watched intently for Romans throughout the night.

Despite their efforts they could do nothing to prevent the loss of the second of the cousins. On the fifth day the group gave up their mission, choosing instead to protect the last two and to make their way home. Their route was interrupted by Roman barricades.

Hiding from view, they made a fireless camp. The dark drew in and with it went what little heat the day had brought. It was then that the ghost-child returned. He offered comfort to his remaining nephew and niece. He persuaded their protectors to leave the children in his care. It was the last they ever saw of them.

From that day forth the Damnonii in the area saw their number shrink by four children every twenty-five years. The Damnonii tribe were absorbed into the population of newcomers, and as the centuries passed their stronghold fell into ruin, eaten up by the surrounding countryside. Their descendants were left with nothing to inherit. Nothing that is but the ghost-child and the Roman.

30^th November 2017, Crieff, Scotland (swirling around somewhere above the town)

Marcus had long forgotten his family. Two millennia could wipe clean even the most vivid of memories. However, when he looked into the faces of the ghoul-children chasing him, something clicked.

A sister’s nose, a brother’s brow, his mother’s cheek. Mr Thomas wasn’t lying, these were all that remained of Marcus’ family. In fact they were all that remained of Marcus’ life as a living, breathing, child.

For a moment he glimpsed bracken flying below his feet as he ran from his siblings. Laughter flew from his burning lungs, he was always too fast for them. For the briefest moment he could pretend it hadn’t gone wrong. The healing had worked. The Roman never came. He was home.

His nephew’s hand grasped his shoulder with crushing strength and Marcus was torn from his memories. He turned, hoping for some recognition, some kinship in the eyes of the boy who had his shoulder. There was recognition but those black eyes showed nothing but pure, over-brimming hatred.

“…you ruined us. Our people gone. Our home gone. Our language. You replace it with this Latin garbage that he forces us to speak. You make me sick…”

Marcus twisted against the boy’s grip but he held fast. The others came alongside, grabbing at their Uncle. Marcus lost his footing and came down hard. There was no pain when they struck. Then the green smoke came. It flew up his nose, filled his throat and scratched at him from the inside.

From burning itch to cold ache, Marcus strained to escape. He let himself disperse. The black cloud always felt uncomfortable but that form offered a break from the pain. He swirled with the winds, all he wanted was to get away. To go home.

He had the smallest glimpse of a stone cottage, a peat fire leaving thick, sweet, smoke to wallow out. The smell was real, the cottage, real. Then it wasn’t.

He knew it was long gone. The best he had was a memory of a memory. A ghost-image of something pure and good he had once called ‘home’.

He had a different home now. One filled with sadness and regret but with triumph too. And there was joy. Moments with friends throughout generations. Good friends, good times. For better or worse, he knew where he belonged.

There was no real reason to suppose the old school could provide him with anything special. Any secret weapon. Marcus knew that these four children couldn’t kill him (after all, he was dead already). That didn’t mean he had any plans to let them catch him again.

A huge green cloud, putrid and rotten descended on the surface of the back playground. Marcus stood his ground and looked into their lifeless eyes:

“My favourite game was always ‘tig’, though I do like a game of hide and seek if given a chance.”

The others barely had time to respond before Marcus had flipped around and disappeared into the building behind him.

They took chase but even a two second head start can make a difference if you’re a ghost.

Marcus phased through walls and floors. It was a skill he had never seen the ghoul-children perform. It took some effort on his part to do it. He wondered if the others would tire themselves out trying.

Marcus got carried away. He went through one too many walls, too quickly, and collapsed on the floor of one of the classrooms. His head swam as he pulled himself up and looked for a ‘real’ hiding place.

There was no furniture left here. The place had been stripped as they moved the school into the new building. There were one or two build-in cupboards with sliding doors left. There just weren’t any in this classroom.

Marcus dragged himself along the floor and drew himself up to stand at the door out to the hall. He moved his head slowly, letting just one eye peek out into the corridor beyond.

Barely a speck of light made it into the corridor but it was enough to see that, for now at least, Marcus was alone.

He limped alongside the wall, leaning on it for support. None of the classrooms he looked in had what he needed. In the end he had to settle for a small room beside the gym hall. It had been a host of things but the last thing Marcus remembered it being was a ‘TV room’.

Not a single window looked in on this room, with the door closed Marcus could only count on his own blue glow too see by. He couldn’t risk it giving him away though. He forced the light away. Leaving his skin a dull green-brown in the shadows of the room.

The footsteps came quicker than expected. Marcus searched his memory. Was there another way out in this room. There was a door at the back but was that a cupboard or an exit?

He tested the door. Locked. He barely had the energy to stand. There was no way he could phase through before the steps reached the door to the hallway.

The soft, brushing sound of ancient leather footwear grew closer. Marcus slid to the floor, keeping his profile flat, and waited.

If Marcus still had a heart it would be in his mouth. If he still had a pulse it would have thrummed in his ears. Instead Marcus had to endure the icy silence, with no heart or pulse to keep him company. Nothing but the ‘brush brush brush’ of the footsteps outside.

Then they stopped. Nothing but the creaks of the old building cooling in the night were left. Though the footsteps had stopped Marcus knew that the feet that made them were still very much there.

He was a ghost too. He didn’t have to move. Marcus could lie on this floor all night. That idea grew more and more appealing. So much so that Marcus was caught off guard when the door handle squeaked.

Keep up with the story

Click here to read on to ‘Marcus: Chapter 22: The Gauntlet to the Golf Course’.

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 20: Under The High Street

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To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

A few feet under Crieff High Street a small interconnected network of basements and tunnels grow damp with neglect. Only a portion of their rooms and corridors still used as underground storage by the town’s businesses.

If you live in a town for as long as Mr Thomas had you come to know it’s secrets. Gordon and James, along with dozens of frightened children now found themselves hidden away inside one of these ‘secrets’. Inside Mr Thomas’ forgotten labyrinth.

Gordon and James had a system going; from their two different vantage points they communicated the numbers of ghoul-children. Theo was tasked memorising the counts.

As time went on the numbers dribbled away. They stopped counting when they recognised individual ghoul-children and could tell when their faces were no longer present. Something was stopping them from coming back. But what?

Would there be some point in the small hours of the morning when they would all return at once? Theo looked to his dad:

“What do we do?”

A swirl of black smoke grouped together directly between James and his son. Marcus rounded on Theo:

“I say you stop meddling in things that don’t concern you. For starters why don’t you hand over that watch you seem so interested in.”

The boy took off his watch, leaving a white band of skin where it had lived on his wrist for years. Mickey mouse marked out the time with his gloved hands. A childish comfort, one he hadn’t noticed till it was about to go. He handed it to the thing that had been his friend.

Marcus smiled:

“I can tell you’re planning something, but really, what use could three people be against so many?”

He vanished along with the watch.

Marcus materialised outside another room. One that Theo and the others knew nothing about. He unlocked the door, heaved it against decades of built up dirt and peered inside. The door opening awakened a flurry of movement inside the room. Nicky’s voice broke through the darkness:

“Marcus? Is that you? What’s going on?”

Marcus looked back at her, blank eyes nestled in a placid face glowing corpse-green. Taz jumped in:

“Did he get them?”

Marcus nodded. Taz shifted his position, sitting cross legged on the old floor:

“Is it time?”

Marcus shook his head:

“Soon. First I need her.”

He pointed at Willow, Theo and Harry’s mum. Her eyes widened, she mouthed ‘No’ over and over, backing into the corner. Marcus held up Theo’s watch:

“Your son will be safe so long as you do absolutely everything I ask you to do. No fuss. No shouting. Just do it.”

She walked towards the ghost-boy and inspected the watch:

“You’ve got my son? You’ve got Theo?”

Marcus nodded slowly:

“You do one thing and he’ll be safe.”

She thought back to the strength of those tiny hands grasping her ankles. In the pitch dark of this dingy old room Marcus’s glow hurt her eyes. Something told her this boy was considerably more powerful than the others she had met. This was not the time to stand and fight, this was the time to save her child. She didn’t nod but her sigh told Marcus everything he needed to know:

“Good. I need you to go to the golf-course. Find Tash and her kids and tell her this exactly; ‘Get in the car. Everyone will be safe once you’re in the driving seat.’ You understand I want you to tell her that exactly?”

Willow nodded and repeated her phrase. With a nod from Marcus she was on her way.

Marcus looked back at the couple standing by the door:

“How many are in here now?”

Nicky shook her head, tears in her eyes:

“Twenty. Twenty terrified children. This is the first you’ve even stopped to say anything. Why do you need so many? This is monstrous!”

Marcus’ smile was full of pity:

“There are so many more Nicky. I’ll bring some to you. Comfort them. You’ll be good at that. Their time in this place will be over soon enough.”

Thick swells of tears rolled down the woman’s face. Her husband looked at Marcus with a face like marble. Every muscle tensed to keep from showing the slightest hint of emotion.

Marcus shook his head:

“I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

Daniel ducked into a small bush as another police car drove past. Beth (the ghost-girl) squeezed in beside him. Her skin was cold but she smelled good; like home-made soup and biscuits.

She looked better too. Less green. Her cheeks were growing pink and her eyes, though still black as night, at least looked more healthy. She smiled and took his hand:

“Come and see this.”

They walked along the street a little more then stopped. Beth looked at the door of a small ground-floor flat:

“…This was my Granny’s house. The week daddy went to fight the Jerries we stayed with her. Mummy was sad. We had loads of home-made soup and played checkers. I never did find out if daddy made it back.”

Daniel wanted to help his new friend:

“I’m sure we could check. Maybe we could sneak into the library. Or a graveyard.”

He regretted the last bit instantly as he discovered that ghosts can cry. Beth let go of his hand:

“…I’m not sure I’d feel better either way. Whatever happened, I wasn’t there. I never saw him again. Not after…”

Daniel tried to understand what the girl was going through. It was impossible. He held out his hand to her again. Her ice-cold fingers wrapped in his. He smiled:

“I can take you to the park instead if you like. Do you think it’ll be the same as when you were still…”

Beth smiled:

“…it’s OK. It’s strange for me too. Yes, the park sounds lovely. As long as it has swings. I liked the swings.”

They talked about school. About films and books. Favourite foods. How brilliant grannies are. How weird it was that Beth was older than Daniel’s granny. They laughed about friends and teachers, how different they were but also how much they’ve stayed the same too.

They went on the roundabout, had a go on the see-saw, went down the slide a few times, but mostly they sat on the swings talking. Talking and holding hands.

Daniel didn’t spot the black smoke until it was growing together in front of them. It formed into legs and then a full body. Marcus stepped towards Beth:

“Beth. It’s time, they’re getting to your bones now. I hope you know how sorry I am.”

Beth stood up, letting go of Daniel’s hand. She walked to Marcus and hugged him:

“…I know Marcus. I know.”

Marcus turned to smoke again, drifting off on the wind. Beth made her way back to Daniel, standing in front of his swing. He got up. She put her tiny icy arms around him:

“Do you still have it?” Daniel nodded.“…good, I hope you don’t need it. Daniel, I would like to thank you. Thank you for the nicest night I’ve had in seventy-five years.”

She leaned into his shoulder, gripping him even tighter. Her face moved closer to his. He felt the cold touch of her cheek as it brushed against his own, then two icy lips pressed on his. Beth was blushing when she moved back:

“You know that was my first…”

Beth was gone.

Daniel looked up. He was alone. The park had felt so comfortable just a few moments before. It wasn’t where he was supposed to be any more. He made his way to his friends.

Marcus was on borrowed time. That became abundantly clear when he dug into the bag, through the rocks he’d filled it with, in search of the last four sets of bones. They weren’t there. If he made any more noise Mr Thomas would hear.

A thread on the bag came unhitched.

Rocks scattered across the floor.

Every sound in the room stopped. Mr Thomas hauled himself out of bed:

“What have you done!? Another of your sneak tactics. Can’t follow orders. No wonder we Romans decimated your kind. Backwards, no foresight. You can’t see how good we could have it.”

Theo and the others watched on as Mr Thomas gripped a small parcel in his hands. Ragged old sheets of tartan. More ancient than any cloth they had ever seen. Marcus dropped to his knees, tears in his eyes:

“What now?”

Mr Thomas scanned the room:

“Your friend there. His energy was to be mine. Too good for that I guess. I will show him some charity. I will not use his son’s energy for my great transformation. Go over there and set the boy free.”

James was lost. What was the man doing? Marcus undid the ropes binding Theo. The boy grinned at his dad and thanked Marcus.

Mr Thomas smiled:

“Such a polite boy. Clearly a good friend to have.”

Marcus waited, he knew what was coming. Mr Thomas’s voice grew higher, quivering with joy:

“…but, that is your weakness Marcus. It’s what gets in your way. Ever lonely. You can’t help but get attached. I will help you cut out that weakness.”

The old man grasped the remains of Marcus’ kilt. The last thing he had to remember his mother. The only memory he could still hold on to. Mr Thomas cleared his throat, forcing the excitement down a notch:

“Kill him Marcus. I don’t want his energy. Just kill the boy.”

Marcus straightened up, like a puppet on strings and reached for one of the ropes on the floor. His walk became laboured, as though fighting his orders. Theo backed away but Marcus herded him in the direction of the old man.

Marcus raised the rope, preparing to strike, ignoring the sounds of James tearing at his restraints, almost lifting an old iron radiator straight off the wall. He looked at Theo, then at the old man:

“No!”

He leapt for Mr Thomas’s throat, wrapping the cord around his neck and dragging him to the ground. The man bucked against him, squealing like a farm animal. The tartan fell to the ground and a cascade of stones spilled out, falling underfoot and making the old man slip.

Marcus rummaged through the old man’s clothes and found what he needed. Tied to Mr Thomas’s waist was a large bag.

Marcus dispersed into smoke. A thick slashing sound filled the air. Marcus unveiling a power none of them has seen before. The slashing sliced against the old man’s clothing, ripping shreds from him. The bag fell unnoticed on the floor beneath them.

Mr Thomas laughed:

“Nothing you do can hurt me. I may be old but you can’t so much as scratch my flesh. You can’t break my bones. What’s more…”

He gestured in the direction of his four motionless ‘body-guards’:

“These four are our oldest members. Perhaps you recognise them. Your nephews. Your nieces. The last of your clan, your tribe…whatever you savages called yourselves. They came to help and instead you fed them to me. My first meal. They are eager to see you pay for what you did. They need no orders.”

Sure enough the four ghoul-children beside the bed grinned, glad to finally have their chance with Marcus. They stretched and swatted at the black cloud Marcus had become. It did nothing.

They stopped their hand waving. Green smoke dribbled from their arms and into Marcus. Mr Thomas laughed again:

“…bet you didn’t know they could do that.”

Marcus, in his smoke, screamed in agony. The cloud clumped together, and his body collapsed to the ground. The ghoul-children sped towards him but he regained his senses in time.

He ran for the door and the last of the ghoul-children continued in pursuit.

Mr Thomas dusted himself off, crouching to draw himself off of the floor. James and Gordon landed on him with their full weight. He pushed against them but more hands and fists joined the fight as dozens of children forced the man down.

His arms and legs were tied and he was dragged to another room. A huge iron safe lay open in the corner. His strength was no match for the legion of fists and feet forcing him into the safe. They locked him in and threw away the key.

Keep up with the story

Click here to read on to ‘Marcus: Chapter 21: The forgotten boy’.

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 17: That’s Four

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To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

Theo’s house was locked tight. He watched from the top window desperate to see nothing. He had left his dad downstairs, eyes glued on the computer screen waiting for the strange reports to come pouring it.

The night was still; no wind, no sounds, no ghosts. After the third sign of movement that turned out to be the neighbour’s cat Theo went downstairs to get something to eat and drink.

James didn’t even look up from the screen, but he sat up rod-straight:

“Are they here?”

Theo slurped milk from his glass, shaking his head:

“Nope. Only so many times I can let Blaise scare me. How many times does a cat need to go out in one night?”

Harry was curled up on the couch watching cartoons on the tablet. He broke his eyes away from the screen for a moment:

“I hope you guys aren’t talking about ghosts again. Mum said you both had to stop ‘cos you’re scaring me. Ghosts aren’t real.”

James stepped away from the computer and sat beside his younger son:

“Mum’s right. You shouldn’t be scared. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Harry smiled:

“Can I get my toastie now? Mum said she’d make me one when she got back.”

James’ brow furrowed:

“When was that?”

“Ehmm…I don’t know, maybe when I started this episode.”

It sometimes wasn’t a great idea to trust a six-year-old’s sense of time. She had just gone out to put something in the bins outside. James realised he had lost track too. He popped on a pair of slippers:

“Be back in a sec guys. Just checking to see if mum needs a hand.”

He ran to the back of the house. The bins were on their side, tipped from the enclosure he’d made for them.

Out of sight, within the branches of their neighbour’s tree, two eyes were watching. It wasn’t Blaise the cat and it wasn’t a ghoul child. James’ wife held on to the branch with every ounce of her strength, pulling against them. She opened her mouth to scream for her husband but found a tiny hand stuffing it with dirt.

The shock made her hand slip. She let go of the branch, the force of their pull dropped her to the ground with force. Her head hit the trunk of the tree and everything went blurry. She could swear she heard the faintest whisper:

“…that’s one…”

Tash was tired but she’d taken enough of a break already. The others had been digging for twenty minutes straight. The strange stones seemed stranger still when you dug up the earth below them.

It was then that the blue glow was visible, the same blue glow coming from the bags of bones. Marcus couldn’t touch the stones himself, but insisted that all the bones had to make contact. Every time a bone was laid beside a rock it would glow brighter, it’s light flowing into the stone until all that was left was dull bone.

Tash grabbed a shovel and started digging. After the third shovel-full of soil flicked in Gordon’s direction, he moved over a little.

It was as good a time as any to grab a drink of water and stretch his back. November soil fought back, a lot, it had taken him over an hour to get just a few inches down.

He had dropped his jacket into the car a few minutes after they started. In the dry cold his sweat grew icy. He hunted in the back seat for the jacket. In the end it announced itself; his phone rang from the pocket. The jacket wasn’t in the car but hanging over a tree a short distance from the stone circle.

He flung the jacket on before fumbling for the phone with icy fingers. He didn’t have to sound too official, his shift had ended ages ago. His screen displayed a Crieff number, vaguely familiar:

“Hello?”

James’ voice came back, hushed and terrified:

“I’m standing in my back garden. I don’t want the kids to hear this. They’ve taken her. They took Willow. They took my wife.”

Gordon walked back and forth trying to keep himself warm:

“OK James. Is there any sign of struggle?”

James told him about the overturned bins and said something about an upset cat. Ordinarily Gordon managed professional detachment quite well, not expecting the worst, especially when adults were involved.After the nights he’d had, he let the conclusions jump to their heart’s content.

“OK, look, I’m going to get in the car now. I’ll be there in less than five minutes. Go keep an eye on the kids and I’ll…”

Gordon’s foot got hooked on a tree root. It tangled round his ankle and he fell to the ground dropping his phone. He reached down to untangle the root but it moved. His eyes adjusted just in time to make out the tiny fingers.

“…that’s two…”

James could hear muffled cursing on the other end of the phone. It disappeared into the distance. Where had Gordon gone?

He hung up the call and selected Tash’s number, all the time making his way back round to the house to check on the kids. The kids?! He had been so worried about Willow that he’d neglected to get round, to lock the door, to check the house was safe.

The kids weren’t in the living room when he got in. He locked the front door. (Why didn’t he do that earlier?) James’ eyes darted in all directions searching for any sign of his children.

From the top of the stairs he heard whispering:

“…you’ll never find me…”

James raced up to the boys’ room in time to hear Theo yell:

“Found you Harry! Now it’s my turn to hide.”

James gulped back the bile that had been rising in his throat, then noticed Tash’s voice chattering from his phone:

“…James what’s wrong? Is everything OK? Can you hear me?”

He raised his phone to his ear. The reality of Willow’s disappearance slamming back into view. Out of earshot from the kids, he recounted everything he had just told Gordon. Tash interrupted:

“Wait, when were you talking to Gordon?”

James tried to count back the time:

“Maybe five minutes ago. Probably less than that. He said he was getting into the car. He should be here soon.”

Tash’s eyes settled on her ex-husband’s car:

“James, his car is here. And Gordon is not in it.”

She yelled out for him but heard no reply. Apologising to James she hung up and tried phoning Gordon.

It rang. She could hear the ringtone; the theme tune to one of those ridiculous crime dramas that he loved so much. A light pulsed under a bedraggled tree. There it was, Gordon’s phone, and no Gordon. Tash shook her head:

“Oh Gordon…”

There was no way to hide this from the kids. She broke the news of their dad’s disappearance as gently as possible. They were clearly upset but they held it together better than Gordon’s buddy Ross.

She debated going to check on James. Maybe perch all the kids inside the stone circle. They’d keep them safe, the same way they’d done for her years ago. However, Gordon was near the circle and they’d got to him easily enough.

Whatever happened next, she needed help. She also needed someone who could deal with the blubbering man-child Ross had become. She needed Nicky.

Nicky’s phone rang as she was getting into the car:

“Hey sis, what’s up?”

The next few minutes were a series of ‘what?’ and ‘but…’ as Nicky was filled in. She wanted to pop on the ignition to get the heater going to take the chill out of the night. Sadly, Scott had the keys and he was taking an age to come out the house.

Scott knew he’d left the keys on the hook, where could they be? For the fourth time he wandered through to the kitchen to check if they were on the worktop. Next stop would be his jacket pocket. He was getting sick of this loop.

There was a jangling sound. Had the keys been in his jacket the whole time? He already knew the answer. The jangling hadn’t come from his jacket. Nicky was out in the car. That meant…:

“No no no nononononono!”

Scott slammed into the wall and didn’t get up:

“…that’s three…”

Nicky got out the car and walked round to the boot. Scott was always losing his keys. Perhaps he’d left them in one of the bags.

Before she went for the pockets her attention was drawn to the small leather bag Scott had dug out of the attic that afternoon (“…seems respectable enough…”). It was hard to believe that it contained the bones of a whole person, albeit a small one.

Scott explained why they needed Marcus’ bones but she hadn’t followed it entirely. She reached forward and undid the old clasp. It opened like an old doctor’s case.

So small, glowing ever so gently. Hard to imagine them linked to someone so powerful, so ancient. She reached forward to touch one and a fist pounded into her temple forcing her sideways to crack her head on the car:

“I’ll take that!”

A leathered hand grasped the handles of the tiny bag. Mr Thomas laughed:

“Now does that count as four, or five?”

Keep up with the story

Click here to go to ‘Marcus: Chapter 18: Between a rock and more rocks’.

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 16: Two Bags of Bones

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To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

Two bags of bones now sat in the evidence room of Crieff police station. They were old, really old. The guy from Perth told them they needed a ‘specialist’ to look at them. She was going to be a week. A week with children’s bones locked up beside the staff kitchen?

Gordon hated it when he got got a shift sandwich; that’s what he called two shifts with a few hours of sleep in the middle. A few hours of messed up dreams and a two second shower and here he was back at the station. To make matters worse he hadn’t been able to eat all day.

The smell of chips wafted from the chip shop next door. Maybe he could eat them in the waiting area at the front of the station. Did they make coffee? He hadn’t even been able to stomach going in to boil the kettle.

The chippy was quiet. A few kids from the high school were lined up in anticipation of a hot poke of chips on their way home. That sounded good. Simple, hot, salty, a bit of brown sauce. Some steaming coffee in one of those polystyrene cups. He needed that.

His first chip was too hot but it was extra crispy, they had the fat on high. It burned his tongue but his stomach told him to ignore that. He leaned on the door frame of the station, his coffee cup balanced on the windowsill beside him.

He shovelled steaming golden chips into his mouth three at a time, sucking the brown sauce off his fingers then reached for his cup to wash it down.

At first he thought the steam from the coffee was playing tricks on the window then he realised what he was seeing; movement. Inside the station someone was moving around. In fact it could be more than one. How did they get in?

The chips and coffee were abandoned as Gordon slammed the door open and leapt inside. With a swift stumbling run he found himself surrounded on all sides by small, porcelain-white faces. It took him a couple more seconds to see their eyes. Their awful, lifeless eyes.

A girl walked towards him staring at him so deeply it made his temples hurt. She wore a frilly dress. The kind they wore maybe a-hundred years ago. The silence in the room made Gordon’s ears throb, desperate for something to hear.

The girl’s mouth opened slowly, stretched to a yawn, then continued. An unnatural maw that reminded Gordon of his son’s pet lizard.

Gordon gulped. The girl shook her head at the sound as though loosening the cobwebs, then relaxed her mouth. The sound of Gordon’s watch broke through the silence and he focussed on the ticks. The solid, strong, regular, orderly, ticks.

The girl looked away for a moment. When she looked back her black eyes seemed more focussed, more human. She took a few slow steps towards the police officer. She took his hand. Little fingers like ice, gripped tightly. In a tiny voice, steeped in sadness and distress she whispered:

“Protect us.”

The gaze of every child there turned to face the evidence room. Gordon moved with care, opened the door and looked inside. A faint blue light glowed from the bones in the sacks. Barely enough light to see by but light all the same.

The odd light caught the reflective surface of another pair of black eyes, peering through the bars from the window outside. These eyes had none of the peace or sadness of the others. These eyes were filled with greed, with anger.

A child’s hand slapped on the window, pressing tiny finger prints onto the glass. A tense, creaking noise began. Gordon didn’t recognise what it was until the cracks showed on the glass around the hand. He ducked his head in time to avoid the flying shards.

The hand reached in through the broken pane and grasped an iron bar. When Gordon heard that creak too he grabbed the sacks and hauled them out of the room. Locking the door behind him.

The other children were waiting for him. The girl tiptoed through them and stood by his side. She held his thumb in her tiny fingers. Gordon could swear she was shaking a little.

The ‘CLANG’ in the other room told him that the bar had given way. As the ringing in his ears died down he heard the scurrying, scraping sounds on the other side of the door. The boy from the window had friends.

Police station doors go through safety inspections and security tests that other doors could only dream of. The bars on the window were about as old as the building itself but that door was less than a year old and steel reinforced.

The tiny, impossibly strong hands on the other side pounded, and pounded, and pounded. The door held fast.

That’s when Gordon heard someone put keys into the lock on the back entrance. Ross wasn’t due to start his shift for another twenty minutes. He’d picked a fine time to develop a work ethic.

The young man wandered in carrying a pizza box. He didn’t even close the back door behind him:

“Figured you’d be hungry. Can’t say I could eat anything from the kitchen with those bones…”

He saw Gordon, he saw the bags of bones, and he saw dozens of black-eyed children staring at him. He dropped the pizza. To his credit that’s all he did. He didn’t run, he didn’t yell. He stopped, he assessed the situation, then leapt a foot in the air at the sound of yet another thump from the locked evidence room.

The thumps were bad but it was worse when they stopped. The scurrying noise came again. Gordon yelled for Ross to close the back door and lock it but the lad was too late. Four ghoul-children stood in the doorway, their bodies primed to pounce.

When the men heard the whistling they expected the end to be upon them. Black smoke drifted in through the gaps in the front door, knocking the letterbox open with a creak and a clang. Gordon thought of woodland walks and digging in the dirt as a child. A strange peace came over him.

The smoke condensed between the police officers and the ghoul-children at the back door. A voice Gordon hadn’t heard in decades spoke from inside the smoke:

“Gordon, nice to see you again. If you phone Tash she’ll tell you what to do. I’ll keep these guys out.”

The smoke swirled around the ghoul-children at the door, ejecting them from the building. It condensed again. Gordon could make out the outline of a small hand as it grasped the keys from the outside lock, slammed the door, then locked them in.

The officers held their breath as they waited. Neither of them felt equipped to fight smoke.

The smoke drew together ever more tightly until it formed the shape of a boy. His face was familiar. Then, deep in the recesses of Gordon’s brain some dots connected:

“Marcus? But you…I mean Mr Thomas…”

Marcus held a pained expression:

“I know Gordon. You’re almost right. More importantly though; WHY HAVEN’T YOU PHONED TASH YET?!”

Tash was sitting down to dinner with her kids when the house phone rang. Only call centres phoned the house any more, time wasters, and always at dinner time. She ignored it. They normally hung up at the sound of the answering machine anyway.

BEEP

“Hi Tash? It’s Gordon. Sorry to call you like this…It’s just…Marcus says you know where to take things to keep them safe…”

Tash had picked up the phone by the time Gordon had said ‘safe’. Her kids watched and waited, only hearing one side of the conversation. When their mum got off the phone she was as white as a sheet:

“Sorry kids. Family meal night is postponed. We need to go help your dad bury a heap of bones.”

The police car pulled up in front of the house and Tash, Andrew, and Louise squeezed into the back, feeling instantly like convicts.

It would be a mistake to say the car smelled bad. It was more accurate to say that the air made their skin crawl. Their noses gave up after the first sniff. Their scalps itched and something deep inside them told them to leave the car as fast as they could.

From the rear of the car a hand grabbed hold of Tash’s shoulder. She had never been one to scream but now seemed a good time for one.

The kids leapt out of the car. The scream was the last straw. Looking back, the green hand grasping their mum confirmed their worst fears. Louise yelled:

“Dad! What’s going on?”

Marcus poked his head up from the luggage are behind the seat:

“Sorry Tash, I slipped. Nothing to grab onto back here. Your husband drives like a maniac.”

Tash shook her head:

“He hasn’t been my husband for seven years.”

Gordon jumped in:

“We realised we could live together or like each other but not both. We chose to get on.”

Marcus shrugged:

“Well…OK…Either way you drive like a maniac and we have a pile of children’s bones to bury sometime before dawn. Shall we concentrate on that for now?”

Tash screwed up her face at the boy’s rudeness. Before she could say anything her eyes caught movement through the rear windscreen. The briefest glimpse, but enough to recognise the increasingly familiar form of a ghoul-child. She jumped into the car:

“OK Marcus I think I’m up to speed. Gordon! Can we get a move on?! They’re on their way.”

The smell took over their senses once the doors were closed. Gordon wedged a peg over his nose. At least that explained how he’d managed to drive all this way in the grips of the odour.

It was a short drive to the golf course. Tash had walked past it, driven past it, so many times since that night. The memories faded, details drifted away. She would never forget but she had grown thankful of the blurring of time.

Every tiny moment, every minute sensation from that night slammed back into her mind as she stepped out of the car and made her way to the stone circle.

At least Marcus wasn’t chasing her this time. In fact he was struggling to heave two large sacks out of the police car. Andrew and Louise held an end as they placed the bags down gently on the ice-hardened ground.

Andrew walked ahead as the adults and Marcus held the sacks with as much care as they could. A deep gut-wrenching guilt almost knocked Marcus to the ground as he carried the bones of children he had once called friends.

They were still connected. He could feel a few of them hiding nearby. He couldn’t read their thoughts or even their feelings. All he knew was that he was doing something to keep them safe for the first time since he had met each of them.

Keep up with the story

Click here to go to Chapter 17: That’s Four

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 15: Dawn Till Dusk

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To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

Gordon got the call just before the end of his shift. He put his coffee in his ‘to go’ flask and got into the police car. His ‘buddy’ (if he were in one of those American crime-dramas he’d be his ‘partner’) was still sorting himself out in the station. They needed young additions to the force, Gordon was the first to admit it, but did they have to be so young?

The lad jumped into the car and Gordon passed on what he’d heard in the call through from Perth:

“Disturbance at a B&B on East High Street. Neighbours hear shouting. This could be a domestic but it’s also a place of business, so be ready and watch for anything unusual.”

It didn’t take long to reach the scene. The low dawn sunlight pierced his eyes from the horizon. Bouncing off the frost of the road. Ten minutes before the end of a double shift, and now he gets something to do. Gordon needed his bed.

A lady in a dressing gown met them as they got out of the car:

“It’s normally all quiet after about ten o’clock. This is ridiculous.”

They could hear the yelling and thumping from inside. Gordon pulled himself up to look in the window. He wasn’t prepared for the the sight of Scott punching an old man.

The four missing children were there as Nicky and Scott went through the door. Every one of them was as unresponsive as Daniel had been. Only this time they didn’t have Marcus around to help.

It took them a few moments to see it. Daniel’s eyes had been distant, unfocussed, when they found him. These children’s eyes were aware. The only part of them they could move. The only sign of expression on their faces, and that expression was indescribable.

Tears ran down their cheeks as they turned their gaze in unison. Settling on a closed door. One of the guest rooms.

Neither Nicky nor Scott said anything. Nicky could see what Scott was planning:

“Scott, don’t go in there. Not yet. It’s still ten minutes before Marcus told us it would be safe. We don’t know what you’ll find.”

Scott nodded. He tried to wait, watching a clock in the hallway. He had to wait for seven thirty. Marcus told them dawn was at seven thirty today. Taz’s hands twitched as he waited. His gaze darting back to the children on the couch.

The minute hand clicked to half past and Scott leapt for the door. There was just enough time before he reached it for Nicky to yell out:

“Scott no! The clock is fast. There’s still five minutes to go.

He had already turned the handle. Her warning did nothing but to take his attention away from the open doorway.

A fist like leather fired out out from the gap, slamming Scott into the wall beside his wife.

In a simple, unthinking, movement Nicky grabbed at anything she could and threw it at the unseen person in the room beyond.

The objects struck the figure and bounced off. An old man emerged from the room with a grin like a slit across his face:

“Too quick off the mark young man. I’m still on night mode.”

Mr Thomas strode out of the room, a huge dirty sack slung over his back. He looked at the children on the couch in exasperation:

“No time now. No bother, time enough to regroup,” He turned to look Scott’s crumpled form. “I’ll see your little ‘team’ again tonight I guess. Though I hope you see sense and stay out of my way.”

Scott leapt from the ground and hurled punches at the man. Hollow, inhuman, thumps echoed from the old man’s torso. It was like beating an oak barrel.

Scott managed to throw the old man to the floor. He hit the ground like a splayed spider. All sinew, sun-browned skin, and bone. Licking blood from his lip he grinned:

“Now that was unexpected.”

In one smooth twist of his body he flipped himself back onto his feet. An impossible movement that left the old man looking like a velociraptor. With a flick of his free arm he tossed Scott aside, slapping Nicky out of his way for good measure, then made for the back door.

He only looked back for a moment to laugh at the police officers rushing through the front:

“Too quick by far. The impetuousness of youth I guess. Five minutes is all the time I need.”

They raced to the back door in pursuit but there was no trace. Old Mr Thomas and his dirty sack were gone

Gordon’s first priority was the children on the couch. Four children, perfectly matching the description of those that were reported missing.

This situation was already complicated and that was without having to explain to his superiors why an elderly man was able to evade capture despite being chased by two police officers and two civilians.

Gordon had his buddy call in the details and got him to check on the children. Marching for the door to the old man’s room he saw two dirty sacks. He had no idea what they might hold but he knew it could be nothing but trouble.

Gordon gulped back his fear and revulsion but a professional attitude wasn’t enough to prepare him. Both bags were stuffed to the brim with bones. Human bones. His eyes took in the size of one of the skulls; too small. Far too small.

***

Theo’s whole body screamed with tiredness but his dad insisted that he get to school. Andrew’s mum had phoned to explain about the safety of daylight so he had nothing to worry about.

The idea of catching up with Marcus was pretty interesting. Only four kids knew the truth. Maybe going to school wouldn’t be the worst thing.

They got to school just before the bell and Theo’s face grew hot when he saw Marcus in line chatting casually with other children. Theo had seen this boy turn into smoke, he had seen his true face. This fact changed the way Marcus looked doing everything. Their teacher smiled and high-fived the ghost walking in to her classroom.

Theo sat down with his friends. A bubble of quiet and calm among the clonking and bustle of the start of the day. Marcus smiled:

“Did you all get a good night’s sleep?”

Theo, Andrew, and Daniel shook their heads. Daniel was surprised to see that the others had had as bad a night as him:

“I had the weirdest nightmares. There were ghosts, and graveyards, and then there was soup. An old man kept whispering all the way through.”

The others looked at each other. Theo’s eyes popped wide:

“Wait you don’t know that…”

There was so much to tell him but class was about to start. In struggled moments they managed to fill him in on the basics and for the rest of the day answered Daniel’s barrage of questions when they didn’t think the teacher was looking.

By home time Daniel knew as much as they did and the setting sun was as unwelcome to him as it was to everyone else.

There were no faces in the bushes by the gates and no whistling on the way home.

Theo, his little brother Harry, and Marcus walked to meet James at the gate. Marcus tagged along on their walk; their walk home passed his own ‘home’ after all.

James didn’t want to worry Harry by talking about everything. Theo’s younger brother knew nothing about the night before. He was only six years old and there were some things best left unknown.

They stopped outside the old school gates. Marcus needed to know what had happened. James talked to Marcus about his ‘troublesome cousins’, then revealed that his nasty uncle had moved back to town. Marcus cracked the code easily.

His face already turning a little green as the night drew in, but this news added a sickly hue. The relaxed boy from school transformed to a ball of worry. He turned to James:

“It will be harder tonight than I thought. In some ways it will be easier. Get your boys home. I’ll come visit later when I know more. You’re still in the same house you grew up in aren’t you?”

As much as he trusted Marcus, James still didn’t like knowing that the ghost-boy knew where he lived. Where his family lived. Blocking Harry’s view of the now glowing boy, James walked away. He called behind him:

“I’ll wait up. I’ll be ready.”

Marcus frowned. Speaking to himself:

“You better be. He’ll know where to find you too.”

Marcus went round the back of the school and sneaked in. Taz was there, sitting on the top of the short iron fence that surrounded the school:

“Evening Marcus. I wanted to catch you on your way in. I did something today. I don’t know if you’ll agree with it but I hope you’ll see why I did it.”

Marcus knew without Taz telling him. The sports bag in Taz’s hand spoke volumes. Dizzy and disorientated, Marcus placed his small hand on the man’s shoulder:

“I know. It’s OK Taz, it was the right call.”

Keep up with the story

Click here for Chapter 16: Two Bags of Bones

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 13: Graveyards and Gardens

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To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

It was probably a mistake to let Marcus ring Nicky’s doorbell. She actually fell over from jumping back so quickly. Her face ashen-white she yelled back into the house behind her:

“Scott! Scott! Come out here quick!”

Marcus slumped and turned to Tash:

“Oh, I thought she’d have ended up marrying Taz.”

‘Scott’ came into the hallway and froze. Marcus beamed:

“Taz!!!!”

Taz grabbed his wife and lifted her off the floor pulling her away to the room beyond:

“No no no! Nonononononono! No way!”

He spotted the others behind the ghost boy:

“You brought him here? Him? And you’ve got the kids with you? Are you out of your minds!?”

Tash manhandled Marcus away from the doorway and marched up to her sister and brother-in-law. Muttering as she moved the boy:

“Nice move genius! Think you’d have scared them less if you materialised in their living room.”

Marcus didn’t get a chance to reply. Tash had already taken the shocked couple away into their kitchen. The others heard the kettle bubbling before they got through the front door.

The rest of the group walked into the kitchen half way through a retelling of their night. Taz seemed to have relaxed a little and Nicky was up grabbing herself a cup of coffee.

They all found themselves somewhere to sit as Tash finished their story. Nicky shook her head:

“And Daniel is still out there somewhere?”

Marcus nodded:

“Always looking after people. You haven’t changed Nicky. Yes Daniel is out there somewhere. I expect he’ll be near the first school in Crieff, some of the ghouls I saw used to be pupils there. It’s part of the old graveyard on Church Street now. He might even be in the church hall. We haven’t been able to check because of the ghouls.”

Scott (Taz) jumped in:

“It’s not really a graveyard any more.”

Marcus challenged Scott with a frown:

“How can it stop being a graveyard?”

Scott got worked up pretty fast. Clearly this was a sore point for him:

“A few years ago they lifted the grave stones. I heard that some of them were put in a skip but I’m not sure how much truth there is to that. All the same it’s probably different than you remember it being.”

Marcus wrinkled his face:

“Who would take someone’s gravestone? What use could that serve?”

Taz nodded in agreement:

“Exactly!”

The room was silent for a moment. Taz went a little red as he realised he was getting along with someone who once dragged him kicking and screaming to his possible end. He turned away from Marcus in disgust.

Louise took the initiative. Grabbed her aunt’s coat from the hallway and threw it to her:

“Come on. There’s a little boy held hostage by a bunch of freaky ghost children (no offence Marcus). They’re somewhere in this town. We think we know where he is and we’ve now got a chance of getting hold of him. Why are we still here?!”

Coffees were left abandoned and jackets pulled on. Not one of them questioned the furious, scrawny, fifteen-year-old girl pointing their way to the exit.

As Taz walked past she grabbed his shoulder:

“And you uncle Scott. You knew Marcus did everything he could to help you back then. You can’t hold that against him. We’re all on the same team now.”

Suitably admonished, Taz held out his hand to Marcus and the ghost-boy shook it. Taz forced a smile on his face as he surreptitiously wiped Marcus’ weird ghost slime on his trousers. He hoped Louise didn’t see that bit.

The walk up to Church Street took no time at all. This wasn’t a good thing. They had all looked forward to some breathing time between the sheriff and another confrontation with the ghoul-children.

The old graveyard came into view as soon as they rounded the corner and headed for St Michaels church. There was no sign of guards but that didn’t mean there weren’t any. Marcus had made his low power level quite clear. Taz wasn’t convinced:

“Bet you could still use that cheat speed thing you do.”

Marcus frowned:

“Cheat speed?”

Taz glared at Marcus:

“That thing you did so you could catch me back then.”

Marcus laughed:

“Taz that’s called running. I was just faster than you.”

Scott turned away, hiding his face. He had always been the fastest at school. He knew Marcus cheated to catch up with him.

James spotted the back and forth between the two:

“Taz, are you seriously angry at Marcus for being faster than you? Not dragging you through the streets? Not endangering your life and your friends? You’re annoyed he beat you at running?”

Scott’s face was scarlet. He hid his inner child back inside and coughed:

“Well when you put it like that…”

The others laughed. It wasn’t that funny but laughter fought the fear back a little.

Their laughter caught in their throats as each of them spotted the children at the gate to the church. Unmoving statues, black eyes full of malice.

Taz didn’t waste time. He was over the churchyard wall before the ghoul-children even noticed:

“Bet I can outrun you now you little pipsqueak!”

Marcus vaulted the wall in pursuit:

“Bet you can’t old man.”

The two of them barrelled through the church doors and were gone from view in seconds.

The ghoul-children glanced back and forth from the crowd in the street to the door of the church, hesitating over their next move.

James grinned:

“Looks like they get a bit less bright without their friends around to help.”

The ghoul-children glared at him, their decision made. James’ face drooped.

“Oops. OK, I know what to do. The sheriff will sort them out.”

He was already running as he said the last part. Theo yelled after his dad:

“Hit the bricks on the west wall. Shout ‘law breakers sheriff’ then get out of there.”

James was half way down the road but his reply carried well enough in the crisp November air:

“Got it!”

The guards were gone and there was no sign of any more ghoul-children. Had they really been the last two?

They slipped in through the old doors to find Taz and Marcus comforting a statue.

Daniel’s skin shone with sweat. He barely breathed. He wouldn’t move an inch. Daniel didn’t even blink. What would they say to his mum?

There wasn’t time to worry about that. Taz lifted the boy up into his arms and a small stuffed donkey fell to the floor. Daniel must have found it in a lost and found box. A tiny thing to comfort him when his only company had been the mindless creatures who had snatched him away.

What had this boy been through?

Marcus picked up the donkey and rested it in Daniel’s arms. Theo and Andrew gulped back tears. The adventure felt less adventurous, and their victory a little more hollow, when they saw what had happened to their friend.

Daniel got a bit of colour back in his cheeks as they approached his house. He even stirred a little when he heard his mum’s voice at the door.

The others made up a story about him wandering off in the cold and getting disorientated but his mum didn’t look entirely convinced.

She was too pleased to see her son safe and well (if a little quieter than usual) to make much of it, and invited them all in for something warm to drink and a bite to eat if anyone needed it.

Tash could see that the woman needed company so she went in with her kids. The others didn’t want to crowd up the place and walked James and Theo back to their car.

Marcus sighed in relief:

“I think we handled that well tonight. We’ll be better prepared for tomorrow night too.”

Taz’s mouth hung open. An expression that was pretty common on the others as well:

“Tomorrow night? What do you mean tomorrow night?”

Marcus held his hands in the air:

“I thought you all understood. This could go on for weeks. I have no idea what they’re doing, and I’ve lost all control of them. We need to stop those ghoul-children from taking anyone else.”

James shook his head:

“What are you talking about. I led the ghoul-children to the sheriff. He’s got them now. Are there more of them?”

Marcus had the good grace to look sorry:

“There probably are more yes, but the problem is the sheriff can only hold them for one night. He doesn’t have their bones there with him. Their bones will draw them back during the day. By tomorrow night they’ll be out in force again.”

James swore and punched the hood of his car. Taz and Nicky leaned on the car in exhaustion. Vomit rose in Theo’s mouth.

Marcus cringed:

“That’s not the only bad news. If we want to stop them, or at least control them, we need their bones ourselves. Taz, Nicky, I was wondering if you could help me…”

In Daniel’s house Tash and her kids were drinking down their second cup of home-made soup. Rich and hearty, and warm. Really warm. Like a big hug from the inside.

Daniel had hoovered up four cupfuls before falling asleep on the couch. His mum was ecstatic to see him eating. As he slept they could even see him smiling. She headed back through to the kitchen.

Daniel sat bolt upright, his eyes open but unfocussed and whistled an odd little melody. It was a song Tash hadn’t heard in twenty-five years.

There was a boy in her garden. Chloe shifted into the little window seat to get a better view. He looked quite handsome too (from what she could see of him). She didn’t recognise him from school, maybe he went to Morrisons. His movements were slow and deliberate. Like he was inspecting the garden for something.

His toe caught her old skipping rope; left in the garden after the summer. It must be rotten and soggy by now. Chloe felt a small pang of guilt at leaving it out there.

The boy reached down and picked it up, gathering the chord around his fingers. He tied it into a neat knot then stopped and sniffed the skipping rope.

Ewww! Why did he sniff it? Chloe could see from here that it was green with mould and rot. The boy nodded. She could only see the back of his head but she could swear he had started to smile.

He placed it slowly, with care, on the picnic table then lifted his head. Sniffing the air. Chloe’s guts started to curl as thought they were sending her brain a message, and then he turned to face her window and the message rang loud and clear. That wasn’t a boy!

Her parents didn’t even hear her leave the house.

Keep up with the story

Click here to read on to Chapter 14: The Ghost of Church Street.

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 12: The Sheriff

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To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

Bin lids don’t get enough credit. Buckets are good but when surrounded by a group of clawing ghoul-children there’s nothing quite like a bin lid to help you break through their defences and make an opening.

James ran with the thrill of victory pulsing in his head. If he could divert the ghoul-children down to the Market Park the others might stand a chance of getting to the graveyard unnoticed. If only he could figure out where they’d gone.

Down in the Market park the others were catching their breath. Enjoying the chance to recharge, and make plans. Their first challenge was figuring out what had happened to James.

Was he still at the school? Had Marcus dropped him off somewhere else?

One thing they were all sure of was Marcus’ last instruction before he knocked himself out; meet at the graveyard.

Tash tried phoning James.

He answered almost immediately:

“Tash? What happened? Where are you? Actually don’t tell me, they might hear.”

He was out of breath, clearly running. Tash yelled down the phone:

“James are you OK? Are they chasing you?”

James’ words came back in puffs:

“Yep…Look I’m diverting them. Going to the Market Park. They won’t be near the school. Take your chance and get away. Meet where we agreed if you can.”

The colour drained from Tash’s face. Andrew spotted it first:

“What is it mum?”

Tash tried pleading with James over the phone:

“James?! Don’t do that we’re…”

James jumped in:

“Don’t tell me where you are!”

Tash gritted her teeth:

“But James we’re actually in…”

“I said don’t tell me!”

“…but James!”

James hung up.

Andrew looked at his mum:

“Well?”

Tash shook her head:

“What an idiot. They’re coming here. We need to hide.”

The Market Park was a huge grassy area that had once been used to sell livestock by the thousands but was now used for town events. It was a wide functional green space, empty of features. Aside from a few bushes and trees there really was nowhere to hide. Everything around them was fenced off.

James saw his mistake as he rounded the corner and approached the gates. A woman and four children couldn’t exactly hide for long here. He never listened to others enough. He should have let Tash finish speaking. Too late, always too late for things.

His only hope was if the ghoul-children didn’t see them. In the miniscule head start he had won himself, he motioned the others to lie down on the grass then continued on down the hill and away from the entrance to the park.

The others held their breath as they watched a horde of ghoul-children trail past the gate in pursuit of James. A lot more than eight now.

Theo’s knees hurt from the cold grass. He forced them deeper into the icy soil to stop himself moving. It was better than thinking about what those things might do to his dad.

Marcus squirmed and stretched:

“What happened? Why are we all lying down?”

Every one of the others shushed him and pointed to the gate. The ghoul-children had worked for him for years, obeyed his every command. Watching them chase James past the gate was like watching his hand move outside of his control. He shook the feeling off:

“Is he coming back round?”

Tash sneered at the ghost-boy:

“I would hope not. Why?”

Marcus was silent as still more straggling ghoul-children joined their brethren whistling past the gate. Their light footsteps disappeared into the distance. Marcus jumped up and dusted himself off:

“If he does we could get the Sheriff. He doesn’t like the ghouls. He doesn’t like me either. Actually I don’t think he likes anyone.”

The others asked in unison:

“The Sheriff? Crieff doesn’t have a sheriff!”

“I’ve not seen him in a couple of hundred years. I wonder if he’s still around.”

Marcus marched to the small gates cut into the west wall of the park.

“When he was alive he watched for the sheep and cattle-rustlers that sneaked in when the drovers brought their livestock to the market. He doesn’t like rule breakers. I mean really doesn’t like them. He would have them hanging by the town gates by nightfall”

Theo frowned:

“OK so you’re going to get an angry ghost. An angry murderous ghost to help save my dad from other angry ghosts? Can’t see that going wrong at all.”

Marcus shrugged:

“Oh it could go horribly wrong, I’m not going to deny that, but it’s the best chance he has. Besides it’s the ghosts the sheriff has the most problem with. We break the rules just by still being around after death.”

Louise wasn’t convinced:

“But he’s a ghost.”

Marcus smirked:

“Yep. We don’t mention that bit. He’s a weird guy, but he has his uses. Never noticed those uses till now, but he definitely has his them.”

Marcus grabbed a rock and thumped it on one of the ancient boulders that made up the wall:

“Rule breakers! There are Rule Breakers. Monstrous deviations of nature! We need the sheriff. Help us.”

A wrenching, hollow sound rumbled from below them as the ground tore apart. A red glow pulsing deep inside the ground through a hole barely larger than a fist.

Marcus peered down, his face bathed in blood-red light:

“That should do it.”

They backed away, eyes fixed on the small glowing hole. Marcus continued walking backwards:

“Should have said before; I can’t be here when he comes out. Good luck guys. I’ll see you at the gate when it’s over.”

Their protests dried in their throats as a huge rotten hand heaved the soil downwards forcing its way up and out of the hole. A shoulder packed tight with muscle and sinew followed. Then the sheriff dragged himself out to the world above. The hole gaped in tatters, red light rippling on the walls beside them as though they were on fire.

Marcus was gone so the sheriff turned on them. Eyes glowing red, dressed in a ragged uniform, and carrying a hangman’s noose. He greeted them in a voice that made their innards vibrate:

“Who summoned me? Who am I to bring to justice?”

As he uttered the word ‘justice’ his burning eyes flicked towards the hole below them. Did the ghoul children really deserve that?

Theo thought of his dad, running for his life, just a few hundred feet away. They didn’t have a choice, he turned to Tash:

“Call my dad. Tell him to bring them here.”

The stink of the sheriff clawed at the back of Tash’s throat. Fire, rot, and filth. They couldn’t stay here long. Her eyes watered, blurring her view of her phone’s screen. She called James. She didn’t wait for him to say anything:

“Bring them through the west entrance. We have something for them.”

All that came in reply was laboured breathing, the sound of running, followed by a grunt of recognition. James was on board.

The sheriff glared at her as she hung up her call:

“What witchcraft is that, that allows you to talk to those who are not here?”

The red glow in his eyes intensified with his rage. The group hurriedly tried to explain how phones worked, pointing out that it was science, not ‘witchcraft’. The glow in his eyes dulled a little but he still looked at them accusingly:

“Why have you called upon my services. Why wake me from my slumber?”

They weren’t sure where to start. Fortunately James did the job for them as he emerged screaming through the gate followed by an alarming number of ghoul-children. If this didn’t work they would all be in trouble.

The sheriff’s face distorted into his own monstrous version of a grin. The fire in his eyes glowed deep red and he lifted his noose:

“I see now. The dead walk again.”

James raced at them. The group turned from the sheriff and ran alongside the purple faced, middle-aged man. A bit of company gave him a burst of energy and he increased his pace as a ghoul-child began catching up.

The Sheriff began his work.

It wasn’t easy to watch. After the first ghoul-child was noose-dragged to the glowing pit none of them could bring themselves to look back. The cold black eyes didn’t even blink as the sheriff hauled them off to…wherever it was that he took them.

Marcus cheered them on from beyond the gate as their feet thumped on the icy earth. The ghoul-children seemed to have increased their pace as well. Their faces showed no sign of fear but their speed told a different story.

The sheriff materialised in bursts of flames and steam then dragged them back to his hole. The ghoul-children squirmed against the rope, fingers rasping as they clawed the frozen ground. Each of them made a ‘thwump’ noise as they vanished through the glowing red hole.

As they reached Marcus at the gate they realised it had been a while since they had last heard a ‘thwump’. They looked round to find the sheriff charging towards them. The fire in his eyes blazing, he roared:

“You side with this abomination? You side with Marcus?! You are all guilty now.”

Marcus screamed at them all to join him on the other side of the gate. They couldn’t see what good that might do them now but followed his instructions.

The sheriff’s feet threw huge lumps of soil up behind him as he thundered towards them. His eyes didn’t leave them for a moment. He grasped his noose tightly and spun it round his head like a lasso, preparing to catch one of them.

They closed their eyes, preparing for the noose to fall. Marcus laughed:

“Wait for it…wait for it…”

BOOM! A fireball erupted before their eyes but they felt no heat. It curved back from the gate as though they were behind a wall of glass.

Marcus grinned at their vacant expressions:

“That was intense!”

As the wall of flames dwindled they could see the Market Park beyond. It was as though nothing had happened. The hole in the ground at the far end was gone. Along with it the Sheriff had vanished. All that remained were the deep-cut welts left behind by his charge through the turf.

James caught his breath:

“So what next?”

Marcus drew breath deeply:

“I don’t know how to tell you but that wasn’t the last of them. We can’t just wander up to the graveyard now. They know we’re coming.”

Tash sagged. They were exhausted. Louise brushed the dirt from her knees:

“I think we need to go to Auntie Nicky’s.”

Keep up with the story

To read on to Chapter 13: Graveyard and Gardens just click here

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 10: Hiding from Lifeless Eyes

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john bray local author nanowrimo national novel writing month scotland perthshire

To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

“But what about Daniel? He wandered off with that…thing. Shouldn’t we call the police or something?”

Theo called back to the adults as he marched at top speed towards his school. When he looked back he realised they were on the other path. Louise noticed too:

“I thought you said we were going to the school.”

Both adults answered in chorus:

“We are!”

Louise was not impressed:

“Wait! You mean the old school? No way! There’s no one there. How can that help get Andrew better or help us find Daniel? Besides it’s creepy at night.”

Theo had to agree. A visit to an abandoned primary school, at night, was not his first choice after what they’d been through already.

There wasn’t any discussion to be had. Tash and James marched a dazed and confused Andrew onwards and the others had no choice but to keep up.

Theo didn’t even like walking past the old school during the day. It had actually been his school for a few years before it had closed, before they all moved to the new one. It had been really good. A fun place. Somewhere he had met most of his friends.

It was different now. All the classrooms had been gutted. The pictures weren’t stuck on the windows any more. No one had drawn chalk pictures on the playground for years.

It was a sad place to walk past in the daytime. Theo didn’t like to think what it might be like at night.

The old school did not look great at night. What were his dad and Andrew’s mum thinking?

They suggested that it ‘might be easier’ if they went round the back of the school. (What might be easier?)

The gates were locked but it was easy enough to climb the old fence into the back playground. Once they were all in they made their way to the back of the building. Theo’s dad smiled:

“Used to play ‘tig’ over there.”

The smile faded as a whistle echoed around the old playground.

Theo hunted round for the source of the sound. His eyes almost missed the face in a classroom window. Why was someone inside the building. The boy looked familiar but his face was really pale. It was hard to tell.

He pointed the boy out to the others. His dad and Andrew’s mum ran in the direction of the window.

They tried the door nearest them but it was locked. All the doors would be locked. Again, how did that boy get into the school?

The boy waved and pointed towards the fire exit up near the gym hall. They walked towards it (as quickly as Andrew could be dragged along). It burst open just as they got to it. Theo recognised Marcus now. Was the Marcus his dad had mentioned his Marcus? Marcus looked out behind them carefully:

“I can’t see any ghoul-children. We should be safe. Get in and I’ll lock up again.”

The door closed behind them with an almighty slam. Even Andrew jumped.

Marcus looked at the boys and at Louise but seemed to be speaking to the adults:

“Have you told them any of it?”

The adults shook their heads. Tash held Andrew close, turning him to face Marcus:

“Did you do this?”

Marcus leaned in close to Andrew and placed his hand on his head. Tash was shaking:

“WELL??!”

Marcus jumped at the shout, shook his head and stepped back from the boy:

“No I didn’t do this. I don’t understand.”

The adults breathed deeply and slumped to the ground. Tash held her son close. He hadn’t spoken since they had found him. His eyes darted around, focussing on nothing in particular. Tash looked up from him, her expression strained:

“Marcus please say you can do something for my son.”

Marcus sat down on the floor beside them:

“My power isn’t what it was but I’ll see what I can do.”

He held Andrew’s hand and struggled to make eye contact as Andrew’s eyes darted round in all directions. Marcus persisted until Andrew’s gaze seemed to lock onto him and stay there:

“Marcus? Are we in school? What happened?” He looked around at the others from the floor “Why am I on the floor? Why are you at school mum? Wait this is the old school!”

He didn’t get his answers. At least not straight away. Everyone was too relieved to see him talking again. Marcus was the first to answer his questions:

“Good to see you again Andrew. There’s a lot to explain but we don’t have much time. I’m an old friend of your mum’s…Actually, am I an old friend?”

Marcus turned to the adults with an almost pleading look. Tash and James nodded. Tash put her hand on his arm:

“We know what you were doing for us. How difficult it must have been. Of course you’re a friend.”

Marcus beamed at them:

“I’m so glad. And James, you’ve got grey hair!” James didn’t see this as something worth celebrating. Marcus did “I’ve never had a friend with grey hair before!”

The sounds of the old school creaked around them. No one spoke. Marcus coughed:

“Anyway, I’m not what you think. Maybe your parents could fill you in.”

Tash and James shared everything they knew. Marcus being ‘healed’ by a Druid two-thousand years ago, the Roman (Mr Thomas), the kidnappings every twenty-five years since, ending with what Marcus had done for them when they were kids.

As the story moved along the others moved further from Marcus. Despite his frequent ‘sorry’s at some of the worst bits, the children still kept their distance.

The adults smiled as they finished. Louise threw her arms in the air:

“Was that supposed to make us feel better? You even brought us to the same school. With this ghost kid. This does not seem like the best plan.”

Marcus jumped in:

“I’m not a ghost. Actually I’m not sure what I am.”

Louise’s eyes jumped from Marcus to her mum and back again as though trying to gauge who was the most messed up. She sat down on the floor crossing her arms and legs:

“So what now?”

Marcus stood up slowly, his eyes fixed on something they couldn’t see. Through the open door of a classroom, out the window, to the darkened playground beyond. His voice shook a little:

“Now we all get up. We don’t look round. Then we move away from the windows so those ghouls can’t watch us any more.”

Theo sneaked a glance into the classroom and out the window. A boy and a girl gripped the bars on the windows, their black eyes fixed on Andrew.

Without saying a word they shuffled along the corridor and further into the school building. There were a lot of windows but it was an old building with lots of twists and turns. It didn’t take long to find a hiding place.

Andrew’s breathing came in great bursts. The only words he got out were: “Why me?”

Marcus shrugged:

“I’m sorry Andrew. I wish I knew.”

Marcus looked to his old friends for help:

“What happened after I last saw you? Where did Mr Thomas end up?”

James frowned:

“We never saw him again. The police tried to find him but declared him dead a few years ago.”

Marcus screwed up his face:

“Declared him dead? What does that mean?”

James shrugged:

“They looked for him so long, there was no trace of him. At that point they filled in some forms. He’s gone.”

Marcus’ face lit up:

“He’s really gone? I didn’t think I could have a life without him. Every twenty-five years I’d turn up, he’d use me to get another burst of energy, then I’d disappear and he would have another twenty-five years to use for his own enjoyment.”

James and Tash celebrated along with Marcus. Louise, Andrew, and Theo shook their heads in disbelief. Louise stared at them:

“That’s great. So can any of you explain why a bunch of freaky ghost-kids are sneaking around kidnapping people?”

Marcus frowned:

“No. I can’t connect to them any more. It’s hard to figure out what they’re up to.”

Marcus ignored the blank faces of the others:

“OK lets deal with the easier question; what happened tonight?”

Theo told the story of the face on his trip home from school and his conversation with his friends online. Marcus jumped in as soon as he got to the bit about Daniel and the ghoul:

“You’re going to have to explain all this ‘online’ business to me another time. I have no idea what you’re all talking about. But are you trying to say the ghoul-children got someone?”

Theo seemed to think Marcus already knew about Daniel. He shook his head:

“Of course I didn’t know. Do we know where they took him?”

Everyone gaped. They had hoped Marcus could help with that. Marcus started listing all the likely sites when Andrew ‘shushed’ him:

“What’s that whispering sound? Can anyone else hear that?”

No one else could.

The moment passed with uncomfortable coughs. Tash put her arm round her son, Marcus had got him talking but he clearly wasn’t back to normal yet. She hunted for a change of topic:

“Marcus, you were listing places we might find the ghoul-children.”

Marcus shook his head:

“Actually I was listing empty buildings in town. If we’re trying to track down the ghoul-children themselves there’s one solution that jumps out. You’re not going to like it.”

Theo thought back to the last time he had seen Daniel. A small shape drawn away by one of those things. They couldn’t leave Daniel with them any longer:

“Whatever it is it’ll be worth it. We’ve got to help Daniel.”

Marcus braced himself:

“We need to find their bones.”

Keep up with the story

Click here to read on to ‘Marcus Chapter 11 Overcome by Blank Faces’.

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Marcus: Chapter 9: 25 Years Later

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Unedited forest image by Jerald Jackson, titled 'after you.....'

To go to chapter 1 and follow the story through from the very beginning, simply click on this link

1st November 2017

Harry and Theo followed their dad out of the school gate. He had gone really quiet since they told him about the new boy.

Theo wandered off ahead leaving his dad to catch up. He moved to catch up with a couple of his friends then he saw it. Halloween had already been and gone, so why was there someone in the trees wearing a mask? Then he realised; masks don’t blink.

His pulse pounded in his ears, swishing like waves. He ran back to get his dad. When he looked back the face was gone. Theo knew his dad would just say it was his imagination, but he didn’t. His face went pale.

Theo wanted to talk about it. His dad didn’t. They were marched away from the school at a pace so fast that little Harry had to run behind in bursts to keep up.

Theo jumped on the computer as soon as he got home. He went to a favourite video and scrolled to the comments. It was one of the easiest ways to keep in touch with his friends, they’d been using this one for weeks.

None of them had a phone yet (despite constant requests) so for now this was their version of messaging one another. He started simply:

“Did anyone see anything weird outside school just now?”

He could be waiting for an answer for a while, there was no way of knowing whether his friends had got his message. He browsed around other web sites for a while then plugged in his headphones and had a go on his newest game. He forgot he had notifications switched on for the notice board.

‘BING‘

The notification sound lost him the game. He would have been upset but he had to know what that thing was in the bushes. Was it just his imagination?

A couple of his friends had logged in; Daniel and Andrew. Andrew was football obsessed at school but at home he was never off the computer. Daniel was just happy to chat, he was always happy to chat. It was easier on the ears here actually (at school Daniel didn’t have much of an ‘inside voice’).

They both lived nearer the school than Theo so he hoped they’d been in less of a rush as they went past. Maybe they even knew who was wearing the mask.

Andrew hadn’t seen anything. Daniel remembered seeing something move but it had been too dark to see what it was. He said he could check on his new telescope, messaged them ‘brb’ (be right back).

While they waited, Andrew asked Theo more about the face. He was convinced it was just a high school kid in one of those special custom masks you could get made online.

Their conversation fell into talking about how cool it would be to have one of those masks (some of them could even smile and move their eyebrows). Theo couldn’t help thinking ‘…but I’ve never heard of one that could blink.’

Daniel was back. His message was surprisingly short (at least for Daniel): “Saw the face. Need to go see more closely.”

The others messaged back frantically, telling him he was nuts. Even if it was just a high school kid doing a prank it still wasn’t worth sneaking down there. There was no reply. Andrew said he’d go up to his bedroom and watch Daniel from his window. He’d message back on his tablet.

Theo grabbed a glass of water to fight off the dry feeling in his throat.

By the time Andrew had added a quick ‘OK I can see him’, Theo had drank so much water his stomach was making ‘sloshing’ sounds.

Andrew kept adding a progress report in short messages:

“He’s walking towards the trees.”

“He’s standing still, crouching down for a better view.”

“He’s standing back up. Like ‘stand up straight’ the way they get us to do in school.”

“Someone coming.”

“It’s a kid. About our age.”

“That’s not a kid!!! Its face isn’t right. What is that?!”

There wasn’t another message. For a second Theo wondered if this was just a prank. Daniel would definitely do something like this. Then again Andrew hated pranks. Even on April fools day Andrew never joined in. Theo ran out of options. The dry throat was back but he was cold too. Really cold:

“Dad!!!!?”

He yelled down the stairs.

“DAD!!! Come up and read this! Please!”

His dad ran up the stairs. He read through the comments in moments then held his head in his hands:

“Get your coat now.”

Theo’s dad rocketed down the road and skidded to a halt outside Daniel’s.

Theo wasn’t sure if he was supposed to stay in the car or not. Since his dad hadn’t said one way or the other he opted to follow him to the front door.

Daniel’s mum took a while to answer. Theo tried to tell her about the messages and the faces but his dad interrupted before she thought they were nuts.:

“Is Daniel here? Theo needs to check something with him.”

Daniel’s mum wandered into the house and shouted him. There was no answer. She rolled her eyes:

“Probably has his headphones on. Wait a sec, I’ll go see.”

She ignored Theo and his dad when she came back, she just kept yelling Daniel’s name. Her distress growing and growing.

Andrew’s mum appeared from their house next door:

“Ashleigh, is everything OK? I could hear you shouting from the kitchen.”

Theo’s dad jumped, yelling right at Andrew’s mum:

“Tash! It’s happening again. He’s back.”

Tash looked at her old friend. Her face transformed from confusion to horror:

“Marcus?…”

Andrew’s mum ran back into her house shouting Andrew’s name. His big sister appeared, her eyes never leaving her phone:

“I think he went round the back. Said something about Daniel.”

Theo’s dad and Andrew’s mum ran round the back of the house chanting ‘no no no no no no…”

Theo ran after them. There was a hole in the fence that led to the high school playing fields. Beyond that Theo could see the group of trees and bushes where the face had been.

Andrew was walking towards them, like he was in some sort of trance. Theo searched the trees for signs of Daniel.

Way in the distance he could just make out two dark shapes walking out to the farmland out past Broich road.

He ran to his dad to tell him but when they looked back the shapes were gone.

Tash tackled her son to the ground and gripped him tight as he struggled to crawl off in the direction of the fields.

No one made a sound Andrew’s sister Louise stuck her phone in her jeans and slid through the fence. Somewhere far behind her someone started to whistle a little song. It cut through the cold night air and seemed to carry that ice into Theo’s insides. Both adults froze in place.

Louise interrupted the weirdness:

“What’s going on? Why’s mum holding Andrew on the grass?”

Theo didn’t really have answers. He didn’t need them though. Andrew’s mum heaved Andrew into a standing position. She’d clearly made a decision:

“We’re going to the school. I won’t let him do all this again.”

Theo’s dad nodded in agreement and helped her to get Andrew moving. Andrew did not look great. Louise could see that much:

“Mum, Andrew doesn’t look right. He looks like he needs a doctor. How’s going to the school going to help?”

Tash didn’t even look back:

“Trust me. It’s the only thing that will.”

Keep up with the story

Click this link for Chapter 10: Hiding from Lifeless Eyes

Thanks for reading, all the best, John

Jack Reusen

The official page for the Jack Reusen series by John Bray. Read on to discover more about the land of the Fey and the people who dwell there…

Tag Archives: amwriting

Marcus: Chapter 22: The Gauntlet to the Golf Course

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Marcus: Chapter 21: The forgotten boy

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Marcus: Chapter 20: Under The High Street

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Marcus: Chapter 17: That’s Four

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Marcus: Chapter 16: Two Bags of Bones

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Marcus: Chapter 15: Dawn Till Dusk

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Marcus: Chapter 13: Graveyards and Gardens

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Marcus: Chapter 12: The Sheriff

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Marcus: Chapter 10: Hiding from Lifeless Eyes

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Marcus: Chapter 9: 25 Years Later

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