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Marcus Chapter 11 Overcome by Blank Faces

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.

Theo wanted to help his friend but this was beyond anything he had expected:

“Find their bones? You think Daniel is beside their BONES!? What’s are they planning on doing with him?”

Marcus didn’t have any nice answers. He had some nasty ones but he didn’t want to say them out loud. Instead he focussed on what they could deal with right now:

“Maybe they’re just used to gathering children. I don’t know. Whatever it is, they won’t stop until they have four. It’s always four.”

Marcus looked at Andrew and sighed: “We’ll have to deal with Andrew’s ‘whispers’ later.”

James coughed:

“I wanted to ask you about something. Last time; we all felt something. We all lost a bit of energy. It worked a little didn’t it? It’s how you’re still here. Now it’s all happening again and we’re going to stop them. What happens if there’s no energy this time? Will you run out? Would you…”

Marcus interrupted:

“To be honest James I have no idea. For now lets save Daniel. We can discuss whether this will kill me later.”

That was the end of the discussion. Marcus was on his way to the exit as he spoke. The others followed followed close behind then stopped dead as Marcus shoved the emergency bar on the door and motioned for them to follow:

“Stay low. Keep hidden. I have some power. I can probably ward off two or three ghouls. If any more turn up take my advice; run.”

They rounded the corner. A boy and a girl, silhouetted by distant street lights, blocked their way. Black, lifeless, unblinking eyes took them in. The only sign of recognition; the slightest tilt of their heads. Marcus dissolved into smoke and swirled towards them, flinging them at the walls to either side.

The small group saw their chance and hurried past. Picking up the pace as they looked back to see the ghoul-children dusting themselves off. The school gates were locked, leaving them with a scrabbled climb over the fence. Steps away from the fence Tash stopped and pointed.

From the other side of the bars four blank faces slid into view, unblinking ghoul-children, each with a slight head-tilt of recognition. Each developing the smallest hint of a smile.

Marcus turned on his heel and made for the lane down the side of the school:

“Change of plan. Get out over the front fence. Any way you can. If we get split up, meet at the old graveyard on Church Street. I have an idea.”

They climbed the low fence that led to what Theo and Andrew had known as the ‘junior’ playground; their old playground.

As they set foot on the concrete. Two of the ghoul-children turned from the others and made their way down the hill; that route also led to the front of the school. Marcus saw them:

“OK, guess they’re smarter than I realised. RUN!!!”

James and Tash helped the kids over the locked gate and down the lane to the front. Every person that climbed through the narrow gap gave the ghoul-children more time to get ahead of them.

By the time James had climbed over to join them the other ghoul-children had disappeared too. This plan had flaws. Tash had one question:

“How strong are those things?”

Marcus shrugged:

“Never saw them up against an adult but they are strong. Whatever you do don’t let one grab you. I don’t think you’d get away if it did.”

The first two ghoul-children were there to meet them at the bottom of the lane. Marcus ‘smoked’ them, re-materialising instantly in a pained crouch on the ground:

“Can’t do that again. Like my insides were hanging out. It’s all on you guys now.”

James and Tash raided an old shed that used to contain play equipment for the nursery school. They got an abandoned scooter and a metal bucket. No one wanted to belittle their cache of ‘weapons’ but they all thought it; things could be better.

The other two ghoul-children had placed themselves at the old school gate. The group had no plans of going to the gate though. They laughed at the ghoul-children’s foolishness as they jumped over the low fence.

They heard the giggling before they landed. A group of eight or ten ghoul-children huddled out of sight under the wall. As they jumped down the children grabbed at their clothes, their hair, their ankles.

Tash swung the scooter on it’s axis like some giant, rusty nunchuk. It cracked one of the ghoul-boys right across the head. James whacked one of the ghoul-girls in the hand with the bucket. Her knuckles made an meaty ‘crunch’.

The other ghoul-children closed in. Surrounded by grasping hands on all sides, they were running out of options. Neither adult could swing their weapon without hurting one of their group. Marcus sighed:

“I’m going to try something. It might not work and when I’m done I need one of you to carry me. It’s going to use everything I’ve got.”

The smoke cloud erupted around Marcus again. He vanished from view as black mist closed around their group.

Inside the mist they smelled moss and dampness; clean, natural, and old. Strangely calming in its own way. They felt the sensation of movement and the next thing they knew they were about a half-mile away in Market Park.

The cloud gathered into a pile on the ground. Marcus lay motionless. Louise leaned forward to check on him:

“He’s got no pulse! He isn’t breathing!”

Her mum shushed her:

“He’s a ghost Lou. I don’t think he ever breathes.”

They laughed nervously. Tash crouched down to pick up the boy:

“Oh, he’s heaver than I thought. James could you give me a hand? James?…”

James wasn’t there.

Daniel woke up and wished he hadn’t. He couldn’t move again. There were no ropes, he wasn’t tied up. All the same, the only parts of his body he could move were his eyes. They made him do what they wanted, so long as those four things were there, he had no choice. Daniel could barely see through the tears.

When they left the room he could move around. He had looked for a way out, tried all the doors but only the cupboard was unlocked. Others like them, more black-eyed creatures, watched from outside the barred windows but these others didn’t have the power. He missed even that taste of freedom.

His knees ached. His muscles twitched. He wanted to stretch his legs but he could barely control his own breathing. There wasn’t enough air. They were doing it on purpose. Suffocating him. Knocking him out, again.

When you don’t care who you hurt it’s surprising how much damage you can do with a metal bucket.

James was in a bit of a frenzy now. Most of the ghoul-children were flat on their backs but they didn’t stay that way for long.

One tried to stand up and met the mighty wrath of the bucket right to the temple. James swung round and caught another of them square in the chest. Knocking them directly into the middle of Commissioner Street. It left a gap for him to slip through.

He got a few steps away and stopped. Where should he go next? They were to meet at the graveyard in Church Street but he didn’t want to lead the ghoul-children straight to the others. Instead he went in the opposite direction; towards the Market Park.

James’ pondering had left the ghoul-children enough time to gather around him again. Why hadn’t he just ran? Why did he have to overthink everything? All he needed was enough space to run through. He swung the bucket again. The handle had grown misshapen. This was the last straw.

The twisted handle released the bucket as James arched it towards a ghoul-child. Bucket and handle were parted forever as it flew over the ghoul-child’s head and landed with a ‘clunk’ in the distance.

The handle was not an effective weapon. As the ghouls inched closer James looked around for something, anything, he could use to open that gap.

Keep up with the story

Click here to read on to ‘Marcus: Chapter 12: The Sheriff’.

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 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

Marcus: Chapter 8: Borrowed Time

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

Tash didn’t make a sound, she didn’t struggle against the cold, iron, grip on her wrists. Inside she was screaming and writhing but she needed Marcus to think she was coming along willingly. Tash desperately hunted for any chance to get away. The slightest release of his hold would do. His grip didn’t relax a bit.

They passed the gates of the golf-course. Grip still tight. They followed the long steep hill all the way back to the square. Grip still tight. They followed the hill down to the school (even passing the police station on the way). Grip still tight.

Tash wondered for a second whether she should yell out at the police station but she would rather be free and silent than loud and risk being dragged away with no hope of escape.

This strategy didn’t pay off. She knew that much as Marcus hauled her through the front door of the school.

The school door was open! That was different. They had passed police cars outside. Could the police be somewhere in the building?

Marcus somehow snuffed out electric lights everywhere they went. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation as he progressed through the front of the building, past the stairs, and into the boiler room.

Marcus was holding Tash’s wrist so tight that her hand was purple. She couldn’t feel her fingers any more. With his free hand Marcus closed the door as quietly as possible and locked it from the inside. The key safely tucked into his pocket.

Next came the descent into the rooms below. Tash was allowed to have use of her hand again but it was so numb that it served little purpose except as a lump of flesh and bone she used to steady herself as she climbed down the ladder.

There was only one positive that Tash could think of; there had been no sign of Mr Thomas. This didn’t seem to slow Marcus down at all:

“Walk faster, you’re going to want to be sitting down when it happens.”

This left Tash cold. What was ‘it’? Why would she need to sit down?

Strands of electric cables lay twisted on the floor in front of them. Tash hadn’t seen her sister tied up but she knew enough to realise they had just passed the spot where she had been earlier:

“Where are you taking me? Where are the others?”

Marcus didn’t even slow down his walking as he hurried her along further:

“They’ll be below by now.”

He heaved a grease-stained oak bookcase to one side with no effort whatsoever and led Tash into a small room behind.

Cut into the floor was a spiral staircase. Tash leaned against the tubular walls as they descended. The rough stone offering the comfort of something solid. Something real.

A surprising number of steps led them into the middle of a tiny room. Tash could just make out the shapes of three children huddled in a corner gathered around a small battery-powered torch.

Marcus stopped on the bottom step:

“Where is he? Did he go upstairs?”

James turned and looked up at them, straining his eyes against the light flowing down from the open stairwell:

“He left ages ago. What are you going to do to us?”

Marcus sat down on the step:

“Nothing. At least that’s what I hope. With any luck he’s been taken by the police and you’ll just need to wait here until 3am. After that I’ll be gone and you can head upstairs for help.”

He took the key and placed it on the floor in front of him. The others didn’t even try to grab it. They knew there was no point. Nicky croaked in the corner:

“Marcus? What do you mean you won’t be here?”

“Every quarter century, for whatever reason, I get to be a kid. A solid, real-looking child. I make friends. I go to school. Then he comes along and takes them, uses them to stay alive for another twenty-five years. After it’s done I disappear. I lose my solid form. I sort of float in and out of existence for the next twenty-five years.”

Marcus was quiet for a long time. He looked up at the four friends with tears in his eyes:

“If he doesn’t come back tonight then this might be the end. I might never have to do that to anyone again. I might get some rest.”

Nicky jumped in:

“…but doesn’t that mean you’ll…”

She didn’t want to say ‘die’ but everyone knew what she meant. Marcus laughed:

“I’ve been dead for two-thousand years. Maybe now I can start acting like it.”

Among them only Tash had a watch. She took it off and sat it on the floor between them all. Taz pointed the torch at it. It was two minutes till three. In silence they watched for the seconds to tick down.

Taz coughed, making the others jump:

“Marcus, I enjoyed playing tig with you. You’re really fast. It was fun. (You know before you captured us and planned to sacrifice us to keep a janitor’s assistant alive and everything).”

The seconds ticked away to their freedom and Marcus’ destruction. Five…four…three…two…one…

Nothing happened. Marcus was still there and so were they. They grinned among themselves. Then Tash frowned:

“It’s actually set a bit fast. It’s only a few minutes…”

Blue light flashed out of Marcus and a damp cold feeling clawed at the four friends. They had never felt more tired. As they collapsed to the floor Marcus stood up in his luminous glory and screamed:

“No!!!!! This wasn’t supposed to happen. He isn’t here this time. I thought I’d fixed it. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

A few hundred meters away. In a cell in the police station a tiny stream of blue light crept in through the window and disappeared into Mr Thomas. He caught his breath:

“Not as much as usual Marcus. Quite disappointing really, but it’ll have to do.”

He looked in the mirror. A face of brown leather, surrounded by snow white hair, scowled back at him. He was old but he was alive. For now.

James woke up in his bed at home with no memory of getting there. His dad slumped forward, perched on the end of the bed. He jerked awake at the sound of James:

“Finally! We’ve been so worried. The four of you were so ill when they found you. Are you OK? Can you remember anything?”

James’ throat was painfully dry. His dad had to help him take a sip of water before he could speak:

“What about the others? Taz? Nicky? Tasha? Are they OK? Is Marcus?”

His dad sighed and shook his head:

“I’m really sorry to say this but they still haven’t found him. We don’t know what Mr Thomas did with him but it’s not looking promising.”

“The others are the same as you. Been ill and sleeping for weeks. You managed to sleep your way to the Christmas holidays!”

James got up and put his slippers on. His dad helped him down to the living room. Long phone calls told him that his friends were awake too. Everything was going to be OK.

***

1st November 2017

James hurried towards the school. He was supposed to be picking up the kids right now but he was still five minutes away. Time had never been on his side. For as long as he could remember it felt like someone had set up his internal clock a bit wrong. Like some of his time was missing.

Tash streaked past him on her way to pick up her two. There was nothing quite like seeing a school friend with kids to make you feel old. They exchanged an eye-roll of mutual understanding and she vanished into the crowd of parents.

James was almost at the gate, running past the bushes when he saw something that made his stomach lurch. It couldn’t be…

A pale, green, face gazed out from the bushes to his left. Black eyes reflected the street lights that lit the way into the new school. Then they were gone.

He’d allowed himself to consider it some childish story; something they had made up to explain what had happened to them. Sometimes he’d get flashbacks like this and remember the truth.

He hunted through the thinning crowd for Tash but she had already gone. His boys raced towards him. Theo (his eldest) was jumping around as usual:

“What kept you so long?”

James tried not to think about the face in the bushes. He tried to hide his discomfort by acting as normally as possible. He apologised for being late and asked how their day was. Harry (his youngest) jumped in:

“Theo has a new boy in his class. He’s really fast, hardly anyone can catch him when we play tig.”

James was relieved to be talking about something normal:

“So what’s the new boy’s name.”

Theo and Harry replied in unison:

“He’s called Marcus.”

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Marcus: Chapter 7: Impossible choices

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Did the ghouls have the same powers as Marcus? Tash took an educated guess that they didn’t. After all, if they could why wouldn’t Mr Thomas have used them as his own freakish army?

Tash wasn’t ready to take any risks. She dropped to the ground, crawling in what Taz called ‘commando style’ along the wet grass. She shimmied between hedges and other cover until the stones were almost at running distance.

To her left was a small group of ghoul-children watching the golf-course gates with empty eyes. To her right was a single girl, and she was looking right at Tash.

Tash leapt from the ground as the girl pointed in her direction and let out a dry, unearthly, shriek. The other ghouls turned at the sound and marched in her direction.

In every direction all that Tash could see was ancient children. Each a ghostly copy of the sort of a picture you’d see in a museum. They closed around her leaving nothing but a small gap, on the other side was the stone circle. The gap closed shut and then came the whistle from the direction of town.

For a fraction of a moment the ghouls looked up to search for Marcus. Tash took her chance and lunged between the ghouls who had closed the gap.

The smell was putrid, like rotting vegetables and stagnant water. Marcus smelled weird but not unpleasant. The smell of these things hung around in her nose as she pelted her way towards the stone circle.

Deep breaths of rotten air fuelled her last few strides. She flung herself onto the nearest rock. Her wrist gave a hollow ‘crack’ as she landed but she barely noticed the pain. She was safe. Even better; the others were safe.

Marcus drifted down towards her, landing just feet away, clearly reluctant to go any further:

“It’s not the witching hour quite yet. He sent me to get you. Insisted that there is still time. He said to tell you that if you aren’t there on time he’ll kill them.”

Tash looked at Marcus like he was crazy:

“He was going to kill them anyway! At least if I stay here he doesn’t get what he wanted.”

Marcus nodded:

“The ritual doesn’t exactly ‘kill’ them but I know what you mean. It’s not much of a life is it.”

He gestured towards the ghouls surrounding them. Their quiet moans carried perfectly in the icy night air. A blasting wail shattered the quiet as three police cars flew down the road beside them illuminating the stones in pulsing blue.

Despite the shock their presence was a comfort to Tash and a grin crossed her face:

“I don’t think Mr Thomas will be doing anything to them now.”

She checked her watch: 2:45 am. They had made it with time to spare. The police would have heard about Taz’s screams. They would be investigating right now. Tash’s parents might even have read the note she had left on her bed. It was over:

“So what do you do now? If Mr Thomas is arrested there’s no reason to get us all together in the school at three. Out of interest, why do you always do this in the school?”

Marcus grew blurry, his form drifting apart as he grew lost in concentration. His answer was half hearted, his thoughts focussed on something else:

“It’s not the school exactly. Mr Thomas made sure that one of these stones was dug up and used in the construction of the school. Along with it they took a large amount of soil. I was buried in that soil. The school was built using my grave.”

Marcus’ real form had been bad enough to look at before. Now that Tash knew his body was buried somewhere, there was something somehow more unnatural about him. Something hollow. He paced in a circle around the stones, stopping every now and then to steal a glance at the golf club gates:

“Ah, there we are. I sent some of the others on a little errand. She’s younger than what we normally use but she should make a decent replacement.”

In the distance Tash could make out a tiny girl in rainbow pyjamas, her eyes red from crying. Two ghoul-children led her towards Marcus:

“Sorry Tash. I really am. I have orders to have four children in the school before 3am and if you won’t come I’ll have to use James’ little sister.”

Tash could feel the bile rising in her throat. It was over. The police would have Mr Thomas by now. Why was Marcus carrying this on? She screamed at him in rage, fighting back her own tears. His face hung long, his brow furrowed, as he struggled with something inside:

“Tash, I’m sorry. I want to do things differently but I can’t. It has to be like this. I always do as instructed. I have no choice. Now, make things easier and come with me to the school. We can leave James’ sister here at the stones so you know she’ll be safe.”

Tash’s moment of victory dissolved into nothing. Her throat ached, she tried to swallow but she had no saliva. Tash’s voice creaked as she stood up from the stones and tried to comfort the frightened girl:

“It’s OK. I know these people are scary but those stones are magic. The bad people can’t get you if you’re there. Sit on that rock and scream.”

James’ sister rushed for the stones and planted herself down on a mossy patch. Tash looked at Marcus. His black eyes told her nothing. She hoped her own eyes could hide things as easily. It wasn’t fair, she could reach the stones in two or three long strides from here.

She could reach the stones! Why was she walking towards Marcus? To keep a promise that meant her and three others would be turned into ghoulish shadows of themselves? No thanks! She kept her face as straight as possible and braced herself for the leap back to the stones.

As her leg muscles bunched a ring of cold and wet closed around her wrist with unyielding power:

“Good try Tash but I’m afraid we really must go. We have an appointment to keep.”

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Click here to read on to Marcus: Chapter 8: Borrowed Time

Marcus: Chapter 6: Stone Circle

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A pair of black eyes sparkled in the moonlight as Marcus barred their way through the bushes. Taz grabbed Tash’s hand, preparing to run. Marcus simply shook his head then gently held a finger to his lips.

He beaconed them to come closer. Neither of them wanted anything to do with that idea but they knew they had little choice.

They took three tiny steps towards him. He looked barely human and his breath smelled like an old peat bog (earthy, damp, and cold). He whispered so quietly they could barely hear him:

“I need this to stop. He has me bound by dark magic. I have to do what he tells me. He uses me to stay young, to stay alive. He’ll use you too. I’ve been doing this for so long I can’t even remember my own name. He called me ‘Marcus’. Those Romans claimed everything by naming it. I can tell you how to stop it though.”

Roman’s? Dark magic? What was he talking about? Nothing about Marcus made any sense. At least he seemed to be helping them. It was their only choice.

Taz and Tash looked at each other. Without saying a word they knew what they were going to do, turning back to face Marcus they both gave him a sharp nod.

Meanwhile, in the school, Mr Thomas had re-tied Nicky and used an old belt to tie James to a pipe in a different part of the basement. They couldn’t see each other from where they were. Trying to shout back and forth resulted in Mr Thomas bashing on the old pipes with a hammer with a clang that made their teeth rattle.

He slumped down to sit on the floor on a grubby spot that they could both see:

“You know, it’s really quite odd. I don’t choose. He doesn’t choose. The strange thing is, I need four and that’s always what turns up in the end. It’s like the universe is telling me something.”

For a tiny, fleeting, moment, a look of regret passed over his face. James watched in hope. Would he let them go? Had he changed his mind? (James didn’t want to imagine what he was changing his mind about). Mr Thomas wiped sweat from his brow, pulled himself back up to a standing position, and grunted in frustration:

“What’s keeping that boy? We only have a few hours left!”

The Marcus-shaped creature sat down in the cold leaves inside the bush. He patted the dirt, beaconing Taz and Tash to sit with him:

“He made a mistake this time though. All he told me was to get you back to the school before the witching hour. It’s not much time but it should be enough.”

“I am a Pict. When I was ten years old I was taken miles from home to a healer here. He took me to their healing circle but in the middle of his magic he was interrupted by a small band of Roman soldiers carrying their wounded leader. They dropped him beside me and the magic linked us.”

“It destroyed me. Turned me into this. But the commander healed, he grew stronger and, as we both discovered later, he became immortal.”

Tash frowned:

“But that would make you?…”

“Almost two-thousand years old, yes. Look, we don’t have time for questions. Mr Thomas is the Roman. He will stay alive forever so long as he can drain the energy from children. Like he did with me. Like he has done every quarter century since.

“You need to go to the stones. They built a golf course around them, to the East of the town. The stones can undo this mistake. He can’t follow you there and he can’t complete the ritual with only two of you.”

Taz got up and prepared to run:

“Sounds good to me. Tash are you ready?”

“I’m not sure. I want to make sure my sister will be safe. Can you promise that?”

Marcus shook his head:

“I’m afraid I can’t. I have no choice but to do whatever he asks. I will do everything I can though.”

His black eyes closed, his brow furrowed:

“There’s one more thing. I think you misunderstood. I can’t just let you leave. I have my orders. I need to take you back to the school now. My advice is to find any chance you get and run for those stones. Even if only one of you makes it, that might be enough.”

Tash and Taz looked at him with unblinking eyes. How were they supposed to get away from him? Marcus stood up and a cloud of shadow grew from inside him. He spread out until all they could see was a greenish-black face and cold black eyes:

“What are you waiting for? RUN!”

His final word shook them out of their fear. Their legs thundered away. Getting to the golf course was almost all uphill but neither of them slowed, there was no choice but to run.

They couldn’t see Marcus any more but they could feel that he was near. Every now and then the smell of peat and damp would swirl past them along with the slightest whistling.

Marcus wasn’t allowed to go easy on them; as Taz found out half way along the High Street.

He had lost track of Tash and was dodging past a group of teenagers sitting around a bench in the square when he was slammed to the ground from the side. Even through his jacket he could tell the pavement had scraped his back badly.

The teenagers ran over to see if he was OK. Taz looked up and saw a group of concerned faces and beyond that a black cloud, growing thicker.

The whistling started again, along with a voice:

“I’ll take it from here.”

When the teenagers turned and saw the swirling black mist behind them it was all too much. A couple of them tried to pull Taz up and help him but his leg was hurt. He couldn’t walk.

As the mist grew together into the distorted form of Marcus they gave up entirely and ran. Marcus leaned over Taz:

“I am sorry Taz. You’re the fastest too. I need to take you to the school now. I hope you understand.”

A steep hill led down from the square to the school. It wasn’t a short trip and Marcus dragged Taz kicking and screaming all the way to the school gates.

Tash had seen Taz streaming ahead of her and knew there was no way she could keep up. She would only get one chance; Marcus was clearly going after the fastest of them. She would have to choose her moment exactly.

She kept an even distance from Taz until the square. His fall took her by surprise but she was quick to respond.

While Marcus dragged her friend kicking and screaming down King Street Tash ran in the opposite direction. Up one of the steepest hills in town.

Her legs burned and her lungs spluttered as they were filled with piercing cold. She couldn’t stop. This was for her friends. This was for her sister.

She knew if she let her legs rest. If she stopped even for a few seconds. She would never be able to start again.

Doubts popped into her head. Why was she trusting a Pictish mould-ghost (or whatever Marcus was)? She had never heard of this ‘stone circle’, what was it supposed to do? They were just rocks after all. How could they do anything to help real flesh-and-blood people?

She had let the doubts shake her, slow her down. Her attention had wandered and she took a false step onto the road, slamming down hard and jarring her leg.

There was no time to deal with the pain. No time for anything. She breathed in another deep lungful of the torturous icy air. Gritted her teeth, and continued her run, now in the middle of the road.

The doubts started slipping around in her mind again, knocking against each other and popping up in little groups.

One question came up more often than any other. It was the hardest to dismiss as well: How was she supposed to find the right stones?

The answer was so much worse than she could imagine. As she reached the gates to the golf course she found the grass populated with dozens of glowing children. Ghoulish green shapes, all with the same black eyes as Marcus. They wore such a collection of odd clothing that one thing was clear. These were the children who had come before. Two-thousand years of victims (or what was left of them).

None of them had seen her yet but she they were looking. Far beyond the walking ghouls one patch of ground seemed less popular. It was hard to see, even in the moonlight, but Tash was almost certain she could make out the shape of a small circle of rocks a few hundred feet from where she was.

Towards the centre of town she heard police sirens. A lot of them. She was almost out of time.

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Marcus: Chapter 5: The Boiler Room

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The boys scrambled for the door. Taz stuffed the keys in his pocket as he went. That thing had Marcus’ voice. Was it Marcus? It certainly didn’t look anything like Marcus!

This was no time for questions. It was time for running. Like they’d seen on every scary movie, in every scary book, the boys ran for the stairs. They ran for higher ground, even though all it could do was trap them.

They raced for the top floor. The corridors were wider there. That part of the building was newer. If they ran that way they could take the second set of stairs, double back onto the floor below and make a second attempt at getting into the boiler room.

Taz was determined not to leave his friend behind again:

“James, come on! It’s easier if you take the steps two at a time. Trust me.”

James copied Taz’s leaping run up the stairs. Sure enough they got up faster than he would have believed possible. His fear of tripping pushed firmly to one side in the face of his fear of the thing behind them. They raced through the top corridor, barging through the door at the end, just as the door they had just come through creaked open.

Marcus poked his head round with a grin. He yelled something after them but they didn’t stick around to find out what it was. They took the other stairs in jumps. James wasn’t even sure if his feet were hitting the ground. Nothing about this felt safe but it was better to risk a twisted ankle than wait around for Marcus to get them.

They came out at the very back of the school. At the far end of a very old corridor. The walls were arched and it smelled of bleach from the gym hall toilets. They ran on and turned into the big stairwell again. Leaping down steps without counting.

Taz ran ahead and grabbed the keys out of his pocket. There were dozens of them.

He skipped the tiny ones and the huge old iron ones and tried the most likely sizes and shapes. As the keys rattled against the door he was sure he could hear movement from behind it, and a girl’s voice!

Something wasn’t right though. The girl’s voice was muffled more than it should be. Taz slid key after key into the lock until finally, with a satisfying ‘click’ he found one that worked.

Taz flung the door open to find a darkened room, not much bigger than a store cupboard. He turned on the light. The room was empty; Nicky wasn’t here.

James came in to see why Taz was taking so long:

“Where is she?”

A tiny, echoing, voice came from below:

“I’m down here!”

At the far end of the room the boys spotted a ladder leading down to a level below. To rescue their friend they would need to climb under the school. Marcus would be here any minute.

In a rush of inspiration Taz leapt for the door and slammed it shut. He grabbed the key and locked them in:

“This way he won’t know we’re here yet.”

There was a lot of space under the school. A lot more than they expected. More in fact than there would ever need to be. James started to wonder if this underground bit was older than the school.

He and Taz got back to the task at hand:

“Nicky? Nicky are you here? We’ve come to get you, we need to take you home.”

A muffled cry from a small cupboard nearby told them everything they needed to know. A strip of old electrical cable linked her right ankle to one of the heating pipes. She looked up with a face covered in muck and sweat.

Up till that point the boys hadn’t wanted to believe that this was real. Neither of them had imagined Nicky like this. Nicky had to shake them out of it:

“Please! Help me!”

They leapt forward and started working on the knots. The plastic coating on the cables slipped as they pulled at it. The seconds ticked by with the sound of their own heartbeat pulsing in their ears.

Marcus would figure it out quickly. They had locked him out but he could be waiting for them by the door when they came back up.

Nicky wobbled as she walked, her sleeping legs waking up as she moved them. The boys grabbed an arm each and helped her along to the stepladder. At that point she was on her own. They couldn’t pull her up so she forced her legs to move, despite agonising pins and needles.

The boys let her climb up first, shuffling from foot to foot as they suppressed the urge to ask Nicky to hurry up. Finally she reached the top and James and Taz hauled themselves up to join her.

There was no way of knowing what might meet them on the other side of the door. James pointed out that the longer they waited the more likely it would be that they would find Marcus there.

Taz pressed his ear up against the door, sticking his tongue out as he concentrated:

“I can’t hear anything…”

The door handle turned.

Taz scurried along the floor on all fours, putting as much distance between himself and the door as possible. James and Nicky grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him towards them.

A metallic scraping sound came from the other side of the door. A huge clump of keys clicking against the handle. No other sound could be heard as a key clicked gently into the lock and produced a tiny ‘squeak’ as it opened the door.

A huge shape filled the open door. The lights in the stairway had been turned on leaving the figure’s face in shadow. As he stepped forward the three friends finally felt able to breathe. Mr Thomas, assistant janitor and saviour of the hour, gaped at them:

“What on earth are you all doing here?”

He stepped closer to them, frowning:

“Marcus was supposed to keep you tied up!”

They had seconds to digest what Mr Thomas was saying. Taz was the first to respond. Heaving his friends up he hauled them with all his might to speed past the man and leap through the open door.

They held hands tight and ran as one, slipping a little on the freshly polished floor, bumping into corners.

Mr Thomas poked his head out of the boiler room:

“Marcus! We have an escape attempt!”

A greenish-black shape blurred past them and took the shape of a ten year old boy:

“I really am sorry but I can’t let you leave.”

There was something odd about Marcus’ expression, somehow he really did seem sorry. All the same he clearly intended to keep them there.

The trio launched themselves right at him, knocking him to one side as they made for the door. They remembered too late that this wasn’t the way they’d come in. Nicky fiddled with the lock, no key just a twist catch. As soon as they heard the ‘click’ all three of them flung the door open and ran out into the night.

They made directly for the gate but the greenish-black shape was back. This time, away from the lights in the school, Marcus didn’t look at all like himself. Black eyes blinked at them from behind pale green eyelids.

The three friends stepped back from the creature in front of them. In his fright Taz let go of James’ hand. A gust of wind threw him aside and he heard the words ‘Tig! I got you!” hiding inside the wind’s howl.

Taz pulled himself up and found the playground deserted. James, Nicky, even Marcus. All gone.

For a fleeting moment he considered running back into the school. There was nothing he could do. He needed help.

Taz’s legs thumped onto the pavement like pistons. He ran in a flat-out sprint all the way to Tash’s house. There was no clear way of getting hold of her without ringing the bell but he knew her parents wouldn’t believe what he had to tell them.

He’d have to knock on her bedroom window. Thankfully Tash’s house was a bungalow so at least he wouldn’t have to do any climbing to get to her.

Taz crept round the side of her house and found that her bedroom light was already on. She hadn’t even closed her curtains. When he looked in he saw that she was sitting up in bed, tear-reddened eyes staring blankly at her bedroom door. When Taz knocked on her window she fell off the bed.

Tash dashed to the window and pulled it open:

“Taz? What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night.”

Taz had no time to waste (he was also ridiculously out of breath):

“Marcus…He has Nicky and James. He was working with Mr Thomas the whole time. Adults won’t believe us. We have got to go. Now!”

Tash hadn’t even put her pyjamas on. She knew she wouldn’t sleep with Nicky missing. Now she had a chance to save her sister and help her friend. Her parents would never forgive her if she left without saying anything but, as Taz said, they couldn’t risk them not believing them. She scribbled a quick note down and left it on her pillow:

So sorry, had to go. Mr Thomas and Marcus have Nicky and James in the school boiler room.

Didn’t think you’d believe us. Leaving with Taz now. Love you, Tash

They climbed out the window and into the night. Tash led Taz to a shortcut to the school through some bushes at the back of her house. He stopped cold in the middle of the bushes. Tash couldn’t understand:

“What is it?”

Taz shook his head and closed his eyes:

“The whistling, can’t you hear it.”

Tash hadn’t heard anything at first. She did now. A quiet, gentle song, echoing against the cold hard walls around them. It was getting closer.

Click here for Marcus: Chapter 6: Stone Circle

Marcus Chapter 2: No one there

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James’ whole class looked up as he walked into the room. His neck prickled, his ears grew hot. James slumped into his seat and concentrated on what he’d just seen in the office. Taz wouldn’t believe him:

“Look, you don’t have to try and make me laugh. What you said in the playground. I know you didn’t mean it.”

James’ face was too straight, too pale, for it to be a joke:

“I’m not joking. I wouldn’t make up some weird story just to try and cheer you up. I’m telling you. It is one hundred million percent a picture of Marcus.”

James knew that Taz would never believe him without seeing it for himself. It really did sound nuts:

“OK, OK, we’ll go to the library on the way home? It’s from an old newspaper, they’ve got them there. I remember looking at them when we were doing that project on the first world war.”

Taz had to admit, a stop off in the library to warm up on the way home didn’t sound too bad. He’d worry about James losing his mind after.

The afternoon moved along slowly and the sunset outside didn’t help much. They’d be walking home in darkness. The thought of it made the library even more appealing.

They had a pretty big group of friends but four of them lived near each other and most afternoons they walked home together. Tasha was waiting for them at the gates, frizzy hair shoved under a woolly hat. As usual Taz got to the gates about twice as quickly as James could:

“Hi Tasha. James wants to stop off in the library on the way home.”

She nodded. She did that a lot, it was her way of trying to look like she half-expected everything that happened. Tasha was experimenting with being ‘cool’:

“I told you to stop calling me ‘Tasha’. It’s Tash, just Tash! Anyway, yeah, the library sounds good. At least I can warm up a bit. Wish girls could wear trousers. Who thought up this uniform anyway?”

Conversations with Tasha were often three conversations in one. She’d sometimes lose track herself.

They waited for Tasha’s ‘little’ sister Nicola to come out. She was only a year younger than Tasha, and was also taller by a few inches. ‘Tash’ rolled her eyes theatrically (she was in the drama group so she knew all about theatrical eye rolls):

“Wee sisters are the worst! Why is her class always the last one out?”

Nicky didn’t take long. She came skipping out of the front doors with her standard cheesy grin:

“Hey guys, what’s happening?”

Taz was always trying to impress Nicky:

“Not much. Heading to the library on the way home. James thinks he’s discovered the Crieff Primary vampire.”

Taz winked at James. Clearly he wasn’t taking this investigation seriously at all. James shook his head and led the way.

They defrosted in the doorway of the library. The smell of old paper drifting from inside. Taz was grinning:

“It always smells like my attic; all dusty and old. I kind of like it.”

Tash was less impressed. She proclaimed her annoyance to the ceiling. Blaming the heat of the place on all the old people who ‘lived’ there. She pulled off her jacket and jumper and flung them next to a stack of beanbags the librarians called the ‘kids corner’.

Nicky’s mouth dropped open at her sister’s behaviour:

“Tasha keep your voice down! It’s nice and cosy here. You always make such a huge thing out of everything that happens to you.”

Tasha shrugged, grabbed a beanbag seat from the top of the pile, slumping onto it. She whispered as quietly as she could:

“Sorry ‘Mum’ I’ll keep my voice down.”

James laughed. It was the first time he had since lunch time. He left his friends looking in the ghost stories section and made his way to the librarian’s desk.

He had looked at the old newspapers with his teacher. He wasn’t so sure they would let some kids thumb their way through fifty year old papers.

The librarian was really helpful. She couldn’t let them see the original paper copies. However, she brought James over to a weird gadget that looked like a big plastic TV screen and got him something called a ‘microfilm’ of the newspaper.

It didn’t take her long to find the right roll of film. It was filled with hundreds of tiny photographs of every page of every Strathearn Herald printed in 1942. Finding the exact page James needed took a lot longer. She showed James how to twist the dial, moving slowly between pictures.

James was left to cycle through hundreds of pages until he reached November, then he slowed down and clicked through page by page.

There it was. James leapt up to get his friends. Taz got there first, he was surprised at the likeness:

“That is really weird. I wonder if it’s a relative or something. He looks so similar.”

That was it. They were all going to treat it as an odd coincidence. As if it were just a funny story to pass around the playground tomorrow. He was about to say something when Tasha jumped in:

“That’s more than ‘similar’ Taz. That boy looks identical to Marcus. I don’t even like looking at it. And did you see what it says in the article underneath.”

They all scanned through the article but the words jumped out as soon as James saw them:

…Crieff Primary Pupil Marcus Bauchan demonstrates proper use of the child-sized gas mask…

For a few seconds no one said anything. James wanted to stay and look for more pictures. His friends, on the other hand, had become remarkably interested in how soon their tea time was (they couldn’t have looked more scared).

James couldn’t blame them. Looking alike was one thing but sharing the same name was beyond odd. He needed to see what else was hiding in the newspapers.

His friends packed up their bags and got their jackets back on. As they said bye, Tasha insisted that James tell her everything in school the next morning.

For the next half-hour James gradually ran out of energy. He wouldn’t have anything to share with Tasha the next day. Then he found it; an article appearing years after the gas-mask photograph. There wasn’t even a picture. The title left a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach:

‘Missing Children Still Unaccounted For’

The article named five children. Four names that James didn’t recognise, and one that he did; ‘Marcus Bauchan’.

James searched ahead for some clue about the fate of the missing children but it was pretty clear they had never returned.

James needed to get home soon. His parents would be worried. On a whim he decided to wind the film back again. The gap between stories was exactly twenty-five years (give or take a few days).

James looked for microfilm of earlier issues and found one from 1917 (exactly twenty five years before the gas mask). In November he found it, more missing children. This time there were no names, apparently they had been with a travelling circus. Again they vanished without a trace but that was all the article had to say about it.

James stared at the screen in front of him, afraid to look round. How could Marcus be linked to all this? He was just a ten year old boy.

That was when the lights in the library went out.

James swallowed but his throat was so dry it felt like it stuck together. He forced himself to look round and found that he was completely alone. He couldn’t even see the librarian.

He got up on legs made of dough. They were numb from sitting in one place for so long but his whole body felt numb too. He leaned on the table giving his legs a chance to get the feeling back.

The library windows were lit by the street-lights outside and the odd passing car headlight. They gave him something to see by. He almost missed a shape in the corner of one of the windows; a blurred face with a look of terror plastered over it. It was on the outside. That meant whatever it was was two, maybe three, stories up.

Perhaps it was a leftover Halloween decoration. Then James saw it move, its black eyes fixed on James. The feeling rushed back to his legs but they wouldn’t do anything he told them to. He watched the face follow him, tried to tell himself it was just a distorted version of his own reflection then a hand landed on his shoulder.

He spun round to face whatever creature had come to take him. The librarian looked down at him:

“Sorry, I thought you left ages ago. Come along, I’ve locked up. I’ll need to let you out.”

James tried to hide his shaking as the librarian led him to the door and let him out into the street. The cold clawed at his cheeks as he made his way home. The whistling wind didn’t help either, it added that extra bit of dread to his current mood.

That got worse when he realised there was no wind. The air was so still the trees looked like statues. The sound he heard was actual whistling, and it was coming from behind him.

He turned his head back and forth, attempting to locate the origin of the sound. It was coming from across the road. But there was no one there. James was alone.

He pictured himself challenging the mysterious whistler. Then his memory lurched back to the black-eyed face in the library window.

James arrived home in moments, his legs aching from the fastest run he had ever done in his life.

Chapter 3 will be available next Sunday (24th/Christmas Eve) at 6pm. To be sure it gets to you you can sign up for the Marcus mailing list (please click this link for the sign-up form). Being part of the mailing list will also give you access to pdf printable copies of all the chapters so far (if you’d prefer to read screen-free).

Hope you enjoyed this week’s instalment. Please pop a comment in the comments section to let me know what you thought.

As always, thanks for reading, All the best, John

CLICK HERE TO READ ON TO CHAPTER 3

Lore

Humans are the real monsters

Lore is a fortnightly podcast (or web radio programme for those who prefer that term) that discusses the paranormal, the odd, the unpleasant. However, its primary focus seems to be the darkness that dwells in us all. The selfish voice, the creature that panders to fear, the red eyed monster of rage; all of these are distinctly human, distinctly internal, monsters.

Listening to tales of Lore drew me to that dark place, allowed me a closer view of those nastier human foibles that are the true basis of horror. Aaron Mahnke (the host/researcher/creator of Lore) introduces the listener to a selection-box of human awfulness. From the true story of the Pied Piper of Hamlin (NOT for children or the faint of heart), on to multiple tales of witch hunts through the ages, to the story of H. H. Holmes, a conman who created, and utilised, a hotel full of secret passageways and an underground ‘lab’ for his own sick ends (this hotel has since gained the name ‘The Murder Hotel‘).

The events in ‘Marcus‘ don’t come close to the horrors Mahnke describes in his show (for starters mine is pure fiction). However, I’d like to give credit to Lore, and Mahnke himself. He produced something that offered a custom set of blinkers for this first-time horror writer at those times when sitcoms, kids books, and social media, threatened to draw me away from my writing.

More to learn

There’s something else that Lore helped me see though. Mahnke persisted, every two weeks he got another solid bit of work out into the world. Well rehearsed, well researched, well performed. You can go back to the very first podcast and see the show evolve, gain a following, and importantly offer Mahnke the recognition he deserves.He made something people enjoyed and the world rewarded him. It’s an important takeaway whenever you come across this sort of creativity. The word ‘inspiration’ is banded about a lot, it has transient, insubstantial overtones. Instead I would say that Mahnke’s efforts provide more confirmation than inspiration.

Listening my way through the first episodes gave me confirmation that the right content, found by the right audience, and offered up consistently, will yield positive results.

Mahnke has his own Amazon TV series now (based on the podcasts) but he has also demonstrated his mastery of storytelling through the podcast in a way which has allowed him to market his own writing. Author of a host of books, and clearly working purely within a field he enjoys. What he has done has given me confirmation that all the slog is worth it.

Thank you Aaron.

Why listen to Lore?

Simply put it’s fascinating (if disturbing in places). Often we hear that the world has ‘gone to the dogs’ or that society is being eroded by one modern creation/concept or another. A step back in time (and in some cases it’s an uncomfortably short step back) is enough to show us that human beings have always found ways to be awful to each other.I’m not trying to suggest that we’re living in a golden age but lore can take the rose tinted glasses off of the reminiscence to ‘yesteryear’. We get by, we look after one another, we do what we can to help one another. The stories in Lore highlight this as well. It’s in our nature; the flip side of our darker internal demons.

Watch the news and you can be forgiven for thinking that we live in an age of terror. I find it odd that comfort can be found to remedy this perspective by looking at the horrors of the past.

I hope you take a moment to pop by the Lore podcast page and give it a try yourself (and no I’m not being paid to promote it/endorse it/otherwise send traffic his way).

As always thanks for reading, and feel free to pop back and tell me if you enjoyed the podcast,

All the best, John

About my new book ‘Marcus’

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Please be aware that ‘Marcus’ is not aimed at younger readers.

I’ve been writing ‘properly’ for four years now. The Jack Reusen books are aimed at children of around eight years old and over. They are primarily fantasy stories, adventures in magic in which the main characters grow and develop. There’s a coming of age component to them which seems to resonate with kids. I love writing these books.

However, there are forms of magic that are too dark for Jack’s world. This year (2017) for National Novel Writing Month (otherwise known as NaNoWriMo) I decided to write a book that played with that magic. It went to a dark place. A place that isn’t appropriate for children.

What is ‘Marcus’ about?

Children are asked to grow up very quickly now. There is some truth to the idea that the teen years seem to be bleeding into the twenty-somethings, creating something called ‘twenagers’ apparently. This is something that I didn’t really see occur when I was that age (though I’m not saying this is a bad thing).

However, Children as young as eight or nine are being described as ‘pre-teen’, where the simple term ‘child’ would have sufficed in the past. The complicated description of this would tie together the odd pre-teen/twenager issue. The simple way to describe it is to say kids are growing up too fast.

Marcus is a book that looks at what happens when a child doesn’t grow up too fast. It’s a book about a boy who never grows up at all (and not in a Peter Pan, happy thoughts and fairy-dust sense).

Set in Crieff, it is a horror story about the importance of growing up. It features some of Crieff’s history along with some of my own creation (it is not intended to be completely historically accurate).

Who is Marcus?

Marcus is brilliant. Everyone at school likes him (even the teachers) but when James finds Marcus’ ‘grandad’ in an old school photo things get really strange.

The photo is odd, too similar to Marcus. Even more little things mount up. Marcus arrives late in the front office every morning. He’s always last to be picked up (even the teachers don’t remember seeing him go). Marcus doesn’t go to any after-school clubs, he doesn’t come round to anyone’s house. No one has even once bumped into him at the supermarket. Possibly strangest of all, no one has ever seen Marcus eating lunch.

There’s a lot more to Marcus than meets the eye and as James and his friends start to investigate they find that the closer they get to the truth. The more dangerous things become.

Marcus is far from what he seems but he is also not alone. Who should they trust? and what fate awaits them if they place their trust in the wrong hands?

In a room more ancient than their school or even the town of Crieff itself they find their answers. Can they escape? Will they ever see their missing friends again? What is the truth about Marcus?

(AND THAT’S JUST THE FIRST EIGHT CHAPTERS)

Please read on, I hope you enjoy the story. I’ll post a chapter every week as it’s revised and edited. If you see anything wrong or if you know some part of Crieff’s history that contradicts the events in the book please leave a comment (I’ll do what I can to fix it).

This is a work in progress, what you read here may change as time goes on but I will do everything I can to maintain the characters, setting, and overall story. I look forward to hearing from you.

All the best, John

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Humans are the real monsters

More to learn

Why listen to Lore?

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Who is Marcus?

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