Not actually sure whether this will be pertinent to the main story. Still exploring the concept.
Way Down in the Hole
They stared down into the hole.
It was huge, a gaping wound in the earth. Overgrown weeds crept in around the edges, snaked in about their feet. A deep, mouldy smell of rot smothered them.
‘There’s nothin’ down there, this is stupid,’ Jim said.
Ronny peered in cautiously. ‘I don’t know…Mrs. Hartyson told me to stay away from here, said somethin’ bad was down here – now why else would she say that?’ His green-blue eyes were lit with mischief in the dying light.
Jim rolled his eyes. ‘Cos she didn’t want you to fall in, stupid.’ He glanced around quickly, the giant trees of the forest loomed only metres away, grim spectres of disapproval with long shadows. He didn’t want to say anything but the place gave him the creeps.
Ronny snorted in disbelief. ‘I never thought you was yellow, Jimmy. ‘Sides, could be there’s treasure down there.’
Ronny leaned in, hands grasped firmly around the edges. Clumps of loose mud shifted free, raining down into the darkness. He took a great big lungful of air. ‘Hallo-o-o!’ he yelled.
Hallo-o-o
Hallo-o-o
o-o-o
Ronny sighed. There was nothing to it after all. Why did everything have to be so goddamn boring in this town? He shivered, his breath ghosting white from his lips. Shit, when had it got so dark? And so cold? He looked to his right, ‘Hey, Jim –‘
He stopped.
The gloom pressed in around him and he had to squint to try and make anything out. Something was very wrong. Frost rimmed the grass, sparkling in the night as the cold pressed itself against his skin like a long dead lover. A vague outline of a boy sat nearby, but it wasn’t Jimmy, he knew instinctively. The boy’s head was down; he was so still and so dark, as though he were made from the purest black.
Ronny’s breath misted in the air, steady puffs in and out, slowly accelerating.
Neither of them moved.
He wanted to say something, to stutter out a plea – ‘J-J-Jimmy, quit playin’. This ain’t no fun anymore’ – but the mere thought of uttering a word in this complete darkness, of making a sound and bringing that dark boy’s attention on him freaked him out.
Ronny’s heart nearly burst, it pounded so hard.
His limbs were frozen in fear. He couldn’t move, couldn’t so much as make a prayer. Ronny’s bladder was full to bursting, but he just squeezed his legs tighter together. Please don’t look at me, please don’t look at me, oh God, I swear I won’t ever be so foolish again. Desperate sobs clawed at his throat, setting his lips to trembling.
The woods were completely silent, completely still.
The boy was real close, much closer than he’d thought. He seemed more and more clear, growing distinct in Ronny’s periphery. He couldn’t bear to stare straight at him, had to look to the side. He had no features. He was carved from the deepest blackness. He was here and Ronny had no idea what to do. His throat was so damn dry, thigh muscles screaming in agony from the constant squatting. He swallowed.
The boy’s head snapped up.
Darkness arced toward him.
Ronny screamed a high pitch squeal of terror that razored through the night. And he was suddenly weightless, floating free, way down in the hole.
-
Jim kicked at the grass.
Stupid Ronny, calling him a coward like that. He was no yellow-belly that was for sure. Would a yellowbelly be able to sneak away so clean and quick like that? He shivered. The night’s chill had dropped real quick it seemed. Weak stars dotted the sky, squinting, rheumy eyes staring down in suspicion.
The farm was up ahead, its bright warm lights a shining beacon.
A cool breeze picked up, ruffling his hair, trailing fingers across his nape and murmuring sweet lullabies. Goosebumps shrivelled up his arms. He quickened his pace, looking back over his shoulders. A wall of darkness met his gaze and still no sign of Ronny. Jim turned back and froze.
There was a boy up ahead.
Jim could only see a vague outline. ‘Shit, Ronny, that sure was a neat trick, heh, gettin’ round me like that,’ he said. The words squeaked out, not at all as playful and straight as he’d intended. The boy’s arms were braced to the side, head bent forward. He radiated fury.
Jim’s pulse thundered in his neck.
Oh shit.
‘Ronny!’
Screaming, Jim turned and ran back the way he’d come. Legs pumping, mouth shrieking, mind blank as the wind whipped passed him.
Ronnyronnyronnyronny -
A thick root snaked out, tripping him up. No rough ground rushed up to smack him, though. He was falling.
**
Luke loved lazy summer days.
Running through fields, across hills, exploring woods and glades, climbing trees – he lived for the outdoors on golden summer days and sweet cool nights. He wanted to be out there now, not cooped up in this raggedy station wagon, breathing in fumes from the dilapidated air-con.
He watched it all roll by his window.
It was like seeing the world through dirty gauze, so fouled was the glass. He sighed, wiping miserably at it. Some aimless musician crooned on the radio, the airwaves crackling as they were chewed up by the car’s stereo system. Dad’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel, while Jeyne slept beside him. Just watching her brought a yawn to Luke’s lips.
His father looked at him through the rear-view mirror. ‘Nearly there, don’t worry.’ His voice dripped weariness. Luke took another look at his dad, re-assessing. He looked more tired than Luke could ever remember and, for the first time, old. Lines pressed deep into his waxy skin, mapping, exploring planes on his face never seen before in an intricate web.
‘If you need to rest, Dad, I –,’ he began, but was cut off by laughter.
‘Nice try, boy-o. It ain’t happening.’ His laugh was a sorry thing, all dried up and raw, it came hacking out of his throat. It was a mockering of real joy, had been for months.
Luke sighed. He would be thirteen in the fall, he couldn’t see why he shouldn’t be allowed to drive on these empty country roads. Luke allowed his eyes to droop and mind to wander. Yellow fields and clusters of green melded into rivers of colour as he lost focus.
A chill spread over his skin, rippling up his arms. He shivered, nestling closer against the window. That damn draconic air-conditioning sure knew when to rear its ugly head, he thought sleepily. A sharp, splintering crack pierced his ears. Startled, his eyes flew open. The window was a mass of tiny interlacing cracks, white-blue. It was iced through, Luke realised. Staring straight at him through the window was another boy, only inches from his face. He was pure shadow, but for eyes of blue.
Cold shot through his blood. The boy snarled silently, mouth twisted open, smashing a hand through the glass; twinkling shards exploded as darkness reached for him. Luke jerked back violently, crying out.
Tires screeched, and the car lurched to the side of the road. Reality reasserted as Luke blinked, surprised at the sunlight pouring warm and honeyed through the window.
‘Jesus, Luke! What’s a-matter with you?’ His dad turned over the driver’s seat, staring back expectantly.
Luke could still taste the sourness of fear in his mouth. Even Jeyne was staring at him, looking as startled as he felt. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled finally. ‘’S just a bad dream.’
Dad slumped in relief or exhaustion, or both. He rubbed at his eyes, skin bunching up and rolling beneath his fingers. ‘Right, fucking hell,’ he muttered to himself. He restarted the car, smoothly pulling back on to the road.
A big billboard greeted them:
Welcome to Marrickville.
Jeyne looked at him, enquiringly. ‘What’s up?’ her eyes said.
He shook his head and signalled, ‘Nothing.’
He had a bad feeling, that was all. Luke took a deep breath, reassuring himself. It was just a dream. This move was the best thing for them, he was reminded.
It had to be.
