Young Writers Society

Okay, here's Chapter Two. I'm still still working on Character Development, but hopefully you are more in touch with the character at this point. I've also gone round and edited the 'Your' and 'You're'(s) so hopefully they should be fixed now.

I've also gone and tried to make sure all the dialogue is correct, but I might have missed some bits. Anyway, without any further ado, Chapter Three! (I am going to post up the edited Chapters in a soon as well!)

Chapter Three

James couldn't believe it. The book, The World of Shadows, was sitting in his lap, waiting for him to read it. Gareth had wordlessly handed it to him after his short speech. He stared at it, taking in everything. It looked aincent, with a wrinkled leather cover. The title was engraved with silver, shining out like a star. However, even though it must have been hundreds of years old, it was in perfect condition.

He reached out and gently lifted the cover, and started slowly flipping through the pages. Every couple of pages there was illustrations, beautifully detailed pictures of unimaginable beasts, leering out at crowds of humans. Animals were shown running away in the shadow of some huge creature that was walking towards them. In every single one, a huge a shadow that enveloped everything, was shown. The owner of it was never on the page, but just off to the side.

“Wow,” he heard someone breathe. Gareth was looking over his shoulder. James took a final look at the pictures then tried to read the loopy hand-writing. It seemed to be some sort of diary, with some numbers on the top-right corner. 1897 P.S said the first entry. What did the P.S. Stand for? He was pretty sure it wasn't 'post script'.

He frowned in concentration at the writing but couldn't understand any of it. It was like it was written in a foreign language...

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “It won't be in English will it? This must have been written hundreds of years ago. It will be written in some aincent language.” Gareth nodded next to him.

“That makes sense,” he nodded.. “I could do a search on the computer?”

“Yeah, that would be good.” James agreed. Gareth went and got the computer – which was a laptop - but although they searched for another half hour, not a single result came up. If only it was written in English, James thought desperately. He concentrated on the words on the page, trying to understand them.

That was when it happened. As James stared, the words started disappearing off the page. Really disappearing. Then after a moment, new ones started forming. James watched in wonder as a new story was written on the yellowed pages. Though, there was something very different about them now... what was it?

James jumped in surprise as he looked at the page. He looked away, then back, to see if he was dreaming. Somehow, he had changed the contents of the book into English!

“Gareth,” he called to the other boy who was still searching the web. “Come and look at this...” Gareth walked over, took a brief glance, then looked at James.

“So?” he asked. James looked at him in amazement. The other boy has a bored expression on his face, but looking more closely he could see that Gareth had started going white again and that his body was tense.

“Well, you did say magic existed...” Gareth smiled weakly. James nodded. He didn't think there was much else he could do. He looked at the page again. “Magic” it said at the top. That was definitely proof that this was the book that he wanted. It was also as good a place as anywhere to start reading. Giving a sideways glance at Gareth, he started reading out loud.

“Magic. Everyone has magic. Some people may have stronger magic than others, and maybe even in time some will not have it at all. It is impossible to tell. There a four types of magic users: Elementals; Teleporters; Healers; and Will Weavers.

“Elementals. Elementals are the most common of magic users, and use the four elements (water, fire, air, earth) and can use in any way they please depending how strong their magic is. They can do anything from make a spark to summon a gale.

“Teleporters. Teleporters can teleport. This is not an easy power to master, and is dangerous. If someone teleport's incorrectly, it is possible for them to get stuck and their atoms scattered across space (see Teleporters p.367).

“Healers. Healers are the second most common magic users, and, unlike other types, don't have to learn how to use their power. Unconsciously without realizing it, they use their magic to heal just by being around. A tell tale sign of a healer is someone who has never been ill, and that the household he lives in is never ill either.

“Will Weavers. Will weavers are the rarest of all magic users. They can do anything just by thinking about it – 'willing' it to happen. The two thing they can't do however, is do other peoples magic; They cannot use the elements, teleport, or heal just by being around. Although, they can make someone use their own power; and bring people back from the dead.”

James stopped reading. He had reached the end of the page.

“Wow,” Gareth said. “This sure beats the history books at school.” that made James laugh. Something flashed as he moved his head, and looked at it more closely. It was an analogue clock, and it was flashing the numbers 6:78.

“Ah, you like my clock? It means it's eighteen minutes past seven. I broke it a while back and when dad tried to fix it, it sort of went wrong...” Gareth said following his gaze.

“I have to go,” James said, a little regretfully. “My gran- Mark and Hannah will be going crazy.” he started trying to stand up and winced as his leg started complaining. Gareth started helping him, but then paused for a moment, thinking.

“Earlier,” he said. “You whispered something. When you saw the man with the knife. What was it?” he asked.

James hung his head and looked down at the floor, fighting back tears as he remembered the incident earlier that day. He shook his head. “It was nothing. I was just cursing, that's all.” he said fiercely. But it was obvious that he was lying.

As Gareth helped James down the stairs, he wondered what had really happened. What was happening. At the last moment, he ran back up the stairs and picked up the book, The World of Shadows. Then he handed it to James.

“Here, have this!” he said, pushing the book into James's hands.

James looked up gratefully, wondering if he should tell Gareth the truth. “Thank you,” he muttered. He stood there for a moment, still looking down at the book. Then he looked at Gareth.

“I'm sorry, I lied!” he said taking a deep breath. “About the man with the knife. Maybe someday I'll tell you... but not now. I can't.” he gazed at the floor for another moment, before wheeling round and hobbling down the street.

“Wait!” he heard Gareth cry, but didn't listen. He paused at the end of the street, then looked back. On the other end of the street, Gareth looked into his face, which could still be seen clearly even from this distance. He could see into the younger boys eyes as well. They were full of pain and confusion.

Just then, a car came down the street blocking the view. When it had gone, so had James.

***

Mark and Hannah were waiting for him when he came back. Their first initial reaction was anger. “Where have you been?” Mark yelled. “We've been so worried!” James dumped his backpack on the hall floor and walked in slowly. He opened his mouth to speak but Mark cut him off.

“We had no idea where you had gone. What if something had happened to you?” Hannah had tear marks on her face, and she was very obviously stressed.

“I said I was going out for a couple of hours.” James muttered.

“I suppose you didn't wait for an answer?” Mark was still shouting. His face was red. “Did you even realize that we were out?”

“You were out?” James asked.

“Point proven. Now go to your room. You're grounded!”

James picked up his rucksack in shock, and walked to the stairs. Mark was glaring at him fiercely but his eyes were suspiciously shiny. He trudged up the stairs painfully. At least they hadn't noticed his injured leg...

“Why are you limping?” it was Hannah.

“Uh, I hurt my leg.” James said lamely.

“How?” now Mark was onto him again.

“My penknife slipped,” he muttered.

“Give me your penknife. It's confiscated.”

James dug into his backpack and pulled it out. He walked back down the stairs and handed it to Mark. Mark pocketed it with another glare. James started trudging up the stairs again, ignoring Mark as he examined the knife. “There's no blood on the blade...” his guardian muttered.

James was sulking in his room. The backpack was slung across the back of his chair. His laptop was on the foot of his double bed. An unopened book lay on the bedside table.

He was lying on his bed looking at the ceiling. He was thinking about all that had happened today. He had finally met his father. After years of waiting, he had finally met his only living relative. Albeit with a knife.

But now he knew it was true. The Shadow had taken his fathers body as it's host.

Magic was real.

He had a book, written hundreds of years ago, which explained everything to do with the Shadow. He had thought about telling the Friends about it, but decided against him. He didn't trust them. There was something very strange about them.

Thinking of the book, he got up and hobbled to his rucksack. The wound in his leg had stopped bleeding now but it still hurt, as was to be expected.

He took the book, and then went back to his bed, wincing with every step. He lay down again, pale with pain. He was sweating lightly and breathing heavily. He lay there for a moment recovering.

Finally, he took the book and opened it. On the first page was a table of contents. One title caught his eye as he made to turn the page. “The End is Nigh”.

It was a gloomy title, but it appealed to him because he was in a gloomy mood. Perfect.

It was the last section of the book, on page 1252. The illustration next on the page next to the title, was of space. He thought that was strange – how would people of that era know what space looked like?

It showed the moon, and the sun. Stars shone out like beacons and James recognized some of the constellations. Mars and Venus were shown to the sides.

There was just one thing missing.

Earth.

There was a small circular patch in the middle of the page devoid of any stars. It was as if the illustrator had been about to paint the planet in, but got distracted and forgot to.

James dragged his eyes to writing on the next page and started reading.

The End is Nigh (29th, Ovemt,1893 P.S.)

This will be my last entry in this book. I know that I am going to die. I learnt this as a result one of my latest theory's I have tested. I, being a will weaver, used my magic to see into the future. My theory was that in doing so I could help the next generation, and the generations after that by predicting if the crops would be good the next season, or if they would be bad.

However, I saw much more than what the weather would be like. I saw hundreds, maybe even thousands, of years into the future.

I saw big buildings made out of something which was like stone but wasn't. I saw big metal birds that flew in the sky. Chaos was everywhere. People were fighting each other, and killing each other with appliances that shot thunderbolts. And yet, it seemed to be of our own creation.

Somewhere, hidden in all this chaos though, was the Shadow. It had risen again, but no-one had noticed. I saw that only ten people knew about it.

Further on into the future, the Shadow had taken over the whole of the world. Nobody could do anything, because nobody had a clue what was going on.

Yet unseen, three people walked across the earth trying to destroy the Shadow. In the end, they found it. They saved all of humanity.

James stopped reading. This man, the author of the book, had seen into the future! He had seen that the Shadow took over the world! Three people were going to save the world! James wondered who they would be. Maybe it would be some of the Friends.

He had also noticed the date at the top of the book. Hadn't the article that he had looked at earlier been written in the year 1897? This was the last entry in the book but it was written in the year 1893. The truth hit him like a brick.

The book had been written in the time that everyone now called B.C. - before Christ. The time when years had gone backwards.

He closed the book.

He didn't want to read anymore. The thought of the Shadow taking over the world was too depressing. Then he thought of something: what if the future could be changed?

What if the Shadow could be stopped?

What if the Shadow didn't exist?

What would then be left to take over the world?

He, James was going to stop the Shadow. And he was going to do so as soon as he could.

***

Mark and Hannah slowly tiptoed into James's room. It was late at night and they looked at the sleeping boy with frowns on their faces. “I'm worried about him,” Hannah whispered. Mark nodded. “That injury to his leg...” she said. “I-I was wondering... has he started self-harming himself?” she felt better now that she had got this worry off of her chest and waited for her husband to tell her that of course he hadn't. Her hopes were dashed however, as Mark answered.

“I think he might have. He's been under a lot of stress recently, after all.” he said seriously. Hannah moaned softly. “Don't worry about it,” Mark comforted. “I'll have a chat with him tomorrow.” Hannah could feel tears in her eyes. How can you tell me not to worry? she wanted to scream. How will talking help? But she kept quiet, instead turning away and walking out of the room. Mark stayed for a moment longer, before he too walked out of the room.

There was a moment of silence.

James opened one eye. He sat up pushing the covers down the bed. He had heard everything. His guardians thought that he was harming himself! He thought about himself in the last few weeks. Sure, he had been more withdrawn from his guardians than usual. He had spent more time on his own. He went out for longer each day. But... self harming?

Suddenly he felt very conscious of what he was about to do.

He was going to abandon the people that had looked after him for all of his life. Everything that he knew – gone down the drain. He was going to be on his own. No-body would be there to help him. Yet, he knew he had to do it.

First, however, there was one thing that he had to do. He hobbled over to his backpack, and picked it up. He slung it onto his back, noticing with a smile how it rested comfortably and didn't feel too heavy. He had packed it earlier, filling it with some spare clothes, money, The Word of Shadows, food, and some other things that James felt attached too – like the picture of his mother and father.

He had gone to bed fully dressed, and thanked his lucky stars that his guardians hadn't come to inspect his injury. He hobbled over to the door, his injured leg screaming at him with every step.

He slowly made his way down the stairs, avoiding the creaky steps. He stopped in the kitchen and took a piece of paper from his pocket, putting it on the table. It was a note to Hannah and Mark not to worry about him. He silently opened the front door and slipped out into the cool night air.

Next, he walked to Meadow Street, to the Roxon's house. He pulled another note out of his pocket, this time in an envelope. His own writing was scrawled onto the front saying Gareth Roxon. He quickly slipped it through the letter box, then started hobbling back down the street to the bus stop. He checked the time table, and found that the bus that he wanted would be there in half an hour. He had missed the last one by ten minutes.

He cursed himself for his stupidity, then sat down in the bus shelter to wait.

At the same time Gareth Roxon lay awake in bed. He couldn't get to sleep and was thinking about the day he had just had. Up till today, he had been just a normal school boy. He always did his homework, got good marks at school. He liked reading. His favourite meal was curry.

But now?

He didn't feel 'normal' anymore. He had just seen the quietest and smallest boy in the school break into someone's home, and get attacked by a mysterious man with a knife

James had always been set apart from everyone else. Part of it was because he was different from everyone else. The school that he went to was the local school, and all the children who went there had family's who had lived in the town for years and years. James was just different, with his long hair and Chinese looks.

It was a well known fact in the school that James didn't live with his parents. He lived with his grandparents, Mark and Hannah Cook. This again had set him apart from everybody else.

Basically, he had always been strange, and that meant that nobody had been that surprised when in assembly the head teacher had announced that Jake Hall and James Royale were both in hospital. James was in a coma, and Jake had suffered brain damage. The teacher had made them all 'pray' for them.

Gareth realized that he was thirsty, and climbed out of bed. He softly padded down the stairs, trying to be quiet. Taking a glass from the cupboard he went over to the sink and started filling it with water.

As he turned the tap off, he heard a rush air and a soft pad. Cautiously, he put down his head round the door, looking up and down the hallway. At first he could hear nothing and thought that it had been his imagination, but then he saw the cream envelope lying on the door mat.

Quickly, he picked it up and took it back to the kitchen. It was addressed to him. Silently he slit it open, taking a delicate sip of his drink. He opened up piece of paper inside, scanning it quickly. With each sentence, his eyes widened. Finally, he put the drink down. He ran up the stairs and grabbed a few things, stuffing them in a bag. Quickly, he changed into some warm clothes.

Picking the bag up he ran back down the stairs. He scribbled a note, throwing it down on the table. Then he walked down the hallway to the front door. He paused for a moment, lost in thought. After a long moment and a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped outside.

Running down the street, there was only one thought going through his head – the last line of the note. “Do not try to find me. I will be gone.”.

The note had only just arrived, so James couldn't have gone far. The logical place for the other boy to have gone would be the either to the train station, or the bus stop. He decided to go for the bus stop, and quickly navigated his way there.

Gareth rounded the corner, and was suddenly behind James. The boy was looking at a time table, and Gareth heard him curse. Then he sat down, waiting. Gareth took another step and tapped James's shoulder.

James started and looked up. Gareth Roxon was looking down at him, his face etched in a frown. James cursed again. “What are you doing here?” he exclaimed loudly. He had noticed instantly that the other boy had packed a bag which was slung over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” the other boy returned.

“I'm going to stop the Shadow.” James replied as if it were perfectly obvious.

“You can't!”

“Why not?” he asked.

“I don't know! What about you're family?” Gareth said exasperated.

James looked at the ground, his shoulders hunched. His long hair swayed in the wind, while his dark eyes stared at the ground, filled with pain. “That's almost the whole point.” he said quietly.

He had thought about this for a long time. To kill the Shadow, he would have to kill his father. He had never actually met his father, so he knew he shouldn't feel that attached to him. Yet when he had seen him earlier that day, he had felt a strange unearthly connection that he couldn't explain.

Although, what could he explain these days?

Gareth stood there, looking down at the boy sitting on floor in front of him. At the moment, James looked very young. Maybe even younger than he was. He also looked – Gareth searched for the right word to describe it – vulnerable.

“You can't understand!” he said bitterly. “You've always had parents. People you can trust. I don't. That's the simple truth. And I never have,” James suddenly stopped. He had said too much. He felt vulnerable at the moment, and if he told Gareth the truth he might be even more so.

He tried to get his emotions under control, but failed miserably. He drew his knees up and rested his head on them. Silent sobs racked through his body while tears fell from his eyes. He let all the emotions from the last week slowly drain out from his body, leaving just an empty shell behind.

After several minutes, he lifted his head and roughly wiped his eyes.

Gareth looked down at James with pity in his eyes. He had always thought that James was mentally strong. James had had to endure endless bullying in his time, and Gareth wasn't proud to say that he had joined in with some of it. Today though... he could tell that James had changed. Something had happened, but he wasn't going to start hurting the other boy's feelings by probing to far.

“James,” he said softly. “You don't have to do this.” Gareth couldn't pretend the he understood half of what was going on, but whatever James was planning to do, it was obviously important.

“But I do. This is my father, so it's my responsibility.”

“You're father?” Gareth asked.

James froze like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Gareth suddenly realized that he had never made eye contact with him before.

“I shouldn't have said that,” he heard James whisper.

“Said what?” now he was confused.

“Never mind. It was nothing...”

Gareth let is pass. “I suppose I can't stop you from doing whatever you're going to do?” he asked, hopefully thinking of a warm bed.

James shook his head, so instead of walking home, he swung the bag off his shoulder and sat down on the pavement. Damn you, he thought with a shiver.

He watched the bus arrive and watched James climb in. Was he ready to do this? In answer to his own question, he picked up his bag and walked into the bus. He quickly found James and sat next to him. “If you're really going through with this, then I'm coming with you.” he said, more to himself than to James. “To hell and back.” he hardly noticed when James replied.

“To hell and back.”

***

The next day, both boys were having regrets about the decision they had made the night before. Having got off the bus somewhere in a rundown part of London, they couldn't find a hotel. They had had to sleep on the street and now their body's were complaining.

“Ow,” James moaned as he picked himself up. Only a few limbs hurt, but then he couldn't feel most of them. If he didn't look at what he was doing, he wouldn't realize he was moving at all.

“Mmph.” Gareth said next to him. He was lying face down on the street, an arm across his back. “Mmm hmm fmmph.”

James smiled to himself as he dusted himself off. His hair was sticking up in all directions and he could feel it already beginning to tie itself in knots. He reached into his bag for his comb, running it through his hair.

“Awake then?” he asked yawning.

“Mmmph.” was the reply. “Yes.”

Gareth crawled into a sitting position, everyone of his joints complaining. “Jesus,” he gasped. “What did I do to deserve this?” he had somehow managed to cut the front of his jumper open, and now his chest hurt as well. His clothes were soaked. He looked around quickly absorbing informtation.

It was early morning, the sky filled with familiar grey overcast clouds. It had obviously rained overnight, with tiny raindrops still dripping from drain pipes.

They were in an alley in a rundown part of London, with two long rows of houses on either side. When they had first been built, they had probably looked nice but now they dragged the whole neighbourhood down. The windows were smashed open, and doors billowed about in the wind, their locks having been broken years ago.

Withered plants stood in what people had used to think of as 'smart gardens'. Now they were just patches of decaying ground.

James had now magically produced a toothbrush and some toothpaste. He was scrubbing away hard at his teeth, washing his mouth out with some bottled water. Gareth wished that he had thought to bring his wash bag with him. Better still, he wished he hadn't come at all.

James was thinking along similar lines. Should he have stayed at home? But then he thought about the Shadow again, and he knew that he had to carry on. He stretched and yawned again. Jogging on the spot for a minute, he slowly worked some life back into his joints.

He briefly wondered if he would still be able to go for his daily runs, then immediately dismissed the idea. Of course he wouldn't! He would be searching for the Shadow.

He looked at Gareth who was now starting to stand up. The torn jumper stood out like a sore thumb, and he wondered wether he should ask about changing it.

“Do you have any spare jumpers?” Gareth asked.

“Take this.” James nodded, thrusting a jumper forwards. “It might be a bit small...”

Gareth took it, taking his old shirt off. James was right about the new one being too small.

“Ooph, that's tight.” he mumbled shivering. James had packed his bag again and was shouldering it, clutching a wallet in his hand.

“Come on. We need to get going.” he said.

“Where to?” Gareth asked picking up his bag.

“To a hotel – somewhere to stay.”

James started walking down the alley, only remembering his injured leg halfway down. It had been numb before, and now it was beginning to thaw. Thawing, he realized, was the painful bit. He heard running footsteps behind him, and then Gareth fell into step with him, muttering under his breath. “Let's go have some fun,” he said sarcastically.

An hour later, they found a hotel which would take them in their bedraggled state. They checked in, ignoring the little old lady at reception giving them funny looks, and walked up the stairs to their room. It was a rundown affair, with one bed per room and a small dingy bathroom. The windows had so much dirt on that no cleaner would be able to get it off. You're best bet would be to either get rid of the window or get a new one. Looking at the state of the hotel, it looked like the first option would be the most probable.

The carpet was once white, but now closer to black. The occasional red or green patch dotted the room as well. Because they only had some of James's money, they had only booked only one room.

“So. What now?” Gareth asked with mock enthusiasm.

“The Shadow.” James said.

“I know that bit,” Gareth said rubbing himself to keep warm. “But how are you going to find it?” he blinked a couple of times. “Anyway, yesterday you said that you couldn't say it's name. You said that if you said it, you're dead. You're going round saying it as if you haven't a care in the world!”

“True. But I said the Shadow's name to it's face, which means as far as I'm concerned, I'm dead already.” James explained. Gareth's eyes widened.

“Are you saying what I think you're saying?”

“I'm the live bait for the shark.” James smiled grimly.

“Why can't we find it instead of waiting for it to find you?” Gareth groaned. His life expectancy suddenly looked as if it had shortened dramatically.

“Harry Royale. Have you heard about him on the news?” James asked.

“Of course. He's supposed to have murdered that guy, Patrick Weed. What's that- oh. Oh.” Gareth finally worked it out. “The Shadow is Harry Royale?” he whispered. James nodded.

“The whole country's looking for him. We're not going to be able to find him before they do. There is no other way Gareth, trust me.” Gareth wondered why everyone says 'Trust me' when they're either lying or don't have a clue.

“Okay,” he muttered. “So we just sit here all day?”

To his disappointment, James shook his head. “We've got to make ourselves seen. We need to be heard.”

“So what do we need to do?”

“You're not going to like this one bit.”