Prologue

A Chapter by boney

They met in the woods, they had a discussion.

“Hey, hey..”

The three boys shambled down hushed streets at dusk. The taller of the three trailed in the back, feet kicking the gravel path of a road with a darkly lit brown of eyes and hair of the next shade. He looked older, so maybe he was. Crooked trees lined the lane and a slight amount of fog wisped in and out of crevices. The medium sized boy took his rightful place in the middle, hair shaved into a buzz cut that plainly showed the chubby wrinkles of his back neck. He seemed to fidget with worry. He was the only one who stumbled, who tripped, who stepped on and snapped sticks. He was the only one. The forest village was behind the boys now, merely a few glints shrouded in sticky and humid mist. With the buzz cut boy's worried mind, he could barely remember the shape and security of his home. The boy taking the lead was short, slender, and mean-looking to the common mind. He was covered in nicks and scrapes as much as he was dirt. The most prominent of his slight injuries was a three-pronged scar on his right cheek, a stinging red. It seemed that the notion to put bandages on the infliction to halt any infections never came to that slender boy. “Hey!” Said the buzz cut boy, louder than he was previously. He lifted a hand and arm and tugged on the hood on the back of the slender boy's worn jacket, halting him. “Be quiet! We don't want them to hear us!” Fouly snapped the small boy as he turned his head, swatting the hand away and resuming to walk in the darkness. “Sorry.. But, I thought we would be there already..” The old looking boy behind them scoffed and so did the slender. “Stupid. We need to walk quietly for it to show. Put up your hood.” The leader scolded, doing the same to himself and covering his upper face in darkness. Maurice gulped shallowly and did the same, although he didn’t know what quietness nor putting up his hood would show. The older boy behind them had no words nor an expression, hanging behind the two like an ominous presence. He shifted, and brown eyes looked agitated as they walked through the thick smog. The boy in the front looked back over his shoulder, frowning. Maurice looked at the boy leading him through the woods, unsure. “What are you looking at?” The leader scoffed and looked ahead of himself again. “Seeing if he’s still there.”.. Maurice looked scornful, looking back himself. He saw nothing but the darkness and the looming shadows and fog. Sweat started to build up on his forehead and temples and he caught up to the shorter boy in front of him whilst looking ahead again. “You’re seeing things-” Leader boy stopped abruptly and Maurice bumped into his back. His foothold almost slipped on the loose gravel stones, which were damp and muddy with the rain that had taken place earlier on that cloudy day. The dusk was ending, and it was steadily getting darker. “We’re here.” They mumbled. “Now, go on.” His voice was icy, something that made Maurice want to turn tail and abort what he had came for- which he had seemed to forgotten. “Go.. Where?..” He questioned carefully, as no young boy wanted to sound like an idiot in front of anyone except themselves. The small boy with the scars and dirty nicks glared at him. “Stupid! Just-” The boy groaned and tugged at Maurice’s upper arm, dragging him forwards forcefully. “Just go on!” He snapped. Maurice felt as though he had had enough. He yanked his arm back again. “But I don’t want to! What’s your name anyways? You’re creepy!” Maurice blurted. The look on the short boy’s face caused him to regret his words instantly. Maurice was a bully. He was intimidated not by people smaller than him, weaker than him. He thought that the small boy that had led him into the woods was a victim of either violent pranks or harsh bullying, as he was covered in bruises and worse. But now he was having different thoughts.

Why now? Why now of all times?

The air and the ground and the earth was dark, but Maurice the bully knew that they were standing in a clearing of a circle, although choppy. The thick and smoggy ground wasn’t clearing ( it was normal for the small town in the woods ) but it wasn’t getting worse either. It was a cloudy day and a cloudy night. The moon only slightly shone through multiple layers of dark grey matter and that amount was very, very slight. But even in that amount, Maurice could see the indignant glare of the other boy. His scraped fist clenched, but then it loosened. The cross look faded. “My name doesn’t matter.” The boy muttered. Although he didn’t look angry, he sounded so. “Yes it does!” Maurice snapped, stepped closer to the boy he was starting to dislike more and narrowly avoiding stepping on a dry twig. “No, It doesn’t, Maurice.” Maurice froze.

“Wait, how do you know my name?” Maurice stammered. He didn’t remember telling the strange boy his name. “.. That doesn’t matter either..” Mumbled the boy with his mousy-blonde hair and his injuries. Hazily he looked over Maurice. Somewhere beyond him. “Oh, there you are.” Maurice blinked. He turned around, saw nothing. “Who? Who’s there?” The boy that still wouldn’t tell his name to Maurice sighed drastically. “Go figure.” He muttered, irritated eyes narrowing as he glared at Maurice yet again. It was amazing how long someone could look so angry. The boy without a name looked up and past Maurice again. The look in his eye seemed to dull and thus tell that he saw something that Maurice did not. He looked back and moved back. Maurice was about to follow him, but the boy lifted a hand. “No. Stay there. Stay.” He threw out the order, which caused Maurice to halt. “What? Why?” He growled in the dark, staying in the circle of flattened grass like the boy had told him too.

For the first time Maurice had saw, the boy smiled. He lowered the hand he had raised and stepped back further. “Do you know why you followed me here, Maurice?” Asked he. Maurice clenched his fists together. He disliked the way that this boy talked. He talked like he owned the world - like the world was his, even in the gloomy, foggy darkness on that cloudy night. Like he owned everything. But Maurice shook his head to the boy. Instantly the smiling look from the boy vanished. “You.. Don’t?” He mumbled, almost sounding offended at the least. Maurice shook his head with growing rapidness. Maybe if the boy knew that he didn’t know what he was here for, then he would let him leave.

The boy crouched on the ground and began to dig around, mouse-colored hair shifting. “Uh.. W-What are you looking for?” Began Maurice, utterly confused as he looked down.

“Something sharp,” Responded the boy in the gloomy darkness of the shaded wood.

“Why.”

“.. Because?” There came a satisfied sound from the boy and he gave a grunt as he stood. In his hand was a pointed rock. Maurice sighed and moved back slightly. “Before we depart I want to talk to you about something, Maurice.” Dry grass crunched under the unnamed boy’s feet as he made his way to a rather tall stone sticking out from the ground. He was audacious enough to sit on that tall stone. Maurice was only further agitated by the boy’s action. “Yeah, and whass’at?” Maurice clenched his fists and took a few more stomping steps towards as he couldn’t see the boy from where he stood. “I’m Jamie. Jamie Weiss.” The boy choose just now to give Maurice his name, but why was that? Why now? Jamie fiddled with the stone in his hands, rubbing off dry sections of dirt on the hard rock. “Okay..?” Muttered Maurice, uninterested. “Yeah, okay. Who cares about my name, right? I don’t, but I guess you seemed to be annoyed that I knew yours and you didn’t know mine. But names are important. You can’t just throw them out without a reason.” Maurice shifted, legs growing tired from standing so long. “Uh-huh. So why did you tell me your name?.. That’s what you’re getting at, right?” Jamie appeared to nod with a small shrug. “Yeah, that’s what I’m getting at. Whatever. I told you my name because you have no reason to know it when you’re dead, y’know.” Maurice raised a brow.

Confused. “Okay?.. Man, I’m not sure what’s with you, but I don’t give two s***s about what you want to do. You’re a loony.” Maurice glowered, standing his ground even with the chill of the wind blowing carefully. “Someone, please, throw him in the loony bin!” He called out, torso twisting as he lifted both hands to his mouth, cupping them both around the corners of his mouth. Jamie still remained neutral, but he still remained with that mean look in his eye that threw Maurice off a good amount. “I’m a loony because I said you don’t need to know my name?” He muttered, tone annoyed.

“No! Not that! It’s not about names at all!” Hissed Maurice, glaring down at Jamie from where the boy stood. Jamie crossed one leg over the other on that tall stone. “It’s about- - you!” Jamie was audacious enough to smile. “Me?” He asked. “-Yes! You! Here I quote- ‘I have no reason to know it if I’m dead!’ I’m not dying any time soon! I’m far from it!” Jamie leaned forward, seeming like he was on the beginnings of a grin. “That so? You really believe that?”
“That I’m not dying any time soon? Yes! Of course! I’m perfectly healthy-”
“It looks like you chugged five gallons of fry grease and dumped one on yourself.” Jamie muttered darkly, gaze never lifting from Maurice, making direct eye contact. Maurice was instantly lit with rage. “What the f**k is wrong with you! You f****n’ b***h!” Maurice threateningly stepped towards Jamie, who instantly stood up with a small growl, jutting out the rather sharp stone he had been holding in his hand for so long. “Come any closer and I’ll kill you!” Jamie threw back. Maurice was unabashed. “You sound like a kid in primary school biting off more than ‘e can chew.” He grumbled. Jamie stepped back a bit, behind the stone he was sitting on. “You’re like a disenfranchised bigot, Maury. Eh? I bet you were up with the big hits, the big hits, huh? The big-shot bullies, known by the whole school, yeah?” Jamie snickered, glaring now. Maurice stepped forward again, eyes lighting in a new anger. Jamie stepped back with ease, not at all unnerved by Maurice or even the darkness. “You’re a stereotype. The one people see in books and movies. Sound right? I think it does. You big, fat, pile of lard.” Hissed Jamie, bounding backwards on his heels very briefly before turning tail and bolting into the woods.

No, Jamie was not afraid of Maurice.

He was not lying when he said that he would kill him.