Chapter One - Scene Setting

First real piece of writing I've done so far.

1

 

The boy with fair hair raised himself up the last few feet of branches and began to pick his way outwards from the trunk. As he inched forward, a gentle wind caused the branch to sway beneath him. The children below stood, mouths agape, with their bicycles variously propping them up or abandoned in the dirt a few feet away. The trees all around obscured the grey sky from view, their sage-green leaves reflecting the coolness of a late afternoon in August. The clouds above were thick and dark, threatening to burst and throw their contents against the tree canopy. His hands passed steadily over one another as he drew closer to the nest that was perched precariously on the intersection of two branches.

One of the children on the ground was a wiry, tall boy with black hair cropped short. He took a step closer to the tree-trunk and shouted to the fair-haired boy, a fearful tone in his voice.

“Harry!” He called out, “Harry!”

The boy called Harry showed no signs of slowing down as he crawled towards the tight bundle of twigs. The tall boy glanced back towards his companions for help. A bored-looking girl, her wood-coloured hair tied back in pigtails, clucked her tongue reproachfully. Letting her pink bicycle fall to the ground, she swept past the boy, who shrank back nervously. Hands planted firmly on hips, she flung her head backwards and yelled.

“HARRY!”

The fair-haired boy jumped suddenly, causing the branch to shake violently and dislodging the nest from its resting place. It slid slowly sideways until it tipped and fell into air. All eyes but the girl's followed its descent until it burst apart on the dry earth. Hers remained resolutely on the topmost branch, where Harry still clung on tight, now looking positively scandalised.

“You broke my nest!” He yelled.

“I'll break a lot more than that if you don't get down from there right now!”

The dark-haired boy edged forward nervously. Peering downwards, he let out a sigh of relief.

"It's...it's empty," he shuddered, "thank God."

"See?" The girl said, "now get down from there before you break your neck!"

Harry, defeated, started to inch backwards towards the trunk. His confidence seemed not to waver as it creaked threateningly beneath him. All eyes followed him down until he swung from the bottom branch, landing unsteadily on one foot, before slipping and collapsing in a giggling heap. The girl rolled her eyes in a way that suggested prior experience in the field of eye-rolling. Sighing dramatically, she stomped back to her scuffed pink bicycle, swinging her arms as she went. The dark-haired boy stepped forwards, shaking his head.

“Stop doing that.”

“Oh, don't be such a spoilsport, Andy,” replied Harry, still trying to suppress a giggling fit. “You're such a wimp when she's around.”

“Am not. Besides, you could've fell out of the tree and killed yourself. She's right about coming down, you know.” Andy brushed a few stray branches out of the way and leant down to help his friend up. Harry swung his arm upwards wildly to meet his, missed, and promptly collapsed into even more giggles. Andy, rolling his eyes in an imitation of Izzy's, effortlessly dragged the younger boy to his bicycle. It was a bright red mountain bike, bearing the scratches and dents of many dramatic crashes. Clutching to the handlebars with one hand, Harry, still shaking with silent mirth, pushed his way over to the others. Andy followed close behind him, on a tall silver road bicycle with no suspension. The frame bumped up and down harshly as he rolled over the uneven ground. He was grateful to reach the rest of the group, stepping gingerly down from the battered plastic saddle. The youngest of the group, Danny, was tugging at Izzy's puffed-out brown waterproof impatiently. He was about a head shorter than her, and looked very agitated inside the hood of his bright blue parka.

“I want to go home now, Izzy,” he whined plaintively.

“Be quiet, Danny. We're not done exploring,” she replied importantly. “Where are we going next, Harry?”

“But I need the toi-let!” He elongated for emphasis.

“Can't you just go in the bushes like the others?”

“I can't!”

“Well then, just hold it in!”

“I CAN'T!” He screamed, “let me go home, or I'm telling mum on you!” There was a silence. Izzy glared at her brother. Harry and Andy glanced at each other.

“I'm pretty tired, anyway,” lied Harry. “I might go in a bit.” Izzy turned her gaze onto him. He quailed.

“Uhm,” Andy mumbled, “yeah, er, me too. I'm...yeah.” He ground to a halt awkwardly. Izzy kept looking daggers at Harry for a moment before turning on her heel and mounting her bicycle once more.

“Fine! Let's just go.” She pedalled furiously, crashing through the undergrowth. Danny gave Harry a quick grin before jumping on his lightning-blue racing bike and zooming off after her. As they shot ahead, Harry gave Andy a quick punch on the arm, laughing.

“Cheer up. Hey, she'll get over it!”

“Yeah,” replied Andy absently, rubbing his arm. There was a short pause before Harry gave one more snort of laughter and about-turned, powering along smoothly in pursuit of the other two. Snapping out of his reverie, Andy opened his mouth to call out. He hesitated, then closed his mouth again. Grunting, he mounted the old road bike and ground the gears into place. It groaned and complained as he pushed off down the thickly wooded dirt path.

The four bikes travelled in a convoy through the wood, breaking the silence as they went with rapid stuttering clicks and the heavy rustle of leaf litter churned up by spinning tyres. The children made little noise themselves while moving, besides the occasional gasp or grunt as they struck a rock or dip in the ground unexpectedly. Their pace was unsteady as they constantly gained and lost ground to each other. The group writhed like a rattlesnake, constantly contracting and relaxing, powering its way along the ground with little apparent effort, jerking its tail sharply with a harsh rattling sound.

They continued in this fashion for some time, until the brilliant greens around them began to drain into flat grey tones, and the browns and yellows of the earth below gradually darkened. The atmosphere shifted as the afternoon lost its vigour, becoming an evening shadow of itself. The dark shapes cast on the ground by the trees grew longer and longer, before finally melting into the surrounding darkness. The night crept over the forest like a disease, but smoother and with greater strength than any human ailment. The temperature dropped a few degrees out of the comfort zone, bringing with it a quiet wind that rushed silently between the trees, and a sharp chill that bit at any exposed skin, turning it grey and cold like itself.

Andy pushed harder, pulling closer to the lamp on the rear mudguard of Harry's bike. His eyes were beginning to water as the wind blew into them. He would not close them, even for a second, until they were out of the woods. The others appeared to show no fear whatsoever, but from the rear he guessed he would look the same.

They eventually reached the edge of the woods, bursting out, one-by-one onto a wide suburban road. Big detached houses lined it along one side, tall oak trees along the other. There were no lights on inside the houses. It was still too bright for the street lamps to come on, but the lamp just above their heads was shrouded in a tree branch, so it cast a warm circle of orange light around them.

Harry continued circling the rest of the group casually as Andy struggled down from his high saddle to join the other two.

“Are we going back to your house first?” He asked Izzy. “Only, it'll be dark soon and you know I live all the way in Chislehurst.” Izzy looked at Danny, who was dancing nervously on the spot.

“Yes, that's probably for the best,” she replied, pompously.

“Good. Because, you know, I live so far away...and...yeah...” He petered out as Izzy gave him a questioning look. “That's...yeah.” There was a slightly awkward silence. She continued looking at him for a moment, her head tilted sideways, before they were interrupted by Danny, who made a strange noise in the back of his throat. Izzy turned away.

“What is it now, Danny?”

“What's that man doing?”

“What ma- oh.” She stopped talking abruptly.

There was a figure on the ground some distance away. The darkness was thick outside their orange circle, which made it difficult to discern any details. It was indeed a man, but beyond that nothing could be made out. Harry's incessant looping did not help.

“Harry! Stop it!” Izzy exclaimed. He began to laugh, but stopped at the look on her face. He ground to a halt and dismounted. Following her gaze, he saw the figure on the ground. His face also assumed the puzzled, worried look.

“What's he doing?” He asked.

“I don't know.” There was a brief silence. “Maybe he's got run over.”

“No, he's moving. Look.” The figure stirred. It looked awkward, like it was lying uncomfortably.

“He might need help. Like an ambulance, or something.”

“We ain't s'posed to talk to strangers, Izzy,” Danny piped up. “Mum said so.” There was another silence as they puzzled over this dilemma. Eventually, Andy stepped forward.

“Well, we can't just walk away. What if he dies? We'll be murderers then. We'll go to prison.”

“Don't be stupid, Andy,” Izzy said, “only grown-ups go to prison.”

“How do you know? I heard Will Parsons got sent to prison for throwing a rock at Missus Harwood. I haven't seen him since.”

“Will didn't go to prison, he got sent to special school. My mum said so.”

“Well, I don't want to get sent to special school!”

“Shut up!” Harry hissed. They both looked at him. “I think he's getting up.” They all stared at the figure on the ground. It was scraping its arms along the ground, gradually pushing itself up into a sitting position. The wind picked up slightly, whistling quietly as it ran in streams through the material of their coats. The children drew closer together. Danny grasped Izzy's hand, his eyes wide with fear.

“Okay, he's fine,” said Izzy, “don't stare, Danny, come on, let's go.”

“I bet he has a hangover,” said Harry. “You know, like when you drink lots of beer. My dad gets those.”

“Izzy says he's fine. Come on, let's just go.”

“I bet he is, though.” A grin flashed across Harry's face. “OI, MISTER!” The figure's lazy movement stopped abruptly.

“Harry!”

“Don't worry, my dad can't do anything when he's hungover.”

“Just leave it!” There was a tremor in Izzy's voice. This was just too strange. She didn't like strange things.

The figure began to move again, more purposefully. It bent forward and began to scrabble at the ground for purchase. Harry's grin faltered. The figure, with a great effort, pushed itself to its feet and teetered unsteadily from side to side. There was a very pregnant pause.

“...I think we should go inside,” said Andy. “How do we get to your house?” Izzy didn't respond. The wind had died down again. The air no longer flowed. It held fast. Like ice.

The figure's entire body began to tilt forwards. Slowly, aggressively, the right foot was pushed ahead of the torso. The motion was repeated with the left foot. The unsteady gait swayed from side to side as it grew more urgent.

The air shifted as the wind began to pick up once more. The branches overhead creaked. Then everything happened at once.

The silence was strained by a piercing crack from above. It shattered completely as the branch crashed to the asphalt below. Without the shelter of the leaves, the street lamp was exposed to the hazy twilight glow.

It shut off.

Someone yelped. There was a sudden confusion as the children fell about, disorientated. A bike fell over with a crash. Then, closer than any of them were expecting, there came a terrifying sound. Low and coarse, it brought to life buried memories of ancient relatives, drawing air from the surroundings the way night draws light from day. It was fingernails on a chalkboard. It was grinding metal saws. It was serrated steel on soft pink flesh. It splintered inside the skull, awakening something primal deep inside. A death rattle.

The sealed tension had broken free, becoming wild, animal fear. Panic-stricken, Andy fled towards the big detached houses. The rest followed him like sheep, Izzy dragging Danny behind her. Andy ran towards the front door of the nearest house, which burst open before him. Lights had come on inside. Warm, yellow light.

Author's Note

It ends abruptly because I haven't come up with the couple of slick sentences I need to link it to chapter two, which I have already started. Please try to focus less on the concept, since I would really like some criticism on my technique and style. Was I any good at building tension? Setting the scene? Oh yeah, and I've highlighted areas I want to come back to and rewrite, for various reasons.