Paranoia

(So I haven't posted for a while, and I'm thinking about some kind of a special blog post is in order to compensate...

*later*

Okay, so after much thought lets make it even more special - over the next week in my absence (going skiing in the Alps, so excited!!) I shall be posting online two of my pieces of coursework from my Creative Writing class - instead of the usual posting a piece that has had minimal editing, here's a treat that has been properly edited: my script that is as of yet unmarked. I tried to go for a psychological horror take on this, so without much further ado... enjoy!!)

Cast List

JOHNNY – Middle aged and good looking, married to MELISSA and father of JAKE

                     and AMY. A family man who enjoys the outdoors.

MELISSA –JOHNNY’s wife and a caring stay-at-home mother of JAKE and AMY.

JAKE – JOHNNY and MELISSA’s eight-year-old son. Keen footballer and very

close to his parents.

AMY – A shy and cautious six-year-old, JOHNNY and MELISSA’s daughter. She

dotes on her elder brother JAKE and treats him like a hero.

Paranoia 

FADE IN:

Montage..

Screen shows static, occasionally punctuated by home footage and stills taken by JOHNNY’s family.

Wedding footage of MELISSA and JOHNNY.

Photos taken at a christening.

Short videos of JAKE and AMY playing.

Johnny’s voiceover is heard over the top. On his final words, the screen cuts to black with the noise of a television shutting off.

JOHNNY (V/O)

Have you ever had an obsession so crazy that drove you straight to the brink of insanity? And then when you thought that it had reached a climax, it caught you unaware and pushed you straight off the edge?

(pause)

I have. My name is Johnny Brockman and this is my story.

EXT. FOREST - DAY

JOHNNY, MELISSA, JAKE and AMY are walking through a forest with their dog.

JOHNNY (V/O)

I can remember the exact date I first saw him – I was with my family taking a walk in our local forest. Nothing out of the ordinary there: the amount of times my wife and I had taken the kids down there to build dens and rope swings or go bird watching, you’d think we pretty much owned the place.

EXT. CLEARING – DAY

JOHNNY is bending down to take the lead off the dog. MELISSA roots around in her bag for something, finally pulling out a Frisbee. JAKE and AMY run around the clearing as children do playing tag.

JOHNNY (V/O)

I’ve always had the kind of life that many people would dream of. A home of my own. A beautiful wife. Two kids and a dog. A family.

            (beat)

I guess I always took it for granted though, never realised what I had until it was too late.

(beat)

I first saw the shadowy figure as we were about to play Frisbee with the dog. I bent down to take off his lead and as I stood up, he was there at the edge of the clearing, standing and watching me.

Shot of the shadowy figure standing at the edge of the clearing. Close up on JOHNNY’s face.

JOHNNY (V/O)

He didn’t move and even after I blinked, he was still there.

JAKE

Come on Daddy, throw us the Frisbee.

JOHNNY shakes his head and comes out of his trance. The man is still there unmoving. He readies himself to throw the Frisbee to JAKE.

JOHNNY

Okay then, watch out. Here it comes.

JOHNNY throws the Frisbee up into the air and the camera follows it. JAKE, AMY and the dog scrabble around to catch the Frisbee. JOHNNY moves over to MELISSA.

JOHNNY

         (whispering)

What do you think he wants?

MELISSA

What who wants?

JOHNNY

         (whispering)

Him. That guy over there at the edge of the trees. Look, just behind Amy back into the trees a bit.

MELISSA squints towards the trees. Looks confused.

MELISSA

I can’t see anyone Johnny. Are you sure it’s not just the shadows in the trees?

JOHNNY

Look, he’s right there. Standing still. How can you not see him?

                                    (beat)

JOHNNY (V/O)

That was the first day I saw him. And it wasn’t the last either. Melissa thought I was going mad in the clearing back then. I dreamed about him later that night too, and all the while, he was just standing there watching me. He didn’t move, I never got any closer to him than I was in the clearing – at least, not then I didn’t.

INT. JOHNNY AND MELISSA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

JOHNNY and MELISSA are asleep in bed; MELISSA is sleeping peacefully however JOHNNY is tossing and turning, visibly unable to sleep. Flashes of the scene in the clearing are seen between shots of him trying to sleep and close ups of his anxiety-ridden face.

Johnny sits upright in bed suddenly, eyes wide open.

JOHNNY

He’s… he’s…

        (breathes out)

He’s not here. It’s just a dream. Just a dream.

MELISSA

(sleepily, just beginning to wake up)

Johnny? What’s going on?

JOHNNY

It’s… A bad dream. I’m okay.

MELISSA goes back to sleep, JOHNNY remains sat upright in bed.

JOHNNY (V/O)

But I wasn’t okay. He was still there, waiting for me. No matter where I went, no matter where I turned, he’d always find his way back into my head.

More film clips play in the style of home footage.

Montage..

JOHNNY, JAKE and AMY are playing outside with the dog.

JOHNNY is fixing the gate in the back garden.

MELISSA and JOHNNY driving through a well-lit town. 

JOHNNY (V/O)

Of course, I mentioned it to Melissa. How could I not, she’s my wife?

INT. JOHNNY AND MELISSA’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

Scene shows JOHNNY and MELISSA in bed together, sat upright watching the television.

MELISSA

I just don’t understand why he keeps on popping up in your dreams Johnny; maybe you should go and see someone.

JOHNNY

I’m telling you, it’s not just in my dreams. I’ve seen him in real life too – the other day when I was taking Jake to football practice, he was watching me from the other side of the pitch.

(beat)

And he was there when I was driving with you and the kids to your parents’ last week.

(beat)

I’m not making this up!

Short silence while camera switches from focus on JOHNNY to focus on MELISSA.

MELISSA

Johnny… Are you sure you’re not… on something, are you? I just- well, I mean it’s weird that you keep on seeing this figure whilst nobody else can. It’s like you’re hallucinating or something.

JOHNNY

                                                                      (astounded)

Are you being serious? He’s real, I swear. I keep on seeing him everywhere I go, why do you think I would make something like this up? It’s been nine years, and you can’t believe me when I’m genuinely telling the truth?

Scene pans out on the pair sitting in an awkward silence as JOHNNY’s voiceover begins.

JOHNNY (V/O)

So there you have it, my own wife thought that I was going mad. But I knew that I wasn’t, because I kept on seeing him. And no matter who I told, no matter how many people I pointed him out to, nobody saw him… or believed me. Then one day, things escalated so violently, that I realised the seriousness of the situation.

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

JOHNNY is sat downstairs at his computer. MELISSA can be heard in the kitchen tidying up. The clocks all indicate that it is late and that the children are already in bed. Everything seems peaceful.

JAKE

 (upstairs, upset)

Mummy? Daddy? Help!

JOHNNY gets up and runs upstairs, MELISSA some way behind. Camera shot from bottom of stairs of him running, panicked. Camera shot from top close up of his hands as he pushes on the door.

INT. JAKE’S ROOM - NIGHT

JOHNNY enters JAKE’s room frantically pushing open the door. Shot of JOHNNY’s face.

JOHNNY

Oh no. No. No. No. Not you.

(beat)

Jake? Jake!

(beat)

                         (angry)

What have you done with him?

MELISSA enters behind JOHNNY. MELISSA SCREAMS. Fade in of sirens and fade out of JOHNNY and MELISSA’s screams. Black screen.

Montage..

Police cars outside JOHNNY’s house.

JOHNNY and MELISSA crying.

Both JOHNNY and MELISSA crying in the police station.

JOHNNY (V/O)

I saw him there, closer than ever before. He was standing over Jake. Just standing there. Over Jake’s body. And then just as Melissa entered the room he disappeared. Faded away into nothing.

            (beat)

The police came. They questioned me. Questioned Melissa. They couldn’t find anything though. No fingerprints, nothing. I told them about him, about the man. They didn’t listen to me. They asked me what drugs I was on. I had tests, did all the questionnaires. They threw around words like hallucinations, schizophrenia, just like Melissa did. Prescribed drugs. Therapy. In the end, any kind of the charge against us was dropped due to a lack of evidence. I tried as hard as I could to convince them about the shadowy man. Nobody listened.

INT. LIVING ROOM – LATE AFTERNOON

Fade in of JOHNNY and MELISSA sat on sofa again, curled up with one another crying. Silence. JOHNNY stands up.

JOHNNY

Melissa. He’s there.

MELISSA

(sobbing)

Johnny stop this okay, you’re scaring me.

JOHNNY

You don’t believe me?

MELISSA

    (standing up to calm him down)

Johnny, don’t do this to me. Not now.

JOHNNY

Melissa, don’t do this to me. He took Jake!

            (beat)

Leave him to me. I’ll show you. I’ll show him. I’ll fucking kill him.

JOHNNY knocks MELISSA out of the way and runs towards the door. MELISSA falls to the floor hitting her head, but retaining consciousness. Camera angles change between following JOHNNY in a rage outside of the house to her crying on the floor, reaching for the phone. Her head is bleeding.

EXT. HOUSE – LATE AFTERNOON

JOHNNY

          (Screaming)

Okay, where are you? Where are you? Come out and fight me. Come on. You took my son. You took my son from me.

INT. LIVING ROOM – LATE AFTERNOON

MELISSA is shakily dialling the police. JOHNNY is still heard in the background screaming and smashing things up outside.

MELISSA

Hello? Police? I need you to come as quick as you can. It’s my husband. He’s gone mad.

Scene fades to black as MELISSA’s last line echoes over the top.

INT. WHITE ROOM – DAYTIME

JOHNNY’s face is seen close up on the camera, non-moving.

JOHNNY (V/O)

They took me away that afternoon. Said I was mad.

                        (beat)

The court ruled that I was criminally insane, accused me of Jake’s murder. I pleaded for my innocence but nobody listened. Melissa took Amy away, said she never wanted to see me again. She was scared.

(beat)

I stopped seeing him after that night. I knew he was there though. And when nobody believed me, I guess I just got pushed over the edge. He was real to me. I guess in a way, the figure had become a part of me, the very embodiment of my own paranoia. The shadowy figure was my own mind, a projection of a subconscious just waiting for something to go wrong with my perfect life.

(beat)

No wonder nobody believed me.

FADE OUT TO BLACK


(Check the blog again on Wednesday 4/4/13 for the next post - I'm not sure what the wi-fi connection is like at the top of a mountain, so it's probably easier if I schedule a post. ;) )

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Peace. x

Dave and Scott (Two Writing Bursts)

(In this piece, with the starting line "What the hell is t---!", I tried to emulate a piece of teenage/young adult fiction, in particular the tone of the narrative - taking a limited third person perspective. The ending - as much as I hate the whole idea - is ambiguous and is written with the intention of leaving the reader guessing as to what it is that is outside behind Dave.) 


"What the hell is t---!" Dave's mother yelled at him as soon as he stepped through the door. Quite the over-reaction he decided, it was only a tiny little bit of metal. It just happened to be pierced through his lip, that was all.

"Oh calm down Mum, it's only a tiny little bit of metal." Dave said to her. At this, his mum was still speechless. It was as if her mouth was moving and she was trying to formulate words, but no sound could quite come out.

"It didn't cost very much at all, Nick's cousin in the market did it for me, gave me a well good deal."

Shock. Horror. Silence.

"Okay, okay. I get it. You don't like it."

More silence as she stared towards him. He didn't say anything. Wait a second. He followed her noiseless gaze and realised that in fact, her silence was not directed towards him at all. He turned around, wondering what exactly could be worse in her eyes than her eldest teenage son coming home with his lip pierced. Then he saw it.


(This piece was intended to be the beginning of a short story with no specific theme or stimulus. Ideally, it would have been longer, however due to a lack of inspiration/concentration and a probable hangover from yours truly, the entire thing was only three quarters of  page. So I guess it still is the beginning, it's just the very beginning, that's all. :p)


Scott remembered the very first time he saw her. She was virtually covered, head to toe, in splatters of white Dulux paint - on her hands, arms, face and even her messy blonde hair had unintentional white highlights in it. The oversized mens shirt and sweat pants she was wearing were covered in paint too, a pair of distinct feminine handprints smeared down the sides of the trousers where she'd wiped her hands. Despite all this however, she was one of the most beautiful people that Scott had ever laid eyes on, and he couldn't help but notice how her warm eyes met his in a shy gaze and then moved away again, a small smile playing about her lips. She also happened to be his wife's first cousin.

A Double Bill Of Sensory Stuffed Writing Bursts

(A treat for you all: two relatively short writing bursts from Julie's lecture this week, both based upon the involvement of evoking the senses to create a very thorough and vividly realistic image through the words. The first is the exploration and description of a place in which the writing - more specifically the writer - had to go somewhere. I chose Thailand, a place I visited last summer, namely the beach nearest the hotel in which we were staying.)


My toes seep slowly downwards into the hot moist sand as I make my way along the beach. Every now and then they find a weathered cockle shell and I stop to pick each one up, feeling their smooth surfaces between my fingers and curiously wondering where each one might have come from. The only sounds that punctuate the comforting air are the gentle breaking of waves around my feet and the occasional seabird overhead.

The sea itself is a perfect shade of azure blue, the sky reflected in it consisting of a similar colour. Clear and undisturbed. And as you would expect, the smell of saltwater fills my nostrils, almost overwhelming the lingering taste of the creamy vanilla ice cream I ate earlier. Still, it's not an uncomfortable scent.

I stop and stare out onto the sapphire horizon. The silently fragrant Thai air is still and calm around me. I could stay this way forever.


(The second piece is focused more upon sensory deprivation. We were not allowed to include any visual aspects in the piece, rather to focus on the other four senses and build up a picture from these. This proved to be a much more challenging task, as you can probably tell from the length of this one in relation to my other writing bursts!!) 


I run my hand down the rough bark of the tree until I make contact with the ground. Beneath the spongy moss that lies like a carpet around the roots, my fingers find earth. I pick up a handful and crumble it between my fingertips, the sound of the moist dirt falling and then hitting the ground again the only sound to perforate the piercing silence of the forest. Swirling undergrowth tangles around my legs as I stand up and start to move again, the sounds of tiny thorny branch against leaf against tiny thorny branch reaching my ears as I stumble forward. Their spikes catch at my jeans as if trying to hold me back, but I continue walking nonetheless.

Letters From The Dead (A Writing Burst)

(A writing burst set by Julie - apparently in France, over several thousand letters each year are sent to the dead. Our task was simple: write a letter back. I decided to take my usual darker tone and write a reply to one of these letters from a revenge-seeking ex-friend.) 

Dear Celiná, 

Thank you for your letter dated Lundi le 4 Janvier1, I thoroughly enjoyed reading through your pointless colloquialism about how you're happy with your life right now and that everything seems to be going ever so perfectly for you right now. My favourite part however was the persistent lies that you're really looking forward to seeing me again. But don't worry about that my dear friend, you will be seeing me again.

Remember how, as children, you were always the one to have the best dolls, the best clothes, the most stable family? Remember how, throughout school and college you were always the prettiest, most popular, the best at sports? And remember how you always insisted that you were my best friend and stuck with me no matter what?

Remember the bullying, teasing; the name-calling, hair-pulling little Salope2 that you could be sometimes. The biting, hitting, kicking you did whilst all the while you insisted that you were my meilleur amie3. Yeah, me too.

Now do you remember the car crash? Oh wait Celiná, that's one part that you're in the dark about. The other car came out of nowhere one day while I was sat at the red light, and in a heartbeat the breath was knocked from my lungs, the life from my body.

So you see, now you've remembered making my life a misery, remember (or at least, let me enlighten you as to) the present situation that your dear deceased friend now finds herself in. And just remember Celiná, you'll be seeing me soon. And I'll sure as hell make sure that you truly do remember exactly everything that you put me through.

Yours, Amelié.



1  Monday, January 4th 
2  Bitch
3  Best friend

Chapter Two

(Find Chapter One here)

The storm continues throughout the next two weeks. We go back to school, all a little disheartened at the thought of returning to lessons and exams. There’s a constant, non-stop rain pattering on the window of the maths classroom as I drift off into a daydream during a boring lecture about ‘why simultaneous equations are so important to us.’ I’m almost at the point of closing my eyes and falling asleep when suddenly I hear a screaming noise. I jerk upright, only to see nothing at all, for the bulbs in the room have gone out and the grey sky outside doesn’t do anything in the way of light.

“Oh dear, class. It seems we have a power cut. Stay here whilst I go and check with the headmaster. Anyone caught out of their seat will receive a detention, do you understand?” The voice of Mr Parson, the maths teacher still sounds more like a drone, even when something as drastic as a power cut has taken place. There’s the slam of a door as he leaves and a swell of chatter resumes. I look around in the darkness trying to make out shapes. As my eyes adjust, I can faintly see the outlines of the rest of the students in my class and can just about make out trees outside the window, but nothing more, as it seems that the street lights have also perished. A sudden burst of lightning illuminates the window frame making me jump half a foot off my chair. Seeing as I’m sitting next to the window, I seem to be the only one that has actually noticed the large hooded figure that’s standing underneath the tree nearest the school. I can’t exactly make out any specific features, other than the wispy fluid black cloak that obscures its features, giving no clue to the identity. If I was to liken it to anything, I’d say that it looks like one of the dementors in Harry Potter. Only this dementor is a lot darker and a lot more chilling than them, and one of the first thoughts that flashes into my head at the sight of it is admiration to the person wearing it for being able to produce a thoroughly realistic costume. I see it right in the centre of my vision for a mere second, but the very sight of it sends another chill up my spine, and that’s when it crosses my mind that Halloween isn’t for another month and a half yet. Suddenly, a wave washes over my eyes, followed by a flashback: a very vivid, unrealistic vision, distorted in my memories. It is a memory, but then again it isn’t – because with memories I’m pretty certain it isn’t possible to remember things in such clear multi-sensory detail as I am with this one.

I’m standing, once again, on the edge of the pit. The clearing is sharper, a more focused and detailed scene, with colours more vivid than any I’ve ever seen naturally. I see Sam, followed strangely enough by myself standing at the other end. We, (as it seems to be) are standing at opposite ends, within shouting distance, but only just. I watch as Sam picks up a pebble; see him throw it into the mist that’s emanating from the pit. We laugh and I stay motionless, acknowledging the fact that this must be merely a dream, knowing that whatever is about to happen won’t affect me in any way other than severely freaking me out. I know what’s coming and hope beyond anything that the chilling cold tendrils that begin to emanate from the pit can’t affect me in this dream-like state. Sam drops the rock in, the mist around it curling and creeping upwards as it falls. I wait, anticipating the moment that the noise begins and sure enough, the rocks begin to plummet underneath and I watch the two people on the other side of the clearing begin to run. It all seems to be happening so quickly now, I could have sworn that the actual event had dragged on, but seeing it again makes me realise that in reality, the whole thing must have taken place in barely seconds.

And so I’m standing here, watching the figures of myself and my best friend dart off into the distance. It seems weird, like I’m suspended in some weird sense of anticipation. I look down properly at the pit, given that in this strange delusion, I’m not affected in the same way by it as I was in reality. I’m just staring down at the shapes the smoke makes as it begins to curl skywards, when I’m caught off guard by something completely unexpected. What comes next both shocks my senses and at the same time satisfies the suspicions of my memories. I hear the laughter that I’ve been plagued by since the first moment I heard it. At least I know now that it hasn’t been a complete figment of my imagination...  but what I see next completely screws with each of my senses. There’s something rising out of the smoke. I know deep inside that I should be scared and maybe I am, but the memory seems to be playing with my emotions and right now I can’t feel anything besides a complete feeling of numbness and detachment from the dream. The thing rising continues, as does the ever-so-familiar laughter. I look towards it, however the more and more I concentrate on its ascending form, the less focused the thing becomes. Even with this unusual cloaking method, I can just about make out that it’s a definite object. A hand.

It’s almost definitely not a human hand either. The digits are hooked, with curling claws at the end of every finger, and dry rotting flesh covering the withered bones. Somehow, I’ve got no doubts that the owner of the hand and the laughter are the same; human or otherwise. It seems so clear to me right now, so defined. I’m even pretty certain that the thing under the tree is in some way connected to this disembodied hand, if not the same being again. The hand continues to rise and I watch the arm that’s attached to it, and see that this too is cloaked in a black shroud-like garment. I stare, watching the arm slowly ascend, but something that seems far far away interrupts the image. With a sudden, unexpected, sharp prod in the arm, I return with a jolt to the present.

“Anna?” The voice is distant, but there’s no mistaking the worried tone of Sam, along with many others from my class at school.

“Oh God. Did I faint?” It’s light again, wait… no, someone’s shining a torch in my face. I squint a little and they take the torch away, so I can look around. I’m still in the classroom and the lights are still off, however now I realise I’m no longer sat in my chair and have somehow made it to the carpeted floor. Sam is kneeling down beside me, his hand on my forehead and a concerned look on his face.

“Yeah, you fainted. Think it must have been the lightning. But you hit your head on the way down and I was just… checking you’re all right.” He says this last part slowly, as if he’s got some kind of a hidden motive. I sit up so that my head is level with his and look around. Even Mr Parson, who’s now back in the room, looks worried. As I take in the faces of my other friends I notice that they too are wearing anxious and concerned expressions. Something about the way they’re standing back from me makes me feel uneasy.

“Well class, the headmaster has decided that considering it’s already the afternoon, and it doesn’t look much like the power will be going on again anytime soon, you may all leave lessons early today. Just please make use of this afternoon off... I’m expecting this exercise and the next one finished by next lesson, okay?” Mr Parson opens the door and I notice his eyes following me as I leave with Sam and the rest of our friends.

“You wanna come back to mine?” Sam asks me. “Get in a bit of extra band practice? Oh shit, we’re going to need electric, aren’t we?”

“Acoustic session?” I venture weakly. Sam nods eagerly, and pulls out his phone to contact the others. The four of us: Me, Sam, Dylan and Felix, all belong in a band based in Sam’s garage. We play gigs and enter competitions, but so far ‘The Limit’ have yet to win any award – or recording contract for that matter. In the midst of a chaotic crowd of excitable year sevens fleeing their classrooms, Sam suggests that we wait around outside the entrance of school for the other two.  When they finally emerge, everyone looks thoroughly thrilled at the prospect of an afternoon off school. The boys walk back to Sam’s and I trail along afterwards in silence, still mulling over the hand in the mist.

We reach his house and everyone else flits into the garage to set up and drag out the dusty old piano from underneath several stacks of old Kerrang magazines. I stay in the familiar kitchen and pour myself a drink, all the while feeling a little disassociated from the rest of them. For the first time in years, I feel ever so slightly alone in the midst of everything. But I’m not.

“Hey, you alright?” It’s Sam and this question doesn’t half shock me. I thought the kitchen was empty.

“I’m… I’m fine thanks. How’s the piano? Can’t even remember the last time we had it out...” My voice breaks on the last sentence and I collapse in a wave of tears in Sam’s arms. The shock and fearful emotions of the last two weeks have just come spilling out, after building up to bursting point. It was the sudden black-out that did it and the vision that completely pushed my mind to the limits. I cry into Sam’s neck and he strokes my hair, completely confused by my sudden outburst. I don’t think he’s ever seen me cry properly before, other than at stupid sad movies, but it’s a testament to our friendship that he doesn’t seem too freaked out by it.

“Whoa Anna… what’s wrong? Are you all right? Tell me.” He puts me down on the cold tiles and sits opposite me, legs crossed. I lift up my head and see his worried expression, a permanent feature these days. He pulls a wad of tissue from the kitchen surface and hands it to me. I don’t even feel the usual electric tingle of excitement as my hand strokes Sam’s.

“I saw…” I sniff and hold back the tears that threaten to reappear and moment. “I saw something really freaky, when the lightning flashed. There… there was a figure. It was all black and sc… scary. Then I had a flashback to that day by the pit.” I wipe my eyes, seeing Sam’s expression change again. He’s alert, as if my words have sparked some kind of a reaction. I respond to this, feeling braver about telling the true story. The tears have stopped, so I wipe my eyes again with the sleeve of my school jumper and venture on. 

“But it was different. I saw us; saw everything like I was watching from the opposite side to the one we were on. When you threw that last stone in, Sam, there was something different. I saw… a hand. A hand came up out of the pit.” There’s a moment of silence, in which the tension mounting up in my brief summary of that chilling dream seems so thick that you could cut it with a knife. After taking this in for a minute or two, Sam draws breath and begins to speak again.

“Oh.” He says quietly.

“What?” I ask, annoyed with the simplicity of his response. Sam sighs again and continues.

“When you fainted, you weren’t exactly silent or sill for that matter. You started to shout things. Just mumbling at first, but soon enough you were properly shouting stuff and twitching. Parson thought you were having a fit or something.”

“What did I say?” I cut in, not remembering saying or hearing.  It makes sense though, considering the cautious responses that Mr Parson and the rest of the class had demonstrated when I came around again, and the fact that I found myself on the classroom floor.

“You mumbled something about colour and…” His voice trails off and I stare into his blue eyes, searching for the answer. He sighs and begins to speak again.

“…and then you said that you knew that death was coming for you. And here’s the strangest part Anna. Your voice went all weird, like you were…” he hesitates and I look forcefully at him, as if willing him to carry on will make him. But he doesn’t pause for long and continues “possessed or something. You said something about the sky being on fire, but darkness was coming at the same time. It started off all weird with something like ‘the Dark Assembly will rise again-‘

‘’and when the ground has turned to ash and the sky to flames, only she can make the choice to destroy or conquer the Darkness, before a new age for humanity dawns.” I finish for him. I’m not exactly sure where these words are coming from, they just seem to be tumbling out of my mouth and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself. When I finally trail off into a confused silence, Sam gives me another curious look.

 “Anna what’s wrong with you recently. First you start acting all detached and quiet and now this? Is there something wrong with you Anna, are you on something? I mean, who the hell are the Dark Assembly? They sound like some kind of cheesy 80’s TV show villains.” I sit there in silent shock, not wanting to believe that my best friend thinks that I’m going crazy. My stomach seems to have flipped, almost in anticipation. I’m confused.

That moment of silence is the longest; the atmosphere between the two of us seeming thicker than it’s ever been between us before. I’ve never before even felt close to tense around Sam. He looks towards me and I rack my brains. The Dark Assembly? For starters I don’t think I’ve ever even heard of such a thing – I wonder if my subconscious mind has picked it up from a video game or comic book or something, but Sam would have known that, considering the amount of time he spends on his PlayStation. It scares me, the thought of having been possessed by some unnatural force. Am I going crazy? It’s this that frightens me even more than the memory of the dream. I began to pull myself up, with a new trail of thoughts formulating in my head. The mysterious shadow in the field during the power cut; the strange hand and mass of wispy dark shadow that followed in the vision. I’m feeling almost ninety-nine percent certain that the hand from the pit and the creature under the tree were the same thing. I don’t know why, but they both had the same black, empty shrouds covering their… I’m assuming body.  But who, or rather, what exactly were they? And more importantly, why have they suddenly surfaced at the same time my mind throws up a mysterious phrase I don’t ever recall having heard before?

“You know what’d completely make you feel better.” He finally says after what seems like a long period of consideration, his voice a lot softer than it had been, as if he could sense that what he’d just queried had hit a raw nerve. “Kicking the shit out of some old classics. I’m thinking Foo Fighters; maybe a bit of Queen – like all the feel good stuff. We’ve got the piano out, so you wanna try that dodgy acoustic Don’t Stop Me Now again? Come on.”

He stands up, and extends his hand down to me. I take it, and he grabs the other one and pulls me up – perhaps a little too forcefully, and into a hug. We stand there for a moment, and I’m lost in the depths of guy scent.

“Your shampoo smells so nice.” I mumble into a mouthful of his hair.

“You always say that.” He laughs softly in response.

“It does.” I protest, pulling away. “I swear guys aren’t meant to smell this good. You should smell of like mud and guy stuff.”

“Yeah, and also I should be out playing football and have crappy messy hair like I did back in year eight... Would you rather I was like that?”

“You were nice back then.” I laugh at him. He shoves me gently.

“Oi. You were the one who told me to start straightening my hair.” He flops his fringe down over his eyes to demonstrate.

“Yeah, and it’s your fault you got addicted. Honestly, you’re as bad as most of the girls in our year.” I knew that’d provoke a response, and still underneath the fringe, he makes a face.

                                                                                   

“Eurgh, like I’d wanna have my hair look anything like that anyway. Looks like it’s been burned alive.” He flicks his fringe out of his eyes. I love that flick.

“Sam... Answer me honestly, okay? Did everyone all hear me back there in class? Do they all think I’m a complete freak or something?” I ask.

“No more than usual.” He reassures me, grabbing me again in a massive bear hug.

“Uh guys.” Comes a voice behind us. We turn to see Dylan and Felix leaning on the door into the garage watching us, arms crossed. “Sorry to interrupt the moment here, but are we playing tonight or what? Some of us have got places to be later.” Dylan’s already holding his bass, and I can tell by the way his hands are twitching over the strings that he’s eager to play. Even if there’s no electricity.

“Oh what, another date with Madison?” Sam calls. Dylan grins wickedly.

“Told her she could stop by here on her way to mine. That okay?” He asks Sam.

 “No, sorry mate. No girls allowed in band practice.” Sam calls back, and he sneaks a wink in my direction as we head towards the garage door. I hit him again, and for what seems to be the millionth time, we disappear off together into the garage.