13 Vale Street

Here's a story i began about a year ago...But never finshed.

13 Vale Street
Prologue
“Please don’t kill me” the cab driver pleaded. He sat on his knees staring at his attacker who had called for a taxi in a deserted parking lot just prior. The driver’s bald scalp had been lacerated as if someone had cut him with a knife. In actual fact it was this strange man’s teeth. The man stared down at the driver, a gleeful smile on his face. Blood dripped from his mouth. The man licked his lips, the blood disappearing in the blink of an eye. The cab driver thought that it looked like a ’milk moustache” but it was blood not milk on his lip. “Drive me to 13 Vale street and will I spare your life” the old man spat. The cab driver was all but willing to do as he asked-free of charge of course. He got behind the wheel of his cab. His sweaty palms fumbling the keys. “Drive” the man said from behind him getting in as he did so. So the two drove the 150 kilometre trip to 13 Vale street, Olington. The evil man in the back seat had the window down his black hair ruffled violently in the wind. His hair was oily black-the colour of crows feathers.

Vale street was your typical sub urban street. The grass was green and well kept and it glistened like a jewel in the morning dew. Kids played happily on their lawns in the summer while their parents sat on their veranda’s discussing politics and numerous boring things that parent seemed to talk about. In the winter chimneys would belch out smoke and happy laughter would be heard from within each or every house.
Except at the end of the street where the ’riff raff’ of the street dwelled. Beer cans and cigarettes littered the gutters out side those houses. And dogs barked angrily from the backyards. Those were the worst things that Vale Street had to offer until an old man  with a full head of black hair and with a limp arrived at 13 Vale Street in the form of a yellow taxi. Then they had real trouble on their hands.

Chapter One
Two boys sat on the stony grey curb of Vale Street. (They were oblivious to the terror that was coming in the form of a yellow taxi that would arrive later that evening.)
One was obviously bigger, his belly sat contently on his meaty thighs. He was nursing a badly scabbed knee that was bleeding considerably. The clotted blood looked like an over ripened tomato mashed up on his knee. Blood dripped from his mouth in a slow stream. The other kid who was sitting next to him. Mitch was in stark contrast to the other boy Albert. He had a thin pale face that looked like Swiss cheese. His chicken bone arms lay quietly together in his lap. His sandy fine hair was stuck to his scalp in a sticky mess of soda pop that one of the kids had thrown over him. The two friends now sat, Mitch was chewing gum like a cow chewing its cud, which he had bought down at the corner store.

 They had tried to avoid the kids on their way back. The ones that teased them calling them ‘gay’ or ‘fatty pork chops and stick figure boy’ and other obscenities which were the normal for the two boys each day. They had met Jacob and his crew outside the shop, he was the leader of the gang that bullied and harassed them, he was a greasy teen with rotten teeth that looked like they were covered with some exotic green moss. His face was round like a moon. He had a thick mop of hair that had begun to curl grotesquely at the ends. His eyes were a pale washed out blue colour that you associated with madness. There were dark circles around his eyes that looked like they were painted on with muddy dull brown paint. Him and his thuggish friends sat smoking and drinking soda pop, most likely purchased from the very shop Albert and Mitch had just left. “Why look who it is” Jacob had said mockingly. “It’s Porky Pig and Pencil boy, out on a little stroll” Jacob said sitting up. He pitched his cigarette into the grass where it lay still peacefully burning. The smoke rising listlessly into the air where it then disappeared.
“C’mon” Mitch said as he grabbed Albert’s shirt to guide him away. “Oh look boys, Mitchy wants to be alone with the pig” Jacob laughed at his joke. His friends behind him laughed to, and made vulgar oinking noises. Mitch turned around quickly as if stung. Jacob flinched momentarily he didn’t expect the hate and defiance in Mitch’s dull brownie hazelnut eyes. He quickly gained his composure and he used his snake like tongue to deliver more criticism. “This little piggy went to the candy store to buy some candy” Jacob said mockingly. Mitch had to bite back a smile at Jacob’s immature and out dated taunts. “Don’t you mean this big piggy?” Jacob’s best friend Zach said stepping forward. Zach was a tall boy. He had long arms that looked like small branches because he worked out most nights. His dirty hair was pushed back over his fore head with a bandanna like that guy in the movie ‘Rambo‘. His cheeks were pitted with acne scars that looked like they were little holes that could be filled with water if it rained. He always wore a wry arrogant smile on his face.
 He stared at Albert menacingly.
 Albert stared shyly and fearfully at the ground as if he saw something of out most interest there that he couldn’t take his eyes off for nothing. “What you got to say, huh?” Zach said. As he walked arrogantly over to Albert. Zach bent down to look at Alberts sweaty red face that looked like a lovely big red shiny apple. “Talk to me fatty” Zach said with menace. He started poking Albert repeatedly with his free hand, the other was holding his can of soda pop some of the drink sloshed onto his forearm. Albert flinched at the touch of Zach’s fingers digging into his meaty belly. After every poke their was a slight pain in his belly because of Zach’s sharp finger nails. It felt like Zach was prodding him with a sharp pencil rather than his fingers. Zach’s ambition was to incite Albert into taking action. Albert murmured something that was to low to hear even with Zach pressing against his face.
 “What was that fatty?” Zach inquired gleefully. Standing upright once again. The crowd of boys made a semi circle around Albert and Mitch. There was silence. A far off car backfired down the block. It’s echo sounded like pistol shot in the still afternoon air. Mitch stared intently at Albert. He felt his friend’s mind churning for a comeback. Something that would break Zach’s cheeky dog like grin. Albert let a long sigh of hate or maybe it was fear. Mitch didn’t know which and he didn’t care. Because Albert’s neck craned agonizingly slowly upwards. He finally stared into Zach’s eyes with bitter and weary contempt. Like he had just lost a card game for the umpteenth time against the same opponent.
 Albert then licked his lips and spoke strongly,
 “If you are so tough” Albert paused momentarily and quickly scanned the scene. Four older boys smoking and all with bad reputations grinning like Cheshire cats right back at him. Waiting for him to falter, to fall to his knees pleading like a worshipper to his God. He did neither. Instead he continued still in that political strong tone.
 “Why don’t you clip your nails? Are you trying to be a drag queen or something? When you going to paint them, is your mummy going to help?”
 After Albert finished his small speech. Mitch let out a strangled laugh. Albert smiled radiantly at his friend. The two were in it for the long haul now. Zach stood stunned, he stared blankly at Albert. Never in his life had any one talked back to him or insulted him. A bitter rage began to build up in his body. His face began to take on the colour of a bright strawberry.
 “I’ll kill you” Zach said quietly through thinned out lips. It was a wonder that he could even speak. His free hand was mechanically clenching and unclenching. His hand that was holding his soda pop jerked out and it’s contents spewed all over Mitch’s hair. The action was robotic. His arm still was out stretched in the air like someone had hit the pause button and that this was a movie. Eventually his paralysis broke.
 “Quick Jacob make him pay” Zach said and then he spat a mixture of sticky sweet soda pop and salty saliva into Albert’s face and eyes. Albert was temporarily blinded by Zach’s spit. Jacob lumbered towards Albert like an ape. Albert had time to see, a large figure collapse on top of him. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he lay gasping for breath on the warm pavement like a fish out of water. Then all at once the gang of boys took advantage of Alberts defenceless state and they began to kick him repeatedly. There was a splintery snap as no doubt Zach’s raw hide boots connected brutally with Alberts gaping cave like mouth. Albert let out a cry of pain.
 “Hey what do you think your doing?” Mr McGrath yelled as he ran out of his shop. The door banging violently behind him in his wake. The boys stopped at the sound of his voice. They all decided that staring innocently at sky was the right idea. “Get out of here” McGrath ordered ushering with his hands. They all heeded and they ran like scared jack rabbits down the street. Mitch watched them go. He knew that wasn’t the last they would see of them. They rounded the corner and were gone from sight. He turned to face Albert once again. Mr McGrath was kneeling on one knee down at Albert. Mitch had a sudden thought that it looked like Mr McGrath was proposing to Albert as he lay out side his shop in a bloody mess. He let out small thin lipped smile and walked over to the two of them.

 So now the two friends sat together on the curb. Battle weary and now more fearful of the torment that the older boys would surely inflict upon them. Mitch lifted his head from the tarmac. A truck sped up the road like a tank. Its engine quieted down as it began to slow up. It came to an abrupt stop out side 13 Vale Street. The house had been on the market for years as far as Mitch knew. Not until recently had it been sold. The house itself was a rickety old weatherboard house that reminded Mitch of settler’s huts. It was the first house to be built on the street, Was what Mitch’s dad had said one day as they sat outside on the porch drinking iced tea.

The sweat had clung to his dad like he had dived head first into a pool still clad in clothes on that day. Because it was the hottest day on record for the town of Olington. He had been distant as he talked almost reproachfully of 13 vale Street. Mitch loved and to this day still loves his dad but in that small hour out on the porch he hated his dad for not telling him who lived in that house and for being so cold and non committing to speech. Mitch wished late that he had never brought it up in the first place.

 “Never go in there, okay?” Mitch’s dad said staring fearfully into his eyes. In that moment Mitch knew that his dad was scared, truly for the first time in his life his dad was scared out of his mind. He was sincere in his order and that it wasn’t no joke. “Why not dad?” Mitch said staring unbelieving into his Father’s eyes. He just turned away muttering something. Mitch thought it might have been. ’Evil place” but he didn’t know for certain. Then he had gone inside without another word. Mitch kept out of his Dads way for the rest of that day. Mentioning the house seemed to have aged Mitch’s Dad some five years. Mitch never mentioned the place again to his Dad.

So by now, two hefty men with tightly laced muscles began to move what little furniture that was in the truck. What struck Mitch as peculiar was the big cabinet with a big brass lock. The type you only could see in child’s picture story books. He dismissed it and he stood up. The sun was setting, it looked like a bright orange stone dipped in blood. Albert grunted as he attempted to gather his weight to a standing position. He wobbled momentarily but he gained his feet. The two friends headed off home. One with a rather big shadow following behind. Mitch said his good byes to Albert and he did the same. Mitch hurried inside for a bite to eat. He wondered if his mother had any cookies left.

Chapter Two
Albert’s mother was horrified at the sight of her son when he came staggering out into the kitchen like his father a drunk to the very end. Her mouth hung down near her chin, any more and it was apt to fall right off her face. Margery thought it was in fact her dead husband back from the grave. Why did you leave me Margery dear? C‘mon tell me? You think you were to good for me is that it? I‘ll make you pay, my sweet Margery. She had gripped the nearest thing to hand. A glass vase which she had bought at an op shop for 10 dollars a year ago. The glass felt cold upon her bony fingertips as if it was filled with milk from the fridge rather than air. “Ma” the voice sounded slurred. A shiver went through her fingertips up into her arm as if a feather were stroking her fore arm. A feeling
of that French word déjà vu ran through her mind.

She tightened her grip upon the vase. Absently thinking that it should have been her late husbands neck while he was sleeping. She could‘ve stopped his breathing as easily as flicking a switch. No more of the beatings or him coming home drunk, no more of that horrid bitter smell of vodka on his breath as he stood over her as she cringed crying into her blouse that was stained an auburn colour her own blood from her nose. Margery’s husband had died in car crash a few years back. A fat cop who was constantly wheezing coughing, had knocked on the door. Margery was sitting at the table reading a Harlequins. She looked up from her book like as if someone had mentioned her name at a dinner party. The knocked echoed around the house. Margery placed her book down upon her small wooden coffee table. She was slow getting up. The knock came again. Margery hurried faster towards the door. Her shoes clicking like spoons on the wooden polished floor. A huge silhouette stood in stark contrast to the frosted glass of the front door.
Margery opened the door. The door creaked on its hinges. Her husband was to useless to do any work around the house. Margery stood face to face with a huge pig eyed cop with a pair of tiny glasses perched on his nose which was had already begun the process of being absorbed into his round fat face. He took off his hate with one well practiced gesture. His eyes showed signs of regret. The cop opened his mouth to speak.
“Missus I’m…”
“His dead isn’t he?” Margery said cutting off the cops speech. She knew it in heart that this day would come. She felt no happiness or sadness. She just felt well, content.
“Yes car crash” the cop said gravely. He was spinning his hat around shyly. Waiting for the tears and the sobs. None came.
In the darkness of the night. Margery breathed in a huge breath of crystal clear fresh air. I’m free, she thought. A small smile was on her face. The cop eyed this suspiciously. It looked as if the woman was happy that her hubby had died. The cop whose name was Marty White. Would tell his mates when he hot back to the station. After that they watched a game of cricket. Marty never forgot the young woman with pale brown eyes.

Margery and baby Albert had moved to Vale Street the following month. 
     
Margery noticed that her knuckles were a milky white colour. The vase looked ready to snap under the pressure of her fist  The kitchen door burst upon she let out a scream and threw the vase blindly, it smashed harmlessly against the wall. She had her eyes tightly shut. Wishing that this was all a horrible dream and that when she opened her eyes she would be in the warm comfort of her bed room. Only when she heard the familiar voice of her son did she open them. Her fear turned to shock. Here her one and only son stood. With a bloody knee and grinning like a stupid thug. With blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “What on earth have you been doing Albert?” she inquired her mouth was an O shape in awe. “Oh Jacob and his mates whaled on me and Mitch” Albert said off-handily. He went to sit on his chair. Margery pulled him back with surprising strength. “Wait, Jacob Tyson?” she said thoughtfully. “The one and only” Albert said solemnly turning reluctantly to meet his Mother‘s caring gaze. “Zach was the one who kicked me in the mouth” Albert added. Margery quickly dashed towards the phone. “What are you doing, Mum? You can’t ring their house. They’ll kill you!” Albert said. Lumbering over towards his Mum where she was already dialling Zach’s house. Albert watched intently at the phone’s ringing sound. He was praying that no one would be home. His prayer wasn’t granted. “Yes hello, this is Margery from up the street. My son has informed me that your son kicked Albert in the head rather in the mouth. Is this true?” Margery said inquisitively. Albert leaned closer in to the earpiece. He was virtually leaning over his Mum and one wrong imbalance could bring all his 105 kilogram weight crashing down upon her, possibly breaking her back as easily as breaking a toothpick broken between thumb and forefinger in half. There was silence. Albert held his breath in suspense.

Mitch enjoyed a nice hot shower when he returned home. The shower felt refreshingly cool against his back. He lifted his head up to the faucet. Pleasant warmth flooded onto his face. He turned the taps off. He braced himself for the shock when the cold air would envelope him as he stepped out onto the cold tiles of his bathroom. Mist swirled around him like smoke. It tickled his face. Mitch reached for the towel which hung on the door knob. He dried himself.
Mitch picked up his clothes off the floor and put them on.
He stepped out into the hallway. Sounds from the TV reverberated down the corridor. He opened the door to the living room.
 His mother was watching some boring Elvis movie and she stared like a drooling zombie at the TV screen. She only grunted a greeting as Mitch entered from the hallway. With his hair smelling like a bowl of sweet smelling fruit. She just continued watching the movie.
Mitch’s Dad was sitting on a stool at the window. He was peering out the shutter upon the nearly black street. A few of the street lights were already on. They looked like lighthouse beacons fruitlessly fending away the inevitable shroud that was the imminent night. “Dad” Mitch said in puzzlement as to why his Father would be staring outside the window like some sick elderly paedophile. At the sound of his voice his Dad nearly fell off his chair. He cursed wildly swinging his arms around like he was attempting to juggle imaginary balls without much luck. He eventually got himself under control. Mitch watched this with little amusement. He stared coolly at his Father who stared right back at him. His eyes showed the same fear that Mitch had seen on that very hot summers day so long ago. “I. Must be going now Mitch. Its been a long day” Mitch’s Dad said slowly getting up and shuffling awkwardly up the stairs. Mitch heard a faint click like two spoons being tapped together as his father closed the door to his bedroom. With his Dad out of the room. Mitch silently walked towards the stool his Dad was just sitting on. He approached it tentatively, as if the stool would suddenly spring to life and move, sending him falling down to the carpet. Mitch carefully peered out onto the street. Eerily similar in posture to that of his Dad. Mitch’s house was nearly directly parallel to that of the old weather board house. Mitch could just make out the sign which read For Sale and with a sticker to one side saying Sold. As Mitch’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. He could then make out a small yellow taxi idling peacefully in the gutter just before the house. There was a man standing outside the cab he was obviously talking to the driver. Mitch couldn’t make out any of his features but that he looked rather old and hunched over. The man raised one hand in a wave it looked like he was saluting a member of the Nazi party. Then the cab sped off, it was immediately swallowed by the darkness. Mitch continued to watch the man. He stood still on the curb. Then he about faced and limped up the driveway of 13 Vale street. He abruptly stopped half way up the drive. Like somebody had ordered him to halt. Mitch could barely see the man now-just barely. Then the man turned swiftly around like Mitch had called to him. He stared directly into Mitch’s eyes. Mitch let out a gasp of fear. The man’s eyes flashed a dull red colour which lit up his face. Mitch saw that he was smiling evilly. Then it past and the man turned around and was gone from sight. Mitch leapt up off the stool like someone had thrown ice down his back. His heart was pounding in his chest like he been zapped with a defibrillator. He broke out in Goosebumps. He gulped, something clicked far back in his throat. If anyone were to walk in on him now. They would see a boy shivering like a wet cat and looking stunned as well. Mitch stood there for some time before going to bed. He dreamed of ghoulish creatures. Vampires sprang directly into his dream or nightmare like a sudden inspiration of a poet.

Albert lay on his bed. He stared dreamily up at his ceiling he seemed to be looking through it rather than at it. He kept replaying that short scene in the kitchen, where Zach’s mother had swore and abused his mother until she broke down in tears and had hung up the phone. Albert comforted his mother as best he could. Before taking his leave to his bed room where he read his comic books fervently. He looked like a man studying some great book which would give him the cure for cancer. As Albert lay on his bed his eyes began to get that heavy drunk feeling that was an indication that sleep was near. He was in the clutches of sleep. When he heard a high pitched squawk of protest and surprise coming from the street. It echoed in the still night air. Albert was too tired to give much thought to the matter. He slept soundly that night.

Chapter Three
Mitch sat at his table. He was drinking a Milo that he had whipped up in a half a doze, he looked like he was catatonic the way he walked around the room his eyes staring through everything. He was scared to close his eyes. He feared he may see the old man’s eyes. Glowing red like two red stop lights. Just then the phone rang. Mitch jumped in his seat. The phone’s ring was surprisingly loud in the quiet sleepy Sunday morning. Mitch cautiously approached the phone. He stole him self a few moments to gain his composure. Sweat had formed on the nape of neck. He lifted the phone to his ear. Hoping that it wouldn’t be an old man’s raspy voice.
“Hello” Mitch said quietly. Mitch let out a sigh. As he heard Albert’s voice coming through crystal clear.
“Hey Mitch I’ve got to go to the dentist later on today”
“Bummer” was all Mitch said.
“We could catch up now if you like?” Albert said conversationally.
“Yeah okay meet you outside my house in about five minutes”
“See you then man” Albert said happily and then he hung up.
Mitch was shaken. He scolded himself for thinking of something so absurd as that old man ringing here. And c’mon his only a man. Mitch thought. He left the kitchen in a much brighter mood.

The phone rang shortly after his departure. No one answered it. There was no message.

Albert and Mitch walked up Vale street. The birds tweeted merrily in the trees. Albert was cautious of Jacob’s gang. Lurking behind a parked car. He kept tensing as he walked past a car or shrub. Thinking that maybe Jacob would spring out saying “gotcha fatty” then flicking a switch blade and it would sparkle like a diamond in this sun. Jacob nor his gang appeared. Mitch was bouncing a basketball just ahead of Albert, it made a pleasant ’thwack’ sound as it hit the pavement. The two friends walked in silence until they reached the park just opposite the corner which leads into Vale street. The tennis court was cracked and in disrepair. The grass was at least half a metre high and was swaying serenely in the steady breeze. No one used the park now, only Albert and Mitch. This was their safe territory and they loved it. Mitch ran towards the hoop and laid it up into the ring. The ball went through the net with a ’swish’ sound.
“Nice” Albert said with enthusiasm. He stuck his hand out for a high five. Mitch slapped him one as he ran past to get the ball which lay in the tall grass. He grabbed the ball and spun around to face the net again. He eyed it like it was his prey. He began his shooting motion when he was struck by something hard on the back of the head. He dropped the ball in mid motion it bounced away towards Albert, who stood perplexed. His eyes were bulging like billiard balls in their sockets. Mitch was afraid to turn around. A small stream of blood coursed down Mitch’s spine.
“Yeah you got that sucker good” a voice squealed gleefully.
A wave of despair fell across Mitch. He knew who the voice belonged to. It was Zach.
“Watch out Mitch!” Albert screamed.
Mitch didn’t hesitate. He just sprang from his standing position with cat like agility. There was the sound of air being separated by something coming from directly behind Mitch. Mitch whirled around to see. Jacob and Zach come lumbering out of the tall grass like a couple of cavemen who have found the perfect animal to bludgeon. They each had that same Cheshire cat grin which they always seemed to have on their faces. Albert started crying. Mitch ignored this. His eyes were fixed on the two boys. He knew that he could out run them but he wasn’t going to leave his friend behind they were tear him to shreds. Mitch could read their faces like a book. They had murder written all over them.
“I’ll take fatty” Zach said as he rolled up his sleeve and advanced.
“No stop, wait” Mitch blurted out. Not knowing how to finish.
Zach stopped his advance.
“What?” He said staring back and forth between Albert and himself. Unable to make up his mind whether to listen to what the kid have to say or just continue and beat the hell out of his enemy. He chose the first option. He waited.
Mitch closed his eyes to think. Then it came to him in the form of a house an old weather board house on Vale Street. 13 Vale street to be exact.
“Did you hear that an old bloke has bought that old house?” Mitch said thoughtfully. His mind was racing ahead trying to come up with the rest of the story before the two boys lost interest and then would proceed to injure them both-severely.
“Yeah, what about it?” Zach said eying him with contempt.
“Ah, well after we left the shop yesterday” Mitch gulped. Then proceeded.
“I saw the old bloke checking out the house, so I decided to introduce myself” Mitch said thoughtfully.
“Get on with it you weed” Zach said  beginning to lose interest.
“Well anyway he said he was withdrawing a whole heap of money from the bank”
“And?” Zach and Jacob said simultaneously.
Mitch sighed he’d have to spell it out for them like a pre school teachers does for 5 year olds.
“You could steal it, take it for yourself. Like c’mon his an old man you guys are big and tough you could take him down easily better yet just wait till his gone and then loot the place” Mitch said this in a rush of words they seemed to flood from his mouth. The two big boys eyes lit up like a couple of lanterns as they dreamed of taking the money and going to the movies and buying a tonne of smokes.
“When will he get this so called money?” Zach said greedily. His eyes shifting around rapidly.
Mitch thought quickly, “I don’t know when for sure, give it a couple of weeks, you know how banks are these days?” Mitch said casually.
“Yeah” Jacob said dreamingly.
“Well you better tell us when or we will get you” Zach said with malicious sincerity.

The boys stalked off. They were laughing like a couple of hyenas and slapping each other high fives as they went.
Mitch let out a sigh as they rounded the corner and out of his sight.
Albert was sitting in the grass. His hands over his eyes. At first glance Mitch thought that Albert was crying. But on closer inspection he noticed that Albert was smiling wildly.
“Albert?” Mitch inquired. It was like a switch. At Mitch’s voice Albert burst into laughter he threw up his hands and head and laughed at the sky. He began to go red in the face.
“Hey calm down Albert I don’t want you to have a heart attack and die on me now” Mitch chuckled he was smiling to as he helped his friend to his feet.
“You fooled them Mitch, you did great” Albert was  beaming at his friend. Mitch had to look away from Alberts face or he would begin laughing again. Albert looked liked he was about to bust with happiness. They had finally out witted the boys that had shunned and oppressed them all these years.

It occurred to Mitch later that the old man wouldn’t have any money when the two boys broke in, and when they search the place they’d find nothing. Then Mitch would surely die. But in that moment he felt over come with joy as him and Albert walked back towards Vale street.
They had left the ball behind.

Chapter Four
Zach and Jacob were in a happy mood as they rounded the corner and back onto Vale Street. They had just scored themselves a whole lot of dough.
“Hey Zach what if that skinny sack of shit lied to us?” Jacob said. His voice had lost its earlier cheer-fullness.
The two older brutes stopped their walking, like they had agreed to do so simultaneously via telepathy. Zach’s upper lip was twisted upright in a sneer.
“Well” he said. He clenched his fists together until there were half moon circles on his palms from his sharp long fingernails.
“Well what?” Jacob inquired. He had never seen his friend like this. If some passer by mentioned to him that he looked like he could kill someone. Jacob would take there word for it immediately.

Jacob believed he didn’t have a murderous bone in his body. He just acted tough around his mates to look cool and to get attention. He enjoyed reading, preferably anything to do with fantasy fiction, Harry Potter especially.

But now as he gazed into his friends eyes. Zach’s deep green eyes seemed to shine like green emeralds. Jacob looked away up the street. Anywhere but his friends demented eyes and that smile. He felt confused and tired. Some where back in his mind. He found himself thinking that he should have never     befriended Zach in the first place.
“I will kill them, the fatty first” Zach spoke said viciously. Jacob turned his head back to Zach. His eye wide with fear. And as Zach continued.
“Then I would kill that lying skinny squirrel, maybe while his out playing. Or maybe I could just torch their house. Kill three birds with one stone so to speak. I could cleanse the street of the whole family”
Jacob believed every word Zach said.

Jacob and Zach walked in solemn silence. Jacob was contemplating breaking his friendship with Zach. He didn’t want to go down for murder. He just hoped that Mitch was telling the truth about that swag of money. But as he thought about it more. It became more and more unbelievable.
Why would that old man tell a young boy that he was getting a load of money, his mind whispered into his ear. It was like telling a guy the password to a bank vault. You just don’t do that sort of thing.
Jacob sighed. The kid was a dead man(boy). And he had no intentions of crossing Zach. Not when he got into one of his ’moods’
Zach walked a little ahead of Jacob. His hands were stuffed hard into his denim jeans. Jacob noticed that Zach’s finger was poking out one of the pockets. It looked like a worm. It was at this crucial moment that the two boys passed the bloody mess on the fence. Both were to preoccupied to notice.
They had reached the end of the street and Zach lumbered off to his house. He kicked at the beer cans that littered Zach’s front garden. If you could call it a garden. The front door had a crack running parallel down the middle.

Zach’s old man had come home one night drunk. He had staggered up the porch like a boxer who was about to be knocked onto the canvas. He was swaying his arms wildly around, he knocked a pot off the ledge as he went. He was yelling out incoherent orders to no one but the darkness. Zach had watched all this commotion from his bed room window. His Dad staggered up the steps and then had walked straight into the door.
“Hey you get outta me way” his Dad had slurred. He put his hands on his hips like a gunslinger. He waited for a reply.  Of course none came from the silent dark blue door.
“Right” Zach’s Dad said hitching up his pants. His left foot connected squarely with door. The door rocked on its hinges. The sound of timber splitting filled Zach’s ears in the silence.
Zach shivered like a dog with a chill as his Dad hip and shouldered the door like you do in a football match. He could here him panting as the door swung open. The hinges grated sickly as it did. Heres Daddy. Zach thought bitterly.
“Gimme a beer” Zach’s Dad said gruffly.

“Here’s Zach” Zach said as he opened the door to his house.
“Gimme a beer” Zach said with a dull smile.
He realised that he hadn’t said good bye Jacob. He dismissed it at once. Jacob was becoming a pain, any way. Jacob was beginning to be too small time for Zach now.
Yesterday after that gay loving shop owner had chased them off. Zach had wanted to smash the windows of McGrath’s shop.
Jacob had chickened out on the way there.
“Bloody chicken shit” Zach said walking down the corridor towards the kitchen.
Zach smeared snot onto his shirt. He looked down at it like an archaeologist inspecting a newly found rock specimen.
There was no beer in the fridge. Zach slammed the door shut in fury. He felt a dull twang of nostalgia. He was becoming more and more like his father. A cold ripple ran up his spine. He hated his father. The door banged shut from behind him. His mother came into the room. A cigarette clenched between her fingers.
“Piss off” she said.
Zach did. He stalked off out to the back yard. He lit up a cigarette, and contemplated murder.

Chapter Five
Mitch had waved to Albert as he and his Mother drove down the street to the Dentists.
His happiness was still ebbing from him like a beating heart. Once Albert’s car was out of sight he sighed a happy sigh and walked down the street. He didn’t have to worry about looking over his shoulder all the time now because Jacob and Zach would surely leave him alone until he told them about the ’swag of cash’
He passed his house without a second glance at it. His mum would be shopping and his dad would be out at work getting paid double for a Sunday shift.
He shifted his gaze to the old house opposite his. The grass grew all around the front porch and the glass windows were badly stained with mud and dust. Mitch hated going past it. When he did. He felt it following him calling him closer. He knew that this was a load of rubbish but the feeling never dwindled went away.
Mitch stood still looking at the house with bitter loathing. A car went passed. A little kid was in the back he looked out the window.
“Hey Mum that kids a zombie” the kid said pointing at the boy who stood transfixed at something that kid didn’t know and didn’t care.
“Don’t be silly Richard” his mum laughed. She looked back in the rear view. She saw the thin kid on the pavement staring blankly at nothing (or so she thought)
“Weird” she said under her breath. And she drove up the road and out of Vale Street.

Mitch realised that he had been standing on the sidewalk like a manikin. He blushed and quickly looked around. Phew he thought lucky no one was around to see him. He turned to leave. A sudden movement caught his gaze. He snapped his head back at the house. One of the curtains swayed secretly back at him and then they parted. Mitch turned and ran. He ran like he was an escaped prisoner. He risked a look back his heart thudding rapidly in his narrow chest. Nothing moved. The curtains were neatly placed together and they didn’t move.
“C’mon man your losing your mind” Mitch said to himself. Again looking around the street to see if he had been witnessed talking to himself like a schizophrenic patient.
He was alone. He walked slowly up the street some more. He had no idea where he was going. He just loved to feel the sun on his back it felt warm like someone had placed a freshly baked loaf of bread on his back. Mitch was nearing the big boarded fence that marked the boundary to the Mayberry’s property.

 The Mayberry’s were a good bunch. They kept to themselves most of the time.
 They had a little baby that reminded Mitch of baby boy blue. He was always wore blue clothing and his little tuft of golden hair looked like corn silk it always stood up like a feather in the breeze.

Mitch was whistling an un recollective tune. He stopped his whistling abruptly like someone had gonged him on the head. All the happiness drained away rapidly. As if someone had pulled the plug the bath and he was left cold and sad.
Mitch stood with unbelieving eyes at the fence.
Red stuff was splashed up the fence like someone had tipped a can of paint over it. Mitch crept closer. It became cold all of a sudden. The sun could no longer warm him up. He reached the fence. With one tentative trembling hand. He touched the red stuff on the fence.
“Blood” Mitch said blankly. It had congealed slightly and it felt like semi dried paint. He hissed and he bent down to wipe the blood from his hand on the grass. He stood up quickly like someone had poked him from behind. Mitch backed up. The blood drying rapidly on his fingertips. The grass was littered with feathers. Blood droplets glistened on the blades of grass. They looked like tiny paint brush tips dipped in red maroon paint. Feathers were stuck to his boots. He kicked out wildly. Some of the feathers fluttered off his shoe and onto the ground below.
“Bloody awful hey?” a voice said from behind Mitch.
Mitch froze. That old man did this. And now his here to kill me to he thought.
Mitch didn’t move, his shoulders were humped over to protect the blow that would come thundering down upon him in the form of a long knife that would cut his neck and would seed freshets of blood spewing like a fountain over the fence once again.
“Hey Mitch are you okay?” the voice of Mr Mayberry said from behind him.
Mitch relaxed and he turned around.
Mayberry tried hard not to flinch at Mitch when he turned around. He was as pale as milk and his eyes were clouded over with fear.
“It must have been a cat” Mayberry said trying to sound casual.
“Yeah a cat” Mitch said robotically.
“You right there Mitch?” Mayberry said inquisitively.
“Yeah I’m fine”
“You sure?”
“Yep” Mitch said wiping snot from his nose.
“Well I’ll clean this up shortly, you run along and have rest. You look like you need it” Mayberry said looking at Mitch with curious pondering eyes.
“Oh I will sir…” Mitch stopped mid sentence he went paler still as he spotted a big black shiny button laying in the grass it looked like a shiny polished river pebble.
Mayberry followed Mitch’s gaze. He saw the button but dismissed at once for being nothing of interest.
Mayberry rubbed his forehead in confusion.
“Well ah I’ll see you when ever” he said awkwardly and walked back up his drive his expensive suede shoes clicking on the cement as he went.
As soon as Mayberry left he grabbed the button and ran up the road towards his house.

He felt like he had aged 20 years since that house was sold. I’m becoming paranoid that’s all Mitch thought to himself as he ran past 13 Vale street and up into his pathway to his house.

 This time he didn’t see the curtain move and then two beady eyes glared out at him hungrily. They were watchful eyes as well. You could just his teeth they were bared maliciously at the boy. His eyes followed the boy until he slammed the door to his house across the street. The eyes then withdrew from the window and his mouth closed. Fog from the man’s breath had clouded the entire glass. There was silence inside the house. Then a squawk of pain erupted from within the small kitchen and then a cracking sound that sounded of chicken bones been stepped on. Slurping noises rose from the kitchen as the thing began to feed on its second kill. A big black crow.

Chapter SIx
Albert found himself sitting reluctantly in the waiting room at the dentist’s.
He hated waiting at the dentist or doctors. Even more when their were old ladies there too. Albert stared moodily at the comic book which was in his hands. He didn’t want to look up if he would, he would see the old wrinkly faces which were like saggy old bags looking back at him. With their false teeth smiling saying something like;
“ooo ain’t you sweet”
And Albert would stare shyly at the floor. Not wanting to meet their gaze.
The clock ticked quietly in the corner. Rounding off the minutes til he could get out of this horrid situation he was in. Something poked Albert on the right arm. He was startled and he cried out in alarm.
“Oi” he said rather loudly. He looked to his right. His mother was back from the toilet and she was staring back at him with wide curious eyes
“Albert don’t be so rude” she scolded.
Albert blushed and murmured an apology to the small crowd of people. They seemed not to care and they ruffled their news papers attempting to look occupied. Except the old ladies. They stared back at him and nodded their approval.
“Excuse me, I’ll see Albert now” a voice said from the dentists office. Albert jumped up like an obedient dog jumping up to catch a Frisbee. He walked causally into the dentist office his mother walked in behind him. The door closed. The old ladies watched him go. Then they resumed their knitting, the wool lay in lavish folds beneath their feat. They looked like they were racing each other.

Around this time Mitch was running home with the big black shiny button in his pocket.

Albert sat in the car looking unhappy. He was looking out the window at the rather dull scenery which consisted of houses, houses and more houses.
His mouth ached where the dentist had touched and prodded. He had given his mother some painkillers saying that ‘this would help’
Albert thought he didn’t give a damn about him or his pain. All he wanted was his money.
His mother drove, she sat upright like a statue. She didn’t talk to Albert on their way back. Albert didn’t mind. He enjoyed the quiet. He had time to think about what he would do when he got home. He glanced at his wrist watch. 12:30 stared back at him. His stomach growled with hunger.
He patted it gently like it was a dog. What he would really like was a big hamburger with the lot. He knew that this was only false hope. His mother had seen a commercial about Jenny Craig and she had ordered the kit and she now regarded it as her ‘bible’ Albert was her Guinea pig, and she had cooked and prepared the meals with the enthusiasm of a drill sergeant testing out some new recruits.
The car slowed down. Albert fluttered out of his day dream which consisted of him eating a big bowl of ice cream with strawberry topping.
The car rolled up his drive. Albert went to open the door before the car came to halt.
“Albert!” Margery exclaimed.
“Sorry Mum” Albert said quietly and he closed the door again with little regretfulness of his actions. The car stopped. Albert opened the door he just shut and he leapt out like a cat. He did it with little gracefulness and he lost his footing and was sent sprawling into the grass like he had been pushed. His nose was shoved into the grass. He could smell the bitter aroma of the grass blades. His mum got out of the car then. She walked around the cars front and up the porch steps and into the house without a glance back.
Margery’s favourite talk show was on, Dr Phil. She didn’t want to miss any more of it.
Albert picked himself up. He looked up the street to see if any one had seen him toppling down like a big aerobics ball. He looked strikingly similar to that of Mitch earlier on.
Once again the street was eerily quiet. Only a few birds twittered in the trees.
Unbeknownst to Albert one of the birds was calling out to its partner. Which had been savagely killed by a crazed mad man and then consumed by said man.
Albert didn’t know what to do. He looked long fully at his front door. His stomach growled hungrily. His hunger won and he ambled up into the porch and through the front door.
Albert could hear Dr Phil talking in his thick American accent. His voices echoed from the lounge where his mother sat with a mug of hot Milo in one of her smooth hands.
She stared just like Mitch’s Mum had the night before. She looked like a catatonic patient.
Albert smiled and he went into the kitchen to see what he could find to eat.

Mitch sat out on his porch. He had seen Albert’s ruby red car turn into his drive way. What he hadn’t seen was Albert falling out like drunk back from a bar crawl instead of the humble dentists.
Mitch was drinking an ice tea and watching the road. The ice tea felt refreshingly cool against his bone dry throat. Mitch had only seen a couple of cars go past. Vale Street wasn’t usually this quiet Mitch thought to himself as he sipped his drink.
Mitch didn’t look at the old whether board house across the road. He kept his neck craned to the left. A dull thud of pain had began to ebb into his neck. As a cramp settled in. It was like an annoying itch that couldn’t go away.
Eventually Mitch couldn’t prevent the inevitable. He jerked his head to the other side. He stared directly at 13 Vale Street. Nothing moved. The grass stood a foot tall and swayed like a towel on a washing line. The two dirty windows looked like muddy eyes that seemed to watch your every move. From Mitch’s advantage point he could just see the back path with the brown broken fence leading down towards the back yard. Mitch had never seen the back yard and he no intentions on doing so anytime soon. The black button was on the table to Mitch’s right. Mitch couldn’t identify anything abnormal or anything dangerous peeking out at him. So he turned his attention to the button.
He replayed the memory of himself seeing that old man staring back at him evilly. It was to dark for him to see if he was wearing a shirt with black buttons or not. He supposed it didn’t matter he knew that it had to be the man that had killed that bird. So what? Said a voice from inside his head. People kill birds all the time. Why the big deal Mitch me man?
“Because” he said. Unaware that he was talking out loud.
“Just because” he repeated thoughtfully. As he looked out from the porch onto the street he looked like a boy with a great deal of worry. It was etched into his face and into his eyes. His eyes had lost that happy sparkle that used to be there before that man had shown up in that taxi.
He raised his glass to his lips. The glass was empty. He had self consciously drained his glass while he was deep in thought.
He looked into the empty glass with solemn boredom.
He got out of his chair, his knees popping like toy pistols. Mitch then walked inside slowly. His back facing away from 13 Vale street. No beady eyes followed him inside this time.
He thought he may go see Albert later on. To see how his doctors appointment had gone. But another drink was number one on his list of highest priorities. His throat was as dry as the Sahara (Or so he thought) 

Chapter Seven

Jacob’s bicycle rattled down the street. Its rusty wheel rims grating together. Jacob stood up on the bikes pedals. He embraced the crisp wind, it felt like a fan upon his face. He felt like yelling ‘I’m the king of the world’ but regarded against it. He didn’t want his ‘tough’ status to be tarnished. In this moment as the sun beat down upon his face and wind rattled around his face and his hair blowing like fine cotton in the wind, Jacob was as happy as he could ever hope to be. If he saw the fat kid or maybe even the thin pasty boy he may have smiled at them or maybe even flipped them a wave.
Jacob rounded the corner. He was gathering a fair amount of speed. If a car was to round the corner at that precise moment they would have to deal with a dead boy and broken headlights.
No car came.
Jacob felt like he was a cyclist in the Tour de France. He had no real destination. I could ride forever. Reverberated in his mind. His legs were like pistons in a v8 engine. Everything was silent except for Jacob’s breathing and the wind whistling in his ears like a kettle that’s at boiling point. Jacob had a dull grin on his face as he looked up into the sky.
He had no idea he was about to hit a tall sturdy brown oak tree 10 metres away-head on. Jacob looked down at the last moment to see a big tree in front of him. He still had the goofy grin on his face when he collided with the oak. Jacob’s nose cracked with a sickening snap! As his face smashed into the tree rendering his body as limp as an unused puppet. He was unconscious. Jacob slumped beneath the tree his face gruesomely sliding down the trunk leaving a blood trail on the trees brown old rough trunk. A crow cried out in surprise as Jacob’s bike ricocheted off the tree and then thudded onto the grey curb. The entire front end of the bike was bent inwards as if it was imploded.
The crow cawed and ruffled its feathers in disgust it eyed the bike with ill contempt, a loose feather fluttered from its tail.
It floated lazily down onto the boys head.
Jacob was swimming in darkness. I ran into a tree. He thought in his mind. If he was awake he would have been smiling. He could feel sharp pains throbbing like a beating heart from his nose. This wasn’t the only thing he could feel though. Something sharp was poking him on his hand.
The crow flew silently down to the base of the tree. The big boy was still unconscious but he showed signs of waking. The bird hopped toward the big lump of mass at the foot of the tree. Its beak clicked rapidly-the sound of two coins being clicked together may make. The birds peculiar eyes stared at Jacob’s face. It lowered its black head and began to peck(hard) at Jacob’s hand. Hard enough to draw blood.
Jacob groggily opened his eyes. The world swam around him everything was blurry as if someone had poked him in the eyes or blinded him with a flashlight. He emitted a dull groan. He parted his lips the iron/copper taste of his own blood overwhelmed and he nearly fainted again. His head had started to become limp again. It seemed to weigh at least a 1000 pounds and even his strong broad back and shoulders couldn’t support him. Jacob heard a sharp cry of anger to the right of him. His eyes snapped open and his head jerked upwards, the back of his head hit the tree again. Another bolt of pain flared up and down his body and nose but dulled quickly to a throb. Jacobs body hurt all over but nothing was more important to him than that of the emitter of that cry. To Jacob it sounded angry and fierce, a voice of power.
Jacob slowly turned his head to the right, what he saw was a big black crow. It had a long beak which curved down like a scythe. What a large beak you have. Jacob thought but didn’t say. The crow and the boy stared blankly at each other. Jacob was fixed upon the crows eyes. The crow hopped onto his lap. Jacob showed no surprise at this action nor take any action himself. He was transfixed at the crows eyes. They shone like a couple of polished river stones in the sunlight. As it filtered through the trees. Except these particular ’polished river stones’ were in fact piercing blue. They were bluer than the sky overhead and even more than the Jacobs wallpaper in his room which had begun to peel in some places.
The eyes bored deeper into Jacobs own eyes. Then deeper still into the back of his mind even through the tree and beyond. It stared through him. But he was it’s intended target, the crow hopped up onto his shoulder. Jacob cocked his head to one side and as the crow began to whisper into his ear. Jacob began to smile a small wicked smile as it was.
A car drove past. The driver (whose destination was Melbourne airport)looked in his rear view to see a big boy nestled against a tree his head to one side, nose bleeding. He began to slow down. But then he saw the boys smile. A chill went down his back. He floored the accelerator. He wanted to get out of this little shit burg of town as fast as his small car would take him.

Later when he arrived home and kissed his wife he would tell her of the boy against the tree and how he smiled so wickedly, it had sent shivers down his back. When night had fallen and the wind howled around his house. A voice rose up in his mind. There was something with him, a crow perched on his shoulder. Only it was no ordinary crow was it” No it had a small nestling of teeth, didn’t it? 
The man groaned,
And it was talking to the boy.
“No” he yelled sitting up with a jerk. He slept no more that night. The beak looked like alligators jaw. All the teeth outside the beak.

Jacob staggered down the side of the road towards Vale Street. The blood from his aching nose had congealed in the hot sun and was now a sticky straight mark like someone with a paintbrush had painted on his face in red paint. He had his arms outstretched as if waiting to be hugged or may be to praise the saviour. He then tottered back drunkenly nearly falling to backwards onto the ground. His vision became blurry at the same moment.
Jacob stiffened and became quickly alert when a loud sharp screech erupted from one of the near by trees.
The crow thing (for that was what it really was) followed him all the way to his home at the back of Vale Street. A few dogs barked at the crow as it flew down behind Jacob as he reached his front gate. Jacob could have easily gone around it because his Dad (on one of his drug fuelled exploits) had driven dead on into the family picket white fence. Jacob could remember that day so well the smell of freshly drying paint and the laughter of his parents. He could picture it vividly for it was the last day Jacob’s Dad was ever sober or close to it.
Jacob absently kneed the rusty old gate. It succumbed stubbornly it screeched loudly. Jacob winced it sounded almost the same as the crow’s loud eerie caw.
The crow stood at the foot of the path watching intently at Jacobs back until it disappeared behind the faded red door.
It let out a satisfied caw and flew off back down the street. Its strange piercing blue yes flickered like a light bulb and then they changed to black then to a fierce bright red. It grinned its flawless with teeth glimmered like shiny pearls.
It was happy.