Page 11 of The Cut
Condensation had formed in the vacuum between the triple layers of the argon window that spanned the rear wall of the ground floor.
Ben stood gazing out towards the woodland at the bottom of the garden.
The sun was cresting over the canopy of russet autumnal leaves, its golden rays diffusing through the glass.
A sudden wave of anger coursed through him as the memory of his father’s painful struggle in the last few months of his life passed through his mind.
Ben had made promises that he was unable to keep; there’d been no room for his father at the hospice and his final hours had been spent in a hospital corridor, waiting for a bed. He’d failed him.
Ben squinted as a beam of sunlight breaking through the drifting clouds blinded him momentarily.
For a second, the reflection in the glass was someone he didn’t recognise.
He was sixteen again and Mark Cherry was staring back at him through the surgery door; but as his eyes adjusted, the face looking back was his.
He appeared haggard and world weary. A deafening crash behind him sent an electric shock through his spine.
‘You didn’t eat your eggs!’ Dani was clattering around in the kitchen, loading breakfast crockery into the dishwasher.
‘We need to get that window fixed, the seal’s broken.’ He forced a smile.
‘I’ll call them on Monday. Not everyone works on Saturdays, love.’ Dani dropped the used coffee filter into the recycling. ‘Any plans for today?’ 56
Ben’s head turned back to the garden. He approached the glass again; this time, his fingertips touched the surface.
‘HEY!’ Without warning, he hammered hard on the glass. There was someone out there. He darted to the side door, yanked on the handle and stumbled out into the side return, socked feet pricking over sharp stones like hot coals. ‘HEY!’
His ankle caught in the jumbled mess of the garden hose, nearly tripping him. He shook off the coiled snake and darted around the corner. Hovering for a second, Ben saw a figure crouching at the bottom of the garden, hiding in the undergrowth. Someone was watching his house.
He strode purposefully down the lawn, not noticing his sodden feet on the wet grass. ‘What do you want?’ As he got closer, he saw the person more clearly and hesitated. It was a boy, small and rake thin. It couldn’t be …
‘Mark?’ The name formed on his lips and the sound rumbled in his chest as if he was feeling the word, not speaking it.
As he drew nearer to the boy bent over in the shrubbery, he heard Dani shouting from the house. ‘BEN! What are you doing?’
At the sound of Dani’s raised voice, the boy shot up and turned to look at Ben, who was now looming over him. Fear crossed the boy’s face as he looked down at the spade in Ben’s hand.
‘What are you doing here?’ Ben’s voice was brittle.
‘I … I’m sorry, Mr Knot. I was just … looking …’ The kid was utterly terrified, his fingers clenched into nervous fists at the ends of his skinny arms.
‘Mark …’ The name floated out again.
‘No … it’s Joseph …’ The boy took a small step back, stumbling on the stone edge of the lawn, never taking his eyes off the spade in Ben’s hand. ‘Can I have my ball back, please?’ 57
‘Joseph?’ Ben’s brow furrowed in confusion.
‘Sam kicked it, not me … Sorry.’ Tears filled the corners of the boy’s eyes.
‘All right, Joe, love … did it come over again?’ Dani marched up to them, out of breath.
She took his hand and started rooting through the shrubs.
‘There it is.’ Her foot slid under a hawthorn bush, fishing out a small white soccer ball with a Welsh dragon printed on the leather. ‘Here you go, trouble.’
‘Thanks, Mrs Knot.’ Joseph scuttled away down to the bottom of the garden and climbed over the fence that led on to a patch of scrubland by the edge of the stream. The kids still played over there, after everything that had happened on that piece of land. Ben’s brow furrowed.
‘What’s up with you?’ Dani frowned as she held out a pair of lime-green crocs. ‘And what’s with the spade? You frit the life out of him.’
Ben looked down to his hand. He was shaking. ‘I swear they kick it over on purpose.’ Ben slid his feet into the shoes and stabbed the spade into the flower bed.
‘Why? So they can spy on your deluxe eight-burner barbecue? I don’t think so, big shot.
’ Dani placed a hand on his arm. ‘I put more coffee on. Shall we take the kids to the cinema this afternoon? Be good for us all to get out …’ Her voice drifted off into the distance as Ben stood squinting into the dense woodland, shaking his head.
From the upstairs window, Nathan watched his dad standing in the garden.
He looked lost, disorientated, like a zombie from The Walking Dead .
He couldn’t remember the last time his father had made eye contact with him.
Maybe he was a zombie and too afraid of being outed and exterminated.
The ping of a message dropped into Nathan’s inbox with a jingling flourish.
Freckles 58 had sent a burst of firework emojis that filled his screen.
A rush of serotonin shot through him as he returned to the RetroFX site and logged on.
Three dots moved in rotation; his new-found friend was typing.
‘Are you a scaredy cat?’ Two cute cat-face emojis.
Nate typed, ‘What’s a scaredy cat?’ Three laughing emojis.
‘A pussy,’ Freckles wrote. ‘A wimp.’
‘No way.’ Sunglasses cool emoji. ‘Why?’
‘Check this out.’ Three more symbols slowly popped into Nate’s DM. A ghost, a camera and finally a scream emoji.
Nate typed a question mark. Freckles responded, ‘Click the link … this is right up your street.’ Wink emoji.
Nate moved the cursor and opened the link she’d sent. The screen flickered and a high-definition close-up of a shiny 50mm vintage lens from a film camera filled the frame. It turned slowly and an out-of-focus image grew closer and sharper in the reflection of the highly polished lens.
An orange streetlamp brushed the silhouette of a faun standing in the shadow with an umbrella tucked under his arm.
‘Come with me, Son of Adam.’
A graphic faded up briefly on the screen, then died.
Nathan had played Mr Tumnus in the Christmas play the year before and ever since then he’d been tapping on the backs of wardrobes, obsessed with The Chronicles of Narnia .
He felt stupid, like a little kid, but he’d re-read The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe every year since he was ten.
The faun with the umbrella leant in close to the screen and knocked on the glass; his eyes twinkled with a digital flare. A graphic appeared on the screen.
Are you coming or Knot? 59
Nathan blinked as the graphic faded. Knot was spelt with a K, like his surname. Was this some kind of a joke?
Mr Crow wants you … click the link.
Nathan racked his brains; there were no crows in Narnia. Friendly beavers and all kinds of other strange creatures, but no crows. Click the link. His fingers scrolled and the cursor tapped on the little box, shaped like a wardrobe. Knock knock and the doors opened.
I’m hunting for young storytellers to come on a brand-new adventure. A feature film made especially with you in mind.
As the graphic faded, a tiny bead of light appeared in the distance. The lamppost from the opening sequence.
This is a spine-tingling story: unlike anything you have ever seen before.
The darkness grew brighter as the lamppost came into the foreground, illuminating a tree-lined alley, leading to the silhouette of an industrial building with a tall tower.
Submissions before the end of October. Requirements below.
The curious faun glanced over his shoulder, waiting in expectation.
Well?
As Nathan read through the description in the article, his throat became dry and his fingertips tingled with excitement.
The brief outline of the film made the hair on Nathan’s arms stand on end.
It was spooky – frightening, even – but Nate loved ghost stories.
He wasn’t a show-off or a natural performer but when it came to 60 drama class, something special happened to him.
It always felt deeply personal and he could never talk about it afterwards, like trying to hold smoke in his hands.
He had the same feeling when Mr Tumnus tapped on the glass: it was just for him and no one else.
It made him feel special. It spirited him away from all the loneliness.
Nathan’s finger hovered over the track pad. The cursor moved slowly across the screen and he clicked again.
The figure standing by the lamppost winked, swung his umbrella over his shoulder and began to saunter down the lane into the distance. In a final flourish, more words appeared on the screen.
You’re in. Prepare to be spooked!