Circle Of Bones

Circle Of Bones

Status: In Progress

Genre: Horror



Status: In Progress

Genre: Horror



Set by the sea with its own Marina Village, Hythe was a town in which nothing happened during the colder months when all the tourists and boaters went away, so when a ten-year-old girl stepped out of thin air and merged with the black iron fence outside Saint John’s Church, Ivy Martin knew that something was up.
Share :


Set by the sea with its own Marina Village, Hythe was a town in which nothing happened during the colder months when all the tourists and boaters went away, so when a ten-year-old girl stepped out of thin air and merged with the black iron fence outside Saint John’s Church, Ivy Martin knew that something was up.

Chapter1 (v.1) - 1: A Strange Occurance

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 04, 2017

Reads: 39

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: June 04, 2017













Set by the sea with its own Marina Village, Hythe was a town in which nothing happened during the colder months when all the tourists and boaters went away, so when a ten-year-old girl stepped out of thin air and merged with the black iron fence outside Saint John’s Church, Ivy Martin knew that something was up.

Stood on the other side of the street, she stared in horror as the girl twitched. Blood streamed down the poles from the various puncture wounds, and trickled from her mouth and nose. She gasped once and immediately choked. Seconds later she was dead, a limp and broken thing propped up by the same iron bars that had killed her.

The street was silent but for the disquieting patter of thick liquid on concrete. A shiver went down Ivy’s back, and she considered her options. There weren’t many, and none of them appealed to her in the slightest. What was it that the Twelfth Doctor had said about bad choices? It’d been inspiring and dark at the time, but now she couldn’t remember. Without anyone to tell her what to do, and no witnesses around, she considered simply walking away, but it really did not sit well with her. So, with her hands trembling and fingers dug into the sleeves of her hoody, she crossed the road and stopped just short of where the girl’s blood pooled on the concrete pavement.

Long, lank hair the colour of straw fluttered slightly in the breeze, stirring just enough for Ivy to make out the expression on the girl’s face every time it lifted. She really wished the wind would die down so it covered the bulging eyes and open mouth. The flow of blood had mostly stopped now, though that made perfect sense since the objects puncturing her body were still there, blocking the wounds. If it’d been her legs that’d been caught, or her lower torso, the girl would have probably lived. Probably. She wasn’t an expert on these things so she wouldn’t know.

Now that she was near the body, Ivy found that she did not actually know what she was supposed to do. Poke her, maybe? A vague idea was there, hanging around at the back of her mind, and as she wiped her palms over the front of her trousers, it came to her, and her fingers quickly dipped into her pocket and pulled out her phone. It was a clunky old thing that her friends all laughed at and called a brick, but it served its purpose well enough, more so since it didn’t fall apart at the slightest bump, and she pulled up the dial option. Her thumbs froze over the thick rubber buttons. Who do I call? The police, or ambulance? Both? Unsure, she dialled the ambulance first then reported the incident to the police, who promptly commanded her to stay where she was and remain on the phone just in case. She wasn’t entirely sure why. The girl had stepped out of thin air and became tangled in the fence; it wasn’t like she’d been dropped by an invisible man.

Ivy did as she was told, however, and soon enough an ambulance and a small squad of police cars came wailing down the streets, their sirens muddled so badly by the confined space that they sounded discordant and indistinguishable. She waited until a policewoman walked toward her to hang up, so she could see that she’d done as told.

“Hello there,” the policewoman said, and put her hands on her thighs so she could bend down to Ivy’s level. “Are you the girl who called in the incident?”

Ivy stared at her, considered responding with something sarcastic and witty, but ended up saying, “Yep.”

“I’m Officer Janine Wilson, but call me Janine if it makes you feel a bit better, alright?”

Ivy just nodded. She didn’t bother to introduce herself since she’d already given her name to the lady who had taken the call.

Officer Janine paused for a moment to take in the gruesome scene, and to watch the passive-aggressive conversation going on between her colleagues and the medical staff. The paramedics wanted to get to the girl right away to check for any lingering signs of life, but the police didn’t want them to mess up any evidence. Turning to Officer Janine, Ivy raised her eyebrow and cocked her thumb in their direction.

“They did listen to what I said, right? I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but she really did just pop out of nowhere and get all caught up in the fence. There wasn’t anyone else here. Honestly.”

Officer Janine looked down at her, smiled sympathetically, and nodded slowly. “It’s alright if you didn’t see what happened to her, it isn’t your fault.”

Ivy stared up into that smile, and wished she could knock out some of those shiny white teeth. Digging her fingers deeper into the sleeves of her hoody, she turned her gaze down to the floor and pursed her lips into a thin line. Through gritted teeth she muttered, “I didn’t see who did it.” It was a lie, a great big fat one, but it was a lie the adults were more than ready to swallow, especially since it was one they wanted her to say. They didn’t want to believe in magic, even when they could see it, or when it killed children.

Officer Janine nodded again, her smile turned self-satisfied, and she straightened up, rolling her shoulders. “Okay, then, I’ll take you down to the station to contact your parents and get a written statement done.”

“I’ve got a phone,” she protested weakly, her eyes still downcast to hide the tears of frustration that were building up. Her cheeks were hot and felt swollen, though she knew they weren’t.

“That’s good, we can fetch your mother’s number off that, but we still need to go to the station.”

Ivy glanced up through her long dark fringe; Officer Janine watched her back, impassive as a stone statue, and she knew there was no use in arguing. Her legs didn’t want to move, but she forced them to, dragging her heels with every step. On the plus side, the scraping noise seemed to irritate Officer Janine.

Good, she thought acidly, serves you right for not believing me.




To anyone else, the interview room looked bleak and white, a void of light where no shadows could exist. Ivy knew better. There were shadows everywhere; they’re just not always very visible.

Sat in the chair opposite Officer Janine, she fiddled with the shadows down by her knee, weaving them through her fingers. The shadows moved like silk, rippling and folding in on themselves, and she could control them with even the most subtle of gestures.

There was another officer in the room with them, leaning across the table to turn off the tape recorder. The light flicked off, and she glanced up at him as he settled back into his seat beside Officer Janine. During the course of the interview she had learned that the other officer was called Marco Gainsborough.

She liked Officer Marco; he was nice, even if he didn’t believe.

“There we go,” Officer Janine announced, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Before Ivy could answer she went on, “Your mother will be here shortly to pick you up, so let’s take you back to the reception area.”

Officer Marco stood first, clearing the way for Officer Janine to pass him and head to the door. Standing, Ivy paused long enough to gather the shadow streams into a swirling black ball that she closed her fingers around, shielding it from view. She wasn’t stupid; as much as she wanted the adults to believe her, to believe in magic, she knew lots of them would go crazy if they actually acknowledged its existence. So long as it was at the fringes, they could ignore it, pretend they didn’t see anything and rationalise it, but head on? It’d cause mass panic. They would want to get rid of it, and the Salem Witch Trials would begin again in some countries.

So she kept it hidden, and allowed her sleeve to droop down over her wrist as she trailed Officer Janine to the door, catching a glimpse of Officer Marco’s lean face and wide blue eyes. They were downcast, level with her hand. Ivy stopped at the door and glanced back over her shoulder. Officer Marco hesitated, mouth slightly open as if he wanted to say something, then jerked his head and walked over, a smile now plastered on his face.

He’d seen the shadows, seen that Ivy could control them, but he hadn’t said anything. Why? It worried her; when one of her teachers in school had caught a glimpse of her holding a shadow-ball, they’d asked to see what was in her hand, thinking it to be a rubber ball. She’d managed to keep the shadow-ball together long enough to fool them then let it dissipate. This was different, because he didn’t say or do anything, didn’t try to expose what she had in her hand.

Maybe he does believe. Or maybe he knows.

Behind her, Officer Janine cleared her throat, and Ivy turned and stepped out into the hallway, her grip now so tight around the shadow-ball that she could feel it compressing and forced her hand to relax a bit. Hold on too tight and the shadows explode. She learnt that the hard way.

The walk to the reception area was a short but dull affair, with closed doors up and down the corridor, leading into rooms that looked like any generic office with rows of computers, old metal filing cabinets, and lots of bored looking employees. The only proper difference was that most of them wore identical pale blue shirts with badges on the left side, though there were a few plainclothes officers wandering amongst them. She wondered briefly how many of them were detectives. Not that many, I bet, she thought, passing through a set of double doors that Officer Janine held open. Ivy didn’t thank her, but Officer Marco did.

Her mother wasn’t here yet, so she was forced to take a seat in one of the several hospital-like chairs around a coffee table. It was uncomfortable, that chair, having a plastic-coated cushion to keep it clean. That was all very good, but her butt kept sliding off it, and she had to plant her feet wide, toes hooked around the chair legs, to stop herself from falling out of it.

By the time her mother came through the door, four passing officers had told her to sit up properly. She glared at them, told them that the chair was too slippery, and loosened her legs up enough to show what happened when she tried to sit upright. They laughed at her, and then left her to fight gravity.

Violet Martin talked with the officer behind the desk, and her face darkened with worry. As soon as she was able, she hurried over to where Ivy was sat. “Ivy!” she gasped, sounding relieved, and wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shoulders. “Thank god you’re okay! When the lady at the desk called and told me you were at the station, I didn’t know what to think. A murder in Hythe, of all places! And you saw it, my poor baby,” she murmured, pressed a kiss to her forehead, and spent a good few minutes fussing over the state of her hair.

“I’m fine, mum,” Ivy moaned, pushed her mother’s hands away, and stood. “Can we just go home now?”

Blinking, Ivy’s mother stood, brushed her own hair back off her face, and smiled. It was shaky, however, and didn’t quite manage to mask the worry. “Of course,” she replied, “let me see if that’s okay with the police.”

Mum. . .”

The conversation didn’t take long at all, to her surprise; the policewoman behind the desk explained that detectives might want to talk to Ivy themselves – though that was unlikely, since they had her statement recorded – and that they were welcome to call back in anytime if she remembered anything else. After that, they were given the all clear and walked out into the police station’s car park.  

© Copyright 2017 Charleen Langley (ClaireBearandMyrnin). All rights reserved.

Booksie Spring 2017 Flash Fiction Contest

Booksie Popular Content

Other Content by Charleen Langley (ClaireBearandMyrnin)

Popular Tags