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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Boy is walking home when he realises that two juveniles are following him. He tries to get away from them and gets lost.
What do they want from him?

Submitted: May 05, 2013

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Submitted: May 05, 2013



It was mid-winter and it was getting dark. A young school boy of eleven was rushing back home as quickly as he could, he had earlier spotted two brutish looking thugs observing him. At first he had not thought about it however when he had turned his head, he had seen them jostling along the crowds in his direction. He had taken a deliberate turning in to another street, his first mistake. The two juveniles tailed him from a reasonable distance; the boy was beginning to get frightened. He increased his pace to a short jog, which was difficult since he was slightly plump. He turned in to another unfamiliar street; his brain was frozen in panic. He did not notice where he was going; his first priority was to get off the streets. He began to panic as the teenagers increased their pace. What did they want, his money, his new watch? His mind was racing with horrors. By now the boy was quite lost in a maze of unfamiliar streets. He noticed that the area was beginning to look trashy and less maintained. He took one last turn into a dark alley way, he had not noticed, but there were no more pavements, only large bins and a huge barbed fence. He tried to retrace his steps out of the alley however the two men were blocking the entrance. The boy ran back and tried desperately to scramble on to the bins in order to jump over the fence. He fell on his legs and yelped out in pain. The adolescents approached slowly as though enjoying his hysteria. “Well, well, well, what have we got here?” Sneered the first man, he was tall and lean, with jet black hair and a nasty smile. As he fully turned, the little boy cried in surprise, the other side of his face was massacred by a long vile scar. The youngster began to sob; it soon turned in to a high pitched wail. He now deeply regretted not having stayed with his group of classmates. He had gotten fed up with their snide remarks and merciless taunting.

“Shut your mouth” the other thug snarled, “it won’t help you now” he added cruelly. “What do you want?” the young boy whimpered, “Don’t ask questions” the man with the scar snapped. The boy stared at him through his geeky round glasses and the man noticed that if it went for the glasses, he could have been extremely handsome. However his black hair was greasy and reached to his shoulders, giving him an extra studious and lonely look. What had gotten these two thugs interested in him in the first place was his father. The boy lived with his divorced father in what was almost a castle, in one of the richest areas in the U.S. “We have a little task for you” the Delinquent said, his eyes glittering maliciously, taking another step forward, now dangerously close. The young boy took a step back his foot accidently scratching against the fence. The barbed wire clawed against his ankle leaving a red mark on his previously white socks.

His throat felt dry and his voice had subsided. “What do you want?” he croaked. “Now that is more like it” the other teenager said his voice slightly calmer. “We want you to do is bring us your father’s bank account details” he said with a crooked grin. The boy stared at them in disbelief, “I don’t know my father’s account details”. Both of the attackers stepped forward and cracked their knuckles menacingly, their eyes like a hunter stalking its prey. “We did not expect you to” one of them replied, “But that is what we want you to find out” the other added. The boy suddenly realized that he could not lie; he knew that they would never stop following him and all of a sudden it did not matter. He had never been happy, or at least not since his mother had left when he was just three years old. His father never had time to spare him and at school it was probably the worst part of the day. With him having to face a crowd of bullies who’s only interest was to hurt him with a constant stream of ugly words.

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