Young Writers Society

The buzzing throng of students moved at a sluggish pace through the main gate as the afternoon sun baked their faces. Jason had been on-edge all day, constantly keeping his actions in check, making sure he made a good, normal impression. Now that the day was over, he was both relieved and exhausted. Caleb had remained at his side all day – his first true companion. As wary as he felt he should be, Jason was still excited to have a contact other than his father saved on his mobile phone.

“Wanna come to maccas?” asked Caleb.
“Can’t, sorry bro. Gotta go straight home.”
“Isn’t little jacey-poos allowed out on his own?” Caleb teased.
“Get stuffed, I’m grounded,” Jason lied with a wicked grin.
“What did you do?”
“To be honest, I can’t even remember.”
Caleb’s obnoxious laugh racked Jason’s head in for the millionth time that day. “Well, see ya mate.”
“Bye.”

Jason set off on his half hour walk home through twisting streets that, at every corner you turned, revealed the glare of the setting sun. When he finally ambled down his drive way he heard muffled yelling from inside his house.

Jason froze. Through the front window he had a partial view of the living room, and his father having a heated discussion with someone who was just out of view behind the heavy green curtain.

Shoving his sweaty fringe out of his eyes, Jason dumped his school bag by the front door, then crouched in the garden below the front window, peering through the grimy glass into the living room. He saw his father’s face twisted with anger as he stood in the middle of the living room, yelling at… the wall.

Something shifted in the shadows of the room’s corner, and a figure stepped forward. It wasn’t even a person, just a figure, a dark silhouette, striding towards his father. His father continued to yell, his words hard to distinguish.

“He’s not the one-” something, something, “It isn’t time-” Confusion and worry swelled in Jason’s gut. The figure kept walking forward, until it passed through Jason’s father, and disappeared. Picton cut off mid-sentence and sunk to the couch, head hanging low.

Jason backed out of the bushes and straightened up. The movement caught Picton’s eye, and next thing Jason knew the front door was opening and he was being grabbed and dragged inside.

“Gettof me!” Jason shrieked. “I wasn’t eaves dropping, I swear!”
“What did you hear?” his father demanded sharply, shaking him.
“Nothing! I swear to God!”
“Don’t say that name anymore,” Picton hissed.
“What? God?”
The house creaked.
“Yes, that,” Picton’s eyes flicked around the room, as if he was afraid someone would hear. “What did you make of my conversation?”
“Conversation? All I could see was you yelling at- at the wall.” he must’ve imagined the shadow
“Fucking hell Jason!” Picton sighed in exasperation. He released his eagle-like grip on Jason’s shoulder. “Whatever you heard, forget it. Don’t spy on me ever again, ok son?”
“Yes, dad.”
“Go to your room.”
Jason stomped up the stairs and ran into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Queensland was much hotter than his home town, the climate during the walk home was enough to sap Jason’s strength and leave him in a sweaty heap. He headed straight to the shower, dreaming of being older, being able to move out and start his own life.

His life now, was not one he would’ve chosen, but he would do the best with the cards he’d been dealt. He hated living on the border between his father’s world and the world normal people see. Hated all the secrets and all the lies, the darkness that followed him and his father where ever they went. Or were they following it? His soul revolved around sorrow and anger, and nothing could save him from his impending doom.

He could feel it, growing closer - brewing like a storm. It was like thunder in the distance; tell-tale signs that his life would end sooner rather than later. He remembered a time when he was eight years old, caught crying in the bathroom by a teacher. “Why do you think you are going to die?” the school counsellor asked when they sent him there. How could he answer? What words was there to explain this feeling?

The shower was refreshing after the long, boring day at school and Jason relished the five minutes he could let the cool water run over him. When he stepped out of the shower he wrapped a towel around his waist then looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Despite his large appetite Jason was sort of skinny and average height for his age but he could pack a punch like hell. A thick curling black tattoo snaked its way across his collar bones, twisting and crossing over itself. He couldn’t remember skin ever being bare there, the tattoo had been with him all his life, changing over time – not just from him growing; it grew with him, spreading and receding and curling in different places. He had a theory that it wasn’t a tattoo, but a living thing. Jason knew better than to ask questions of his father. He was more likely to get an ear bashing than an answer.

Relaxed after the cool shower, he flopped onto his bed wearing nought but a towel. Moments later he was clenched in the grasp of sleep.

Jason found himself upon a grassy hill, standing in front of a tree naked of leaves and plagued with the pallor of death. The rain spewing from the black sky above felt as cold as ice on Jason’s face, as did the wind that lashed around his body. The branches of the dead tree clawed pointless at the sky as the strong winds whipped them around. Above the howling wind a voice called to him, “Your path is chosen.”


Jerked into consciousness by an intense ill feeling, Jason glanced around, wild eyed. His room was dark; the alarm clock beside him read 7:39. Beads of sweat ran down his bare chest, then, the reason he had woken – a barking filled with fierce protection echoed through his open window. It was his dog, his one true companion, Sabre. Gentle, kind Sabre. Intelligent, protective Sabre.

Jason lurched to his feet, dropped the towel, and yanked on a pair of shorts. As he thudded downstairs the barking grew louder, then he was out the backdoor, searching for his big black dog in the vast dark night.

The impenetrable darkness that spread endlessly before him held naught but the unknown. He was unfamiliar with his new home’s backyard. “Sabre!” he called, rubbing the goose bumps on his arms. Sabre whined, then his barking continued. Jason headed inside, knocking over cardboard boxes as he tripped down the cluttered corridor. As he’d suspected, a chunky black torch sat upon the stool by the front door. When he had reached the back door once more, his dog’s barking had ceased.

“Sabre?” Jason called uncertainly, stepping into the chilly backyard. The grass was dry and dead beneath his feet, and full of bindies. Jason swept the torch beam across the backyard, almost missing Sabre completely. The beam of light backtracked, then rested on the huge black dog.

A thing hulked on the fence – a silhouette of something – something not of this world. Cat ears pricked up on its head, but the tail hanging down the fence was more like a wolf’s. The thing had humanoid limbs, but in the darkness Jason saw its eyes flash orange. A growl rumbled through the darkness that did not belong to Sabre, then the thing perched on the fence leapt away into the night.

Braving the prickles and the things that go bump in the night, Jason rushed forward to grab Sabre by the scruff of the neck. “Come on, inside.”

The flickering light of the TV poured through the open living room door, accompanied by a waft of macaroni cheese and coffee. Sabre followed the smell, nudging the door open wider for Jason to follow.

“Didn’t you hear Sabre barking?” he asked Picton agitatedly.
Picton didn’t look up from the TV. “Yeah, so?”
“He was barking at this bloody freakin’ demon.”
“Really? Cool.” Picton sipped noisily from his coffee mug.
“Cool?” Jason said, alarmed at his father’s offhand attitude. “Dad, aren’t you gonna go kill it?
“Why? Did it scare you?”
“It’s a demon, you’re supposed to kill demons, it’s what you do.”
Picton, impatience finally getting to him, glared at his son. “You don’t know a thing about what I do. Quit pestering me and piss off.”

Jason gritted his teeth. For so long he’d just accepted everything his father said. For so long he’d just lived that way, submissive and obedient. But now he wanted answers.

Why were they doing this? What was the purpose? Why not live normal, happy lives? He wanted friends, he wanted a girlfriend, he wanted to vacation to the snow, away from the heat. He wanted to play soccer in the park, and visit his grandparents, whoever the heck they were.

He turned around, and walked away.