autumn_enigma (autumn_enigma) wrote,

My next fic...

Alright, I finished the first part of my new fic. This story is has a thriller/angst theme to it, but is mainly about Billy experiencing strange dreams, so much so he finds it hard to tell the difference between his dreams and reality.

In this story, there are certain things I have written, mostly in italics, like poetry and other things, which are things I have written myself, so do not take them or use them for yourself without my permission, but I’m sure you understand that anyway!

I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think. :)

Into Darkness, part one.

Into Darkness, part one

A small boy stands at the window. He watches as the lightning illuminates the sky and counts in his head one, two, three, four and then the rumbling of thunder follows-he closes his eyes tightly and bows his head very slightly. It’s almost as if he’s in pain over the sound. The rumbling stops. He slowly opens his eyes, blinks a few times and then looks to the window, listening as the rain roars against the roofs and chimneys, spilling over gutters and pounds against the windows. He thinks of how strange it is that there are storms in December-it’s not hot outside, not like in July or August.

He sees another flash of lightning this time, he only counts to three before the crash of thunder surrounds him again. There is only darkness in front of him and the dim glow of the table-light behind. He is engulfed in darkness. This time he closes his eyes and covers his ears. Pure terror grips his body. He has never felt such fear. It passes once again and all he is left with is rain. He opens the window; the latch is already wet from the small gap above the payne. The window isn’t very big, but he is small enough to fit through. He now stands upon the thin balcony-it can only be eighty centimetres in width and a small fifty in length. There’s only a small rail around the balcony, but it goes up to the small boy’s knees.

He looks back to his small room, the dim orange light of his table-lamp. The freshly made bed, the drawers and wardrobe. The room is complete. The room is perfect. It has everything in it that a small boy could ever ask for. But he doesn’t want the room and all its things. He doesn’t want a home in the greater parts of the city. He doesn’t want to be here, in this place, full of people he doesn’t know in a place he doesn’t belong. He wants to go home but knows that even if he did, he would only be brought back here. His door-handle moves down. Someone is coming in to see if he is alright. He doesn’t look back anymore. He looks forwards, waits for the lightning and stands against the rail. The bedroom door opens. The small boy jumps.

“Billy!” Dom shrieked.

Billy opened his eyes, confused at first at where he was but he saw Dom over him and his mind slipped into focus.

“Billy, it’s snowing!” Dom shouted.

Billy let out a small sigh and allowed Dom to drag him to the window. Snow in Glasgow was not a rare thing, but Dom’s excitement was inexhaustible. Billy smiled softly and nodded.

“Go outside then-let me get some sleep.” Billy said.

Dom grinned and looked to his friend’s tired face. His expression changed and he looked to Billy with great concern.

“Billy, did you sleep okay? You look really tired.” Dom said, softly.

Billy smiled and nodded.

“Yeah, I slept fine.” He answered quickly.

Dom frowned. He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t the first time Billy’s nights had been restless through disturbing dreams.

“Really Dom, it was fine,” Billy said.

Dom nodded and looked back to the window.

“I’m going to get dressed, and then we’re going outside. Billy get dressed so we can go outside.” Dom urged.

Billy sighed and half-wished he hadn’t invited Dom over for New Year. He shuffled Dom out the door and nodded.

“Get out, then. Make me a coffee and I’ll consider going outside.” He said.

Dom smiled. He nodded and quickly made his way back to his own room.

It wasn’t long before the two were outside wrapped up in scarves and coats-and Dom wearing his beanie. It was only a short walk from Woodlands terrace to Renfrew Street, but Billy had insisted on using the car. Dom had disagreed and said they had to walk because it was too icy to drive, despite the salt-grit and he wanted to walk in the snow, even though it was below freezing. Billy gave into Dom’s constant urging and agreed on walking instead.

“Did you hear the sirens last night? There were a lot more than usual.” Dom said.

Billy nodded.

“I noticed that. Maybe something happened in the city or something. I don’t know, maybe the preparations for Hogmanay are causing trouble.” Billy mentioned.

Billy shoved his hands into his pockets and walked a little faster. It was freezing today and even though had had three layers on he was really feeling the cold. Dom smiled as he carefully cupped a handful of snow without Billy’s knowledge and within seconds, he’d thrown the ball of snow against his friends back, only to be met with a snowball to his face from Billy. The scuffle lasted for only a few moments before they spotted a small crowd of people around one of the houses.

“Do they do it deliberately? Do they sit outside and wait for us to come along?” Dom asked, with slight aggravation.

“I don’t think it’s for us, Dom.” Billy said, picking up his pace as he saw the yellow strip around the steps and fence.

“It’s a crime-scene, not a fan gathering.” Billy concluded.

Dom’s eyes widened and he followed after Billy towards the gathering. The press were already there taking pictures of the scene yelling questions and demanding answers. Other people wept and looked on in shock and disbelief.

“I don’t think we should go down there, Dom. I don’t think it’s a good idea-especially with all the press.” Billy mentioned.

Dom nodded and followed Billy back down towards Bell’s Court. They headed back inside the apartment and decided to wait for a while before going back outside again. Dom turned on the television and flipped onto the News Channel.

“Oh god, Billy, come here.”

“The child, who has not been named for legal reasons was said to have been unhappy for sometime, though the reasoning for his death is still unclear. One witness said she had seen the boy jump from the balcony unaided, though another has since said otherwise. Emily Thompson is being held in court under suspicion of the boy’s death although there has been no sufficient evidence as yet. Police are still monitoring the scene and all other children have been moved into temporary accommodation until the bulk of the investigation is complete.”

Dom raised his eyebrows for a moment and looked to Billy after letting out a small sigh.

“Bloody hell, what do you think happened?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” Billy said rather sharply.

Dom frowned slightly but Billy said nothing more and left the room.

Billy clambered under the covers and curled up into a tight ball. He closed his eyes tightly; a slight frown creased his forehead. He bit his lip and tried to swallow back the tears. The curtains were still partly drawn but Billy could see the large chunks of white snow feathering down outside. He didn’t want to go back to sleep-in fact he wasn’t even tired, but his eyes were heavy and the more he curled up the more he found it harder to stay awake.

There’s a clock in the room,
Upon a pitch-white wall,
The clock is a deep black,
There’s nothing else at all.

The hands of the clock are a loud tick-tock,
No other sounds but that of the clock,
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

But time isn’t moving despite the sound,
The whole room is empty-there’s no-one around,
The clock is a shadow on the pitch-white wall,
There’s nothing else there-nothing at all.

The hands of the clock are a loud tick-tock,
No other sounds but that of the clock,
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

The whole room is empty,
Aside from the clock,
Nothing but floorboards,
And the loud ticking clock.

Who would’ve though time could be lonely?
As it stands all on its own,
The shadows against purity,
Is the boy standing all alone.

The hands of the clock are a loud tick-tock.
Until the day time stood still,
And something precious was lost,
Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick tock

That was the day silence replaced the loud tick-tock
For that was when the loud clock stopped.

Flashing images, a graveyard, a church, the clock on the wall, black on white, white merging into intense brightness, the black shades melting into grey. The boy is running, the flashing images are quickening, a home, a child, an empty playroom, a mother, a daughter, a swing in a garden, a father a son, a sixth birthday party. A bedroom, a candle, a flash of lightning, a car crashing, the clock ticking, the sounds growing louder as the seconds pass the minutes, all in black-there are people all in black. A graveyard, a funeral, tears, another home and then another, screaming, crying anger and hurt. So many images and so much pain. Too much pain. The boy stops running. He faces Billy and smiles. Another flash of lightening with a dark crash of thunder. The boy screams and pulls out a gun. The boy aims and pulls the trigger, the sharp click of the stopper and then the release of the bullet.

Billy woke up; his heart was pounding in his chest he was in a cold sweat. He caught his breath a few more times and went to the window. He could see the children’s home from his window. It now stood dark and tall against the grey winter sky. The yellow strip around the building and the police outside made Billy feel very uncomfortable. He gave out a small sigh and decided he needed a nice mug of coffee. He went through to the living room expecting Dom to be watching television, but Billy’s body froze as before him, Dom was hanging from a noose tied to the light.

I feel:
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