Ashes

[Lethal Nizzle]

 

one

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• If a dictionary's definitions were to refer to real-life people, the word "isolation" would instantly connect directly to Kieran Reed. The boy was the epitome of a depressed, lost soul who felt like he had no place in the world he lived in, where he had been abandoned by all the friends he knew in an act that he would never understand or forget. The event had happened one year prior to Kieran's fourth year in secondary school. He had just come back from the summer holidays, and was eager to see his friends again. But it wasn't to be. When he managed to find his best friend, one Jacob Marshall, he discovered that Jacob, and the rest of his friends didn't want anything to do with Kieran anymore. Kieran, who thought it was a joke, persevered to talk to his friends, who continued to shun him.

 

Kieran didn't get it; he hadn't changed since the summer holidays. Perhaps he had tanned slightly after a holiday to Tenerife, and a slight growth of his hair. But apart from that, Kieran was the same boy who had waved goodbye to his friends at the end of the last school year. The question was, what had happened to his friends during those six weeks of holidays? The exact same thoughts played over and over in Kieran's mind as he sat through his second dose of History for the day. He was situated near the back of the classroom, due to his personal preference of not wanting to listen to his teacher, Miss Harris, drone on and on about how America was a melting pot for immigrants. Kieran was doodling in the margin of his exercise book which could've doubled for an Art book. The amount of scribbles and small drawings seemed endless.

 

Jacob Marshall and the rest of Kieran's former friends were sitting at the front, not paying attention at all to Miss Harris, as were most of the class. There were three of them including Jacob, talking amongst each other and occasionally glancing back at Kieran himself. Kieran had heard his name mentioned a few times, even from the back of the classroom. Yet they were calling him by his second name, which angered him further. Kieran ceased doodling and leaned back into his chair. As he did, Jacob turned behind, meeting Kieran's cold glare.

 

"What the hell are you lookin' at." Jacob half-whispered across the classroom. Kieran gripped his pencil tightly. The cheek of him, he thought, his eyes narrowing for a split second. The cheek of him to not even mention my name.

 

"Why are you acting like you are Jacob." Kieran snarled through gritted teeth. Jacob's blank face was still wearing the wry smile he had adorned since the beginning of the day. "Why are you acting like I don't even exist?"

 

It wasn't the first time Kieran had asked Jacob that. He had continually asked him throughout the day, and each time he was met with a simple shrug. As if on cue, Jacob lifted his shoulders and dropped them, letting out a small sigh. Kieran was getting more agitated, and could feel a hot sensation spreading across his face. Miss Harris had glanced back suddenly to see what the chatter was all about. After a few seconds of silence, the teacher turned back to the whiteboard and carried on teaching the small population of students that were listening. Kieran's knuckles were slowly turning white as his grip further tightened on his pencil.

 

"Say something Jacob," Kieran's voice got slightly hoarser, as his emotions were starting to surface. He was never one to hide his emotions, and right now he was upset and close to tears. "Why are you ignoring me?"

 

Once more, Jacob shrugged, and the boys flanking him began to laugh. Kieran looked down, squeezing his eyelids shut. A few other boys joined in with the hushed laughter. Kieran was close to boiling point. Dropping his pencil coolly on top of his word-less page, Kieran stood up, letting the legs of his chair scrape annoyingly across the marble floor. But the teacher didn't turn, obviously enveloped in her own teaching. Kieran left his desk and began to walk down the aisle of tables towards Jacob. His former friend didn't look up from his book as he continued to laugh with his buddies, oblivious to the fact that Kieran was fast approaching. Then, when he was barely centimetres away, Kieran lunged for Jacob.

 

Kieran began launching both fists into the other boy's head. Each time his balled up fist made contact with Jacob's face, it hurt Kieran both physically and mentally. Miss Harris turned round to see the scene before her, and let out a large intake of breath. Jacob was now protecting his face as ieran continued to swing for him. Jacob's friends were now jumping in, landing shots on ieran in various places. ieran was starting to hurt all over, but continued to hit his tormentor. By now Miss Harris had ordered one of the other students to alert other members of staff, and the boy had returned along with a higher member of staff who had just happened to be patrolling the building.

 

Suddenly Kieran felt large arms wrap around his chest and pull him away from the brawl, and the same happened to the friends of Jacob. As Kieran was dragged out of the classroom he saw the carnage he had caused to Jacob. It was obvious that his nose was broken, and already bruises and cuts were forming. Jacob's cronies were calling out to Kieran, including various threats and insults in the same sentence as his name. Kieran retaliated with insults of his own, before the classroom door was shut and he was pulled down the corridor. The man that had a hold of him was the Geography teacher in the room opposite. Kieran continued to try and escape the man's grip, and eventually did when he sent a sharp elbow into the man's gut. By the time the man had recovered his stance, Kieran was a floor below and scampering out of the school premises.

 

Since it was last lesson, the buses had already gathered at their respective bus bays, and some students were already gathering there. Kieran began to duck and dive throughout the crowd, pushing and pulling people out of his way as he tried to worm his way out. His house wasn't far from the school itself, so it wouldn't take long for Kieran to seek refuge there. He didn't dare look behind him; he could hear rapid footfalls from behind him and constant shouts of "oi" and "come here". Kieran soon ran out of pavement and was now weaving his way through static traffic. Horns blared around him as he jumped up and down off various vehicles, eventually meeting the other pavement. Then Kieran looked back. The traffic lights seemed to turn green as soon as his feet made contact with the pavement. His pursuers were stuck on the other side, trying to persuade the drivers to remain still.

 

Kieran let a small laugh escape his lips as he carried on running, several pairs of eyes casting over him as he did so. Kieran began to smile as he turned sharply into a corner. For the first and probably last time in his life, he began to thank the London traffic system out loud.

______________

Here comes a four-part short story, that was inspired by earlier work of mine (an actual would-be entry for the first SSOTM). I would like to thank beforehand, Masterkraft, for supplying ideas for this small series.

 

It revolves around a teenage boy, who has a strange power inside of him. When he's tormented by former friends, the power unleashes itself when least expected, destroying everything Kieran Reed once had. To add to his woe, a shady organization begins to tail Kieran's every move, but what is their purpose?

 

I'm always open for ideas, critiscm and cookies.

Edited October 20, 2008 by Lethal Nizzle

[The Unvirginiser]

Liked it, can't wait to see what's made them act differently towards him. I'm eagerly awaiting the next chapter.

 

One thing you need to work on is expanding your vocabulary, if you use a word too many times, type it in to an online thesaurus and find a similar word with the same meaning.

 

There was an entire paragraph where you seemed to miss the first letter off characters' names, which is evidence that you should proof read.

 

Try not to use character's names too much, Kieran did this, Kieran did that. Get some variation in there.

 

Apart from them grammatical mistakes, the content was good. Improve and keep it up, a lot of potential coming from you Niall.

 

 

[Lochie_old]

 

I can only guess where this will go. Looking forward to it!

[Oxidizer]

Like it! And Kieran's a fine name.

[Lethal Nizzle]

 

two

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• It was approaching mid afternoon, and most of Saint Hart's Comprehensive pupils were either home or hanging around. One particular pupil had left school a few hours early. Kieran Reed was now walking down his street. He had ran non-stop since leaving the school grounds, stopping only once to catch his breath before propelling himself forward once more. His burgundy tie was stuffed in his pocket and some of his shirts buttons were undone, letting the cool air soothe his sweaty, aching body.

 

Kieran looked back for the umpteenth time since the beginning of the pursuit. Once again his vision was greeted by a barren road, with a few cars dotted around either side of it. A couple were holding hands up the far end of the road but apart from them, Kieran was the only breathing thing walking down the road. His throat burned for water and his heart was beating against his ribs in agitation. Kieran felt and looked a mess; his unkept hair was wild, with clumps of it sticking at odd angles.

 

Kieran stopped at the house numbered forty-two; his house. Pushing the black iron gate forward slightly, Kieran made his way down the cracked concrete path. A football and a rusty set of goalposts adorned the grass, which was starting to over grow. He stepped up onto the porch and pushed the door handle down, unlocking the door. Stepping in, he looked up to see his mother facing away from him, preparing dinner. He could hear the television, which meant his father was present also.

 

Cautiously, Kieran started for the stairs but, before his feet could plant themselves onto the steps, a voice came from the kitchen.

 

“Kieran, come here.” His mother's voice was hoarse due to the number of years that she had smoked. A waft of a familiar smell confirmed that she was smoking then, probably poisoning the very food she was making.

 

Kieran cursed in a whisper and made his way down the hallway, hanging his tie up on the banister as he did. He arrived in the small, compact kitchen that came with most small houses. His mother was hovering over the chopping board. “Yeah?”

 

“I had a phone call earlier from your headmaster.” Mrs Reed began, not taking her eye off the carrot she was about to chop up. “'said an incident happened, involving you.”

 

“Yeah, I can expla-”

 

The rhythmic sound of the knife Mrs Reed was holding hitting the board interrupted him mid-sentence. He watched carefully as the carrot was cut up and pushed to one side. He only hoped his outcome would mirror the carrot's.

 

“He said, in great detail, that you assaulted Jacob, your best friend?” Mrs Reed retorted, with a hint of disbelief in her voice.

 

“Y'see, Jacob's been acting real weird lately and-”

 

It was the next carrot's time to shine. In a similar fashion to its predecessor, the carrot was sliced and pushed to one side. Kieran was steadily getting annoyed with being interrupted and cleared his throat. The chopping ceased.

 

“He's been ignoring me, taunting me as if I was never his friend,” Kieran finally finished his sentence. “He's changed over the holidays, and I don't know why..”

 

Then Mrs Reed turned, showing an ageing face that had been with her since her early twenties. She had black wiry hair with strands of grey here and there. She didn't appeal to anyone as a nice person, due to her menacing look, and these presumptions would be correct. She wasn't a very nice person to Kieran.

 

“So you hit him? Repeatedly, I quote the headmaster saying himself.” Mrs Reed was still holding the knife, and Kieran was trying to keep his eyes on the piece of cutlery, glancing between his mother's face and the knife to say for her to put it down. She did. “You might've given him brain damage!”

 

“He deserves it for the way he's treated me!”

 

Then a sudden crack filled the air, reverberating off every solid surface in the kitchen. Kieran felt a hot pain across his cheek and saw his mother's hand in mid-air. The force of the slap had thrown him a few paces backward. He wore an expression of nihilism; his own mother had struck him across the face, making Kieran feel more alone and angry than he already was with the loss of Jacob as a friend.

 

Without making a sound, Kieran spun on his heel and retraced his footsteps back down the hallway. He could hear his mother continue to chop up vegetables. His father hadn't moved since he had come in, but he never did. Kieran caught a glimpse of him; a fat mound of flesh and bone, surgically attached to the one seater sofa he resided in for most of the day. Kieran wanted to spit at him; he never supported Kieran since he was born, and always stood by the decision that Kieran was a mistake.

 

Kieran made his journey up the narrow staircase, across the smaller landing and into his room. Just as he had left it this morning, his covers were thrown on the floor, which was populated with empty DVD cases, and a few leftovers from a pizza which he had consumed well over a week ago. Dismissing these things, Kieran flung himself on his bed.

 

Kieran felt his eyes glaze over, but he didn't want to cry. He held the tears back, forcing his face hard upon the pillow. He could hear in the distance his mother and father talking, but he couldn't care less what they were talking about. Most probably they were conversing about him, and Kieran didn't want to eavesdrop.

 

So Kieran lay still, moving only to turn over and face away from the door. He had locked it before going into his bed, and he could hear his mother knocking softly on the door, sobbing slightly. He didn't bother replying and blocked out all sounds bar his own breathing. Soon, his eyes clamped shut and the four walls of his room faded into darkness.

 

*

 

• It was in the early hours of the morning that it happened. The Reed household was deathly still and quiet, yet low grunts and mumbling could be heard from the upper level. Kieran was writhing uncontrollably; he was lying in his own sweat and his vest had been pulled off him. His sheets were off him and lying on the floor like they had been hours before.

 

Unbeknownst to the slumbering boy, something inside of him was trying to get out. A secret force locked up inside of the boy's body was slowly beginning to resurface from its dormant lair, and Kieran's body was feeling the full force of it.

 

Kieran's gagging noises became louder and louder as the force inside him was winning the battle to escape. He rolled over the side of the bed, landing painfully on the open DVD cases. Yet he felt no pain; the real pain was inside. Then Kieran screamed as his arms felt like they had been dipped in molten lava. He lashed out with his hands, hitting his wall several times. The pain was unbearable, but it would subside.

 

Seconds later it did.

 

Suddenly the windows of number forty-two smashed into tiny fragments, and the unmistakable smell and sound of fire struck up. The once cool temperature had risen to well over boiling point; the fire alarm had started beeping only to be shut up by large orange flames; the fire's source was Kieran's room, but more specifically, Kieran's arms.

 

His room was like a furnace; everything around him burned instantly. Kieran however, was still asleep, but standing, his arms spread before him as if he was playing the piano. His parent's room took the brunt of the blast, its inhabitants didn't have time to scream as a blazing inferno enveloped them and melted them alive.

 

This went on for well over a minute. The house turned into a beacon of light itself. The door was thrown off its hinges and onto the concrete path, where it slowly turned into dust. Somehow the fire hadn't spread outside and into the garden. The blaze was contained inside the house's four walls.

 

The fire emitting from Kieran's fingers had stopped abruptly, leaving Kieran surrounded by an inferno that he had caused by “accident”. The sirens of the emergency service vehicles couldn't be heard over the crackling flames, which were increasing in size and mass.

 

Kieran Reed was trapped in his own creation.

______________

 

~PhusioN~: Thanks man! I hope it satisfies you.

 

Oxi: Thanks! Yeah, it's an uncommon name, so I chose it for that sole reason.

[The Unvirginiser]

Badass Niall!

Glad to see you're taking criticism on board and improving. Keep it up!

[Rhoda]

Glad to see this building up steam Niall, I'm glad to see you working on this. When I heard the idea at first I was loving it, I recall quite the lengthy conversation over it. Nice work with grammar and spelling, I can hardly put a finger on anything. Keep this up.

[Lethal Nizzle]

A small update; a giant English coursework assignment has just been finished by moi, so I no longer need to see those darned Jane Eyre pages again! I'm hoping I get a good grade, I put loads into it.

 

Anywho, chapter 3 is taking shape, and it's going to be a little longer than the previous two chapters, and will also be very informative. So, heads up.

 

Will: Thanks mate!

 

Craig: Thank you!

[Lethal Nizzle]

 

three

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• The boardroom was situated on the fifth floor of the moderately tall office building. The room itself was very much open to the public eye; a large window that stretched from one end of the wall to the other wall was in plain view from below, and the black shutter blinds that would usually smother the view inside the room were pulled up; a long glass table took up most of the space in the room, with leather chairs sitting on all sides of it.

 

Some of the chairs were occupied by men in expensive looking suits and slicked back hair. The men seemed anxious, sending glances down to the man sitting at the head of the table, in front of a large plasma screen television. The man seemed the oldest of the dozen men that populated the room; he was short and round, with a head of pearl white hair and matching teeth.

 

“Gentleman, I've brought you all here today to show you something. Something that we've all grown accustomed to in today's world and society.” The man began in a deep voice. His white smile turned into a grotesque, twisting grimace.

 

“Another supernatural being has been found, yet this time, much closer to home than I would've imagined!”

 

“How close Rochester? I don't want to send my men all the way to Vietnam like last time!” The man nearest to the old man spoke out. The man wore a dark green suit and black rimmed glasses, and spoke in a hushed voice.

 

“In this very city in fact.” The man called Rochester replied. Spinning round in his chair, Rochester flicked a switch underneath the desk and the television flickered into life. The screen showed a typical news bulletin. A man and woman sat behind laptops and a desk; they looked fake, as if they had been cut out of cardboard and painted seconds before. As the title music faded out, a small news feed appeared to the top right of the screen and a rolling marquee appeared at the bottom.

 

“Good morning this is the news today with Gordon Jennings and Angela Gorge.” The male newsreader shot a brief smile to the camera before adapting his expression into a more serious one. “Police are investigating a suspected arson attack in West London today after a council home exploded into a fireball in the early hours of this morning.”

 

“The fire happened at a house in Pedigree Avenue at approximately two o'clock this morning. A family of three were known to be inside at the time of the blaze, and thus far no bodies have been found. Valerie Thomas has more.”

 

The newsroom then cut away to a scene of a burnt out house situated between two identical houses. A woman was stood before the camera, clipboard and microphone in hand. “That's right Angela. Residents of Pedigree Avenue awoke early this morning to what they thought was 'the sound of a bomb exploding'. Right behind me, forensic teams have just entered the house after a hours of constant battling between the inferno and the fire-fighters called out of bed to deal with the blaze.

 

“Officials are calling the fire and accident, and thus far aren't pointing any fingers-” Suddenly the woman was interrupted by a shout from inside. A figure clad in white emerged from the doorway, beckoning for the fire-fighters, who were about to leave, to come in. The news reporter seemed bewildered. “I think something has been found inside the premises. Fire-fighters have been called in.. they're just entering the house. The whole second floor has been levelled, and the ground floor has been described as 'a labyrinth of debris'.”

 

There was a short pause in both the report and the boardroom. The green-suited man's vision was switching between Rochester and the scene of the burnt out house behind the woman. Rochester was watching the screen keenly, hand placed firmly on his cheek, showing interest. Then two firemen emerged from the house carrying what seemed like a dead body. The green-suited man exclaimed aloud. “By God!”

 

“Angela, Gordon, are you getting this? A body has been pulled out of the wreckage. But- but-” The woman's jaw went slack and the camera immediately panned to the body, which was beginning to move. Then the boy's mouth moved and a cough rang out.

 

“Valerie, is the boy alive? Can we confirm he is alive?”

 

“Yes Gordon.. he is. I'm not sure how, but- he hasn't got a scratch on him!”

 

Sirens instantly blazed as the ambulance waiting on standby whirred to life; its engine started up and the driver hopped out of the seat to open up the back doors. A paramedic inside the hold of the ambulance pushed a stretcher down. One of the firemen took it and folded it out and, very carefully, the bare-chested boy was lifted onto it. The camera cut back to the reported, who had a hand pressed to her mouth in shock.

 

Rochester then flicked the switch again, and the screen turned to black. He looked around the table to see a few shocked, pale faces. Rochester smiled his now trademark smile.

 

The whole nation had just witnessed the aftermath of what Kieran Reed had done.

 

 

*

 

“Kieran.. Kieran..”

 

Kieran Reed felt like he was floating; his arms felt as if they were close to falling off, and he couldn't feel anything below his waist. But for some, unexplainable reason, he was in ecstasy; he could feel himself smiling. Why was he smiling? Why was he smiling after what he had done to his parents and his home? Kieran didn't know; he presumed the morphine was getting to work, but he was wrong. His body was relieved that the power it had struggled to keep under lock and key had been finally unleashed.

 

Kieran couldn't identify the voice that was calling his name, but it sounded female. His eyes were slowly flickering open. A green blur formed in his vision; Kieran blinked and reopened his eyes and, ever so slightly, the blue refocused. Kieran repeated the process twice more and suddenly, he was staring into the eyes of a female nurse standing over him. She had sandy blonde hair, tied into a tight bun. Her face was rounded and covered in all sorts of make up substances. The name tag clipped onto her blue blouse said “Mandy”.

 

“Kieran? Kieran Reed?” The nurse began. Kieran opened his mouth, but a fresh wave of pain flushed up through his neck and his mouth promptly closed. He gave a quick nod.

 

“How are you feeling Kieran?”

 

Kieran struggled to speak. He could feel his voice box cracking under the pressure that was being pushed onto it by some unseen force. But finally, his voice came through in a hoarse whisper. “Hot.. what.. what happened?”

 

“We're not sure. You were caught up in a house fire, and we found you trapped underneath a dresser.” Mandy looked down at her clipboard. “But you were.. unscathed. No visible damage done to you.”

 

“What?” Kieran frowned. But the nurse was right. He brought up his t-shirt and looked down his chest, expecting to see third-degree burns, but only saw a bruise on his abdomen from where the dresser had dug into him. “Where.. where's my mum and dad?”

 

Mandy looked nervously down at her clipboard, using her right hand to scratch at her cheek. “Kieran.. I'm sorry; you're parents weren't found in the house. We found a necklace..”

 

“Gold, with a locket?” Kieran whispered. Mandy opened her mouth but closed it. She bowed her head and ran a finger up the spine of her clipboard, showing an immense wave of sorrow in the situation she was in. She solemnly nodded. “No..”

 

The tears came instantly; glowing streams of it trickled down from Kieran's eyes and down both sides of his face. He couldn't speak, he felt his tongue being pulled back by his gag reflex. He wanted to vomit, but he couldn't. What was happening to his body? Suddenly a knock came at the door and a suited man walked in. The man was tall, with a hoop earring in his right ear and a goatee; sunglasses were pushed over his forehead, which was unusual since the weather outside was far from sunny.

 

“Nurse Lee, may I take Kieran away now?”

 

“Away.. ?” Kieran seemed to catch a grip of himself quicker than Mandy would've expected him to. He spoke with a serious tone, yet he couldn't hold back a fresh barrage of tears that were now cascading down his slightly flushed cheeks.

 

“Mr Reed I'm Eric Dolan; I was a friend of you father's, we worked together in the not to distant past.” Eric began, taking a few steps closer to Kieran's bed. “We've heard that you're in a fit state, which is very good news. We have some questions for you regarding finances, stuff like tha-”

 

The door behind Eric swung open, startling all three of the people in the room. The man who had stepped through donned the stereotypical police uniform; a black flak vest with a walkie-talkie, a white shirt, black trousers and matching boots. The man seemed slightly overweight, and very out of breath.

 

“Nurse, is it okay if I take Kieran for a minute or two?”

 

“Officer Adams.. I thought you no longer needed-

 

“Please Mandy, we need him. Mind if we use the waiting room adjacent from here?”

 

 

*

 

Kieran was lying back against a leather sofa, legs hanging over one arm and his arms hanging over the other. He was sapped of all strength, and every minute movement he made caused a wave of slothfulness to set his muscles back to rest. He had just finished a brief interview with Officer Adams. The interview only consisted of five questions, each asking for backgrounds of both his parents, himself, a few neighbours and any problems in school. Kieran had left the final question, answering with a shake of the head, hiding the whole Jacob Marshall situation under wraps.

 

After Kieran was certain he was going to slip into an endless slumber, the waiting room door opened and Eric Dolan barged his way past the nurse who had opened the door. A shorter man entered behind Eric, dressed in a similar manner.

 

“Kieran! Keery-Keery-Kieran! Right..” Eric spoke out in a cheery, almost fake voice as the door behind him slammed shut. “I hope the interview with the officer didn't bore you to death.”

 

The shorter man moved from the door and sat down opposite Kieran and next to Eric. His eyes didn't move from Kieran's gaze, and he constantly twitched in his right eye. Kieran had been taken aback by the optimistic sounding voice of Eric, which suddenly sounded the opposite when he cut across Kieran.

 

“We know what you are Kieran.”

 

Kieran raised a brow and a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, which was a strange feeling after all of the trauma he had experienced in the last few hours, having being told he had possibly killed his parents. “What?”

 

“This morning in the early hours, something sparked inside of you which we have seen happen many times before. You're supernatural Kieran.” Eric took his glasses off of his forehead and folded them up, Laughing, he began again, “You're not a superhero by any means. After all you did overcook your folks...”

 

Kieran suddenly sunk into his seat. Were these men trying to cause the already overflowing guilt inside of him to increase? Either way, Kieran retaliated. “What the f*ck? How do you know this?”

 

“My boss- our boss,” Eric shot a quick glance over at the short man opposite him who, with one hand, began to reach into his pocket for something. “is a man with a vast amount of knowledge on this subject. You possess the most common of these abilities, if you will... the ability to control fire, correct?”

 

Nothing escaped from Kieran's lips. He was eyeing the man's hand, which was digging deeper into his jacket pocket. Kieran was expecting a weapon of some sort to be pulled out, but instead a lighter coated in the Italian flag colours. The man swiftly struck up a light. Kieran watched as the man gingerly held the lighter towards Kieran, nodding once to indicate for Kieran to do something.

 

 

*

 

“Make it bigger.” The short man spoke with an American accent, but it had the roots of an Italian voice.

 

“I can't! I mean, I didn't even know about this power until a few seconds ago when you told me!”

 

“Do it Kieran.” Eric leaned closer to Kieran, only adding more pressure onto the him. Kieran's words were getting caught up in his throat, and a muttering sound only came from him. The American man was getting impatient, holding the flame closer to Kieran. Kieran closed his eyes and tried to relax; he tried to block out the two men's faces and tried to focus on the challenge set for him. He clenched his fists in hope that some sort of force would snap on the “power” inside of him. But nothing came, much to the dismay of Eric and his associate.

 

“Listen Kieran, you're not Obi-Wan Kenobi. We've heard anguish sometimes triggers these abilities. So.. you gotta get real angry at something slash someone. Anythin' you can think of?”

 

Kieran at first thought of the very man who had just spoke, standing in the doorway of his house. But another figure came into his mind's eye; Jacob. Kieran opened his once closed eyes and stared directly at the fire, feeling its licking embers pressing gently at his face. Kieran thought back to his last conversation with Jacob, in class only the day prior. He remembered how he jeered as Kieran was close to boiling point. He could hear Eric, who's voice was merely a whisper to him. Suddenly, Jacob Marshall's face seemed to paste itself over Eric's, and the overwhelming feeling of hatred washed over Kieran. Then, without warning, Kieran struck.

 

Pushing his right hand into the short man's own hand, Kieran managed to throw the lighter into his face. A high-pitched scream ran out and, in the madness that ensued, Kieran stood up. Eric did the same and fished into his own pocket for something, and this time Kieran knew what it was. He saw the black body of a handgun slip out of Eric's pocket and lifted in front of him. Before Eric could aim at Kieran, the said boy had dived behind the very seat Eric was once sat on. The jump was mistimed, causing on of Kieran legs to nick the top of the sofa; this blow had enough force to bring the sofa down backwards, bringing along a startled Eric. The burnt man was clutching at his face in pain as the sofa disappeared behind him.

 

A shot rang out abruptly, causing Kieran to yell out. He had hurt himself from the jump, but promptly got into his feet and half-ran and half-limped out of the room. The corridor was now a scene of terror as nurses cowered behind stretchers and a few black-clad police officers were taking refuge behind the opposite walls. Kieran stormed forward, his loosely-fitting white t-shirt tailing behind him. Taking a sharp left, Kieran nearly collided with Officer Adams, who had emerged from another room with a can of pepper spray held before him. Kieran almost stopped to laugh at the unbalanced weapons between Eric and the officer.

 

Eric emerged from the room pistol drawn. He fired another shot in front of him, hitting the noticeboard above one of the vacant stretchers. “sh*t! sh*t sh*t sh*t!”

 

Eric kept one hand holding the gun while he reached into his black trouser pocket; pulling out a white flip phone, he pushed a number followed by the call button. Quicker than expected, the call patched through.

 

“Yes Dolan?” The soft voice of Rochester came from the other end of the phone.

 

“Rochester, he's escaped! The damn kid escaped!”

 

“Cool it Dolan, we've got it covered. We're gonna let him do his great escape, but he won't get far. He's all over the British news, he's bound to get- what in God's name is that darned bawling in the background?”

 

“Falcone sir, he got attacked by the kid... yeah, hey Falcone!” Eric yelled back into the room, Falcone's screaming ever present. “The boss said you might wanna get some ice on that!”

 

“Now is not the time Dolan!” Rochester said coolly, sounding not one bit anxious over the escape of Kieran Reed. “Pull out of the hospital, regroup with the fire team in the parking bay. It's time to eradicate Kieran Reed from London and life itself.”

______________ Edited December 13, 2008 by Lethal Nizzle

[Rhoda]

Great chapter, nice and lengthy and really tackles a lot. Again, there's very little criticism I can give, though I did notice a few things:

 

 

“Gentleman, I've brought you all here today to show you something. Something that we've all grown accustomed to in today's world and society.” The man began in a deep voice. His white smile turned into a grotesque, twisting grimace.

 

I'm fairly sure that the full stop highlighted should be omitted completely, or at best a comma depending on your intention. It occurs a few times, so this suggests it's a writing habit rather than a one-off. Not really a concern then, but I'd bear it mind.

 

 

Kieran Reed felt like he was floating; his arms felt as if they were close to falling off, and he couldn't feel anything below his waist. But for some, unexplainable reason, he was in ecstasy; he could feel himself smiling. Why was he smiling? Why was he smiling after what he had done to his parents and his home? Kieran didn't know; he presumed the morphine was getting to work, but he was wrong. His body was relieved that the power it had struggled to keep under lock and key had been finally unleashed.

 

This is something I particularly liked and for unknown reasons, though it's most likely the delicate balance of description and narrative. There's just enough here to keep us going and not think the story's being over-satured with heavy description.

It's also good how you address Kieran by his full name at the beginning; sounds very official and even clinical and adds that touch to me. I can't quite put my finger on it but I quite liked this bit.

 

As a plus, the disappearance of his parents is dealt with rather well too; you see just how threatened Kieran feels and it shows. Not to mention the build of tension that occurs when he's about to be taken away is superb also, it feels like The Matrix almost! Good chapter Niall, bring on the fourth.

 

 

 

 

[Lethal Nizzle]

Thanks a lot Craig, the criticism has been taken onboard I assure you. I'm starting to draw up a draft of the finale as we speak.

[Lethal Nizzle]

 

four

part one

______________

• Parkour, or l'art du déplacement, is a physical activity where a person gets from Point A to Point B with speed, overcoming obstacles in precarious ways. Luckily for Kieran Reed, some knowledge of the art form lived in his brain and he didn’t know that one day it would come into use. It began watching videos on a video-sharing website, complete with tutorials for various moves. After a few months of learning from these videos, he began exploring his neighbourhood via free running and, for once, he felt alive. But switching back to the present, he knew that he was the length of a hospital car park away from certain death.

 

He knew that the people that were after him were armed, after a brief skirmish with two agents inside one of the waiting rooms. Kieran reached the main exit out of Accident and Emergency, still wearing the big white t-shirt, turquoise blue slacks and white plimsolls that were the clothing items of patients in the hospital. He would stick out against the civilian public if he wore the patient uniform he had on. But instead of stopping to think where the nearest clothing store he began to run, weaving in and out of moving and immobile vehicles and people to escape.

 

Suddenly a black coupé swung around the rear of the hospital building, where the garages of the ambulances resided. The windows were blacked out, which caused the people around to become suspicious of the driver, who was driving rather carelessly. The man behind the wheel was Eric Dolan, who was rather shaken up after him and his colleague, who was now under police surveillance while being treated for his burns, had been outwitted by a fourteen-year old boy.

 

“Crow, Toxteth, get ready,” Dolan looked forward, wearing a twisted grin. “It won’t be hard to spot him.”

 

The men called Crow and Toxteth reached underneath their seats simultaneously and retrieved a sub-machine gun each. The Heckler & Koch MP5 was universally used by Special Forces; most notably by the British Special Forces branch the SAS. The two men pulled the folding stock back and flipped the safety off. They began to press the guns against their shoulders, getting a feeling for the weapon. Crow then muttered, “We’re ready boss.”

 

Kieran had managed to make it out of the hospital grounds and was now sprinting down the main road running alongside the hospital. When he reached the zebra crossing, he ran across without looking either way. He heard a horn blast and a car jerk to a very sudden halt, and the driver yelling abuse at him. He made it to the other side of the road and looked back for the first time. He saw a black car pull out of the hospital at speed, and instantly presumed it was the people that were pursuing him. He ripped himself from the pavement and began to run down an adjacent road which, unluckily for him, was near empty.

 

Having doing parkour for nearly a year, Kieran had learned to take in your surroundings and use them to your advantage. He spotted a line of houses to his right, closely packed together and each having a small stone shelter over the door. Kieran didn’t waste another second and ran at the nearest house. When he was two paces away from the door he jumped upwards, grabbed onto the edge of the shelter and managed to scramble on top of it. He then looked up at the house; it seemed unoccupied, with all lights inside switched off. So, using the drainpipe running up the front of the house, he shimmied up, reaching across when he came to the window. He then realised that people were watching and quickened his climbing.

The unmistakable sound of a car screeching round a corner echoed down the street. Kieran cursed inwardly and gripped the verge of the roof. He lifted himself up, which was a bad idea. The strain on his upper body was tough, but he managed to hoist himself onto the brown tiles. He swiftly found his feet and looked down. The black car had entered the street and Kieran could see the sunroof folded away and a black-haired man poked through. Kieran saw the gun before the man could aim at him, and set off across the tiled roofs. The man fired one shot, which ricocheted off the brickwork of a house. The civilians in the street began to scream and found the nearest piece of cover they could cower behind.

 

The car began to move again and the man remained pointing the gun along the houses. Kieran didn’t have to jump over gaps to get to the next roof, since they were terraced. So it was a smooth sprint across the roofs, but he was reaching the end of the houses, and he needed somewhere to break off from the chase. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted what seemed like a community centre, with more terrace houses dotted around it. But there was a hitch; to get to the nearest house, he had to jump a small garden. He didn’t have time to pace himself by giving him a run up, but he did anyway. He took three paces back, not noticing he was in the firing line of the car. The gunman responded with a double-tap of bullets, each either smashing into the roof around Kieran or flying into the air. Kieran then began to run and, when he reached the end of the roof, he jumped.

 

While airborne, Kieran didn’t look down. He focused on the house and stretched out his legs, while using his arms to propel himself forward. It was looking hopeful, but it seemed he would have to reach out to grab the roof, which would no doubt hurt. He stretched out his arms when he neared the roof and just about managed to clasp around the gutter. The result was an ice hot pain shooting through his hand. The speed of him hitting the gutter, and the pressure of the hands grabbing the gutter at such speed, resulted in a huge gash across the palm of his right hand, and a smaller cut on his left hand. He cursed once more as he pulled himself up. He studied his hands and shook his head; small bits of plastic from the gutter had splintered on impact and had entered his open wound. But he didn’t have time to weep over his injury and began to run across the tightly packed houses.

 

While he was doing this, Eric Dolan was having trouble tracking him. He had watched as Kieran disappeared from the first group of roofs, and Toxteth miss each of his shots. He swung around the next corner and onto the next street and to his pleasure, saw the figure of Kieran bounding along the roofs. Dolan knew where he was headed.

 

“He’s heading for Kidz Zone,” said Dolan, bringing a hand to wipe away the sweat that was gathering at his brow. “It’s a small youth centre, and it’s pretty built-up, and I think he’s trying to lose us there. Luckily, there’s a small road leading to the car park, so we can head there.” Dolan then pulled away from the congested lane and illegally put his foot down through a red light. Horns around him began to sound off and Crow flicked a V out of his window. Dolan didn’t bother indicating when he turned right and into the lane that fed into the car park. He didn’t carry on down to the centre, but simply stayed still. “We’ll see him pass.”

A few seconds passed when suddenly a figure came running around the corner, looking back over his shoulder once. When Kieran’s eyes met the headlights of Dolan’s car, he swore out loud and began running in the opposite direction, towards the “Kidz Zone” centre. Toxteth began to roll down the window on his side, but Dolan then proclaimed, “The kid’s scared! Toxteth hold your fire, time to turn this pyromaniac into barbecued beef!”

 

Kieran’s heart was grinding against his ribs as he took a sharp left; he carried on running down the small patch of grass before trying to find yet another escape route. At first no inspiration came, and he was left rooted to the spot. More curses escape his lips as he doubled his speed as Dolan began to laugh maniacally. The centre had only one entrance, via the car park, which meant the only exit was back out of the entrance. That meant he had to get past the car. Kieran knew that was his only option. Suddenly he heard a symphony of cracks in the air above him and spotted Toxteth’s sub-machine gun hanging out his passenger window. The bullets slammed into the wall behind him, spraying him with small shards of brick.

 

It was at that moment Kieran felt an unfamiliar feeling inside of him; it was like the pain of heartburn, but it was spreading down any limb that was in working order, which was effectively every part of his body. Kieran looked down at his hands and saw a flicker of what appeared to be a flame sparking to life on his index fingers, then slowly all of his fingers had a small flame emitting from each of their tips. Dolan could see what was happening and instantly shifted the car into reverse.

 

“Dolan, what’re you doing?” Crow asked, frowning as Dolan ceased reversing as he lightly touched the kerb on the other side of the car park, “Dolan?”

 

Dolan ignored the constant mentioning of his name and eased the gear stick into acceleration, forcing the black car to start up and roar menacingly. Kieran was too enticed by the flames, which had now spread up towards his elbows. Oddly, he felt now heat on the outside, but inside the heartburn sensation had subsided into a faint numbness. Then, Kieran looked up to see the car nearing. He was unsure what to do, but suddenly he felt as if he was being controlled; his arms fell forward, with the rest of his body in tow. He then pressed both fiery hands on the tarmac and felt something surge through his veins leading into his hands.

 

What happened next amazed Kieran; fire began to dart across the gravel towards the car, which had slowed down after the spectacle had happened. Then the fire made impact on the car and nothing happened at first, the flames dancing on the bonnet not doing any harm. The car continued to approach the space where Kieran once stood. Dolan was too late to realise that Kieran, whose arms were now in their normal state, was running away from the flaming car and towards the alley where

they had encountered each others moments before. Then, the flames licked at the petrol sitting in the bonnet and it forced itself into ignition. Kieran could hear the screams of the car’s occupants as they had finally realised their fate. Then, the car exploded, sending the car’s main body forward, and peppering some of the car park with flaming car parts.

 

The men were dead before they had hit the wall.

______________

 

[The Unvirginiser]

I'm actually quite surprised at how much better your writing is getting, you're upgrading from compound sentences in to fluent, complex ones, without over doing it. The story is great, I'm sorry I haven't got around to it earlier Niall. They're were slight things like repetition and poor sentence structure in some occasions, which can be sorted with more thorough proof reading. But mainly, it's going great. Keep it up son