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The Night It Happened (standard:fantasy, 2388 words)
Author: Shadow ScribeAdded: Sep 23 2007Views/Reads: 2810/1957Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A boy gets lured into an alley way, where somthing amazing and unnatural happens that he will never forget

The Night it Happened 

March the third two thousand and seven, that's when it happened. That's
when it happened again. I won't forget that day. That's was the day it 
happened. My name is Peter and I am nearly sixteen, I attend a private 
school, those are the only things I am completely sure about now, after 
the happenings on March the third I find it hard to believe and to 

I had just been in a pub with some friends, one of the only ones near us
that sells me and my friend's alcohol, better than that the barkeeper 
is one of my friend's dads, and he often turns a blind eye if his son 
nips behind the counter and retrieves some beer for us. It was exactly 
thirty-eight minutes past nine when my mum phoned me; I have stared at 
the call time and details over and over again, for it was the call that 
changed everything. I swallowed my mouthful of beer and retrieved my 
vibrating phone, it was mum. The baby sitter for my baby brother had 
phoned to say she couldn't make it so mum wanted me to return to look 
after him, I was about to refuse when she offered me the same pay as 
the baby sitter would have got. “Fine, I'll see you in an hour” I 
grumbled down the phone to her before hanging up. I put my phone back 
in my pockets and spoke. “Look lads I got to go home and baby-sit my 
damn brother, but I'll catch you all back here tomorrow evening eh” I 
downed my drink to the cheers of my friends, slammed the pint glass 
down and made for the door. 

The happy and loud chatter died suddenly as the heavy door shut, and I
stepped onto the street. The moon was masked by thick clouds that 
seemed to cover the whole sky, and only faint beams of moonlight 
managed to penetrate the wall of dark clouds. I shoved my hands into 
the deep recesses of my jean pockets to keep them warm, the cold breeze 
stung at my ears. I turned right and began walking down the road, it 
was fairly quiet, a few cars passed and the odd dog barked but apart 
from that it was quiet. I must have walked the route from the pub home 
hundreds of times; it was only a short journey, fifteen minutes 
maximum, depends on how much I had drunk that night. This journey was 
horribly different; this journey is one I will never forget until my 
last dying breaths. I remembering seeing a group of hooded teenagers 
standing on the street corner, they were chatting lively and most 
clutched bottles of what was most probably alcohol, one was playing a 
loud rap song on their mobile phone. I crossed the street to walk on 
the other side of the road from the group, my phone started ringing so 
I stopped and pulled it out of my pocket, the group paid me little 
attention as I answered my phone “Hello” I answered. I frowned as there 
was no reply for several long seconds, then mums voice rung through the 
speakers “Oh hello Peter, can you please hurry up because me and your 
father are in a real hurry to reach the theatre in time and we don't 
want to leave Charlie alone, run if you have to” I told her that I 
would hurry home even though I had no plan of increasing my speed at 
all, then hung up. Just as I was slipping the phone back into my 
pocket, a small boy jumped out of nowhere, I half gasped half screamed 
as the small boy of roughly eight years old suddenly appeared in front 
of me, he snatched my phone and before I could do anything he had begun 
to run off down the street back towards the pub. 

I recovered after the initial fright and quickly glanced at the half
dozen teenagers across the road, they had not seemed to notice anything 
out of the ordinary. Before ei knew what I was doing I was running 
after the small boy, he was young and I thought I must be able to catch 
him up, I wish I let him take my damn phone, I whish I had just stopped 
and turned home, but I didn't. I kept running, I was gaining on him, I 
found myself laughing at the prospect of telling this story to my 
friends tomorrow, and the boy never glanced back but kept running. I 
ran for several minutes, there were very few people out, those few 
people in the street seemed either not to notice me or pretended not 
to. Soon I was only a few meters behind him, he was wearing an out of 
date Rangers FC football top that hung off him loosely and black 
trousers that bore many holes and rips. The boy suddenly turned off the 
main road and into a side alley, I was running so fats it took me 
several seconds to stop and turn into the alley, but eventually I was 
speeding down the alley. 

As soon as I had entered the alley way I knew something was amiss. It's
the alley way that plagues my every dream I have now. I can still 
recall the putrid smell, it wasn't only made from the black garbage 

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