Fall of Hope (Book 1): Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes (27 page)

Too
wired, he almost gets up and turns the computer back on to see if the
allusive artist has replied, or search for the bluebell woods.

If
there is a bluebell woods that stretches as far as the coast from the
West Midlands, then it must be on a reserve.
If the woods are
not visible to others though, how can that work?

Bobby
tosses and turns. His thoughts run feral until five thirteen when his
eyelids become too heavy to fight. His body drops once again into
dream land, but it is not a dream that greets him.

•

Mountains dip

With
precarious flow,

Leaving
golden scars

Crumbling
down from spires.

Yet,

No air sneaks
upon the ragged way--

Tis stale as
a dead man's breath,

Still
unperturbed over time.

Thick tis the
crimson clouds

Where
penetrating screams roar

Parallel
to a sea of tears,

Travelling
the heavens in place of breeze.

Inside
the void,

Unbound
slaves toss against the shore

As fomented
laps of dreams and charred bowels

Lead us down
unto our graves.

The
dream is nothing like Bobby's portrayal as the wind slaps against his
cheeks. The whipping sting pulls his clothes tight against his
abdomen and away from his spine. The jeans flap against his chilly
skin a little as he glances down at himself.

At
his back, the waves crash against one another in foamy laps within
the darkness. The vivid hue he recalls from last time stretches above
his head for as far as he can see. It still seems to be breathing as
lightning sprouts in flashing veins within the deep vastness.

The
fairground is still blacked out and in the distance, but he finds no
sign of the sandy graveyard. However, that does nothing to sooth his
mind as he assumed it would.

A
tickling panic intensifies inside his chest as though he is expecting
something. Either that, or the sand castles he is dragging his legs
through is causing too many memories. The memory of him and Benji
finds him, but he isn't sure whether it is encased within the walls
of his skull, or not.

A
body bumps against his side and knocks the castles into chaos, then a
growl follows. Once he adjusts his balance, he turns in horror
believing the subdued fury is for him. He spots a four-legged
creature go running up the dune ahead.

Bobby
tries to locate whatever has it riled as he stumbles forward through
the sand. He tramples castles as he follows the animal over the dune
to find it with its teeth bared.

The
three foot animal, with its light fur raised on its spine, produces
low, guttural snarls. Bobby cannot tell whether the animal is canine,
or feline because it has qualities of both. The darkened brown
patterns upon its tan coat resemble a leopard, yet it is too small to
be such. The ears are back as it takes an angry stance, but the
curled nose is pinkish in colour with a small face of a dwarf wild
cat. The tail is long with a thick white tuft at the tip that also
reminds him of a cat, but the sounds like a domestic dog.

Bobby
spots the figure once he climbs the next mountain of sand between a
dipping valley. He has his back to Bobby as he stares at the
fairground's silhouette. A gust of wind takes the raven locks and
stretches them from his scalp in curls against the crimson sky. Bobby
doesn't need the taller figure to turn and face him to know who he
is. Bobby wants to shout to him, but the fear of rejection stops him
from doing so.

A
lightning bolt strikes through the depths above them, sending a
static connection convulsing through him from the figure on the next
hill. For a long time that sensation has been absent, and Bobby
didn't realise just how much he's missed this until now.

The
canine/feline half-breed continues with the verbal commotion, but
when the figure drops his hand to his side, the
fur bag
leaps
from the sand in a fit of spasms. Bending both large, padded paws to
the floor and jumping backwards, the animal dances. Yet, it doesn't
move an inch further from Bobby to either attack, or flee.

As
the lightening decorates the sky, Bobby glimpses blood matting down
the animal's fur. Patches are missing as though it has been in a
vicious fight. As it turns to get Bobby's attention, its tongue flaps
over its teeth in an expression that suggests something bad is
happening, and he's doing nothing about it. The vacant eyes gleaming
at him has Bobby tilting his head.

“
Gage?”
Bobby hears his whispering question, but the breeze snatches it away.

As
Benji turns in a slow and graceful movement, the item within his hand
glows within the murk.

Is
that why he is barking?

“
Calm
down. Stop,” Bobby tells Gage. Yet, he continues with his
muscles tight and spit flying.

As
his brother's face comes into view, his closed eyes are peaceful as
though lost in a calming snooze. Shadows cover most of his face, but
his lips curl into a smile he cannot hidde. As he peels his eyelids
back to reveal bright eyes, they glare through the gloom like
headlights.

“
Benji,”
he gasps.

He
cannot help moving closer, shuffling down the hill and onto the
flatter sand. He means to go to his older sibling and embrace
him—something he has longed to do for three years. Yet, when he
speaks, Bobby stops in his tracks.

Bobby
stares at him as he stands between erected, but disposable castles.
When he speaks again, each word echoes into the clouds and the light
within his hand pulsates.

“
Bobby,
you need to see.”

Bobby
scrunches his nose up at the cryptic message, then shuffles forward
on the sand with Gage at his feet. His barking ceases and his ears
flatten to his skull at Benji's voice. Bobby doesn't believe the
whimpering to be his imagination either.

Glancing
at the pooch, he holds his empty palm out for comfort because a head
rub seems condescending considering who embodies the animal. Gage
neither reacts with a cold nuzzle to the skin, nor a snort of
derision.

Bobby
glances to where the collar of Benji's t-shirt sits against his hair.
It's much longer than he would have kept it while he was alive; he
loved it short.

See
what?

“
Open
your eyes and, through the darkness, the light shall guide the way
and forever bind us.”

Taking
a step forward, Bobby can feel the tug of teeth at his jeans. It
appears as though Gage is attempting to restrain him from going any
further.

Against
the crimson sky, wisps of hair drift across Benji's forehead and
suspend on the air.

“
The
correct path will reveal itself.”

“
The
path to what?” Bobby hears himself speak, but it catches on the
wind and doesn't reach his deceased sibling.

Lifting
one hand, Benji places the glowing item against his head to shield
those eyes.

“
Enhance
your vision,” he says with conviction. “You will need
it—it is your right.”

As
Benji turns again, his body becomes almost unidentifiable as it is as
thin as a strand of hair sideways on. When it comes back into the
picture, Bobby understands his brother has gone back to facing the
fairground.

“
And,
Bobby.”

“
What?”

“
Go
on your journey in safety. The road ahead will be . . . grave.”

Although
his face has turned from sight, the light still lies within Bobby's
vision like a beacon within the darkness.

His
toes wipe away the sand castles as a force drags him from the golden
shore and into the air.

As
the light of the glasses fade, he can hear Gage still yapping. In the
distance, his own screams rattle inside his ear drums as he calls out
for his brother. He reaches out his arms, but can find nothing.
Calling Benji to come back and allow the dream to continue—no
matter how vague and desperate it may be—doesn't work.

The
final thing he sees before everything fades into conscious waking is
himself on the beach. He sees himself smiling at Benji while wearing
a diaper filled with sand. Slung over one eye is a patch and in one
chubby hand is a paper sword. He smacks it against the ground as his
brother walks toward him and blots out the sun, causing a chill
within his bones.

CHAPTER
TEN

Splinters
cause the pain to trickle down

In
trails where corpses frown,

Here,
along the path of savage waste,

Where
(if not for the eminence of soul) thou too would have drowned

Devoted
purpose leadth the blind

Into
a land that shineth no day onto each hour,

Where
twisted roots of marrow once harboured life,

And
now sprout from the dirt, sharp and poisoned--posing as flowers

Beating
wings cease within rotted cages,

The
heart's ravaged corners are left unspoken

As
we crush entrails underfoot

Here,
skulls are plagued and voices choked

Compressed
metal mouths sooth

The
skewered song of beasts that ride upon the wind,

Yet,
no longer do they float toward the heavens

Where
they perched to taunt the scarred masses of sin

No
more taste of spittle clear

From
waves that crawl back from the shore

Bone,
nor flesh adheres to fate's rules,

Amidst
the wreckage they've all endured

And
tis a wicked playground

Of
cruelty inside thy wicked brain

Of
not who I am, but will never be,

For
suffering is laced with nothing gained.

Bobby
heads into the front room where he is not greeted by a vivid Mrs
Colby. With indifference, she peers out the window with her lips
pressed together to form white marks from the pressure.

She
is not dressed in her usual eccentric attire today, but shoddy, dull
clothes. They do nothing but create a hideous feel around her as
though she is waiting to die, and Bobby detests witnessing her this
way.

Her
beige tights sit in rolls around her ankles as though the deed of
pulling them up is too much to bear this morning. Her skirt is a
three-quarter length tweed mess of fluff and dust and her stained
blouse is the colour of walls after many years of smoke inhalation.
The decorative hem hangs away from the seam and looks in dire need of
repair. No make-up covers her crinkled skin which usually adds to her
vibrancy.

Calling
her name does nothing to rouse a reaction. She doesn't even blink
when he settles his bag beside the chair and takes a seat.