Death’s Apprentice – Part Nineteen

The Daily Herald

27th March 2017

Nation in Crisis – No deaths in 67 days

Experts are baffled by the lack of deaths in England over the past sixty-seven days. The phenomenon – which has no precedent and therefore has yet to be identified – began straight after the death of one Edith Shanks of Dursley, Staffordshire. She died at 11.59pm on the 19th January and there have been no deaths since; people who should have died, simply haven’t. Instead, they remain alive like living ghosts. This has prompted some to make comparisons with zombies.

Zombies have become popular in recent years due to television series such as The Walking Dead, and films such as World War Z. However, these living ghosts are not like the zombies of pop-culture since they don’t appear to eat human flesh.

There was a report two weeks ago of a man eating his own foot but this was quickly dismissed from being part of this new phenomenon by experts. It was later reported that the man in question had taken Spice, also known as The Zombie Drug.

However, this hasn’t stopped some people calling these living ghosts, Zombies or Eternalists. According to our resident television and film critique AND Zombie expert, Dan Brown, Eternalists are a particularly nasty type of zombie as they just won’t die, not even if you cut them up and destroy the brain.

These living ghosts might not be zombies, but, like the Eternalists, they seem to survive, even after being torn apart. Our Crime Reporter, Roger Galbraith, was at the Crown Court recently when the living corpse of Tom Harrington was able to give evidence to the court about the attack on him despite his head being completely separated from his body.

“This is a national emergency,” stated the Prime Minister, Boris Buchanan as he strode into number ten today. He is due to chair an emergency meeting of COBRA to determine what can be done about the dead that aren’t dead. We will keep you updated on developments as we get them.

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Death’s Apprentice – Part Sixteen

Joe’s body was tired. Very tired and it felt like stone. He didn’t want to move from his comfy bed. It was warm and soft and like a little bit of heaven. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to face the day. He felt like he’d only just gone to bed, like he’d been up all night.

That was one hell of a dream, he thought to himself as he rolled over and pulled the duvet in around him so that he resembled a giant caterpillar. Almost. He could feel the cold air on his feet that were sticking out of the bottom of the duvet, so he pulled his legs up to his chest. That was what tended to happen when a seventeen-year-old was forced to use the duvet of a small child. It still had the same cover on from when he was seven. Paw Patrol. Yes. Paw Patrol. It might have been pushing it for a cool seven-year-old to have a Paw Patrol cover, but at seventeen years old?  Yep, that was truly pathetic. As you can imagine, no friends had ever visited his room or his house.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t asked for a new duvet and cover. He had. The duvet itself was that old. It smelled that old as well. Joe didn’t really want to think about all the bugs nestling in it. He had tried to wash it once but it had dried funny and had become all lumpy.

It was better than his bed though. Actually, Joe hadn’t technically got a bed, just a single mattress on the floor that his shit-head stepdad had saved from a skip. It was, at least, a full-size single, although Joe didn’t like to think too much about where it had come from. He also didn’t like to think too hard about the stains, in various shades of brown, that covered it or the little holes that were peppered over its surface.

Joe decided at that moment that the first thing he would buy with his first pay packet – if he got the job, of course – would be a new mattress. The bed he’d have to save up for, along with a place of his own. A place of safety for Lola. A place of safety.

But then, his heart dropped into his stomach – like the body in his dreams had dropped into the open grave – as he realised that he couldn’t buy a mattress because, if he bought a mattress his shit-head stepdad would know that he had enough money from his job to buy things like that and that would mean trouble. He knew he’d have to pay rent, of course, and he knew they’d bleed him dry for that but if shit-head knew he was bringing in enough money to buy a mattress, shit-head wouldn’t like it. Shit-head wouldn’t want him buying mattresses because shit-head would expect ALL the money for himself. And if Joe didn’t give it to him? Shit-head would attack Lola. Again. And if that didn’t work – it would because Lola was Joe’s life – he’d take it anyway. However, he could. By whatever means.

Joe sighed loudly. The new mattress would have to wait. For now, at least.

‘Joe Bones!’ It was his mother screeching from the bottom of the stairs.

Joe bolted upright in bed. What had he done now?

‘Get your arse down ‘ere NOW!’

He sighed again. Today was going to be a bad one, he could feel it in his bones. And, it had only just started. He swung his legs off the mattress and looked over to the door.

‘What the…?’ There was a pile of muddy clothes on the floor and a pool of dirt on the bare floorboards around his normally clean trainers.

It seemed he had some explaining to do. It also seemed that his dream of burying a dead body in the middle of the night, the coach and horses and Azrail and Mrs Crow, might not have been a dream after all.

A Writing Experiment?

I thought I’d try a little experiment. Every Wednesday I’ve decided I’m going to start posting a section of another piece of writing from a novel I’m working on. It might just be a sentence, a couple of lines, a paragraph or two, or a couple of A4 pages. The story has a working title of Death’s Apprentice. I haven’t done much planning in regards to this story so I don’t have many details and I shall be writing it as I go along, by the seat of my pants. I’ve never written in this way before and I usually do loads of planning so I’m well out of my comfort zone. This inevitably means that there will be loads of mistakes, loads of plot holes and I will forget things but, in the end, I will hopefully have a rough draft to refine and work with (fingers crossed :)).

I’ve decided there are no rules. I’m going to write what comes to me and I’d like you to come along for the ride. Please comment if you want to, all suggestions are welcome 🙂

Let’s see what happens!!

Death’s Apprentice

Clouds gathered above, heavy with rain, and dark, like my mood. I pulled my hood over my head and continued walking down the dirt path, Lola’s black leather lead clasped tightly in my hand. He’d done it on purpose, I knew it, despite all of his bitching otherwise. He’d left the back gate open, I could see it in his shitty brown eyes. In the curl of his lips as he told me she was missing.

It was payback.

I looked at my right hand clutching the lead; my knuckles were still red and angry and swollen. I smiled. He’d come off worse; his eyes were as black as the clouds above me. I think I’d broken his nose. He deserved it. Lola didn’t.

I kicked at a stone on the path. It flew through the air and landed with a plop in the canal. I watched water ripple out from the point of impact, ever-increasing circles stretching out across the muddy brown surface. Rain began to tumble from the sky and pock-mark the water. A white-beaked coot scooted into the reeds to get away from the impending downpour.

Where was Lola?

‘Lola!’ I shouted. I thought she’d be here. ‘Lola!’

A train rumbled by, shaking the green railings that blocked off the canal and scrubland from the railway tracks. Dried, brown leaves were kicked into the air as it rushed by. The air stilled, and quietness descended upon the wasteland.

‘Lola!’ My stomach rolled. I thought I would’ve found her here, in her favourite place. I cast my eyes around the scrub, desperate to find her. What if…what if he hadn’t just let her out? What if…

The sky burst. Rain crashed down around me, soaking me to the bone in a matter of seconds, and throwing up the scent of damp earth, decaying rubbish and rotten eggs as it churned up the water.