The Black Bin LinerA Story by Andrew Payn A short story I wrote whilst having an hour or two to spare, so read on and enjoy! If any of you wonder, the writing style deliberately changes in the second half, as the story also changes! The Black Bin Liner By Andrew Payn 2012
I The children ran across the stepping stones as if they had never experienced such sheer enjoyment before in their so far quite short lives! Whilst overs whom have surpassed the stage where they can run around and frolic about, may remember such endeavours, where the steepest of hills was no match for your determination!
These children ran across the beck, without looking back towards their guardians, they ran as if the wind were beneath their feet. Into the small wooded area they ran, as fast as their little legs could carry them, although for some not as small as one may imagine when they picture children running through woods, mind you they aren't as young as one may imagine, their ages ranged from around 11 to about 14¾!
As these children ran they came to a fork into the well trodden footpath, whilst the breeze was evident outside of this enclosure, within it was as if no weather had ever stepped foot inside! Little sun breached the canopy of the overgrowing trees, only glimmers through the leaves, and the wind, the wind was no where to be seen, heard or even smelt! Yes not even smelt, you think oddly of that there remark but I do promise you the wind can carry aroma's especially from the chip shop atop the hill at the other side.
The fork presented a problem to these children, as one path lead towards their chosen destination, but another lead to an unexplored place of mystery, possibly hiding spoils of pirate treasure, or maybe a hidden tribes golden statue of the great god kitarh! So being adventurous young children they ran off into the darker canopy, against the flow of the beck, the flowers soon stopped, the wildlife become an ever so apparent silent, well apparent to the more aware of ears, these children were completely and utterly oblivious to the silence, emptiness and general unusualness of this area of the path.
The path become less and less trodden, to a point where all forms of exotic weeds and plants grew out from the verge, obstructing the path. The more elder of the pack of children got branches and cut their way through, unsuccessfully of course and some children ended up with strange white spots all over their hands, but this though fleeted for a mere second and their intentions soon began exploring this strange wilderness. The beck still flowed against the route of the children, and it seemed they were in some form of valley, but they took no regard to the flowing landscape that encapsulated them so.
Soon after around 3 minutes of pure running and adrenaline, they reached a clearing, the grass significantly greener, slightly out of place with the brown trees, and blue flowing water! But nay, they still took no heed of such apparent oddities they just continued, with sheer amazement of their new secret place, all theirs! They looked around, the beck crooked around a flat plain with around 30 square feet of space for sheer fun and enjoyment!
Trees ran around the perimeter of the plain, with one singular willow placed next to the beck, in line with the centre. Grass grew around at a vivid green colour and was raised to about 2 " 3 inches long, each one tipped with a drop of dew, glistening in the sun above. The sun for that matter was placed just at an angle above their heads, after noon though, but the hottest point of the day was yet to arrive.
But, providing the willow is at a 90°, at about 84° there was a small opening, atop a earthy mound. A black bin liner lawn strewn across some form of lump, the first oddity the children saw as unusual and out of place out many! It had a strange aura around it, surrounded by suspense and mystery, fear also encapsulated it, bringing out the worst in the children, and also their Sherlock Holmes sense of mystery and exploration!
They stood in a group, not in order but simply in a huddle, around the mound, it stood around 5ft tall, taller than most of the group, and the liner stood atop, the liner had a definitive lump under it, not the earth mound, but separate, clearly separate, who would lift? Fear swept. It was clear on their faces, but would the feeling of curiosity overtake, or would curiosity kill the cat!
One, not quite the eldest, but the tallest; stood forward, one step at a time, the others looked at each other, some took a sigh of fresh air, others, others felt a pang in their throat, a physical feeling of worry. The tall one started to stretch his arm when a noise broke the silence, a whispering sound, flying through the valley, reaching their eyes one by one, each cowering with the noise; for it soon turned electronic. “Boys, Boys, are you here?” Called a voice from further afield, the noise stopped as a result so the children ran towards the calling voice, towards safety and towards the hopeful sanctuary of their loving guardians.
II Sleep called the children, just as it calls all humans eventually, not the sleep one regrets, but the sleep one accepts, comes to love, comes to adore. This sleep never reached the children that night, they laid there, sleepless, and possessed by that noise. That one noise, rang in their ears, the look of fear swept, and those with the pang in their throat did sleep, slept but never awoke. Out of twelve, 6 stood moving, the rest, although alive, stuck in the limbo that medicine calls a coma, the spirits call it purgatory.
Soon the old wooden clock started to chime, the rusty sound filled the house, and to the children it seemed to be quite slow, the speed at which they heard it seemed the be different than usual, everything seemed unusual, as if they were receiving punishment for their earlier misdemeanant, the sleeping ones felt pure emotion for another, worry, pity and regret; they were stuck in a limbo with these emotions, haunting and taunting, it will become hell.
“Clang, Clang, Clang” The clock struck thrice, and the children in unison stood and walked, they dressed, and walked downstairs. Ripping candles, grabbing torches or taking burning wood from the fire, they left, silently, and elusively. They each walked from their respective houses towards the path, the forbidden path, the path of dread and worry. They met at different points, but before the fork, each walking, no eye contact, but for one thing, one job, one chance. They had to remove the lingering spirit from this world, but they had of no knowledge of what to would come of them within the next three and a half hours.
They reached the plain, the grass looking less sublime but more creepy, drooping, the colour lost and empty. The mound there, the moonlight drawing through the leaves the illuminate the liner, the misplaced liner. Each one grabbed sticks, dry and strong, the wooden objects soon caught from the collective abundance of burning oxygen. The sticks were thrown at the mound, but each time they were doused, maybe air, lack of oxygen, or something blowing it out.
They thoughts they made together managed to scramble a quick plan, none of the 6 wanted to touch it directly, but they wanted to unearth the mound, and let the trapped spirit free. They once again gathered more sticks, but as each counting second passed, the shadows grew towards the middle, one discarded candle, still burning was instantly doused as the shadow engulfed it.
Once they had gathered the relevant materials, they started to use string, ripped from their clothes, to grapple the many sticks together, enough to resemble a hand! The make-shift hand stretched towards the liner, some of the smaller twigs started to snap, some the more medium sized started to bend under some strain, some immense strain. The hand reached the liner, as matter touched matter a breath started to breathe, blowing away the hand, growing in strength as the seconds of time on this earth passed, never to return. After a struggle which involved every member of the invading group pressing strength on the hand, the liner lifted, revealing nought but earth, but a push back was felt, and all of a sudden one could breath again, one could breath before, but this was apparently different, as if some lingering spirit just left the purgatory of earth, the children were free, as dawn broke, the grass rose, dew dropped and the children awoke.
For the parents, nothing will have changed, apart from the sleepy children, nothing, but for those aware, those paying the attention that it deserves, witnessed something new, something open, a life changing event. Those children never learned the true story behind the events of that day, but they never forgot, and as they started to forget each other, this singular event stayed with them until they too, left this earth, as everything does, these left with dignity, heart, and power! © 2012 Andrew PaynAuthor's Note
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Andrew PaynLeeds/Bradford, Yorkshire, United KingdomAboutStarted writing a few years back. Back then it was for the enjoyment. Since then things in my life have taken a turn, and writing is often a way I express how I'm feeling. Which is why a lot of my .. more..Writing
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