What We Saw

by Ryan Casey

  Carla ran up to me. I wrapped my arms around her neck as she licked at my face and fell onto my back in a mock tumble.

  Adam was the only person I had not yet said goodbye to. He stood with his hands flopping at his sides, arching his head upwards in my direction before jolting to face the ground again. I walked over to him. I could feel the tingling of those ants in my stomach again as my throat wobbled.

  ‘I guess this is it, cuz,’ I said, trying to meet his eyes, which flew about like irritated bees.

  ‘I guess,’ he mumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets and poking his tongue against his top lip. I could see the water building in his eyes, like a canal ready to overflow from too much rain. I put my arms around him and clenched him as tight as I could. I felt his head press against my chest as he clutched my back and returned my hug.

  ‘I’m never too far away, cuz, don’t you forget that,’ I said.

  He clenched and rubbed his head for another couple of seconds before pushing me back. His eyes were red. ‘See you around, softie,’ he said, twitching his mouth into a half smile before shifting his eyes back towards the ground.

  I grinned back at him. ‘Whatever, shorty.’

  He narrowed his eyes and stuck his tongue out.

  My mum waited in the car with the passenger door ajar. I closed it and climbed through into the back seat. She turned to see what I was doing.

  ‘Sorry. Not ready to drive in any passenger seats right now,’ I said.

  A wave of realisation drenched her face. ‘I—I’m sorry, Liam,’ she said. ‘Stupid of me.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’ll get over it one day.’

  ‘Anyway, you know I don’t dr—I’m not like him, you know?’

  I nodded and looked out of the window at the caravan as I sat in the car. Gran and Granddad stood next to each other and waved. Granddad’s eyes looked even more bloodshot from a distance.

  ‘Look at you getting all soft,’ Gran said, slapping Granddad on his shoulder. If only she knew.

  Adam ran towards the car as Granddad and Gran watched on. He tapped on my window. I wound it down.

  ‘Liam, what did you say to Granddad?’

  Behind Adam, Granddad caught my eye. His eyes looked at me closely, pleading with me not to mention anything. I smiled at him and looked at Adam. ‘I just told him to get a new hearing aid. Now go on—get lost, shorty.’ I winked at him. He reached through the window and poked at me, before running back to Gran and Granddad.

  Carla hopped around them with a ball in her mouth, begging Granddad to throw it for her. Adam stood by the door and stared, his brown hair flapping in the breeze. His eyes followed mine as the caravan faded out of view. We passed Mrs. Jeeves’ caravan and all the other caravans. I saw Martin, the repairman, as our car cruised its way up our road. It was like watching a film through the screen of the car window. When I first arrived here, I craved to know all the secrets, to find something that linked everyone in one big conspiracy or plot. But as I passed these caravans, I realised that my story was just another story amongst thousands. Adam losing his parents. Donald losing his daughter. My relationship with Emily. Carla’s disappearance. Emily’s dad and Beth Swanson’s murder. Granddad knowing about it. Everything so linked and bound together by this great, mysterious bubble that was the caravan site.

  My mum pipped the horn as we reached the top of the road. I looked through my window and saw Adam stood there with one hand raised as we crept round the corner. I lifted my hand to wave. We turned out of the road, and he was gone.

  Epilogue

  I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was smooth and my hair slick. The blazer jacket, which had been gathering dust and smelt damp, had been pulled out of my wardrobe for the first time in God knows how long. I looked good.

  The doorbell rang at 10:00 am, and I felt my hands shaking as I walked to answer it. It had been almost ten years since I had seen him, but that teasing grin was as recognisable as ever. ‘Hello, handsome,’ Adam said.

  I laughed a little. It was nice to be appreciated.

  ‘You ready to do this?’ he asked.

  I nodded and pulled my hands from my pockets. I felt an inner warmth, standing there in the July sun. Children chased each other down the road, indulging in their own little invented worlds of mystery and intrigue. I did miss those days, in a way. It was not very common that people got a second chance to make things work, but I guess we were fortunate in that sense. We climbed into the back of the taxi.

  ‘Bareslow, please,’ Adam said.

  The taxi driver licked his moustache and frowned. ‘Well, uh, it’ll cost—’

  ‘That’s fine,’ I interjected, before Adam had the chance to speak. His face looked as if he had just seen an old, dead relative, long gone and out of place.

  ‘Someone got feisty,’ he mumbled.

  I rested my head back against the spongy headrest. My lanky knees crushed against the seat in front, fighting for legroom.

  ‘We meeting her there?’ I asked.

  ‘Meet at a pub just outside Bareslow. Have some lunch. Get back into the stride of things, try not to cry, and see where we go from there.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  I closed my eyes and folded my arms as the taxi edged into motion.

  *

  I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, something prodded against my arm. I opened my eyes to see the driver, bushy moustache spread across his upper lip, staring back at me. Adam carried on thumping my arm, playfully. I threw it aside, we paid our bill, and we got out of the taxi.

  It was the smell of sea air that hit me first. The tang of salt in my nostrils and the constant singing of seagulls. It all felt so familiar, yet I knew that things had changed. The grey buildings still rose above the seafront like kings, as they always had done. But they’d no doubt seen a million more stories unfold, a million more mysteries solved, since we’d last set foot here.

  I saw her in the distance walking towards us. Her hair danced in the wind, her tongue still poking through the gap in her teeth, teasingly. I squinted and pictured her with that ice-cream, all those years ago. Pictured us and our mysteries and our secrets. Emily stepped towards Adam, who opened his arms. He hugged Emily and closed his eyes as she curled her fingers into his back.

  After a few seconds, she let go of Adam and walked towards me. All of my false confidence, composure, and cockiness had dissipated. Goosebumps crept up my arms and my stomach rumbled.

  ‘Hello again,’ she said. Her brown eyes pirouetted around my face before meeting mine and interlocking.

  ‘Hiya,’ I said. My mouth was dry as my hands shook. I felt like that nervous kid all over again.

  She grabbed me. She felt as warm as she had done back then, all those years ago. Sure, it was fantasy to think that we’d all live happily ever after, but it was closure and that was something.

  ‘Where’s your boy at today?’ I asked.

  She rubbed her hands against my back. ‘With his dad. Told Ian I wouldn’t be home too late. He knows about you both and about what happened. He’s the only one who does.’

  I felt a lightness in the bottom of my stomach and smiled. ‘Good.’

  She pulled away and wiped her hair out from in front of her eyes. Her diamond-encrusted wedding ring glistened as it caught the reflection of the sun. She looked beautiful, and I was happy for that. Finally, I knew that the decisions I’d made all those years ago were the right ones. The warmth from her body stayed with me.

  ‘Where first?’ Adam asked.

  Emily let go of my arm and turned back to Adam. ‘Have some lunch then, um, see where the day takes us?’

  ‘Sounds peachy,’ Adam said, before gesturing Emily to lead the way.

  I watched her as she walked towards the pub. Her hair still fell against her shoulders in the way it had done all those years ago. It felt so surreal, but so right. I felt free.

  ‘You okay, cuz?’ Adam asked, as I stared up at the seagulls waltzing above th
e pub.

  I smiled. ‘I’m great, Adam. I really am great.’

  For the first time in years, I completely believed myself.

  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, I would like to thank my editor, Brenda Errichiello, for her fantastic guidance throughout the process. When I sent the first draft to Brenda back in June, she gave me some incredible constructive criticism that really helped to shape this novel. Thanks to her expertise, What We Saw is a better book on every single level. I’d like to thank Lloyd Lelina for his unbelievable vision in creating a truly eye-catching cover. When I pitched my book to Lloyd, he seemed to have an immediate understanding of the sort of imagery I was trying to achieve. The cover captures the essence of the novel completely, and I couldn’t (and wouldn’t want to) imagine it any other way. These two individuals are very much a part of my ‘writing team’ from now on, and I can’t wait to see what they both come up with for my next project.

  As I’ve written What We Saw at the young age of 19-20, I’d like to thank my English teachers for believing in my writing, because you helped me believe in it too.

  The publication of this novel was made possible by a generous group of people who pledged in a crowdfunding initiative. I hope you enjoy the book, and am eternally grateful for your support. In no particular order: Iain Forbes, Toni Tesori, Callum Thomson, Tom Bray, Ian A. Chapman, Paul Whitley, Daniel O’Neill, James Parsons, Rick Chen, Alex Curran, Angus McPhail, Yesenia Vargas.

  I’d like to thank my family and friends for your support and patience throughout this project. It’s hard taking on such a task because it means missing out on a few events that one would previously have been able to attend, so again, utmost respect for the patience and understanding of the people closest to me. I hope you aren’t offended by me using the old cliché that there are too many of you to name, but you know who you are. Thank you so much. I hope this book goes some way to repaying the unwavering faith you have placed in me.

  And last but not least, I’d like to thank Grandad for listening to my crazy stories on our walks in the woods. I know you’ll love this one. R.I.P.

  About

  Ryan is a twenty-year old author from Preston, Lancashire, in the UK. When he can’t be found writing, he generally can’t be found. He is the author of What We Saw and of short stories Something in the Cellar and Silhouette. He regularly blogs about life, writing and marketing tips over at his website. To sign up to his mailing list for notifications of new releases and other extras, visit the following link:

  http://bit.ly/NK4oPY

  Something in the Cellar

  Something in the Cellar is a dark short story by Ryan Casey. The title story follows a mother, Sandra, who is hiding a rather large secret in her cellar, in the form of her murdered husband. Struggling to do right by her child, Sandra tries to convince herself to face up to her fears. Does she have the courage to tackle the situation, and deal with the body once and for all? This story was first written in 2011, but makes its published debut here in revised form.

  Also includes a bonus story, The Runaway. This story follows a mysterious character as they escape the depths of a dark, industrial tunnel. Who is the unnamed ‘He’ that the protagonist is obsessed with, and just what exactly are they running from? Questions will be answered, and new ones will form, as the story hurtles to a shocking conclusion. This story is brand new, and exclusively available in this eBook.

  Both stories have a combined length of around 5,000 words, or 20 book pages.

  You can purchase Something in the Cellar below:

  Amazon.com: $0.99

  Amazon.co.uk: £0.77

  Silhouette

  Scientist Brian Dawlish has made a staggering discovery. He is on the brink of answering one of life’s greatest questions: can humans travel through time?

  But, as he tests the formula and revisits earlier moments from his own life, he becomes haunted by a suspicious silhouette at each and every one of these key events. What is the silhouette? Why does it stalk Brian’s memories? As Brian becomes totally engrossed and absorbed by the silhouette, he soon realises he is not only putting his health in danger, but everything else around him too.

  Silhouette is a 6,000 word, 25-page science-fiction short story.

  You can purchase Silhouette below:

  Amazon.com: $0.99

  Amazon.co.uk: £0.77

  Follow the Author

  Ryan Casey has a blog, where he offers writing advice and marketing tips, as well as his general thoughts on the process. He would be delighted if you dropped by and had a look around:

  http://ryancaseybooks.com

  If you enjoyed this book, please sign up to the mailing list, for updates of new releases and other exclusive content:

  Click here to subscribe

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  Reviews are so important to an author’s success. If you enjoyed this release, do Ryan a massive favour by leaving a short review on Amazon. Even if it's only a few lines, it will be much appreciated.

  Something in the Cellar - Sample

  Sandra Bates hadn’t felt as apprehensive as usual the last few times she’d walked into her house, which was strange considering it'd been the place that she’d killed her husband.

  It had happened two days ago. Oscar was tucked up in bed, and Jazz slept through it in his basket. It’d all been one big mistake, she told herself. It’d all been a big mistake, and she was going to clean this mess up.

  It was a Thursday afternoon. The spring sun was beginning to sweep over Crow Lane, which made a pleasant change to the typical grey of winter. Sandra had just finished work—she was a hairdresser at Roots, which sat just at the top of her road. She enjoyed her job—it allowed much time for socialising with some genuinely interesting people, and the income was steady enough. Chatting to her customers made her realise that she was actually quite lucky, as middle-aged men told of their struggles in the public sector and late-teen girls shared their insecurities about just where their future lay. For an industry so commonly looked down on, hairdressing had the last laugh, it seemed.

  It was also crucial that Sandra had a talkative job because it helped to keep her mind off what she had done, somewhat. Although, for every holiday question, there was always a way for the customer to turn things around to the topic of love life. ‘How’s your Jason?’ an old woman had asked her earlier today.

  The sound of his name made Sandra jolt, as if her secret was out in the open all of a sudden. Her eyes shot up to meet her customer’s, in the mirror, entranced in the moment, before snapping back into reality and continuing to chop at her hair.

  ‘Fine. He’s just fine, yeah. How’s, um—how’s things in your life?’ Sandra said, doing her best to divert the discussion. Old women took every chance they were given to gossip, didn’t they?

  ‘Oh, I’ve not had a man for years. Now, your man—your Jason. How’s his job at the moment? Is he not struggling a bit at work?’

  Sandra gritted her teeth, and felt the scissors begin to shake a little between her fingers. She couldn’t even remember the name of this woman, yet she seemed to know every minute detail about her marriage. She took a deep breath, and forced a smile again. ‘Oh, I think there have been a few scares but nothing too serious. Now, how much do you want off your fringe, just the very ends?’

  ‘Ah right, that’s funny cause I heard that his place were getting rid of people over the next few months. Terrible, dear. I don’t envy your generation in that sense,’ the old lady said.

  Sandra’s fingers tightened around the scissors. ‘Okay, now what about your fringe, Mrs?’

  ‘What about my fringe? Sorry, dear, I lost myself a bit then.’

  And with that, the conversation ended. But it was every little mention of Jason that just brought it all flooding back to Sandra. What she’d done. Ho
w she’d done it. There was also that ongoing fear that she might just snap again, to someone less deserving. If she could murder her own husband, then what was preventing her from lashing out at somebody she didn’t care for? That was the problem. The more the old woman fired questions at Sandra about Jason, the more she wanted to clutch those scissors and ram them into the side of her fat old neck.

  ***

  To continue reading, you can purchase Something in the Cellar below:

  Amazon.com: $0.99

  Amazon.co.uk: £0.77

  Silhouette - Sample

  Brian paced along the corridor, gripping his suitcase. The steel beneath his feet echoed around the room. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone else was around, but it was late. The people who were there were like him; busy, working away on something they shouldn’t be. Looking over their own shoulders, trying to keep whatever discovery they thought they had found to themselves.

  Bob Birch claimed he’d found a cure for cancer once. He only had a little bit of the solution, but it would have been enough to prove to the world that cancer was curable. What did he do? He took it home and injected his tumour-ridden pet mouse with it.

  The mouse’s tumours vanished within days. Rumours spread of a mutant mouse which terrorised Bob and kept him in check. Clearly, the pressure got to Bob: he threw himself into the nearby river just months later.

  Brian fiddled away at the front pocket of his lab coat, the sharp edges of his keycard digging into his fingertips. A little smile grew across his mouth, which he wiped away with his hand. A cure for cancer. This was much, much bigger than a cure for cancer. He looked up at the vast, man-made wonder that was TCorps Labs.

  TCorps used to be nothing more than another pharmaceutical company, struggling to break even. Unofficially, the biggest product was the flu tablet, but in reality, the brickdust and rat-shit filled penis enlargement supplements went down a treat. Sure, TCorps’ hands were dirty, but which leading pharmaceutical company’s hands weren’t?