The Trespassing of Souls

by M S C Barnes

almost complete. Seb felt a stab of desperation, fear of being left behind. Pulling his foot loose from the mud he stomped it forward.

  The grip Aiden had on his left arm was so painful.

  “Aiden, can you let go a bit?” he shouted and then to his astonishment saw Aiden raise both his muddy hands to cup them round his mouth and shout back at him, “What?”

  The firm grip on his arm was still there and Seb jerked his head down, straining to see. It wasn’t Aiden – both his hands were still cupping his mouth. In the relentless downpour he could see nothing.

  He panicked. “Aiden, something’s got hold of me. Someone’s got my arm!” He screamed the words and reached across with his right hand, feeling for the fingers that were bound around his arm. And then he heard a rustling voice as though it were whispered directly into his ear: “Stand still.”

  Seb was already standing still, frozen to the spot in fear.

  Aiden called, “We need to get to the coach.”

  Seb fumbled up his arm trying to find the hand that was gripping it so tightly. There was nothing there.

  “It’s me, Seb Thomas, and it is time for you to accept more than you see. In fact you have to. Stop doubting your senses and open up to the realities around you!” The words rustled into his ear.

  Seb’s heart was palpitating and his mind racing. He would have run if his feet weren’t stuck.

  Aiden tugged his arm. “Come on Seb, they’ll go without us!”

  “Hold fast!” the rustling voice ordered. Seb was straining to see, trying to locate the fingers on his arm, the body that went with them. All he could see was blackness and the horizontal sheet of rain. He could feel his feet sinking and pulled one free, taking a wobbly step forward.

  “Seb, over there. The coaches!” He just heard Aiden’s words and then he spotted two small red lights hanging in the darkness, perfectly still. Not the internal white lights he had seen before. Rear lights, Seb thought, the back of the coach!

  “I see them. Rear lights!”

  Aiden took a step to the right, tugging his jacket.

  “Seb Thomas, you are not safe.” The words sent a chill through him and the grip tightened.

  He called out, “Let me go! We’ll miss the coach!”

  Aiden shouted, “Seb, come on then,” and pulled his jacket.

  “Seb, see more than your reality. It is not safe!” The rustling sound was urgent, the grip on his arm painful.

  Seb had had enough. He yanked his arm away and took two stilted steps with Aiden towards the red lights. There was a buzzing in his ear, a touch grazed across his cheek and then through the blackness he could see the leaf-boy a foot in front of him, blocking his path.

  “You must not, Seb. It is not safe. Open your eyes!”

  Aiden, oblivious to the figure in front of Seb, pulled him again, shouting over the wind, “Quickly.” Seb couldn’t move and Aiden turned to him. “Seb, come on! What’s wrong?”

  Seb stared at the leaf-boy in horror. I am definitely losing my mind. He decided the stress and panic was making him see things. He tried to ignore the throbbing in his left hand, tried to blot out the image of the leaf-boy … and then he saw it. It was as if his brain had just made sense of the images it had been seeing but not recognising. In the darkness in front of them was a deeper, denser patch of blackness. And from this blackness these lights shone. Seb’s heart nearly stopped. The shape, the blackness … A huge black dog … and the red lights were its eyes, glowering at him.

   

   

  Dryads and Hellhounds

  Seb shouted, “Aiden, a dog!” He pointed but Aiden grabbed his jacket again, trying to pull him towards the lights. Seb resisted and his friend overbalanced, falling to the boggy ground.

  He let out an angry shout, “What are you doing, Seb? We’ll miss the coach.”

  The leaf-boy was chattering, “You need to believe what you see. You have the power to deal with this— ”

  “What are you talking about?” Seb shrieked. “You are talking nonsense!”

  Aiden screamed back, “The coach, Seb! It’s not nonsense.” He scrambled to his feet, blocking Seb’s view of the red eyes just as the black shape lunged forward.

  Then Aiden was suddenly dragged sideways. The swift movement was followed by a large figure swooping in to stand between Seb and the leaping hound. Mr Duir. He raised his hand, pausing for a second, then turned and paused again, hand raised, before he lifted Seb off his feet, threw him over his shoulder and ran across the waterlogged ground.

  Bent over Mr Duir’s shoulder, Seb looked back expecting to see the dog pursuing them. All he saw was a wall of rainfall, grey-blackness and a few shimmering silvery sparkles. No hound, no leaf-boy.

  Within seconds Seb was placed gently onto the tarmac of the car park in the spread of light below the coach windows. His legs were wobbling, he felt frozen to the bone. Rain still poured from the sky as Mr Duir shrugged off his jacket and draped it around him. Next to them Miss West, Aiden’s rescuer, was placing a thermal blanket around him. The bedraggled dwarf, water streaming down her face, looked up at Mr Duir.

  “It is only five minutes to the school,” he said without looking at her. “Mrs Parkinson expects us.”

  With a hiss the coach doors opened and Miss West ushered Seb and Aiden up the steps, accompanied by a massive gust of wind which rushed in and crashed along the length of the vehicle.

  The boys, directed by Mr West, sat in two empty seats near the front. Mr Duir, his soaked shirt clinging to his skin, followed a dripping Miss West into the coach and sat in front of them.

  Seb’s palm was now merely tingling as the driver slipped the coach in to gear and drove out of the car park. Seb cleared the mist from the window beside him and looked out. It was like staring into the night and he couldn’t believe it was only about midday.

  He could hear Clarissa, two rows back, complaining, “What on Earth were Stupid-Seb and Idiot-Aiden doing? Why didn’t they keep up? Serves them right. Bet they catch flu now and spread it to the rest of us!”

  Seb shut out her words; he had more serious things to worry about than her disapproval. Am I going mad?

  Aiden hadn’t spoken and pulled the thermal blanket over his head. Seb guessed his friend blamed him for making matters worse in that dark, swampy place.

  Zach appeared in the gangway next to Aiden, the tight black curls of his hair glistening with residual raindrops. “Oh it’s a laugh a minute with you around, Seb,” he boomed. “You okay, Aiden?” He reached out and yanked the foil blanket down from Aiden’s head then let out a yelp of loud laughter, “My friend, you need a hairdresser!”

  As the coach turned a sharp bend Zach bumped against one of the teaching assistants, Miss Frank, who occupied the aisle seat opposite Aiden. A very large lady, her ample backside also occupied a fair bit of the aisle. She huffed and was about to rebuke him when Mr West, smiling, suggested she moved over to the empty seat beside her and let Zach sit down. Moodily, she did as he suggested.

  “Waulud Lower, Mr Duir, sir,” the driver said as the coach stopped. He opened the doors and the head teacher from the lower school, flapping rain droplets off an umbrella, climbed the steps, announcing that she had organised biscuits and hot chocolate for all in the school hall. Cheering, the students stood as one, barging and shoving each other to be the first off the coach, but Mr Duir’s appearance in the aisle instantly brought the clamour to a halt. He directed the teachers off first, followed by Aiden, Zach, Scarlet and Nat. Both girls smiled at Seb as they passed, then Mr Duir placed himself in front of Seb, blocking his exit until everyone else was off the coach.

  Seb wondered if he was about to be told off.

  Mr Duir stepped into the aisle and, towering over him, regarded him thoughtfully. “Quite an experience, Master Thomas.”

  Seb nodded sadly as his mind flashed back to the red eyes in the blackness and the whispering of the leaf-boy.

  “Master Lord is a bit upset.” Mr Duir sat down.
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br />   Seb stared at his hands.

  “Maybe he feels you contributed to your predicament?” Mr Duir’s eyes watched intently for Seb’s reaction.

  Seb felt a stab of guilt and looked up. “Maybe I did,” he mumbled.

  “Maybe you didn’t.” The Head leant forward. “Storms can be confusing, the darkness, the noise – it can make you doubt your senses.”

  Seb was certainly doubting now. In the bright internal lights of the coach he realised that his fear and confusion had made him imagine things. He felt foolish. Something tickled his left ear.

  Mr Duir was still watching him. Seb didn’t want to speak; he felt like an idiot. Again a breeze fluttered past his ear.

  “You shouldn’t doubt your senses.” Mr Duir’s words were accompanied by the slightest echo, Shouldn’t doubt.

  Seb shivered. “I should,” he said, “if they make me imagine things!” He stared at Mr Duir. “I saw things, in the dark …”

  Mr Duir’s reaction was surprising. A kind smile spread across his face. He sat upright and with a sudden movement he made a grab into thin air. As his hand closed, the wrist, then arm and then the whole body of the leaf-boy materialised, wriggling and squirming, trying to release his grip.

  “Things like this?” Mr Duir was still smiling. “Be still!” he commanded the leaf-boy who instantly stopped squirming and shrugged. He had been hovering two feet off the ground and now placed his feet on the coach floor. Mr Duir let go of him and he stared at Seb like a defiant child.

  “Seb, it is not your senses that deceive