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Extended Work
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| Graffiti: Chapter III | |
| By Kezzi | ||
| 08 July 2008 | ||
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Tabitha Walker is an outsider, shunned by the world after her life is turned around by mysterious circumstances. But an eerie message on her desk at school and a seductive smile change everything as the world of the supernatural reveals itself...
-III-
Candles Dean was pale as death against his dark hair. "You mean - they've found Malum?" His voice was unusually quiet. All three looked questioningly at Andy, their hearts beating rapid rhythms. He shrugged. "I was just telling Ollie before you came in; Charles visited me last night with news of his sighting. Apparently he's been seen hanging around the belfry of Blackthorn Primary, terrorizing small children." "Who's Charles?" Tabby asked, confused - and was answered by a hollow wail from somewhere above in the vaulted ceiling. She leapt backwards in surprise, frantically scanning in all directions for its maker. "Right on cue, Charlie!" Andy called up with a grin, his voice echoing off every cold, stone surface. "He's a ghost?" Tabby's jaw dropped. "Holy macaroni…” Something pearly white was descending from the high ceiling. She grabbed at Andy’s arm in fright, who covered her hand with his own. “It’s okay, he won’t hurt you. He just wants to say hi.” The misty mass lowered itself in front of the alter and almost seemed to squash flat as it met the ground; but then rose again, furling wisps surrounding the spectre as it slowly formed the shape of a neatly-dressed, middle-aged man with a ghostly monocle. Tabby stood stunned, although she knew it wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed this impossible divulgement. Charles nodded to her politely, monocle almost glinting in the candlelight. He cast a faint shadow upon the grand old alter, which shivered and danced with the surrounding flames. “Good evening, young lady,” he said in an extremely polished English accent. His voice sounded surprisingly human; neither distorted by death nor tarnished by time. Tabby grinned through her initial shock. “How do you do?” “Very well, thank you.” He removed his top hat and bowed low, then returned it to his head with a flourish. “He’s a bit bonkers,” murmured Andy into her ear as Charles once again vapourised and drifted back up into the darkness. “Eccentric. Got knocked down by a horse and cart in the early Nineteenth Century.” Tabby nodded solemnly, fighting the urge to giggle nervously; these events were so extraordinary that she could barely believe her mind was starting to accept them. As she remembered again the meeting of her grandmother seven years ago, together with the appearance of Charles, a sudden thought occurred to her. "If only people with the Sight can see them,” she said, “how come - erm…Non-Seers - manage to catch them on film?" "Simple," said Andy. "Ghosts are made of very dense, cold air. If caught on infra-red film, they show up, because infra-red cameras detect heat – or, of course, lack of heat. They have shadows because of their density, too." "Ohh." The world of ghosts seemed quite self-explanatory; but she still had many questions. The chance to ask these vanished, however, as Ollie began to speak. "Do you think it's safe to try banishing Malum again?" "I'm not sure," replied Andy, released from Tabby’s grip and wandering over to the alter, taking Charles’s place. "We may need to try a different approach - he's extremely intelligent. We'll have to practise some new strategies on other ghosts first, to perfect other methods - and of course give Tabby a chance to learn before we go for the big one." He grinned at her and she returned it, realising how gorgeous he looked in the light of dying candles - and bit her lip coyly before looking away. Dean groaned. "Does she really have to be a member?” he complained, eyes downcast to the shadows. “She's just holding us back." "She won't be holding us back at all, we need to wait before trying to banish Malum again," Andy explained, stepping back towards them. "Besides, it's up to her whether she joins or not.” He turned to Tabby. "After what you've heard and seen, do you want to be a part of our organisation?" Tabby nodded eagerly, hearing Dean grunt with annoyance. "Of course I do! It all sounds so exciting..." she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, feeling some of her kittenish behaviour finally begin to return after the last few weeks of turmoil. Andy smiled. "Then welcome to Graffiti. It is very exciting, but also very dangerous - simply by joining you have put yourself at risk from evil ghosts. They know who's a member and seek to kill them-" he laid a hand on Tabby's arm as fear leapt to her eyes, "-but you're safe as long as you wear one of these." He pulled another object from his pocket and held it in the air in front of Tabby. It was a crucifix on a long string threaded with wooden beads, catching the faint golden light as it spun slowly. "Wear it wherever you go - to school, to bed, everywhere. You're never safe from them unless you're wearing this. They cannot touch anything that's protected by the symbol of Christ. We only actually started wearing these after Jim was killed - by then, of course, it was too late to find out just how vicious some of the ghosts can be. We don't take chances any more." "That's why we meet in a church," Ollie added as Andy fastened the crucifix round Tabby's neck, who was almost wishing Andy had told her all this to start with. "They can't even enter the grounds, so our plans are safe." "It's not like, religionish though," interjected Dean gruffly. Andy grinned. "True, you don't have to believe in God to be a member. We just use the simple knowledge that evil spirits cannot touch anything that's been deemed Holy - in fact, they are destroyed by Holiness." Tabby nodded, understanding this concept and immediately feeling safe under the protection of the crucifix around her neck. She looked out of one of the stained-glass windows and realised with a jolt that outside was complete blackness, and had been for quite some time. "Uh oh - what's the time?" She looked at Andy, worried, who shrugged and looked at Ollie. He too shrugged and looked at Dean, who sighed and reluctantly lifted the sleeve of his black hooded sweater. "Quarter to seven," he mumbled, not looking in Tabby's direction. "Oh, pants, I have to get home," she bit her lip, zipping up her jacket which she'd discarded on the bench when listening to Andy talk. "I'll walk you," he offered, gaze catching hers. "I'm not letting you wander around the village on your own in the dark, crucifix or no crucifix." "Thanks, Andy," Tabby smiled, heart beginning to pump a now familiar, stronger rhythm in her chest. All four of them made a move towards the door. "Okay, guys," Andy said, "is it okay for everyone to meet up here tomorrow at about two-ish? We'll have a go at that house down Well Drive, see what we can find." The others nodded. "Sounds great," said Ollie, turning to blow out the candles. Andy watched him closely. I can’t believe I’m part of this, smiled Tabby to herself as the last few were extinguished, leaving only the shaft of pale orange light from the open door. Everyone looks out for each other so much…they really care… The four teenagers parted at the gate, Ollie waving and Dean grunting their goodbyes. Tabby and Andy walked side-by-side along the pavement, Tabby having told him her address so that he could help her find her house in the dark. The street was dimly lit by dirty orange lamps, some cracked and broken, others flickering on and off. The air was chilly, as usual, and Andy could feel Tabby's shivers as she strode alongside him. She was still a little spooked by the experience in the church a few minutes ago, and the weight of Andy's arm made her jump. He squeezed her shoulder gently and she relaxed into stride with him, feeling an odd jolt somewhere below her stomach where butterflies restlessly flew. "Don't worry about Dean," said Andy after a few minutes of thick silence, his words forming clouds in the orange-tinged air. "He’s always moody like that. You'll get used to him." Tabby grinned, her eyes on the pavement ahead. "I sure hope so; bumping into him couldn’t have upset him that much." she laughed. Although somehow, for the first time, she wasn’t comforted by Andy’s words; Dean hated her in a way she felt deep inside her veins, and one look from him chilled her blood and made her want to be as far from him as possible. He’s definitely something more than just moody… Their footsteps slapped the wet ground and mist clouded their way as, at last, they turned into a seedy estate that looked comfortingly familiar. His arm still around Tabby’s shoulders, Andy led the way to her house, her mother's car not yet occupying the driveway. "Well, here we are," he said, stopping outside the front door, looking the building up and down. "It’s not such a bad house; I thought from what you said that it was a hovel or something." "I guess it's okay," Tabby regarded the brick semi, smirking. “You seem to know your way around here pretty well.” “Andy sighed and smiled weakly. “Jim used to live here, a few doors down.” He indicated an identical house further down the road. “We spent every day together. Every childhood memory I have involves him. Losing him made me realise how much evil there is in the world.” He gazed at the house down the road, light from the street lamp throwing his features into sharp relief. A tiny tear trickled down his strong jawline, and Tabby looked away, feeling like an intruder upon his thoughts. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how much it would hurt to lose Andy in this way. He gave a small cough, and Tabby turned back to him. “Hey - how about you come round mine tomorrow morning? We can walk to the meeting together after lunch.” “Sure,” smiled Tabby, excitement rising. Is he asking me on a date? “That would be great.” He grinned back, a look of what seemed to be relief momentarily passing across his face. “Awesome, I’ll come for you at about eleven.” An awkward silence fell unexpectedly around them, and his gaze wandered to the weed-ridden flowerbed on the edge of the lawn. “Nice flora,” he smirked, clearly hoping to break through the membrane of tension. Tabby glanced around and laughed. “Yeah, thanks. The whole garden needs a revamp.” She scuffed the lawn idly with her Converse, the awkwardness still present and becoming even thicker with each quiet second. Suddenly, she felt a finger under her chin and raised her head to see Andy gazing into her eyes. Heart pounding, she held his stare, returned it, willing him to feel the love pulsing inside of her chest. "Keep yourself safe, won't you?" said Andy softly, bringing his face closer to hers. "Of course," Tabby breathed, feeling his own breath on her skin. Subconsciously, her lips parted. She was longing so much for them to touch his, for him to hold her there in the dark doorway, keep her warm from the cold- "See you tomorrow, then," he pulled away from her and smiled, walking down the garden path and turning to wave at the bottom. Tabby stood, her insides cold, heart plummeting, feigning a smile as his lean figure was swallowed by the misty shadows. Shaking, still in the trance from his blue eyes, she turned the key in the door and opened it slowly, a disappointed tear trickling down her numb cheek.
*
Tabby woke the next morning with tousled hair and an aching heart. Yawning, she rubbed her sore eyes and propped herself up on a pillow covered in black smudges, peering blearily at the guitar-shaped alarm clock on her bedside table. Ten o' clock – only an hour to get ready, she thought with a sigh. She dragged herself upright out of bed, but a sudden wave of fatigue made her head spin and she immediately sat back down again until it passed. She managed eventually to make it into the bathroom to refresh her pale face with a splash of freezing water, dragging a comb through her rainbow hair in front of the mirror and noting with annoyance her resemblance to a panda. She set about clearing her face of make-up and starting afresh, with her usual black eyeliner and mascara, somehow managing to poke herself painfully in the eye several times. She trudged back into her room to plug the hair straighteners in so they could heat up while she was making breakfast, and made her tired, barefooted way downstairs. Taking a bite of Marmite on toast - her favourite breakfast choice - Tabby gazed out of the window onto the street outside as she slumped in her chair at the kitchen table. The houses opposite glared brightly at her as a beam of golden light flooded the street, car mirrors flashing, steam rising from the wet tarmac. The morning was unusually warm and she smiled, as though the dazzling sunlight had woken up something within - hope. My luck can't have run out with Andy yet, she thought as she bounded back upstairs after dumping her plate in the sink. Today's a new chance. After all, he has asked me to lunch. She raked through her wardrobe several times before settling for a well-worn pair of grey stonewash skinny jeans and a bright red sloganed t-shirt; her usual combination on the weekends. Pulling the straighteners quickly through her hair, she made last checks in the mirror before grabbing her jacket, dashing out of the room and sliding down the banister backwards into the downstairs hall, feeling suddenly much more alive. He was late. Tabby dawdled in the hallway, nerves steadily mounting. Time seemed to be crawling about as fast as a dead snail as she regularly poked her head around the kitchen doorframe, the large wall-clock on the opposite side of the room barely changing each time. The butterflies felt as though they had morphed into an entire menagerie of wildlife, and she gently punched herself in the stomach in the hope her insides would stop squirming so uncomfortably. At half past, she began to pace. Despite her nervousness she was indescribably excited at the prospect of spending time at his house…perhaps even alone if his parents weren’t in. As this thought occurred to her she felt yet another jolt below her navel, and jumped about a foot in the air as the doorbell rang loudly through her bashful musings at the exact same time. Shakily, she fumbled with the bolts and tried to open the door calmly to Andy’s smiling figure on the illuminated path outside. His golden hair was slightly ruffled although there was no breeze, and the top button of his shirt was undone; exposing a fragment of his muscular, tanned chest. He took her breath away in a single moment. “Good morning,” he grinned.
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