The Writers' Circle

Its still very rusty, and needs alot of work. But I think its an improvement on the first version

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As a child Trentmore St held Ben in fear.

It is an old street; very old. On one side of the street the houses stand derelict. Shards of glass from the smashed street-facing windows litter the pavement. In each doorway, hinges desperately cling to the last remnants of their rotting doors; some have long since lost that battle. 

On the other side of Trentmore stirs 'The Bog'. An ancient wetland perpetually covered in a thick fog; so thick that to this day no one has been able to accurately measure its size. Many a families pet has wondered into 'The Bog' never to return. The mere threat of 'The Bog' is enough to quiet mischievous children; tales are told in local pubs of poor drunken souls who inadvertently wander into the bog late at night, eventually wandering out many miles away totally mad - or not coming out at all. One poor soul returned screaming in a language (if one could call it that) which no one has been able to identify. 

Trentmore is illuminated with the aid of three old street lamps; one at each end and one hanging over a closed corner store. Their dull yellow glow struggles against the darkness to light the pathway below.

If Ben had to go down Trentmore St during the day, it would be at a run. Each open doorway upon passing became a gaping mouth ready to swallow him whole if he got too close. He could feel eyes or see the faint shape of a person waiting behind most smashed windows. Once Ben made the mistake of stopping to look into one of the open door ways, he was sure someone had called his name out. As he peered in through the doorway, the darkness within started to ooze out towards him. It was as though a shadow of evil from within the house was invading the light of day. He couldn't move. Ben tried to scream but nothing came out. He could hear his name "Bennnn...." whispering through the doorway. He felt everything around him being pulled into the house as the darkness reached further out towards him "Bennnn...."

Nothing.

Ben fled home.

Ben's troubles started on the day of his promotion. He had left school at the age of 15; taking the first job that came his way. Safeway had been advertising for a trolley collector, the store was located around the corner from his parent's home so he applied and got the job. After working there for seven years Ben made it to the heights of Assistant Manager in the produce section, that's just a fancy title for lick spittle to the produce manager.
 
Patrick the produce manager had retired a week earlier, a very emotional day full of tears as he received his gold (thinly plated) pen and a hearty pat on the back from the store manager John.

One week later in the same room John handed Ben a shiny new gold badge with his name and new title on it "Ben Dohan, Manager - Produce section."

John had a voice which didn't go below a shout and a grip that could put a vice to shame "Glad to have you on board the managers team Ben," he bellowed. Ben flinched as John's hand gripped his "I expect great things from you." 

Great things? I'll be managing the produce section for Christ's sake. Ben thought to himself.

John released his grip and strode off, his voice booming all the way down the hall. A few minutes later, the blood returned to Ben's hand.

After work Ben wanted to celebrate so called his brother Adrian "Hey Ado, Ben here" Ben has called his brother Adrian 'ado' since child hood; he's called him that for so long now that the memory of why has long since gone.

 "Ahhh the big B, hey did you get your promo?"

 "Sure did bro" there was more than a hint of a smile in Ben's voice.

"Well then" Adrian said in a semi serious voice "Congratulations Ben, we need to celebrate, come round for dinner tonight, and as you're a big wig now, it's your shout!"

Ben enjoyed dinner immensely as he chatted to his Brother and his wife. They'd retired to the living area for coffee and cake. Before he knew it, it was time to leave.

 "Well, time for me to head home." Ben announced getting up from the couch.

They were heading to the front door when Adrian asked his standard question "When are you going to get yourself an apartment? You're almost twenty two and you still live with the olds!" 

"Yeah yeah" this was Ben's standard response. 

"You sure I can't give you a lift?" Adrian asked "Or should I call the old girl and ask her to pick you up?"

Ben chuckled "Don't give up your day job, I'll walk. The clouds look bleak but I don't think it's going to rain. I'll catch you later bro" With that Ben turned and walked off.

There were two ways to walk home from Adrian's house. The long way; on foot it would take him about an hour. Or the short way; it would only take him about twenty minutes, but he would have to go through Trentmore. It had been a good day and night all round, Ben's spirits were the highest they'd been for a long time. He was in such good spirits that the thought of walking down Trentmore St didn't send chills down his spine.  He chose the short way.

Now that was a mighty fine meal. Ben's thoughts wandered; his feet were on auto-pilot as he strolled home. What the hell am I going to do tomorrow, me the boss? Oh my god, I've forgotten everything I've learnt over the last seven years! Strange weather tonight, no breeze at all and the clouds just seem to hang there. His thoughts continued to meander until they were interrupted by his arrival at the intersection of Blackburne and Trentmore St.
 
A small icicle ran down his back

"Shit shit shit! What was I thinking?" Ben said to himself, the silence seemed to loom around him. It was a little too quiet. He wrapped his arms around himself "Crap I can't take the long way now I won't get home for another hour!"
 
Something odd caught the corner of his eye "Oh shit" he whispered as he stood staring. For as long as he could remember 'The Bog' had always, always been covered by a thick blanket of fog.  As he looked a full moon broke through the nights clouds. For miles 'The Bog' glistened like wet leather, its flat landscape broken only by the irregular mounds scattered across its surface. Involuntarily Ben stepped backwards 'The Bog' suddenly felt malevolent, he could feel it studying him. He shook his head "C'mon you're a big boy now, no need to be scared of a wetland, which until tonight has been covered in fog for as long as I can remember!" He started to walk down Trentmore St.

A breeze began to stir.


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