Just Kids Playing

Part Five of a longer story written for the Summer Challenge

We had all returned home after David had sat and showed us the framed photographs that he had brought back from his trip through the window. The pictures themselves were all of a young boy who David introduced us to as Jack, his best friend from before he moved here. We passed them around between us but were more intrigued with David's actual trip. He told us about the hay-field and the old lady that he met and as we all parted company, he told us that he was worried about Jack and that he was going to ask his folks for some help in locating him.

David was very quiet throughout the next day and the rest of us even thought about not taking him along to the old barn for my showdown with the window later on. We all had gathered as usual at the school gates when education had finished and had a little talk about leaving the place alone for a day or two but in the end the decision to go ahead was unanimous and we did so, making our way down the now familiar grass track and through the undergrowth to where the barn stood. Charlie and David walked behind myself with Scott taking the lead and I noticed that both were very quiet, not even talking amongst themselves. When we were stood in front of the barn, I asked everyone one more time whether they wanted to go ahead or not. Scott simply looked, smirked and just walked inside without an apparent care in the world, Charlie and David held back a little but agreed to go along without any further coercion. I followed in last of all, knowing full well that I would be going through today and set about mentally preparing myself for it.

Soon after I found myself in the large meadow to the rear of mine and Scott's council terrace. I looked to try and see my house and had to squint in the sun because it was so bright. I could just make it out but it was little more than the size of a match-head in the distance. Strangely, I felt a level of re-assurance in just seeing it and walked forward with some confidence after checking behind me and seeing that I was right at the border of the meadow with Godolphin Woods rising thick and tall further back. I looked harder to try and spot the barn and the window but couldn't, meaning that I hadn't simply climbed through a window and come out on the other side. I figured that something had to happen, all of the others had regaled stories of their adventures so it made sense that I would have mine. The only problem with that was that I was well and truly alone in the meadow, stood stock still and considering what to do.

I decided to try something different and walked to my right, along the edge of the woods. I intended to enter the woods by the next track that I could see, but avoiding going straight backwards and ending up back in the barn again without any story to tell. I walked for about a minute before I saw a small break in the trees and re-entered the woods. I was close to a stream that I thought that I recognized but the water was flowing very fast so I figured it to be much further away from where we would usually play as a group. Using quite a bit of my youthful energy to force my way through bracken and undergrowth brought me to an unsheltered break in the woods. The sun shone in quite fiercely and I had to shield my eyes to see around but could make out the stream running through the left-hand edge so decided to try and follow it. I sensed that the time was anywhere between mid and late afternoon as I re-entered the woods from the other side of the small opening, plunging me back into very near darkness as the trees very nearly blocked out all of the sunlight. As I have said earlier on in these stories, I am not the adventurous one. I would much rather be in an open area kicking a ball around or playing tag, so stomping through woodland was not that appealing to me. I did persevere, however, and soon I came to a large old five-bar-gate that led into an open field. I rested for a moment and tried to view if anything was in the field ahead but the incline of the land meant that I couldn’t. It really felt that it had been a long time since I had climbed through the window but that was probably because I was very tired, beating a path through quite dense woodland can be very laborious for a ten-year-old. I climbed the gate and entered the open field feeling all on edge and sweaty. Moving into the field and up the incline opened the field slowly before my eyes and that was when I caught a vision of movement to my left. I looked sharply, hoping that it had been a bird creating a rustling in the treetops as it took flight but there stood the bull. I froze still as the bull looked at me rather quizzically, almost as if it wanted to ask me questions. A few moments passed and, thankfully for me, I found my feet and took flight in the opposite direction to where the bull was standing. As I ran, my mind whirred and tried to program my legs to head back to the gate and relative safety but was failing miserably because I was headed back towards the woods but much further down the field. From behind me, the bull issued a bellow and began to move. I felt the ground rumbling underneath me as it picked up speed. I’m sure to this day that it would’ve caught up to me in no time and had itself a gorefest if I hadn’t spotted the opening in the woods and diverted quickly into it. The mixture of the incline of the field, the speed of the bull and the sharp change in direction that I managed, meant that the bull went past me and over-corrected, losing its balance and taking a tumble.

There was a narrow path ahead of me now and I maintained my maximum speed along it. I had enough time to think that the bull may have just given up and wandered off but then I heard another bellow and realized it was still giving chase. Up ahead was the stream now, probably about five feet wide but I didn’t even think about stopping or even slowing down. I hit the bank with my left foot and launched for everything that I was worth and then hoped. It may not seem like a big leap for an adult but any self-respecting ten-year-old will you that it’s a bloody good leap. I landed on the other side on both feet and this time the bull did pull up and stop. It gave another bellow and began to patrol the other side of the stream-bank, looking for a way across. My right ankle had taken a slight knock but didn’t feel painful enough to be sprained or even twisted so I continued to flee with just a slight limp, aiming to get as much distance between myself, the stream and the half a tonne of very rare steak on the other side.

A bad stitch attacked by side now as my young body reminded me that I was absolutely knackered but I didn’t stop. Up ahead was what looked like more dense woods and thicker undergrowth but I ploughed on none-the-less, swatting away small twigs and undergrowth and ducking under or jumping over the larger wood. I didn’t even notice that my hands and arms were very scratched and had drawn blood in a number of places. The bull had very obviously negotiated the stream because I heard another bellow and then the earth started to rumble again.

It was at this point that I spotted something that I recognized. It was the old barn. What I couldn’t work out was why it was now not surrounded by dense undergrowth and looked in very good condition. The murky pink exterior that I had come to know over the course of the last week now had the deep red colour of a barn either recently built or recently painted. The woodwork was in very good shape, the roof was complete and the sun even glinted off of the corrugation. The top floor shutters were open and I could see fresh hay piled high, it was actually a sight to behold. I ran to the large open front doors of the barn, not really sure of what I intended to do and stopped running and started panting. From the upper floor of the barn, I heard a pitchfork hit something metal and a comical cuss. Then there was a young lad of about twelve or thirteen scrambling down the ladder to see what all the fuss of my arrival was about. I had my hands on my knees and was bent over, regaining my breath when the bull cleared the undergrowth with a loud bellow and bore down on both me and the young lad. I knew that I was being chased and saw it coming, the young lad didn’t stand a chance and just stood stock still as some very heavy red meat hit him head on. To this day, I can still hear an almost comical Woof! In my dreams as the lad was carried backwards into the barn incredible force, gored straight through by one of the bull’s horns and dead instantly. My first reaction was to pee myself, as my bladder let go and ran down my leg, I could still feel the passing rush of air created by the bull and the unfortunate young lad. Within moments the bull re-emerged from the barn, it had tossed the lad into the hay with absolute mercilessness and now stood looking me up and down once again. I felt that I was in some sort of time loop and that I would need to start running again when there was an almighty BANG!! And the bull simply buckled and collapsed. The farmer approached it cautiously, checking with a kick to hind quarters that it was dead. He cocked his double-barrelled shotgun, exposing the two smoking chambers and looked in my direction. I started to cry then and the farmer looked inside the shed and began to wail himself. He ran to son and cradled him, shouting the boys name into his face, but it was too late. I followed into the barn and looked on, not knowing what to say or do. I collapsed onto a hay-bale and just continued weeping. The farmer picked up the body of his son and carried him away carefully, completely ignoring me and that gave me the idea that he couldn’t even see me.

I looked up at the rear wall of the barn and spotted the window. The only thing that I really noticed was that the glass was cleaner than I knew it to be but I knew it was my only option to see this madness through. I climbed up and stood in front of it and then just let myself fall into it. There was darkness and then I was on the first floor of the same barn but in the right age. I heard familiar voices from down below and knew that I was back. I climbed down to the ground floor and sat on a hay-bale as my friends gathered around. It was Scott who noticed that my hands and lower arms were scratched and bleeding, up until that point I had ignored them.