Extract from Brittny and the Book of Days

The sun kissed the horizon as the day grew stale. The later afternoon turning into early evening. The last dregs of the children were leaving the school grounds having grown tired of shooting hoops. They drained away out the gate like the fading light of the day. It was nearly five thirty and Brittny thought that it would be quicker to go home using a little used short cut that ran behind the back of the school, following a stream for a short way before the path cut through a field that backed on to Gabrielle's house. That's where she is going for tea.

She rounded the corner of the school gym, ambled down the bank onto the dank, sodden ground of the sports field. Her hand fumbled with the buttons of the MP3 player that rode snug in her blazer pocket. Click! the first bar of the first track broke her thoughts. Passing through a ramshackle gate, at the back of the field, she entered the feral earth, a wild zone. She stopped surrounded by a riot of long grass and flowers. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, defeated by the encroaching night, which now was hell-bent on destroying all the shadows. Clouds mustered on the westward horizon, adding to the gloom.
In the fading twilight Brittny wondered whether this shortcut was such a good idea. Peering into the long grass she could just make out the track. She hitched her school bag high on her shoulder and started down the feeble path. It was muddier than she remembered and despite her best efforts she could not keep the filth off her trainers.

The track meandered its way along the narrow stream, sometimes it left to pass through a strand of manuka then returning to the stream again. It was becoming narrower and harder to find in the half-light and the puddles impossible to avoid. "Oh ... shit." Though Brittny, "I knew this was a bad idea," for the track had abruptly turned to end at a pipe that crossed the stream. It was quite a solid pipe that ran about ten feet above the ground and twenty feet over the stream. In the ageing twilight it looked formidable, what to do? She hesitated, looking back into the manuka she thought about returning to the school, but now it was too dark to see the track. Beyond the pipe was a duck walk that went a short way across a swamp and then through a paddock. These places she knew well. She took a punt on crossing the pipe though her greasy shoes would not aid her. Step after pensive step she edged her way over the pipe, which being black didn't help. A slight breeze sprung on her, she stopped and threw out her arms. Another step, almost halfway now. The night was coming, it sucked out the warmth of the day and the colours were draining away. Another step, half way over the stream now, she looked down into the dark void. Her muddy foot slipped, she wobbled and thrust out an arm, unbalancing her bag, it slid down her arm to her elbow. Nearly losing her balance, she dropped the bag, she fell. The bag tumbled. Splash! Into the stream. She held onto the pipe flat along its length, too shocked to move. She felt herself slipping, deliberate, slow, sliding off the pipe. There was fifteen feet of pipe to the bank but it may as well have been a mile. Regaining her wits, she crawled the remaining length of the pipe, hand over hand until she reached the bank.

It was exactly mid-twilight, too dark to be light, and too light to be dark when she started along the duck walk feeling naked without her bag, with no idea what she was going to say to her Mum now that it was lost. Dark clouds scooted across the sky, driven ahead of the wind, its breath causing the reeds to clatter.

The boardwalk planks creaked and groaned as she walked through the chattering reeds. The evening breeze blew cool through her hair. Around her from the deep shadows she felt that eyes were staring. With fear she looked around, "I wish I had my bag," she thought.

The moon had risen, its pale yellow light fought against the fading twilight, big bright and close. It was a hunter's moon.
Swish, swish, whoosh, like a knife slicing through butter it cut its way through the reeds.

Brittny felt uneasy. She walked faster.

Swish, crackle, the vile thing sliced its way through the undergrowth, traveling as fast as thought itself.

She ran along the boardwalk. She didn't know why, but she felt fear in this place as if she was being watched or that a dead body would come floating to the surface of the swamp or something.

Zigzagging through the reeds this unearthly thing breached through the rushes as fast as a crow could fly ... zigging, zagging, sometimes crashing through the reeds and sometimes diving under the water, whichever gave the least resistance.

She sprinted along the boardwalk, leaping over the broken boards, fighting for breath, fighting the fear. She could see the edge of the swamp about one hundred feet ahead. Increasing the pace she managed to fumbled with the MP3 player.

And still it came, a wicked thing as stealthy as a fox. Swish, swoosh, clatter. It skipped over the open water and crashed through the undergrowth, zigging, zagging and then it sensed its prey. With an abrupt turn it made a beeline, slicing with speed and stealth the reeds folding around its green leathery skin. The target was only yards away, it could feel it. Taste it.

She sweated blood as she sprinted along the boards, only feet to go, fumbling with the player.

The living evil sped faster through the rushes, with piercing green eyes it made contact with its prey, sprinting, only yards away. Rising, it struck.

She pushed Play!

It reeled in pain as it crashed back into the swamp.

Tubular bells, the first few notes played as Brittny collapsed onto the bank and tried to gain her breath.

The thing withered in agony, the music drilling into its mind, it had missed its target. The music of the bells had struck it down in mid-strike. It slithered away in pain and tunneled back into the underworld from which it came.

Climbing up the embankment she felt unusually calm, blissfully unaware of the danger she had escaped. The moonlight bathed the field in its pale light. Tall grass swaying in the breeze like waves on a silvery sea. In the west, only a thin bank of twilight was left, dying, aging, like a fading smile. Distant dots of light shone like beacons to guide her across the field. She made a path for them, stabbing eastward to the houses.

She always found Mike Oldfield's music calming, especially the first twelve bars of tubular bells. As she cut her way through the thick grass, the wind had gained strength. It wailed over the field and whistled in her headphones, competing with the music.

'Caladrial," she stopped. "Caladrial, Ariel," it continued, "Caladrial, Ariel, Memus, Umbriel," her eyes widened and she began to shake. She swore she could hear voices, strange, eerie ethereal voices. The wind rustled the tall grass. She started the player again as it metered out twelve bars. Again, she heard the whispering on the wind.

"Caladrial" in time with each bar, "Ariel" over the wind they whispered. "Memus, Umbriel, Ishmael." Almost across the paddock she stopped and took her headphones off and she could still hear them. Again they started, "Caladrial," she opened the gate to Gabrielle's house, "Ariel, Memus, Umbriel." They didn't stop until twelve names were read, one for each bar of music, "Brittny" they said, "free us." Just through the gate she froze. The whispering voices said, "say our names, say our names." They started again, "Caladrial, ..." Closing the gate behind her she made her way between two houses, and entered a car park. Another bank of dark clouds came rolling in from the south. They looked evil, more intense than normal and very turbulent. As she gazed at them, they blocked up half the sky, still the voices whispered on the wind, "Caladrial, Aerial, Memus ..." The amulet burned cold against her bare skin, its emerald green stone ran blood red under the clouds eerie light. Raising it to the sky she yelled "Caladrial!" A clap of thunder rolled around the hills and light rain fell. A strange black cat crossed her path. Over the howling wind, "Aerial!" she screamed. The clouds stabbed each other with lightning, several peels of thunder rolled across the sky.
The strange black cat looked nervously into the sky. With worry its piercing yellow eyes looked frightened at something in the clouds. It froze with fear and for a brief instant those two bright yellow eyes split into four ... and then back to two. The poor creature ran panicking into the neighbor's yard.

As quickly as it came, the storm passed. She ran up to Gabrielle's house and beat on the door, the amulet dangling around her neck.
The door flew open, Gabrielle's mother's long thin hands grabbed her by the collar and dragged her in, slammed shut the door. In the car park, a coven of cats had formed a ring howling with the wind.