Status: Work in Progress.

Acrylic Bones

The Boy in the Bookstore

The sun shone far overhead. The world was painted green and gold as it flashed by, only the black of the asphalt separating them from the forest. It smelled fresh. Like something new. The engine roared underneath them, and the wind whipped their hair fiercely around their faces. The wind was cold against their skin, but neither minded. His hands hold the steering wheel steadily, turning it slightly as they round a bend in the road. The young man breathes deeply, feeling the cold air burn his lungs as he does so. It is a pleasant feeling; that of freedom.

"It's around here somewhere!" his companions voice warns him happily. "Around the next bend, I think!"

"Okay!" he calls back, voice raised over the wind. Turning the wheel gently, they coast around a bend the opposite way and begin to slow. A large green sign passes on their right, the white letters spelling: 'Welcome to Hazel Acres. Population: 1540.'

"I've always loved small towns." his companion said as he pulled the car to the side of the road and put it in park. The engine rumbled to a stop, and silence descended on the vehicle.

"Home sweet home." he said back.

The door handle clicked as he pulled it up and shoved the door open, crawling out into the light of the afternoon. Reaching both hands above his head, he stretches his aching back and twists to both sides to relieve the pressure on his spine. As he does so, he stares down into the forest - to their new home.

A cobblestone staircase, complete with a rickety wooden handrail, led down into the small clearing. At the far end was a large wooden cabin, with a small front porch on the left-most end.
"Oi, lazy!" a voice called behind him. It was feminine, but rough. As though a young woman spoke with a mouth full of gravel. "Come help me unload the car!"

He smiled slightly, turning back to the vehicle and approaching the woman. The owner of the voice was hidden by the raised trunk, but he got a clear view of her as he came around the bumper of the car. She could not have been older than 40, with a tangled mess of straw-blonde hair and a deeply-lined face. Her eyes were the colour of honey. Her hair was a curly mess, and tied up with a grey ribbon above her head. She had a strange, ageless face - as though she was caught somewhere between being a teenager and a grandmother. As she saw him, she smiled, her ruby lips splitting to reveal two rows of diamond white teeth.

"Ah, good. Come give your old mother a hand." she says it playfully, shoving a cardboard box at him.

"Old mother." he repeats sarcastically, taking the box from her outstretched hands and tucking it under one arm. "I am your eternal slave."

"Damn right." she said with amusement. "Why else would I have a child?"

Grinning, the boy hoisted another box under his other arm and began down towards the cabin. He took the stone steps carefully, balancing the weight of both boxes. He could hear his mother coming down behind him, her light footsteps padding against the stones. Cleaning the final step, he crossed the pine-needle strewn clearing and pushed open the front door to the cabin. Breathing deeply, he stepped into the gloom and placed the boxes on the floor slightly away from the open door. His mother entered a few seconds later, stacking her own boxes on top of his, and glanced around.
"It's beautiful!" she said, and the boy barely repressed a smile.

The cabin was almost completely empty, with pine-wood walls and a grey linoleum floor. Two dusty, beige chairs and a couch stood around a round living-room table. Two bookshelves, empty, stood to either side of the couch. There was a window in every wall, and dull sunlight filtered weakly into the darkness. In front of them, on the other side of the front door, was a small kitchen. A fridge buzzed softly, a white stove sat beside it. The kitchen was separated from the living room by a countertop, with a passage on the left side to get into it. The hallway also seemed to lead to their bedrooms, and a bathroom off to the right.

"Well," the young man muttered, "it's comfy."

His mother shot him a wry grin, raising one hand to playfully cuff him on the side of the head. "Come on, my lazy boy. Let's get the car unloaded."

It takes them almost an hour to unload the car, despite having little in the way of possessions. He lifts the table as his mother unrolls a deep burgundy carpet under it, and they struggle to hang a miniature painted-gold chandelier in front of the kitchen counter. Stacks of plates and bowls are brought in, and they carefully sort their utensils into the drawers beside the stove. Sometime as they worked, a small grey cat found its way into the cabin and leapt onto the livingroom table, where it promptly curled up and went to sleep.

"How does that cat stay with us?" his mother asked, gesturing with one hand towards the table as she carefully worked her way through a stack of forks. They clink softly as she works.

The young man looked over and smiled. "Aw, leave Smoky be. Where's Jackal at?"

"Smoky." his mother groaned, putting one hand dramatically on her brow. "The originality - it burns! Next time," she looked over and caught his eyes, "I'm naming the cats."

As she said it, the second cat walked through the door. He sauntered in in that way that cats have, like a king entering his throne room. His tail swished slightly as he made for the chair, where he then flopped down and joined his sister in sleep. The boy walked over, using the knuckle of one finger to gentle stroke behind the cat's ears. It began to purr, the tiny vibrations mixing with it's deep breaths into a soothing pleasantness.

Straightening from her work, his mother walks over and lays a gentle hand on the young man's shoulder. When he glances at her, she is wearing a kind smile which causes her golden eyes to sparkle and the creases at the sides of her eyes to deepen.

"You want to go into town?" she asks.

"Yeah, sure. I have some stuff I'd like to pick up, too." he answers quickly.

The boy is tall, with sandy blonde hair which almost matches his mother's. It is less red, though - the colour of freshly cut straw. He keeps it cut short, but it still makes a spiky mess above his handsome face. He has a rounded face, with soft cheekbones and a small nose. It gives him a gentle, almost feminine look. His body is thick-set, however, and well muscled. He wears a pair of old jeans, with a rip across one knee, a slightly dirty white t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket. The boy could be described as attractive, though the more fitting word would be wild. His sun-darkened skin was an odd combination for his icy blue eyes and blonde hair. The boy's eyes were the most interesting part about him. Despite their lack of colour, they seemed warm and friendly. They were the kind of blue that, when the light caught them, turned to clear diamonds.

"No time like the present." his mother said, grabbing him by one arm and steering him roughly out of the cabin. "Hy Ho Silver, and away!"

He grinned as he stumbled out into the sunlight. The dapper light cast shadows across his face, and made the forest shine gold and green. He hurried up the steps to the road, his suede-shoed feet sounding softly as he leapt from step to step. Reaching the car, he walked around to the drivers' seat and clicked open the door, falling into the leather seat. Fishing the keys out of his pocket, he started the engine just as his mother climbed in beside him, shutting her door firmly behind her. The engine roared to life, and he peeled off onto the asphalt quickly, accelerating as he did so.

It takes them almost ten minutes to reach the town. As the first buildings came into view, the boy slows the car and begins to drive more carefully. The buildings are mostly constructed of painted wood; white, yellow, and soft pink. Some brick is in evidence, and most roofs are constructed of black shingles. Some shops are in evidence, more so as they draw closer to the center of town. The glass-paneled fronts display some wares, and swinging wooden signs above the doors proclaim the name of the establishments within. A few people walk the streets; slowly, and seemingly without regard for time. They pass a police cruiser, and the man inside gives them a small wave as they drive past.

Must not get many new faces around here, the boy thought.

"Pull up here." his mother said, gesturing to a shop front to his right. The boy slowed to a crawl and pulled into a parking spot at the side of the road. They both climb out of the car, and his mother gives him a quick kiss on the cheek before crossing the paved sidewalk. A grocery store, the sign above the door tells the boy. "Go get what you need, baby." his mother calls back over her shoulder as she vanishes through the supermarket doorway. "I'll meet you back at the cabin when I'm done. Don't get into too much trouble!"
And then she is gone.

He grinned slightly, nodded after her. Then, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he begins to walk down the street. Overhead, the sun is just beginning to dip towards the Western horizon. The air is still bright and hot, but the edges are tinged with an orange that promised sunset. As he walks, her lets his eyes slowly roam over the signs. He passes a clothing store, a beauty boutique, a bank, and another grocery store before he finds what he is looking for. He stops walking as soon as he sees it, his pale eyes lighting up. Glancing both ways quickly, he ducks inside the shop.

Inside, it it dim and slightly dusty. Like all bookstores around the world. The dark wood-paneled walls are short, with a stucco ceiling and comfy carpet floor. Shelves of books are stacked one on top of the other, hiding the rest of the shop. As soon as the boy pushes the door open, a bell jingles softly above him.

"Coming!" a boy's voice calls from further back in the store. It is deep, but still holds the crackly highness of youth. Not quite as full as his own, but still pleasant. The young man steps further into the bookshop, turning as the other figure came around the furthest bookshelf.

Instantly he gasps, his breath sucked between his teeth, and then bit off as his teeth clenched tightly. In front of him, the monster stands tall and gruesome. It's skin is pale, the colour of snow, and it's eyes are as black as death. Teeth, sharpened to daggers, grin out at him from a too-wide mouth. The figure's clawed hands clutch the bookshelf beside him, holding up his slumped shape. The eyes are the most frightening, as wide as saucers and completely blank. There is an evil there that is suffocating.

"Hey - is something wrong?" the figure asks.

The young man stands where he is, frozen in place with horror. Images flash through his mind, there and gone. The creature in front of him, it's clawed hands spread to the night sky, blood running down it's chin. A snarl, like that of a wolf, echoing through the night air. A full moon shining overhead, as red as the blood against the creature's mouth. The sound of the wind; shrieking through the trees. The crunch of bones snapping. The boy almost gagged. He could smell the creature; the wet, toxic smell of death. Like a newly dug grave.

Then he blinked, and the monster was gone. A boy, no older than himself, was staring at him with wide, worried eyes. His eyebrows were raised, and one hand was lifted slightly towards him.

"Dude, are you okay?" the boy steps forwards, reaching out as thought he might have to catch him.

"Yeah, sorry." he said, leaning back slightly and raising his own hands. Half in a gesture to prove he was okay, and half to fend off the other boy's hands. "You just ... looked like someone I know for a second."

"Ah." the boy said, a blade-like smiled splitting his red lips. "... Excuse the question, but ... you're not from around here?"

"Is that a question, or a statement?" he joked, and the boy's grin widened slightly.

"Both." the other boy said jokingly. Then he reached out one hand in greeting. "My name's Robin Albrick."

"Sean Penbeaurogh. Pleasure to meet you."

"Is it, though?" the boy asks, his eyes gleaming. He says it jokingly, though. "I suppose you'll just have to wait and find out. What are you looking for, Sean Penbeaurogh?"

"The meaning of life." the first boy joked, "Sex. Unlimited abundances of money. But I figured I'd start with books for now. You got any of those around here?"

Robin's grin almost split his face in half. "Books I can help you with. Sex, however, depends on how I'm feeling."
His wink left Sean unsure whether he was joking or not.
"Follow me, Sean." the young man murmurs, turning back down the aisle he had come from. "You seem like a dark fiction kind of guy."

Sean nods eagerly, following Robin through the rows of bookshelves. Finally, the other boy stops, gesturing to a particularly hefty shelf covered in paperback books.

"These are mostly horrors, but you'll find some good fiction in here. Adventure stuff. Around the other side is some lighter fiction, easy read stuff. Good for a night out under the moon, but not exactly brain food." the boy paused, his eyes looking towards Sean expectantly. "Anything else I can help you with?"

"No, this is great, thanks." Sean replied, his eyes already scanning the shelf. "I'll be here for a little while, if you don't mind."

"Take as much time as you need." the other boy said, walking away down the book aisle and waving one hand slightly as he turned the corner and disappeared. "I'll be at the counter if you need me!"

As soon as he disappeared, Sean almost collapsed against the bookshelf beside him. He could still taste the blood in his mouth; salty and metallic. He felt like he was choking on it, just standing near the young man. His visions were never wrong. Whatever that boy acted like, it was a lie. Something lay beneath his skin, an evil intense enough that it cloaked the boy in a darkness so suffocating it was a wonder he was breathing. Sean stood where he was for a moment, trying not to shake. Finally, he let loose a violent, uncontrollable shiver. Never in his life had he felt something like that. It felt ... primal.

"Oh God, who grants the holy peace and who grants the wicked rest. Beloved are all of your creations ... but what creation is this?"

Breathing out deeply, Sean shook his head once and knelt, looking carefully through the rows of book spines. He spends the next half an hour sorting through them, his nimble fingers prying book after book out of the tightly-packed shelves. He replaces most of them, but even so, by the time he finishes he has a formidable stack of books sitting beside him on the carpet.

"Should be good for now." he mumbled, picking up the stack of books and walking his way to the counter.

Robin is lounging in an armchair behind it, one leg crossed over the opposite knee, a thick novel clasped in his hands. He is a tall boy, with windswept brown hair gelled to one side. His brown eyes are the colour of cinnamon, and come away from the book immediately as he sees Sean approaching. He stands, carefully placing the open book on the seat of the chair, and waits for the other boy to come forward. He is wearing a pair of black suit pants, with a white shirt unbuttoned halfway down his lean-muscled chest. It is rolled to his elbows, revealing a silver watch on his left wrist.

Sean places the stack of books on the counter, and the other boy counts through them quickly.

"That'll be fifty bucks." he says, the cash register dinging as it springs open. Sean reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, sorting fifty dollars in bills out into his fingers and passing them to the other boy.
"Thanks." Robin says, placing the bills in the register and pushing it closed. It shuts with an audible snap of locks. "You want a hand carrying these out?"

Sean begins to say yes, but the word catches in his throat. Suddenly, he can taste the blood again. A vision flashes through his head. The curve of limbs, the heat of skin pressed against his own. He is holding a pomegranate, and it breaks open in his hands. Blood gushes from the fruit, spilling over his hands and splattering to the floor. He can feel the warmth of someone, again; the curve of skin, the angle of their limbs as they tangle with his own. The light smell of pepper.
And then the vision's gone, and he's staring silently at the boy across the counter.

"No, thank-you." he whispers hoarsely, picking up his books and turning away from the counter. "Be back soon."

"Come again!" the boy calls.

Sean breathes deeply as he exits the bookshop, desperate for the fresh air outside the stuffy store. He drank in the air, trying to purge the smell of blood from his nostrils. It clung to him like smoke, he thought.

"God, in your name ..." he trailed off, lips parted. His eyes stung. "God ... I need a fucking drink."
♠ ♠ ♠
First off, thank-you for taking the time to read my story! This is a pre-edited draft, and may be for up to a week. I realize and apologize for the spelling or grammatical errors, but I'll get it tuned up nicely.
This is planned to be a 30-40 chapter project, and I'll be releasing chapters as I finish them to the point where I feel proud of what I've written - but there should be at LEAST a chapter a week.
If you would like to suggest anything at all, leave me a comment telling me about it. Thanks again, and have an absolutely wonderful day.

WARNING: Without spoiling anything, I would like to warn people that this story MAY have triggers for issues such as; anxiety, sexual assault or rape, and self-harm.