New stories are due to appear in the anthologies
The author’s first novel,
“‘About the Dark’ is really a meditation on the source of evil,” Littlewood explains. “We associate bad things with dark places: they happen in secret, away from view and the relief of daylight. And the dark never seems to be quite empty — at least, not when you start to stare into it.
“This story takes things a step further. What if evil didn’t just happen
DARK CAVE DIDN’T sound the most promising place to hang out, but it was the driest place Adam could think of away from the town centre. Adam didn’t want to be in the town centre, mainly because his latest school had an “attendance optimiser”, otherwise known as a truant officer. The truant officer knew what Adam looked like, partly because of the number of times he’d hauled him back to classes, and partly because of the way Adam had tried to deck him the last time he’d tried.
He’d nearly been expelled for that one, and it was only because they decided to blame his mother that expulsion had been commuted to a three day suspension; a punishment that seemed to more than fit the crime, although not in the way they’d intended. Adam grinned at the thought, then grimaced. Blaming his mother was what everyone did. No one seemed to expect anything from his dad, least of all Adam himself.
He turned now to see Sasha flick wet hair out of her face, rubbing at her black-rimmed eyes. Adam decided not to tell her she’d smudged her make-up. No doubt she’d find out later, on her own. He exchanged looks with Fuzz, so named for his shaved head rather than any liking for the police. Fuzz nodded back. He didn’t tell Sash about the smudge on her cheek, either.
There was a wall of rain behind Sash, the muted grey-green of trees beyond that. She already had a cigarette clamped between her lips and she flicked her lighter, emitting a brief flame that fizzled before it could begin.
“Get under, shit-fer,” Adam said.
“Soz,” said Fuzz.
Adam didn’t say anything. Sometimes he didn’t have to, and that was best. That was when he knew it had worked; the face he put on, the tough words, the fists. No one messed with him anymore. Now he skived off classes because it made him look hard. That wasn’t why he’d done it at his last school.
Sash started giggling, trying to get the cig to light. She couldn’t. Adam rolled his eyes, snatched it away, felt damp paper under his fingers and flicked it, one-handed, out into the rain. He ignored Sash’s squeal of protest. Instead he turned and looked into the cave mouth, the way its misshapen walls faded into the dark.
“You going in?” He looked at Fuzz. He didn’t look at Fuzz because he wanted Fuzz to lead the way: he didn’t want Fuzz to lead anything. That was Adam’s job. He said it as a challenge.
“Course.”
Adam didn’t ask Sash. He knew she’d follow. He knew that because of the way he’d told her, once, to take off her top; the way, after a moment’s hesitation, she had.
Sash had full tits, for a skinny lass. Adam remembered them now, thought of how they would feel under his hands in the rain, the way her top would stick to them. He felt a flush of warmth beneath the cool air that rose from the cave. There was a smell, too; dank stone, mingling with the scent of rain. He wrinkled his nose. “Come on,” he said, and stepped forward. He flicked on his own lighter as he went.
It was more difficult than Adam had expected. The lighter emitted a circular glow, highlighting each finger in glowing blood red, but not illuminating much else. It was hot and he kept switching hands, pulling a face he knew no one could see. He felt the irregular rock through his shoes. He heard the others following, their footsteps seeming more sure than his own. That wouldn’t do. He couldn’t show weakness; something he’d learned the hard way. Weakness painted a target on your back.
Now he was the one who punched and spat and made boasts and smoked, the one who led. He had assumed his new role when he started his new school. It had been like slipping on a new skin, but sometimes he could still feel it moving over his old one, loose and ill-fitting.
He switched hands again, jumped as Sash behind him flicked her own lighter. It lit the wall at Adam’s side and he saw old lettering there, as though this place had been better used, once; the remnants of old names, old lives. Now they were little more than fragments; he couldn’t make out the words. He wondered who had been here, whether they smoked or drank or fucked in the dark. He grinned as he stepped forward and, not watching his feet, slipped. He almost went down.
There came a light giggle behind him.
Adam straightened his back, started to turn. Such things couldn’t be allowed to go on or they only got bigger. He knew this in ways the others didn’t. As he turned, though, Sash swore and Adam heard her lighter drop, the sharp sound of plastic shattering. A moment later there came an acrid smell.
“Fucker burned me,” she said. She sounded upset.
Adam knew Sash couldn’t afford another lighter, couldn’t afford much of anything. He opened his mouth to tell her she could use his whenever she wanted, then closed it again. “Stop pissing about,” he said.
The ground beneath his feet started to slope downward. Adam lowered the light, trying to make out the way, but could see nothing. He started down anyway; realised, after a few strides, that he couldn’t hear the others. He turned and saw two dark shapes against the glow from the entrance, their faces outlined by the light of his flame. “What’s up?” he said.
“I’m not going down there,” said Sash. She sounded close to panic. “I don’t like this, Ad. It’s opening out; how we gonna find our way? We could get lost.”
Fuzz didn’t say anything. He didn’t follow Adam, either.
“There are stories,” Sash said, “about Dark Cave.”
Adam snorted. “Stories are for kids.” He took another few steps as if to demonstrate, but when he glanced around he saw that Sash was right. The cave had broadened out; he could no longer see the walls. He looked back at Sash and Fuzz. They hadn’t moved. They were still dark shapes, but their faces had gone. For a while he didn’t say anything, and neither did they. It struck him that they might not speak, that it might not even be Sash and Fuzz standing there. His mates had turned tail and fled into the sunlight, leaving only these shadows behind.
Then Sash did speak, and Adam took a breath. “I don’t want to,” she said. “Why don’t we go and have a cig, instead? I could try and find my lighter.”
“Just a bit further,” Adam said. “Then we’ll sit down and you can tell us all about Dark Cave.” He paused, deepened his voice. “Tell us ze ghost stories, mwa ha ha. ”
Sash didn’t laugh, but she did get moving. Adam turned and went on. Their footsteps echoed around him, a confusion of sound, but he knew that Fuzz would be following too. Sometimes Adam thought that kid was sweet on Sasha. Then he remembered the way Fuzz had been when Sash took off her top: the way he’d kept his eyes on Adam all the time, not saying a word. Fuzz had never even looked at Sash, at all.
“Here,” Adam said, bending low and scanning the floor. A low outcrop of rocks glowed almost yellow in the flame; he sat down on the nearest. The others sat too. Fuzz made a “tch” sound and pulled something from his pocket. Another light sprung to life in the boy’s hands, and Adam cursed himself for not thinking of it sooner. It was Fuzz’s mobile phone. After a few seconds the light winked out and Fuzz pressed a button to light it up again. Adam wasn’t sure he liked it. It made the dark draw back a little, but the bluish glow made everything cold.
Fuzz crossed one boot over the other. “Nice ere, innit,” he said.
