Other books by this author.

The Machine.

It was trapped. Unable to escape this hellish place. Its existence sent terror throughout the lands and many dimensions. Banished from heaven, from everyone and everything. But through the darkness it had hope. One day escaping this rotting land to feed again. The day was getting closer, and then it will have its revenge. It needed the souls of others to survive. Without them it would rot. It was a disease that did not care. Its life meant one thing to destroy. It did not care what others thought. The fires in its empty shell hurt like hell. The days of starvation as its body weakens. Cowering in dark shadows unable to move. It had had enough of this existence. It wanted no more. The insects from hell would sometimes feed on its body. The creatures would suck its liquid to weaken it. But it was strong, never giving up. The pain endless, like some agonizing nightmare. Then one timeless day it had a vision from the future. And then it would be free again. Then the hell would end. And then the Dark Monarch would feed again.

It was a rainy day as they stood round the grave. A man and a boy hand in hand. Everywhere wet as the rain would not stop. The clouds floating with darkened souls. The concrete wet. Puddles forming in the grassy areas around the grave stones. The boy’s name was Darren, and his mum was gone for good six feet under. The earth covering what was left of her lifeless body. It was a car accident you see. It had happened three weeks ago now. A collision on the local motorway had caused it. He remembered the day well. His dad crying uncontrollably, not knowing he was looking from four metres away.

His mum had left the house early that morning to go to work. She owned her own book-store. And was very proud of it. Usually older books she sold, knowing they were in greater demand. But while driving on one of many roads a truck hit her car hard. The bonnet smashed too pieces. Her body damaged beyond repair. The police that visited that day told them she had died at the spot where the vehicles had hit. Darren cried that day also. And that is when he started to wet the bed. Jonathan said it was stress. Maybe it was?

The boy cried and cried as the tears ran down his young face. That day he wore a black jacket and trousers, fitting for a funeral. His dad held him closely. Two strong arms wrapped around the boy’s shoulders. Darren’s father was a kind man, and successful in his own right. Owning his own business. The man’s name was Jonathan, and he missed his darling wife terribly.

"Why did god have to take mummy?" the boy asked his dad.

Jonathan did not have an answer as he responded to the question.

"It’s gods way of telling people when their time is right to go to heaven, and to become an angel."

Young Darren liked the sound of that, as he peered longingly at the gravestone. Mum was an angel now, looking down on the both of them as they stood in the vast grassy area of graves. The funeral itself had been and gone, one and a half weeks exact. But Jonathan thought it important to bring the boy as often as possible to visit the shrine of a beautiful soul. They had stood there for sometime. It was now time to leave. The thousand of graves that surrounded them looked empty. Like no one visited them anymore. The flowers from relatives either dead or gone. It was a very sad sight. The last funeral was a couple of days ago. An elderly man had past away. Being elderly most of his friends had died also. So only a few attended. Unlike Jonathan’s wife where a big crowd arrived. At this certain man’s grave a flower still lay there. Blowing in the breeze. His wife had left it. That day she cried and cried. The tears would not stop. Now she was a widow. Jonathan and his son had witnessed this other funeral while visiting Sheila’s grave. Jonathan looked on remorseful knowing the pain they were feeling. It was a very sad affair indeed.

"Come on son, we can visit her next Saturday," Jonathan said to his boy kissing him softly on the forehead.

"Bye mummy, I love you," Darren said sad, missing her deeply.

Darren then remembered something his mum use to say to him before he went to sleep. ‘We are all good souls love, and I love you very much. And god loves you as well, goodnight and sweet dreams from heaven.’

It was the month of June and the weather mostly was good, but today it was bitter. Global-warming to blame. They both walked out of the cemetery through a big metal gate which stood at the front of the church. The car was parked along the side of the road; the cars make was Renault, a very good buy for what it was worth. The vehicle was green in colour with thick sturdy tyres. The engine ran like a dream. Jonathan turned the key in the lock of the side door, and it clicked.

"Get in lad, it’s getting cold out here you know," he said to his son who stood at the other side of the car.

Darren opened the door swiftly and got in. The seat was cold. Jonathan got in as well. Then turned the key so the engine started running.

"Don’t worry lad, I’ll stick the heating on, you could get frostbite sitting in here," the man cackled.

And then they was both off home, to the warmth of an open fire. The road they went down seemed quite busy. The cars were stacked endlessly behind them. Traffic lights were ahead. Without warning they changed. They were both off down the road once again. The warmth of home was close to hand.

"Are you still cold lad?" Jonathan asked.

"Dad do you think mummy is happy in heaven?" the boy asked back, his eyes full of hope.

"What a strange thing to ask Darren, of course she is son. She was an angel in life, and now your mum is an angel …..," Jonathan stopped suddenly, not wanting to say the inevitable.

"I know you are sad dad, but I will look after you, I promise," Darren said confidently.

"I know you will son, I love you."

Ten minutes on and the house was in sight. They both lived in Kensington in greater London. Shepherd’s Bush was close by on the A40 Road. Kensington was quite a posh place by this great city’s standards. It was a nice area with a local park. Many couples and dog-walkers on beautiful summers days would all be in this certain location. After maybe having a stressful week at work. Even joggers would be seen, panting uncontrollably as they ran up and down the slight hills. They lived a couple of streets from the park. So it wasn’t too far really. Along the far-side of the grassy-area a road aptly named Park Road was situated. ‘The Ring’ being the parks name. Down a bit from this area South Kensington was situated on the A4. Paddington was also nearby. With the famous Paddington station. The house with the newly-built conservatory cost thousands upon thousands to buy. But Jonathan felt settled here. It was his home. Jonathan parked the Renault on the stony drive that was situated in front of the house, and they both got out. The weather was still bitter, as they then both ran to the front door. The hanging baskets of varied-coloured flowers moved a little. The wind catching them. Jonathan had a big garden consisting of short stemmed Lilies, With a mix of all various colours. Ranging from light-orange, yellow and pinkish-red. They were situated at the side of the house. Just under the living room window flowering Dianthus grew. In clumps of different colours also. His wife had planted them. To give the garden more character. The house was big, as houses went. Jonathan was well established as a businessman so he could afford the mortgage payments. Now Sheila had past, money did not seem so important. Hopefully something would happen which would make things right again only time would tell.

"I can’t find the bloody key," Jonathan muttered, looking a little embarrassed.

He wore his posh suit, which he had bought from one of those snobbish clothe-shops. It was out of respect to his wife. His hand entered his coat pocket for a second time. Darren looked on nervously, feeling his dad’s desperation. Not for the lost keys. But the loss in general. Finally the keys emerged, and was stuck in the lock of the door with haste. One click and the door opened.

"Come on Darren it’s bloody cold out here, move it, move it," Jonathan said, pushing his only son into the house.

Once they was both in, Jonathan made his way into the kitchen area. The hallway was full of antiques that sat on a wall shelf. They belonged to Sheila also. She seemed to love things that were old, dusty. Once she had even bought a Chinese-type statue that cost a massive five hundred pound. Jonathan at the time was not pleased. But once he had seen the smile on her face it seemed strangely justified.

"So what would you like to eat son? We have beef and ham, or I could even cook us both an egg if you fancy that instead?"

Darren did not really fancy anything to eat, to be honest he was not really in the mood for anything. He just felt a little numb. The thought of never seeing his mother again filled him with a strange desperation. On a normal day beef-burgers was his favourite food of all time. With the burger sitting in the bun and slight sauce on top. Also a little salad just for extra thickness. The first bite and he would be in heaven. But he had not eaten a burger for sometime now. His appetite was gone.

His dad shouted out from the kitchen area again, "Have you made your mind up yet?"

Darren decided to answer; "I’ll have ham if that is OK dad."

With that Jonathan was on the case of sandwich making. Buttering the bread and cutting a little salad up which stood in the bottom of the fridge. Once that was done, he stuck the two bits of bread together and then stuck the sandwich on a plate.

Darren turned on the TV, and flicked through some channels. Darren had now flicked through all the channels. There did not seem to be anything worth watching. He decided to head to his bedroom to play with his action figures.

"There you go son, here is your magnificent sandwich. Made by the hands of a true chef. Come on eat up Darren?" Jonathan said as he put the plate down in front of his son.

"You scared me dad, I didn’t even see you walk in. Is it OK if I eat this in my bedroom?" the boy asked, he was not really in a social mood.

His dad looked slightly disappointed. But responded positively. "Yeah sure sport, whatever you want. And don’t forget if you ever want to talk about your mum you know I am here right."

"Yeah I know dad, see you later," the boy said still feeling a little uncomfortable with the whole situation. He picked up the plate and headed for his bedroom. Once young Darren was in his bedroom he sat on the bed. The cabinet near the bed was where he kept all of his toys. He did not really know what to do with himself. Then a photograph of his mum stared back at him. It sat at the end of the room on a wooden shelf. Other items on the shelf consisted of a radio Walkman. A couple of wildlife books and a pritt stick. His mum looked so pretty as she smiled in the picture. His dad was also in the photograph as he cuddled her from behind. The photograph was taken in 1973 when his parent’s were holidaying it up on one of the Spanish islands. From what he gathered that is when he was conceived. That is only because his mum had told him countless times about it. Saying that while they was in the bedroom an angel of pure light had gave them a beautiful child. And he was the child that the angel had given them.. He loved his mum saying that, it made him feel special in someway. Darren felt empty again as a tear ran down his face. Then dripping onto his trouser leg.

"I miss you mummy please come back one day?" the boy said sadly.

Being young he did not really understand the scope of what had happened. Life’s journey was sometimes very painful. He got up from the bed and walked over to the shelf. Turning the photograph around. Like a constant reminder that a photograph was the closest he would ever get to her now. Darren could no longer see his mum’s face. He then sat back down on his bed twiddling his thumbs. He stared at the sandwich his dad had made for him. Then took a bite. Followed by another bite, and then another. When he had finally finished he put the empty plate carefully on top of the cabinet. Not to cause too much noise. Darren did not want to disturb his dad in anyway, just in case he was busy with something. Since the accident his dad worried about everything, even the smallest things. Darren removed one of his action figures from the drawer of the cabinet. The figure he now held was a muscle-bound warrior holding a long pointy sword, to ward off the enemies. Darren sometimes wished he was as brave as his action figures. Fighting for justice, scared of nothing at all. The young boy was just as fragile as he had ever been. In some ways more now then ever.

His dad shouted out from the hallway.

"Darren one of your friend’s from school has popped round. Don’t be rude son say hello."

Darren grudgingly got up from the bed and dropped the figure onto the floor. Then walked out of the room into the hall.

"Hello Darren how are you?" asked the young boy standing by Jonathan’s side.

Darren knew this boy straightaway; they was not brilliant mates but they kind of knew each other from school.

Darren replied uncomfortably, "I’m OK, thanks for asking."

"Do you fancy doing something? Mum says I study too much and need to get out more," the boy said as he scratched the side of his face.

Then his dad butted in, "You would love to wouldn’t you Darren. Come on get out of the house for a little while, I need my space as well."

The boy standing with Jonathan laughed, as did Jonathan.

"OK then, what do you fancy doing then? I know we go to school together and that but I don’t even know your name?" Darren asked feeling a little stupid.

"My name is Fred," the boy answered, a smile appearing on his freckled face.

Darren opened the front door as Fred followed and they both ran out into the front garden. "Don’t go far boys," Jonathan shouted from inside the hallway.

"See you later dad," Darren shouted back. He ran down the road with his new friend in tow.

They both entered the playing field. Fred carrying a branch, which he had found on the side of the road.

"How does it feel to lose your mummy?" Fred asked innocently enough.

"I don’t really want to talk about it."

"Sorry I didn’t mean to be rude Darren," Fred said feeling embarrassed.

With the branch Fred started hitting a piece of piping. Making it clang loudly. A young woman pushing her pushchair looked round annoyance on her thirty something face. Fred stopped hitting the pipe and gave the woman a dirty look. Then in front of them both was the greatest sight ever, Swings and a slide.

"Come on Darren I’ll race you to the slide," Fred shouted with glee.

Darren was not really in the mood, and made it known. "I wish you would shut up Fred you are getting on my bloody nerves."

Fred stopped in his tracks and looked back at Darren. "I think this was a bad idea, you are not ready yet. I do understand because I lost my dad you see," Fred said sadly as he walked closer.

Darren then understood what was going on, why his dad had set this up? "I didn’t know Fred I am sorry," he said softly, looking down at the ground.

"You don’t have to be sorry Darren, but please try and enjoy yourself a little bit. I know you have missed school lately. Your dad thought it was a good idea to break you in slowly."

That is when Darren decided to try and enjoy himself for once in his life. "Come on then I’ll race you to the slide," he shouted pushing Fred to the ground.

Fred laughed as he rolled on the wet grass a couple of times, before swiftly getting back up from the ground. Then taking a dash towards the other boy. Fred was a metre or so behind Darren as they both ran for their lives towards the famous twelve metre high slide. Darren felt a hand on his back as he was pushed to the ground. His trainers sliding on the wet mud as Fred had now got his revenge. As Darren lay on the cold floor of the field he realised his blue jeans was now brown. He was caked in mud. Ahead of him the other boy still ran. Finally reaching the slide and letting out an almighty yell.

"I kicked your arse, I kicked your arse," Fred shouted his arms rising in the air.

Even though Darren did not want to admit it, he was actually enjoying himself. "Next time I will kick your arse," Darren shouted.

He got up from the floor, hitting the mud away from his jeans before it dried.

"In your dreams," the other boy shouted back.

Then they both laughed. For a minute or so Darren had forgot what had happened to him of late. And it felt good like some kind of release from an agonizing nightmare.

"I will race you down the slide," Fred shouted as he stood at the base of the massive rusty apparatus.

"You’re on," Darren shouted back as he ran towards the slide giggling excitedly.

For the next couple of hours the two boys played together. Enjoying each other’s company. As they messed about in the playing field drenched in mud and rain. Jonathan’s plan to bring his only son a little happiness had worked. Even though the two boys did not know this at the time they was to become good friends. This was the start of a beautiful friendship, which would span for many years.

"I’m such a bloody idiot," he shouted.

Knowing he had drunk too much and that’s why he felt like shit. He neared his trusty thick coat, which was hung on the front of the wardrobe. Then wrapped it around him like a blanket. He had purchased this jacket from one of the many catalogues that came through the post. Occasionally he would look through the menswear hoping something would catch his eye. And that is when he saw it. Thick material that hung down just below his waist, it was perfect for bitter weather. He peered at the clock again and turned the annoying ringing off.

It was now three minutes passed the hour.

He picked his keys up from a nearby shelf and ran for the front door. Knowing he had to be on time to catch the mini-bus. He locked the door in good time and walked towards the path.

Just fifty metres from this spot the mini-bus would stop. Then pick him up for his enthusiastic day at the building site, that was situated about five miles away at Tyler’s green.

When they first started work there it was mainly countryside. But now it was beginning to take shape. They were building a new modern sports-complex for the area.

He did once request that the mini-bus could pick him up in front of his flat. For some strange reason his bosses were dead against it, which pissed him off no end.

Darren walked down the greyish road the chilly wind blowing hard in his face. Making his eyes water. The council flats either side of him. The reddish brickwork looked ugly and old. The neighbouring gardens untidy with discarded tools laying all over the place. Ahead of him was the little bus stop with its one sign. Darren lived in Brentwood, Essex. Originally he came from the Kensington area. He lived on Ongar Road near the M25. Surrounding places consisted of Warley. Vicarage Wood, Ingrave and Herongate. A few fields was here in this area, which he liked sometimes. Like the odd Saturday morning when the Friday drinking had caused a hang-over. Walking through the empty fields would sometimes lessen the lethargic vibe. It was a nice place to live. Away from London.

Where was the bloody mini-bus? It was now late. He waited and waited growing even more impatient.

"Hurry up I’m freezing my bollocks off out here," he scowled.

"They’re bloody late again are they?" a voice said suddenly.

Darren looked round to see his best mate standing just behind him.

"Alright Fred how are you on this bloody miserable morning?" Darren asked.

"What do you think you daft oath I’m frigging freezing my balls off here?"

They both laughed as the mini-bus was seen up the road coming towards them. The rain had not yet come, thankfully.

"At long last," Darren shouted.

Within minutes the vehicle had stopped just in front of the two twenty something’s. They opened the side-door and got in.

Darren could not help himself, "You took your bloody time didn’t you driver?"

The driver looked round at where Darren sat and gave him the evils before speaking, "All you bloody do is moan boy, everyone is sick of your constant whinging so shut the bloody hell up. For once in your miserable life let’s not hear your bloody voice for the journey up there got it."

The other couple of men in the back of the mini-bus laughed. Darren now felt like a prized idiot. He then decided to stay quiet for the remainder of the journey.

The trip seemed to take a little longer then normal. Traffic was always a nightmare. People in their suits sitting in their sporty cars. Engines revved to the max.

Darren lived on the outskirts of the capital. So the country air was near to where he lived. Which was nice if you fancied escaping the city way of life for a couple of days.

Once they had arrived at the location they all got out of the vehicle. Then waited for the other mini-buses to arrive, they all came from different towns and villages over the region. Some mini-buses travelled further then five miles. Darren felt quite lucky he lived so close. The funny thing was he did own a car. The good thing about catching the mini-bus was it did not cost you a penny. Darren had his priorities right. Earned money spent on food and beer. But rarely petrol for his motor. He rented the flat he lived in. So a lot of his wage went on that as well.

A voice bellowed suddenly, "You lazy morons, how come you’re still standing around when there’s bloody work to do?"

Darren peered round at his governor, "It’s not time yet, we’re waiting for the others to arrive," he said a little insecure.

The governor was a big man as he walked over. His dirty lumber jacket smelt of grease. His older face was covered in a scruffy beard, that made him look like a tramp.

"What did you say you little shit?" he bellowed at a scared Darren.

"Nothing much, I just said we’re still waiting for the others to arrive."

The big man laughed suddenly, "I’m messing with you, stop taking life so seriously boy. Life is for shagging and getting pissed," he said as he banged his chest with his huge hands.

In the distance the noise of other vehicles could be heard as the workers had finally arrived. The day was now starting properly. Dead on eight O Clock the cards that all the workers carried went through a machine that hung on a wall. Then they were off to their tasks for that particular day.

Darren found out he was not with his buddy that day and had been partnered up with someone else. But who was it? Even he did not know? His governor was seen in the distance as he walked over with his well organized folder.

"Darren boy I have partnered you up with old Jack today. Look after him boy he’s getting on you know," the governor said before walking off.

Darren was absolutely gutted. Out of everyone on the building site old Jack was the most clumsiest. As Darren looked round towards the complex they were building. Old Jack waved at him smiling. He waved back to be courteous, smiling back also. He was absolutely gutted. Today was going to be like working with Frank Spencer an utter nightmare to behold. Then he saw Jack walking towards him. He swore the elderly man was speaking to himself as his mouth kept moving up and down.

"Hello boy how are you on this fine day?" Jack said his eyes wondering.

"I am a fine old pal, thanks for asking. So what is the plan today then, we got a lot on?" Darren said back, to keep things friendly.

"Yes and no, I isn’t really sure young man. I will ask the governor and find out young Darren?"

"See you in a minute then Jack," Darren said already having a headache talking to this old codger.

With that old Jack was off scratching his balding head as he disappeared through the doorway of the new complex. Darren realised Jack was dressed a little different on this particular day. For example he was dressed smart for once. Instead of some smelly T-shirt, he wore a fashionable shirt. His trousers also was smarter. Instead of some holier than now jeans he wore proper suit trousers.

As Jack returned Darren decided to ask him about the change of clothes?

"So Jack what is with the fashion today, you look mega smart?"

Jack looked uneasy as he peered up at Darren, and then he answered. "Thirteen years ago on this day my wife past away. So as a sign of respect I dress proper on this day. Just for her, it is respect young Darren."

"I understand Jack sorry for being nosey," Darren said uneasy.

Jack then scratched his head again his memory was getting worse, and he had forgot what the governor had said to him.

"Bloody hell what was it?" he grunted, looking annoyed with himself.

"You silly old fool you forgot already?" Darren said laughing.

"Wait till you get to this age boy then you’ll understand what it is bloody like," the old man grunted again.

His thick grey eyebrows causing a V shape on his wrinkled forehead.

Darren could not believe it, this was a bloody joke. Was they going to get anything done today?

"I’m sorry for calling you a silly old fool Jack, I’ll be back in a minute," Darren said more politely this time.

He had been standing around for the last ten minutes and he was bored shitless. If anything was going to get done today he would have to ask the governor himself. He walked through the doorway of the new complex looking for the boss man but he was nowhere to be found. He neared another builder to ask him where the governor was.

"Alright Mike how are you today, seen boss man about anywhere?" he asked.

Mike looked up towards Darren. Sweat dripping down his forehead. A muddy spade in his hand.

"What are you suppose to be doing Darren? As you can see I’ve got the shit job again. While you walk about doing nothing," he bellowed angrily.

Mike was in his forties. He wore casual-gear most of the time. Not really a fashion-victim of any standard. He only had one child so far. He really did not want a second one. But he knew his wife was broody. Bloody women he would think at times, even though he loved his wife too bits. As husbands went he was pretty good. He shared the housework kind of. Like vacuuming the hallway and living room. Occasionally making the beds. His wife done most chores though. She did not work at present time. Which was fine with him. Well he was the man of the house. He lived in Brentwood the same as Darren. The countryside always close by. Sometimes at the weekends he would take his family to one of the nearby fields. With his beloved caravan. Sitting round flaming bonfires. The orange glow reflecting off nearby trees. In the summer months the sun would be hot, blistering. Dried yellow grass growing wildly. Little Michael running about excitedly. It warmed his heart. Sometimes when observing his son, he could see himself again as an innocent kid. Before growing up and realizing what a shit-pit life could be at times.

Darren was absolutely shocked. Mike was one of the more placid builders on the site but he was certainly in a foul mood today.

"What is wrong Mike I’ve never seen you like this before?" Darren asked a little worried.

Mike dropped the dirty spade onto the muddy floor. Then looked up at Darren sadness in his eyes.

And then he spoke, "I am very sorry that I shouted boy, but I have had some really bad news you see."

"Like what Mike, you can tell me you know, I will not say anything to anyone else," Darren replied.

Mike coughed a couple of times before carrying on. "My boy you see has had asthma problems for the last few years. So me and my wife decided to take him to the city hospital, where he stayed for a week. We visit him in the morning right, and they say he has lapse into a coma. My wife and me still do not fully understand what has happened?" Mike said softly.

Darren did not know what to say, but he had to say something not to look rude.

"Bloody hell that’s awful mate. So has the doctors explained how it happened?" Darren asked.

"That’s the funny thing they can’t explain it. I get the strange feeling it has happened many times before now, but the staff there will not say anything. All they do is look worried you can see the fear in their eyes."

Darren had met his son once. When the boy was about seven years of age. It was one summer when the sun blazed hotter then usual. Everyone in their sweaty t-shirts and designer shorts. It was the boy’s birthday and for some strange reason Darren had been invited to the kid’s birthday party. Once there he realised it was just a reason for Mike to have another bloke there to speak too. And drink beer with. Darren knew Mike was being paranoid, but what had happened to his son was terrible.

Mike then picked up the spade and carried on digging the trench. Keeping busy to keep his mind off it. His overalls he wore stunk of grease. He was a keen mechanic, something he liked doing in his spare time. Also extra cash on the side.

"I will see you Darren, thanks for listening," he bellowed as he shoved the spade yet again into the wet mud.

"Yeah Mike see you," Darren said a little baffled, as he walked away from the builder.

The governor appeared out of one of the small doorways just ahead. Darren walked over to him in quick motion, so he would not lose him again.

"Governor what are I and Jack doing? The old sod has forgot you see," Darren asked a little embarrassed.

The boss man laughed and then shouted loudly, "You will do anything to get out of the work boy, even blaming poor Jack for your laziness."

Darren could not believe it; he was not taking the blame for this one.

"That’s not how it is governor, Jack bloody forgot," Darren shouted angrily.

"Alright I believe you boy, sorry for shouting. It’s higher brickwork I am afraid with clumsy Jack, have fun," the wind-up merchant shouted.

He then left Darren to it. I hate that arsehole Darren thought as the governor disappeared behind one of the half-built walls.

The rest of the day did not go that well either. Jack was a nice bloke but he was too old for lifting bricks up a ladder. So it was down to Darren to do the entire heavy labour. His legs ached terribly and he stunk of stale sweat. He felt like crap.

A siren was heard suddenly as Darren threw another brick onto the wall. Him and Jack was about twenty metres high up standing on the scaffold. The end of the day was here. Darren’s arms ached terribly also. This was the most work he had ever done. A new record. Hopefully he will not be with old Jack tomorrow. Not needing another day like this. He climbed down the long sturdy ladder. Jack just below him breathing heavily. Once they had reached the bottom Darren let out a massive yell.

"Yeah away from this shit hole for another day."

Jack looked round surprised. "You young people today, and you don’t know you’re born," he said grunting.

"Whatever Jack," Darren said smarmily.

The mini-bus was ahead parked in the mud. Ready for the journey home. He noticed the darkening clouds lurking silently above. But strangely enough the rain that had been promised on the local forecast earlier had not yet came. With haste Darren got into the vehicle, and sat in one of the back seats. Through the side-door Fred appeared waving and pulling stupid faces.

"You fool," Darren shouted.

"Shut up fool, before I kick your arse boy," Fred shouted also.

The driver sat in the front seat listening to all the commotion.

"Why don’t both of you shut up, you’re giving me a bloody headache," he bellowed.

"Cheer up you miserable sod," Fred shouted back.

"Sort it out Fred, he has a right to say his piece," Darren said, he could see Fred was up for a fight.

Fred got up from his seat and lunged for the driver. The driver tried to get out of the front door but the young man held him in by the scruff of his neck.

"What are you doing mate?" Darren shouted trying to pull Fred back, but he was having none of it.

Then a big hand suddenly appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Fred by the hair. Then threw him out of the side-door of the mini-bus. The governor stood there proud, flexing his muscles.

"Let me in?" Fred shouted from outside as he banged the interior of the vehicle.

Darren looked round at the driver as he sat in the front seat shaking. Fear in his eyes. The boss man’s voice was heard suddenly shouting at the top of his voice.

"You’re not getting on ere Fred you little shit. Call your bloody girlfriend to pick you up, now sod off."

With that Fred removed a mobile phone from his coat pocket and started dialling.

Once the rest of the builders had arrived they all piled into the mini-bus. Then they were off home after another hard day.

As Darren sat in one of the back seats he wondered what was up with his mate. Why did he lose the plot like that? It did not make sense?

They left the building site at a proximally five fifteen. The rain was now coming down hard. Darren leaned his face on the window as he felt the coldness of the glass against his cheek. The water outside pelting down on the window making a strange sound somewhat haunting. A couple of houses passed them as they sat behind tall trees. Suddenly a flash of light was seen and a loud bang was heard. Horrified screams through the darkness. The vehicle they travelled in seemed to fold up like a piece of cardboard. All Darren could remember was someone falling on him. And a spray of something warm on his face. Not realizing the van was flooded with blood. The windows also exploding causing shattered glass which flew through the air with a vengeance. And then there was nothing. Apart from darkness.

When the ambulances arrived the mini-bus now smouldered. The fire had been vanquished thankfully. The medical team ran out of their vehicles towards the carnage in front.

"Look," cried one of them.

In front a figure was seen away from the worst of the accident. His skin had been burnt badly. This certain individual lay at the side of the road about ten metres from the collision. He checked the person to see if his heart was still beating. A faint sound could be heard.

"You lucky bastard," he remarked.

He peered round towards the mini-bus. To see if anyone else had been so lucky. All he saw was bodies ravished by hot flames. Their skins had melted and the flesh was a strange dark brown.

He then felt sick to his stomach, "Jesus Christ."

A cry was heard as hopefully another victim was still breathing. The cry came from within the mini-bus. The team then descended upon the vehicle to help as many as they could. It was going to be a long night.