Winter2022

Most things were pretty normal in Salem. Things rarely went wrong. Travellers and tourists sometimes reported a faint buzzing sound – it was soft, like just background noise – but none of the locals had ever heard it. Some people wondered if the locals had evolved so that the ringing was imperceptible to them. Sometimes, returning tourists reported that the buzz was getting quieter…

Kai never had many friends. His town was too small and isolated for most residents to have connection with the outside world. There were barely any other kids his age. His only real friend was Ben, but he had disappeared along with many others only a few days after his birthday.

The disappearances were a mystery. With no evidence and no eyewitnesses, the Police had concluded that the townspeople had simply got lost in the forest. Ben knew his way around town, and Kai was sure he wouldn’t have got lost. He knew there was something else going on.

One night, Kai began to delve deeper into the mystery. It was a night where his hands tingled, often burning from a cold sensation. He slowly opened his door and gingerly crept down the stairs, each one groaning as they desperately tried to hold his weight. Deafening snores jumped out of his brother’s room. After what felt like an eternity, Kai finally made it down the stairs. The front door creaked, screeching in pain, and a gust of frigid air woke him up again.

The carpet of stars dazzled and danced in the night, stretching as far as he could see. The jet-black to navy gradient of the sky presented itself as the perfect canvas for the countless galaxies. The full moon shone brightly, displaying every crater in an ethereal glow. The lack of light pollution from the tiny town left the heavens untouched, with stars sprinkled across it like glitter. It was beautiful, but the arctic grip of the night strangled him. The cold seeped through his clothing, bathing him in a world of frost. His steamy breath twirled and danced through the air. Soon after, sinister clouds began to clash and rumble, and forks of lightning viciously lashed to the earth. The shadows ominously drifted through the dense trees and shrubbery. Kai could have sworn he saw a pair of gleaming red eyes staring back at him. He began to feel a huge weight on his shoulders from all of Salem. He was the chosen one to wander through the forest and unveil the stretching mystery taunting his town for days. He had to find Ben, and all the other missing townspeople to cease the waves of pain and grief washing through his community.

Leaves crunched like bones beneath his feet as he trudged through the greenery. Owls and birds cried like missing children and twigs snapped like the hopes of suffering parents. With nothing found, Kai began to feel disoriented and started to head back, until a faint ringing knocked on his eardrums. He paused, ears ready for any noise. There it was again, from right in front of him. He lifted his pace, boosted by his newfound motivation. Were the theories true? Was there something supernatural buzzing and protecting Salem? As Kai scanned his surroundings, ruffling his dirty blond hair, a glimmering ray of gold caught his eye. He sprinted as fast as he could, and suddenly before him stood a huge, majestic oak tree. The bark vibrated, emitting a noise that had been caught up in so many rumours. Kai lifted his hand to touch the bark, and golden ripples pulsated through the trunk and branches. He shone his tiny torch upwards. It was vacant of wildlife, but home to an array of mesmerising colours. Crimson red leaves to lime green softly floated to the ground. Kai spotted a small hole in the base of the tree and crawled inside. A rush of black invaded his eyes.

In a daze, Kai opened his eyes, fatigued from his adventurous journey. He crawled slowly out of his bed, and with a shock realised he wasn’t in his room, or at home. He was in a vast valley of natural beauty, with lush green grass carpeting the landscape, splattered with flourishing flowers. Outside of the valley stood countless sky-stretching mountains, painted in greenery, and capped off with thick, chalky white snow. It was the prettiest place he had ever seen.

The sky told a different story. Gargantuan, threatening clouds slowly marched towards a gaping hole in the blood-red sky. The fractured rift foggily depicted the images of the glowing tree back in Salem. It only felt like a few hours ago he was there, hypnotised by the tree. Now, it felt so far away, taunting him from above. The surreal environment had successfully distracted him from one thing sitting in the valley. A castle, armed with giant walls of stone, sat patiently. Inside, a deafening growl hit him like a shockwave.

His heartbeat skyrocketed. The place, which was once picture-perfect, dropped severely in temperature. The mood darkened. Kai knew his quest wasn’t finished until the source of the growl had been muted. After a brief walk, the world grew darker again. Looming over him were metres of polished stone, thick and tall enough to keep most things out for hours. Soon enough, he found a cavernous hole at the top of the wall. Cracks shot out like spiderwebs in all directions and powdered rubble covered the ground. Kai stretched for the gap, arms extending like rubber bands. He finally managed to pull himself up, gasping for air. He noticed a mysterious ring of water surrounded the castle. It was crystal clear, but bottomless. The banks next to the moat were demolished, suggesting the monster didn’t enjoy it. Kai jumped off the wall, wincing from the drop, and leaped into the water.

He resurfaced and his lungs were craving air. The temperature of the water paralysed him, freezing his limbs and stopping his brain from working properly. He desperately grasped for land and managed to gingerly pull himself to the grass. Luckily, the beast had made its own entry to the castle, smashing the wall open. Kai laid his eyes on the interior of the castle. His skin prickled as a soft breath of air wafted onto his neck. He quickly spun around, but saw nothing. Ominous shadows crept towards the second floor. Climbing up, Kai realised the winding staircase had led him to his ultimate battle. His fate. The beast turned, snarling in disgust. “Kai…,” the monster growled.

It was a cluster of many different animals formed into one malicious being. Razor-sharp claws scratched at the ground. Its back was dotted with shiny shards and spikes, poorly hidden by a dense fur coat. His slimy mouth was full of colossal teeth, stained in a red-brown paint. But worst of all were the eyes. They were blood-red pools of anger. Madness. Revenge. Was it the same pair of eyes Kai swore he spotted in the forest? It sensed Kai was distracted and lunged at him. Kai was too late to escape unscathed, but he still threw himself to the side. He groaned in pain, holding his hand up to the side of his face. His whole hand was covered in blood, and his face was in excruciating pain. The gash felt corrosive, like a bucket of acid had been poured on his skin. He groggily got up and searched for something that could help him. He picked up a sharp rock and a blunt handle. Closing his eyes, he vaguely thought of the monster’s reaction to crossing the water. Suddenly, it clicked. The beast hated the cold. Kai’s hands began to tingle and drop in temperature. Icy particles began to frost over his makeshift spear, the top steaming from sub-zero temperatures. The monster snarled and lunged at him again, but Kai was ready. He swiftly dodged to the side and thrusted the spear into the monster’s neck. A shriek of pain was followed by a booming thud as the monster’s legs collapsed. Kai thought of all the missing people, and the pain in Salem. Eyes closed, he drove the spear deep into the beast and the whimpers simmered down to silence.

The buzz from the tree was now deafening. Kai was back in Salem. He blindly sprinted through the forest, guided by the faint murmurs coming from the town. He began to realise how loud the town was. It was chaos. As he exited the forest and turned onto the main road, he saw tears of joy streaming down parents’ faces, and best of all, he saw Ben. The missing townspeople had been reunited with their families. The danger had been eliminated from his town. The buzz from the protecting tree was as loud as it had ever been. Salem was finally whole again.

I remember back to the day, 12^th of June 1987. Moo! Moo! I woke up to the groans of my cow. The sun rose over the haze that filled the paddock, a blanket covering everything below it. A bitter breeze swirled across my face as if I was engulfed in snow. The trees on the hill were as still as a dead sloth. Dead, I would remember that word, for the rest of the day.

The toaster popped and a thin layer of Vegemite smeared across the surface of the crusty bread. I opened the creaky door and stepped a foot onto a frozen coat of gravel. My feet crunched on the ground as I made my way to the Ute. The drive felt faster than usual, more peaceful, not a single soul on the street. As I entered my office the paperwork just kept stacking up. The phone rang and I thought to myself, “Finally some action.” Panicked and shocked, an old lady was on the line, “Help! Help! My son is, is unconscious on the floor. I think he’s de, de, dead.” She collapsed into tears and without hesitation, I grabbed my keys and was on my way. I walked out the door; smoke had covered the sky, and fresh pine straw was all I could smell. Past the gas station and resort, I sped down the main road of the small town Davidson, in Northern Alabama. I passed my usual stop, the local patisserie, the best pies in the world, and continued. The pine plantation was on my left and a vast wasteland on my right. I slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop in front of an old wooden house. The smoke covered my vision, tree trunks surrounded by the haze. I could smell an apple pie freshly baking. My feet squelched beneath me as I approached the house.

My hands banged on an old oak door. I could hear footsteps scrambling around and finding their way to the door. “Hello, Grandma Mary,” I said, dazed, looking at her rigid body shivering under her woollen blanket, “Take me to the body immediately.” I could see a body slumped over the couch, not moving and unconscious; I checked for any damage. All over the body I searched and not a single scratch could I find. Not a bullet wound, no damage to the head. I called for backups. As my help came, I sat down with Grandma Mary and questioned her about the whole situation. She ran me through her morning, how she woke up, had a shower, cleaned her teeth, prepared breakfast for when Dan (her son) arrived. When Dan arrived, she made him a cup of tea and then went outside to pick out some herbs to go with breakfast. When she came back in, she could see Dan, motionless on the couch.

The sirens rang out in the near distance. The smoky haze began to clear, and the smell of fresh pine straw filled the noses of all those around. I heard a faint sob from Grandma Mary, and I knew that all of this was really overwhelming for her. I had known Dan since I was a young boy. I knew he had been troubled since his early childhood. He had a very enthusiastic attitude, almost too much. In class he was very naughty and would get into lots of trouble. I knew that Grandma Mary loved him deep down but as a single mother, he was very hard for her to manage. I always remember the day I had a playdate with him after school. We were picked up from school and we were having a great time playing in the vast woods around their house. I distinctly remember his Mum being extremely strict. Whack! His mother had smacked his hand with a cane. I really respected her because she was the town mayor but, man, I was scared of her.

The door flung open, and I flicked back to my detective mind. The questions kept rolling in and I needed a break. The apple pie was all I could smell, and I was beginning to become more anxious. “Help yourself,” exclaimed Mary, “I’m not eating it.” I took off and cut myself a slice. I looked around and tried to find anything that could kill a human. An apple? No. A knife? No wounds in the body. Apple pie? Definitely not. Rat poison? “Wait,” I said to myself excitedly, “Rat poison, that’s it.” I ran as fast as my legs could take me, jumping over the furniture, through the doorways, down the stairs as I reached Grandma Mary, puffing as if I had just run a marathon.

“In that tea you gave him,” I asked inquisitively, “was it just the tea and milk?”
“Yes, most definitely; it is his favourite,” she replied without hesitation.
“Where is the teacup, Mary?” I asked ready for an answer.
“Just over there,” Grandma Mary replied hesitantly. I moved slowly like a tiger, eyeing up its prey. I made sure to pick up the correct cup and I wrapped it in an evidence bag. The sun was beginning to seep through the curtains, and I was sure Grandma Mary was responsible. The anxious minutes ticked by waiting for the evidence to come through.

“Detective Peterson, I have some news for you,” said a deep confidential voice. “Rat poison was detected in the tea.”
“It’s been detected?” I asked half calm, half excited.
“Yes,” was the response from the voice.
“Ok, thank you so much,” I exclaimed in a calm voice, but excited and nervous on the inside. I moved calmly and made my way back to the kitchen. Everything was coming together now, and all I needed was her fingerprint on the rat poison. I wrapped the rat poison in a bag, shaking nervously, and again I sent it off for trialling. The results were much quicker this time, and I couldn’t have been happier.

Now I’m sitting in my seat at the back of the court room smiling at my achievement. This is the first murder case I have cracked. Out Grandma Mary was led, handcuffed, and shivering and I could see that look of regret on her face. The case was all one-sided. The decision was final, the day had finally come, her sentence. “Life sentence, 25 years in prison,” the Judge announced dramatically. The cries around the room from her family were deafening. The dark storm clouds loomed through the windows creating an ominous feeling. I made eye contact with Grandma Mary. The floorboards creaked as she walked across the room; she was grimacing at me as she strutted out of the courtroom.

I stumbled through the fast, noisy, howling wind. The roads were bare, unattended in decades. Weeds grew through the cracks of the road. White stripes faded and lumps and bumps stood everywhere along the road. Rain poured down, feeding the unwanted green pests and life growing in all places. Trees had caved in and fell across the road. My wet hair stuck to my face. Blood dripped off my body. My nose stuck at an awkward angle and my jaw pulsed with pain every time I slightly moved my head. I limped, struggling against the force of the wind. The one pleasing thing was the fresh oxygenised air, but this was overbalanced with all the other bad things. As I neared what seemed like a gas station, I was pleased to hear rattling of water on an aluminium roof. “Shelter,” I said in excitement, yet it came out as a mumble. I was exhausted and needed rest. A cracked light flickered on and off over the door of the station. Vines tangled around the gas pumps and pillars. The walls were crumbled, and the windows were smashed. As I pushed the handle of the door my body caught itself on the door; I could barely stand. I heard the jingle of the bell of the gas station door and was finally relieved to be out of the weather. Quickly my attention turned back to the murderer, who brutally killed my family. He came after me, but I was quick to action and fled my home. I cried, tears streaming like waterfalls off my face. My family gone, my best friend gone, my life. All. Gone. I lay there on the broken, ripped, hard couch, bundled up in a small ball, trying to soak up all the warmth possible.

Suddenly, the bell rattled, breaking the silence and hurting my ears. The wind and rain rushed in. “I’m gonna kill you now you little ****.” I froze, I couldn’t move, I watched him nearby. He grasped the blood splashed knife tightly and stared into my eyes whilst licking his lips. My eyes blurred with my tears. I pathetically lifted my arms in front of my face… Before I knew it I heard a soft yelp of pain, and there lay the murderer. His body was limp and pale and leaking vibrant red from the neck. Stood over him was a hooded figure. I couldn’t make out his shape, but it was somewhat… different. Around his neck was a shining silver chain bound to a cross. “Who are you?” I asked in a crackled and broken voice.
“Your saviour,” he replied in a deep, mystifying voice.

“Ouch!” My head clanked the wooden frame of the top bunk. I peeked out of my bed to see my brother on the top bunk. “You’re alive!” I exclaimed. I ran out of my room, ran down the stairs all the while cherishing the warmth of the house and indoors. I turned the corner and entered the kitchen. I picked up my sister and hugged Mum and Dad as tightly as possible. “You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive!” I couldn’t believe it – my life was back on track. I enjoyed warm bacon and eggs with a side of pancakes with maple syrup and ice-cream. “Mmmm!” we all said. Mum was the best cook. That day at school I was so happy, nothing could break my stride. As in Maths, winning my sport match and, best of all, everyone following me with my brilliant charisma. I walked home that afternoon chatting with my neighbour, Jack. He was my best friend. We’d go home and play sport, video games, and eat Mum’s delicious brownies. They tasted like a fresh chocolate river from the Amazon rain forest, if there was one. My life was great. Thank God that dream was a dream. Now it just seemed like a silly little nightmare. We got home and jumped on the couch. It was as comfy as a cloud. I turned on the PS4 and we played Fifa. Jack usually smashed me but this time it was close. I skilled 1…2…3 shot from 20, goal in top bins. “Yeeeaaahhhh,” I jumped up and fist pumped the air. It was all tied up with one minute left. I got the ball, passed it wide, ran up the wing, crossed it…Header into the back of the net “Let’s goooooo,” I exclaimed.
“Noooo,” Jack shouted in frustration. I’d won.

My celebrating was cut short by an extremely ominous doorbell ring. “Someone, get that please,” Mum shouted across the house.
“Sure,” I replied in a similar tone. I quickly stuffed in a brownie and smiled, heading for the door. I opened and looked through the peek hole. An instant sensation covered my body. It was like the nightmare. His grin widened whilst he brandished a knife. “BANG!” He smashed the door, tears ran down my face, this couldn’t be happening. “BANG!” I slowly walked backwards. “BANG!” “RUN, IT’S THE MURDERER!” All I managed was a croaked shout. I grabbed Jack and we ran into Mum and Dad’s closet. They didn’t have time to argue, the banging on the door told them everything. The door rattled and splintered as it clanked to the ground.
“I’m gonna get you,” he said in a high-pitched creepy voice. I hugged Mum tightly as she dialled 911. But that wasn’t going to work. I had seen it all before in the dream. I searched for something, anything. The eerie silence was killing me. Suddenly, as I slowly and quietly pulled out a drawer, my eyes filled with hope. A shining silver cross appeared bound to a silver chain. My eyes flashed back. It was the same one from the dream, worn by the ‘‘saviour.’’ I put it into my sweaty hand and clutched it tight. I’d never believed in magic, but this was my last hope.

Suddenly, the door to the closet blasted open. The whole house shook like an earthquake. The murderer rounded the corner, his triangular tongue pointing out. His grim smile revealed his disgusting black and yellow teeth. His body was battered and scratched whilst his brown hair was grimy and as messy as a bird’s nest. As he neared us, the screams of my family loudened. It felt like slow-motion to me; we had nothing to do. Out of nowhere the murderer smashed into the wall and was bundled to the ground. A hooded figure closed in on him. The murderer wept, his legs didn’t move, he was like a paralysed man. He swung at the air with his knife but was too weak to cause damage. “Please…” he said, in a fearful and now small voice. In a single movement the figure dashed forward and slashed a blade across the neck of the murderer. The head tumbled towards us. Our day had been weird enough, and we were thankful for this, so we accepted it.

We all asked in unison, “Who are you?”
“Your saviour,” he responded, the same silver shining cross hung around his neck. In a flash he disappeared. I looked down at my hand, stunned to see the silver cross no longer there.

I glanced down to peer at the text notification on my old iPhone 6s as my new bright white Converse All-Stars squelched through the muddy gravel path.

“Joel, you nearly here?” Read the message, sent from Mum. I held down on it to reply and began to type. A faint scream cut me short. I shot my head up into the misty night air as the cool south-westerly breeze brushed past my face. The Australian outback has almost no infrastructure, I reassured myself. The noise could have come from anywhere, let alone be a scream.

I continued to pace down the gravel path as the clicking of my keyboard broke the ominous silence. I took a left, now following a narrow path, blanketed with large oak trees, the beginning of a forest either side. I wasn’t too familiar with the area, being from Brazil. Another eerie scream grasped my attention, sounding like it originated from a female’s voice, much closer and distinct than the previous one. I continued to meander up the crest, and as I began to descend the small incline, something dark emerged up ahead. There was a vibrant characteristic about it, distinguishing it from the natural surroundings. As I got gradually closer and closer, it dawned on me. The daunting thought slowed my pace, but curiosity got the better of me as I continued to approach it.

“Hello? This is the Eastern Kimberley Local Crime Line. How can we help?” asked an old, raspy voice.
“Hi,” my frantic voice stuttered. “I’ve stumbled upon the body of a young female, maybe mid 20s. I’m south of town, about a kilometre away. Just left off the Wide Pea gravel path.”
“Okay, Mate. Stay calm and we’ll be there in five.” The line dropped dead. Five minutes? That seemed quick if the station is located 20 minutes East of town. Maybe they were already on a job. Despite the mysterious fact, I wasn’t going to complain if a safe presence was closer than further from this chilling site.

The high beams of an old Ute with rusted white paint blinded me, slicing through the dark night sky. The letters ‘Police’ were barely visible on it.
“Howdy, Mate,” a man with a thick, rough beard and light brown, almost orange hair said. “Sorry for the delay.” He cut the engine about ten metres from the corpse. “Don’t want smoke to tamper with the DNA!”

***

I strode out into the cool morning air, grasping a warm keep-cup full of steaming coffee. I unlocked the car door and slid in, noticing that the weather was a bit gloomier than yesterday. The morning was cold, and the sky was filled with lush grey ominous clouds. I turned the key and listened to the roar of the turbo motor as the engine started up.

After a long hour and a half drive, I was finally there: Eastern Kimberly Sheriff Station. I opened the rickety and decaying wooden door, which was followed by an unpleasant creak as it closed behind me.
“G’day, Mate,” the man who sat at a large, old wooden desk grumbled. I noticed that it was the cop who came to the crime scene yesterday, as he unprofessionally pulled a cigar out of his mouth.
“You’re the bloke who reported the body yesterday?” he questioned.
“Yep. Have you talked to any suspects yet?” I replied.
“Sure have. Two of ’em in fact. One went missing last night. Now, we’re most suspicious of you. Others proved they were physically incapable of killing ’er because they were all at a party and can vouch for each other. This is all while you were the only one to come across it. What were you even doing out in the middle of the woods that late at night?”
I gulped. “Taking the backroad home. Heard the other main roads were closed due to flooding. Also, are you just going to let the death of a suspect pass by like that?”
“Mate. Do you think rain that light is going to flood a surfaced road?” He inquired, ignoring my question.
“No Sir, but I’d rather avoid getting my new converse 360’s wet. Therefore, I’ll listen to these types of rumours. Anyway, don’t you think any of the other suspects could have been responsible? They could have killed the other suspect that went missing if he knew something…” I stated, trying to focus the attention back on my initial question.
“I was on my break. My night shift co-worker was questioning the others around the time, and on my drive home, I nearly hit the body.”
“So, you’re saying that he was murdered?!” I exclaimed.
Yep. Two stab wounds. Exactly like the body yesterday, which you reported. And, guess who was the only suspect not being questioned? You!” he replied in an attacking manner.
“Sir! I didn’t do it! I was just leaving and cleaning the bar after my shift when my mum texted a m-” The small box TV behind the cop cut me off. On it was a large photo of me, taken for my passport in 2013. I’m sure I was still in Brazil at that point. The sheriff shot his head back in the direction I was staring.
“Wanna have a listen mate?” He questioned casually. I nodded in reply. He picked up the remote and the screen went black. “Well too bad. We have an interview to finish here!”

I threw my backpack off my shoulders onto the floor and sat on top of my bed with a sigh. The door creaked open…
“What’s wrong, honey?” my mother questioned.
“He thinks I did it. He thinks I’m the ruthless murderer of two people.” I answered, agitated.
“What a horrible man! Here, I’ve prepared some lentil soup for you. Just relax, watch TV with it if you want. I know that you’ve had a long day, Joel.”

“Only one suspect of the isolated woods murder case remains, says Commissioning Local Sheriff Tommy Hudson; Joel Steffenaci, a 27-year-old from Brazil. Authorities suggest that any locals from Northern to Southern Kimberly remain indoors, with all windows and doors…” I shut the TV off.
“How!” I yelled, becoming more aggravated by the second. “How has every suspect been killed. They’ve got the wrong guy,” I thought to myself. “If the authorities stay this way, the whole town will be dead soon.”

It was 11:30pm as I slid into the driver’s seat of my 1986 Holden Ute. Maybe they know that I’m not the ruthless killer. Maybe they’re just trying to gather information from me. After all, they would have arrested me already if they knew.

A sudden and abrupt bang grasped my attention. The car began to lose speed and drift gradually and uncontrollably to the left. I jerked the steering wheel to the right to correct its path, but it didn’t have an effect. Another sudden sound deafened me as an overwhelming impact slammed my head into the steering wheel. The sheer sound of tearing metal filled my ears as sparks enveloped the bonnet of the car. A bowl of deep orange erupted from behind as I climbed out through the shattered window beside me. Adrenalin pumped through my veins as a heavy weight fell out of my pocket, into the blaze. “My phone!” I thought to myself. Despite the loss of my one chance to get help, I tried my best to resist from panicking. A sharp, jabbing pain emerged in my leg. Deep red blood dripped down fast, forming a pool at the bottom. “Help!”

I hobbled away, facing the wreckage piled into a large old, sturdy oak tree. As I inspected my car, I noticed a foreboding detail; my front left tire was pressed into the ground, tilting the car in that direction! It had clearly been deflated by something large as I took the two substantial puncture holes into account. I edged closer, but the barrier of heat from the fire resisted against me. I had no choice but to limp back to the nearest building for medical assistance, despite the drowsy, painful, and nauseous state I was in. As I reached the dusty gravel path, a glimpse of shiny metal emerged out of the corner of my eye around the bend: road spikes! I must have hit them while turning, then continued to go straight instead of completing the turn, slamming into the tree. But why were there spikes on the road?

Suddenly, an unbearable pain attacked my back. I opened my mouth to scream, but a gloved hand grasped my mouth. “Unlucky, Mate. Maybe next time you should watch where you’re going. Oh wait, there is no next time!” The cop giggled. Leaving the knife in my back, he dragged me slowly into the flames of the burning wreckage. “Wouldn’t want to leave my DNA!” he said smugly, as a deep blackness took over my body. However, there was a calming sensation of the darkness. All remaining light faded into the abyss as I fell into an everlasting sleep…

Derek Crawley was a quiet and reserved student; a high school sophomore, slightly small for his age, with a passion for gaming and a reluctance for engagement with anything else. No one ever really talked to or about him, but in their, and his, minds, that was fine. That was until he had been found, red-handed, at a murder scene.

The school caretaker had found the body, frail and lifeless, bathing in a pool of blood in the boys’ bathroom; a bullet wound, weeping tears of despair, just below his chest and right through his now-deceased heart. It had been the same, grey-haired lady who also discovered Derek, kneeling on the floor of the room, next to the victim, and with deep red smears across his hands and knees. He had been frog-marched to Principal Cairns’ office, clearly guilty, one signature away from juvenile detention. But, as he had told the principal over and over while sitting in an old, battered chair in the dimly lit office, he was innocent. He knew it, but nobody else did.

Even though Principal Cairns eventually allowed him to go home, Derek knew that she didn’t believe him. How could she? He had been found not metres from the scene, with fresh blood on his hands and the haunted expression of a heartless killer on his face. The only thing keeping Derek at school and not in the back of a police van was the fact that they hadn’t yet found the gun. There were detectives down there now, scouting every nook and cranny like an eagle hunting its prey; their magnifying glasses and torches getting to work as the daylight began to quickly fade.

But Derek hadn’t done it.

He had only gone into the bathroom to deal with a blood nose; the result of yet another run-in with Brandon Smith, a burly boy in nature, the definition of brawn according to Derek. He was an outside line-backer in the school’s football team – whatever that was – and was passionate about making people’s lives miserable. To Derek, Brandon was a shell: the housing of an internal monster that wreaked pain across the hunted and the weak; himself included.

Upon entering the bathroom, well-lit but run-down with tiles that were cracked and beginning to peel, Derek had rushed to the paper towel stand and stuffed as many of the rough, snow-white sheets into his nose as he could; a nose bent from the many times it had been broken. He felt as if it was leaking claret by the litre! The towels acted like an artificial blood clot, stemming the flow as if a dam in a river. Derek had been in the middle of washing his face – a difficult job considering the blood was beginning to dry up and crust over, not to mention the freezing water from the rusty tap – when he had heard the thundering footsteps outside. Instinctively, Derek had moved like a cheetah, dashing into the nearest cubicle, and locking the door behind him. He wasn’t going to be beaten up by Brandon again.

The door to the bathroom screeched open; the hinges were corroded. Listening closely, but not daring to breathe for fear of being discovered, Derek realised that there were two people in the bathroom. Then, a series of events seemed to flash by in a matter of seconds: hoarse, angry shouting; the click of a gun as it was removed from its casing, the loud bang as the bullet erupted from the barrel – fast as a flash! – latching on to its prey and devouring it like a cobra.

Derek paid attention as the murderer left the room, the sound of the door closing. He waited nervously for a few minutes before emerging cautiously from the cubicle. Immediately, he saw the victim, Tyler Banks, lying on the floor – the life sapped out of him; his eyes desolate with the pupils switched off like a light switch. Derek muffled a scream. He had never talked to Tyler before but knew that he was a relatively popular boy. Why would anyone want to kill him? He fell to his knees and felt for a pulse.

That was the moment when the janitor found him, triggering a series of events which led Derek to where he was now; public enemy number one – a school shooter! – and destined for a life in the deep, dark and treacherous depths of juvie. Derek didn’t want that, even though his friendless life was resigned to solitary gaming and lunches on his own. From what he could see, there was only one thing to do: find the murderer, clear his name, and return to his peaceful, albeit lonely, life.

That night, after dinner, Derek conjured up a plan. He had never felt so rebellious; it was as if a new person had awoken inside of him while in the cubicle – a sleeping giant of sorts. Derek knew he would have to break into the school at night and look through the security cameras’ footage to try to find some evidence – any evidence – of who the murderer was. In a normal homicide, the investigators would have already checked the cameras (or the killer would have destroyed them), but the police had seen no point in doing this given that they were unwavering in their belief that Derek was their man – they just needed to find the gun to prove it.

Derek followed his nightly routine, but instead of putting on his pyjamas, he ravaged through his closet, like a dog digging a hole, and collected an assortment of anonymous dark clothes – it was imperative he couldn’t be identified once he left his house. He hastily put on a pair of unworn black denim jeans, their silver zipper glinting in the overhead lighting, and he stuffed a grey wool beanie with the tags still attached into his pocket. He also grabbed an old, rusted nail which he had found in the garage and his phone. Clambering into bed, Derek pulled the covers over him, desperate to avoid the cold, winter winds that were sweeping through the trees outside and causing them to sway violently. But he didn’t sleep. He waited until he heard his parents closing their bedroom door for the night before creeping out of bed and scurrying over to the window. Gingerly sliding the bottom pane upwards, holding his breath in anticipation, Derek waited until the window was just wide enough for him to fit through before hoisting himself through the hole and latching on to the large mahogany tree just outside.

Treading carefully, Derek lowered himself branch by branch to the ground, each step an opportunity to give his game away. A sad way to go, Derek thought. Presently, his feet touched flat ground and a wave of sweet relief swept over him as he nimbly straightened up and considered his next move. It was pitch black, the few dim streetlights providing little assistance to night owls such as himself. Above Derek, the wind howled, and the thunder growled softly; a storm was brewing. He began the walk to school. The route was familiar as he walked it on his own every day, watching other groups of lively students chattering and laughing in fellowship as they made their way together.

As large raindrops began to fall, Derek hunched over, sticking to the lurching shadows which crawled along the edge of the pavement. It didn’t take long to get to his destination. As he approached the campus, the main block lay ahead of him, rotund and intimidating as always. The moonlight reflected eerily off the cold glass panels; the concrete walls were dark and deceptive. Derek walked in an easterly direction, heading towards Administration. Avoiding the main door, he moved sideways and stayed close to the wall, skirting the side of the building until he reached a fire exit. Unsurprisingly, it was locked, but Derek had come prepared. He pulled out the nail from the back pocket of his jeans and started to pick away at the padlock, chipping steadily but persistently at the rusty chain that held the door in place. With a clatter, the padlock suddenly fell to the ground and the door inched open. Derek cautiously entered the building, eyes darting left to right, before turning sharply into a small office marked “Security”, its corners illuminated by the light from the moon outside. Slightly rushing now, he looked around the room, his eyes settling on a laptop on top of a large white desk. Surprisingly, the computer was unlocked, and he moved the cursor across the screen until it settled on a blue icon marked ‘TISTO SECURITY’. Adrenalin and anticipation coursed through his veins like a virus as he double-clicked the mouse and watched the app. spring to life before his eyes.

Holding his breath, Derek scrolled the clock back to 11.30am and began to eagerly watch a myriad of small squares before his eyes, each one black and white and flickering slightly on the screen. He focused on the footage of the corridor outside the bathroom and watched as his grainy self went inside. Moving his eyes to another square, he saw himself washing his face and rubbing at his nose before suddenly diving into a cubicle and disappearing. Derek continued to watch apprehensively, as two boys suddenly appeared swiftly on the screen. One was crying hysterically, his hands held behind his back by another boy who was carrying a long black case. This second boy was broad-shouldered, slightly overweight and had light, bleached hair. Derek paused the video and enlarged the still of the boy: it was Brandon Smith, clear as day! The camera on Derek’s phone suddenly flashed and the office went silent.

The next morning, Derek asked for a lift to school and rushed into Principal Cairns’ office. He explained what had happened the evening before, not leaving out any of the details; he wasn’t scared of being punished for breaking in, especially when it was that or juvie. Principal Cairns listened attentively and reviewed the images on Derek’s phone, pausing for several moments on the one that showed Brandon, a strong and focused glint in her eye as she studied the image carefully. Suddenly, she turned off the phone; the click so much more than a noise – a symbol of justice. Calmly, but with intent, she asked Derek to go and find Brandon.

When the two boys returned, there was an unfamiliar man in the room. Constable Edwards sternly opened a pair of handcuffs and placed them around Brandon’s large and unsuspecting wrists. The locks snapped into place and Brandon’s head fell swiftly, his eyes drilling into the carpeted floor of the room. The policeman marched Brandon out of the office, his steps full of authority, and into the deserted corridor. Derek watched on as the figures got smaller as they walked further away, until it seemed as if it was two little ants who exited the building and went out into the sunlight.

In the coming days, weeks and months, Derek noticed significant changes around the school. He was no longer the hunted; no longer the neglected and ignored. He began to eat lunch with people, not just on his own, and talk and laugh; it felt as though the shackles that had held him back for so long had been cut. He felt happier, much happier, and began to enjoy school. The gaming reduced and the world around him became his new reality. Finally, he felt like he belonged.

This is my life now, my world. The only place in the whole universe that makes me even remotely happy. Now, I wasn’t sure that I’d ever be happy again, not after what I did. It was three years ago that I decided to move far from my home into the Hollowood National Park. To a place where I can get away from the annoying society that had devoured my home, the horrible buzzing in my ear that gave me a constant headache. But now, in my little campsite far from civilisation in the depths of Hollowood National Park, I’m happy. The only constant is the sweet smell of sap, and the warmth of the fire, and the beautiful, dark, endless unknowns of Hollowood.

Every morning, I get up and have breakfast with all the other animals that belong to this national park. I’m not the greatest at cooking, so I try to make a simple porridge, but it always turns out as a grey mush. After breakfast, I usually go back into my tent and have a rest, and that’s basically my day. I wake, have breakfast, then go back into my tent and rest. Just before bed, every day I was encouraged to write in my journal, so I continue to do that, even living out in the woods. It helps me with my routine. I loved routine, even when I lived at home. Every day had to be the same, everything had to be the same, and when something came along that was different, well, I don’t like to think what happens then.

That’s what I’m doing right now, writing in my journal before I go to sleep. “CLANG” slams the metal bars as they get locked, well, I guess it’s time for a new day, and a new fantasy. They’re the only thing stopping me of thinking of my baby, my little baby boy…