Running Scared - In Search of Truth Pt1

My NaNoWriMo Entry for 2013.

Sinead and Tom are two like minded spirits who find that love is hard to share. They must overcome the everyday problems they have to find if Pokemon actually survive. From grimy Stockby, their search takes them to Malaysia and the truth, but can they handle the truth and will they be together at the end?

Please note that is not a novel about Pokemon.

Inspired by a conversation around a campfire.

Dedicated to the real Sinead. #iLECT

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14. Tequilla Mockingbird

We went through the back door of Bob and Ethel's house. It was like returning to my childhood. The house was familiar, same layout, same wallpaper, even the smell was the same. I’d been here so many times in the past that it felt like I was going home. I walked through the door to the living room without even thinking, traversed the room and sat cross legged on the wicker chair in the corner. Ethel laughed.

 

‘That’s what he used to do when he came here as a kid’ she said, I smiled. Yes I’d done it subconsciously but this was where I always sat. I looked across at Sinead and Ethel who were sat on the settee. I smiled at the coincidence, it was on that very settee that I’d first kissed a girl, Karen. We’d both been about eleven at the time, not quite sure what we were really doing. That relationship must have been a marker for my life. It had lasted a couple of weeks before I caught her kissing Stevie behind the shed. She said he was a better kisser. A failure at eleven, it had took me ages to get over that.

 

‘Have you cleared up?’ she asked her husband.

 

‘Aye, it were only a stuffed toy that some blithering idiot had put a load o’ guts in.’

 

‘That’s awful, who’d do that to a teddy’ she said

 

‘Oh, it weren’t a teddy, it was a furry raccoon’

 

Sinead suddenly screamed and jumped up. She lurched towards the bag and before Bob could stop her she’d ripped it open and was looking in horror at what was inside.

 

‘Rocky!’ she said and sobbed. She reached into the bag and pulled out the blood soaked fur. Dropping the bag she pulled the gore smeared skin towards her skin burying her face into the wet fur. We all looked at each other in amazement. Here was a girl, I thought, that had such a great mental fortitude and here she was apparently cracking up.

 

I stood up and went to comfort her. There we stood in the middle of the room, me hugging Sinead and her squeezing the life out of the already dead raccoon.

 

‘It’s my Rocky’, she said in between the sobs.

 

I looked in astonishment at the furry carcass that she held in her hands. Was this the same racoon that lived on our bed? How had it got here? I suddenly felt as if the room had been plunged into a giant vat of ice. My innards turned to water. Someone had been through our house, they had violated our sanctity and done god knows what else. I turned and ran out of the house towards my home. An englishman’s home is supposed to be his castle, but mine had been invaded by some neanderthal. Bob followed me. By the time I’d got to the door he was right behind me.

 

‘Careful’ was all he said to me as I opened the door. I nodded and he followed me in, holding a golf club. Did he think that that would be any use ?

 

I went straight upstairs to our bedroom. In my haste earlier, I hadn’t noticed anything wrong but on the crumpled bed clothes where the raccoon used to rest was the rest of the chicken. It’s head turned towards me as if mocking. Who’d kill a mocking bird was the strange thought going through my head at that moment.

 
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