The Elderine Stone (2 page)

“Okay Aunt Florence,” Jason shouted back, as he tried to rearrange his hair into some form of hairstyle, without any luck.

The front door slammed and it was quiet.

It was getting close to eight thirty and Jason knew he had to leave. He wasn’t too sure if he could face another day of Miss Thornbottle bellowing at him from behind her desk, but the thought of having to listen to his aunt’s ranting and raving when she found out that he had missed school that day persuaded him to take the simpler approach and face Miss Thornbottle. He headed towards the front door, lifting his house keys and lunch money on the way out, almost knocking over one of his Aunt Florence’s
precious
porcelain dolls. Thankfully he was able to rescue it just in time before it had a chance to tip over onto the varnished wood floor.

It was getting very close to the time that Jason should be leaving, if he left it any later he’d have to start thinking of excuses for arriving late. Jason stepped out onto the porch, locking the front door behind him. He paused for a moment to look around at the suburban part of Belfast, Northern Ireland that he called home, with its rustic tree-lined streets and 3 story houses. Every now and then a woman or man would walk past being trailed along by their dogs. Jason was always amused by this, thinking about how these small creatures could lead their masters in the directions they wanted to go rather than the other way around. Jason had always wanted a pet, something to keep him company during the lonely days spent at home, but his aunt had always said, ‘Animals just take up too much time, besides you have enough cleaning to do, without having to look after a pest.’

He knew he would never get her to change her mind unless there was a pet that washed dishes or vacuumed.

It was mid spring and unusually hot for the time of year. Everything looked so colourful, fresh, and bright. Jason smiled as he thought about the Easter holidays fast approaching, which led him on to think about the open countryside and how great it would be to run freely through fields and forests. It often amazed him how he could fall into a day dream like this, which often caused more than enough trouble.

Looking at his watch he noticed that it was now ten minutes to nine.
“Where did the time go?”
He wondered. A surge of panic began to spread throughout his body, realising he had less than ten minutes to arrive at his school and be sitting in his seat in class. Running and thinking at the same time, Jason decided to take a shortcut down the lane that linked two streets together which also ran adjacent to the Cavehill Forest Park. He had heard many tales about that forest when he was younger, but now at the mature age of fifteen he believed these stories were just told by nervous parents (and strict aunts) to keep their children away from the forest and any dangers that might lie within. The lane entrance lay just in front of him. In the last year or so, the city council had erected a metal gate at both ends of the lane to prevent cars using it as a shortcut. As Jason leant against the metal gate, he had time to process his next course of actions, should he attempt going down the shortcut or stick to the familiar footpath? A second glance at his watch made the decision an easy one to make.

Boldly Jason made his way down the lane at a brisk-but-sensible pace. If he walked too slowly he would be late, but he didn’t want to run, as Miss Thornbottle would find some other reason to pick on him, perhaps for his heavy breathing.

Half way down the lane he noticed a small derelict building nestled a few metres into the forest. On closer examination Jason saw that it was locked up rather well, or at least, it seemed to be. The wooden door at the front had a few loose chains hanging from the handle, and a nail in the wood held up a large board bearing, in clear red lettering, the words:

DANGER! DO NOT ENTER!

Of course, his curiosity was no match for his fear of Miss Thornbottle, so he decided to continue on. The curiosity however, would remain imbedded deep within him for the rest of the day.

Jason arrived a few seconds after nine, opened the door and just managed to get to his seat without Miss Thornbottle noticing. Miss Thornbottle was Jason’s maths teacher, and for some strange reason his timetable was arranged so that he had maths first period
every day of the week
except Friday, on which he had History, but that was not an alternative that Jason looked forward to. Both classes always started almost immediately with a test on the areas they had covered in the previous lesson. What seemed like hours passed as Jason sat at his desk chewing on the end of his pencil. Minutes passed as he sat staring at the test, trying in vain to answer any of the questions. He was hoping that he could chance his arm with a few of his answers and get some ‘pity marks’. It was hopeless. The thought of the hut in the forest kept coming back into his mind, making concentrating on the test more than impossible. Who would think that a fourth year maths test could be so thought consuming? Half an hour passed, and Jason was jolted from his reverie by the screech of Miss Thornbottle,

“Pencils down! Stop writing, the test is now over!” Miss Thornbottle pushed her seat back scraping the legs against the floor. "Make sure your names are on them this time" she wailed as she started her walk past each desk, collecting the test papers.

As Jason passed his paper he knew he wasn’t going to be sitting at the top of the class in this particular test. The bell rang and Jason walked out, heading down the corridor to his next class, English, expressing a sigh of relief that maths was over for another day.

The rest of the day passed by at a snail's pace. Each period witnessed the same turn of events: Jason walked into class, sat down and
tried
to concentrate on the teacher’s lesson, but of course it was all going in one ear and out the other. Even in English, his favourite subject, he found it hard to concentrate. At long last the final bell rang and everyone stampeded towards their lockers to gather their books before they went home to a hot dinner and a night of homework. Jason’s class was still sitting at the final bell; their science teacher believed that the bell was for him. It was a signal for him to know that he should stop teaching, and that he would tell them when the class was dismissed. He finally nodded the scraping of chairs echoed throughout the classroom as the pupils made a hasty exit. On the way out Jason noticed Miss Thornbottle in the corridor, he spun round to head in the opposite direction but heard her shout,

“Jason I wouldn’t be late tomorrow again if I were you. Don’t think for one second that I didn’t see you come in late today.”

Jason shivered as though in the presence of evil, and walked towards his locker.

It was three twenty when he left school.

On his way home, Jason approached the lane he had used as a short cut earlier. Without fighting his curiosity, his feet led him towards the odd hut. The suspense was pure agony as he thought up all the possible uses for the hut in the past, and maybe also the future. It could be the perfect den, where he could hang with his friends. Perhaps it was some sort of storage shed for one of his neighbours; perhaps a run down council building; or perhaps it had been used by the old woodsman who used to take care of the grounds. Jason remembered that he had passed away a few years ago.

As he walked closer he could feel the goose pimples rising in his arms as the excitement and curiosity overcame him. Finally, he was standing in front of the worn down building, the “Danger” sign still visible, and somehow highlighted by the evening sun. With more time to investigate this strange building he noticed that it was built using what looked like sturdy stone with wooden beams for support. Over the years it had also gathered a rather impressive amount of moss. Vines and various other wall-climbing plants had started to spread across the hut’s many facades, making the stone walls their home, engulfing the hut with ever-growing forest. Within a few years the hut would be completely hidden. Jason thought it a perfect place for a den. There were no windows in the building, and a wooden door occupied the front wall, in the style, although on a much smaller scale, of those seen in castles in the old medieval films. Several odd looking trees grew on either side, a branch of one of these had grown over the top of the hut, and there were a few medium-sized bushes in front as well; each displaying a glamorous amount of emerald green leaves.

“
How did I ever manage to see the hut in the first place,”
Jason wondered, “
it’s so well camouflaged by all these plants?”

Jason looked again at the sign. He knew that these signs were put up for a reason, but still he walked closer passing a few of the bushes. He pushed back a large branch that blocked his path. The voices in his head were arguing whether he should feed his curiosity or head home, having realised how late it was getting. On this occasion, the adventurous voice seemed to be louder than the rest of the more morally-suited ones, investigating the building seemed like an adventure that could not be missed.
Especially
when it said “do not enter” that was an obvious invitation to do the opposite.

Jason walked closer to the door, and placed his hands on the wooden surface, gasping as a cold shiver travelled through him. For a moment he stood there looking at the rich redwood door which stood in front of him. Gingerly, he pushed on the door, expecting it to be firmly closed. The door moved slightly, letting out a gush of old air that smelt of damp, yet carried a hint of something that smelt rather pleasing, and inviting. It was a very unusual smell. Jason pushed further as the door swung open, and coughed at the growing intensity of the smell. Inside the hut was dark. The fading sunlight lit the entrance of the building but no more. Jason took a step forward, then another, stopping to allow his eyes to focus. After a short period he could make out various markings on the wall. He took a step forward to examine these more closely. They were pictures, with strange symbols intermixed. Jason let his eyes pass over them, trying to gauge a meaning, or work out a pattern within them. He found his gaze kept returning to one picture in particular, which showed a group of people with pointed ears. He laughed inwardly as the thought occurred to him that some other young people just like him had already made this
their
den, and had decorated it with symbols from their favourite books or movies.
“Now then,”
he thought,
“Elves, or Vulcans?”
Squinting, he took a step closer to the wall, stumbling as the floor seemed to give a little under him. Suddenly, his foot slipped and he felt himself falling down into the darkness. He barely had time to scream before he landed with a thud, winded and shaking.

Jason shook his head to try and stabilise the spinning sensation, and painfully sucked air into his lungs a few times, before attempting to assess the situation. He was lying on what felt like soft, damp ground. It could have perhaps been leaves. He felt rather pleased that he wasn’t harmed in any way except for a few small bumps and bruises that time would heal. Looking up he could see sunlight coming from the hole through which he had fallen. He looked around for a way out, now clearly hearing the moral voices in his head, “
I told you that ‘Danger’ meant stay away!
” Shaking these thoughts off, Jason acknowledged a sense of fear, and the thought of not being able to escape passed his mind. He remembered the story of “The Boy who fell down the Well” that his aunt had told him.

“
But a well is slightly different from a hole in an abandoned building that says, ‘do not enter’ on it, which is located half way down a lane that hardly anyone uses,”
Jason muttered under his breath. Looking around frantically, his eyes caught a bluish glimmer from a gap just big enough for a medium sized youth to pass through. Marvelling at the weird quality of the light, it took Jason a moment or two to realise that the hole into which he had fallen had grown darker. Puzzled, he looked around and discovered the reason.
The hole through which he had fallen was no longer there. It was almost as if the ground had grown back to conceal the hole.

He jumped a few times, trying to touch the roof of the chamber, hoping that maybe his eyes were playing cruel tricks on him, but there was no such luck. He was barely able to reach the roof, but a sickening certainty in his stomach told him that the hole was indeed sealed, and that his jumping was not going to ease the situation in any way. Panic started to set in; terrible, claustrophobic thoughts of being trapped forever in this cold, damp, dark place. He tried to hold them back, but they flooded his mind, speeding his heartbeat and stealing his breath. Unbidden, tears began to course down his cheeks, and he began to feel light-headed. He had read of panic attacks, of course, but somehow, he had always thought they only happened to girls. Sinking back onto the floor of his prison
not prison, not prison I am NOT TRAPPED!! He thought
as he put his head between his knees and concentrated on taking one breath at a time, slowing them until his heartbeat seemed to be almost normal again. Exhausted, he sat for a moment, looking again at the eerie blue light that served as his only illumination. Jason knew he couldn’t sit there waiting for something (quite possibly unpleasant) to happen. Deciding that his only option was to follow the blue glimmer, Jason rose unsteadily to his feet and began to walk toward the gap, hoping it would lead outside. He reached for the wall and started to make his way through. His breathing got deeper as he tried to fill his lungs with extra air, and he felt slightly dizzy from the panic he was still fighting to control, as well as shock from having fallen down the hole in the first place. The gap led into a tunnel that wound left and right for what seemed like several metres, the blue glimmer gaining strength with every step Jason took. Finally, he turned the last corner, stumbling into a sizeable chamber; and was confronted by the oddest of objects.