1st 5 Pages June Workshop - Mitchell

Name: Prentis Mitchell

Genre: Young Adult, Contemporary Fantasy 

Title: The Hidden   

Chapter 1: The Opening Move

Jess Emem.  1.

The thin sliver of the moon grinned down on Jess as she hurried through the darkened street.  The day at school had been long; made even harder by missing the bus and having to walk all the way home.  The chill breeze blew the inky clouds towards the river and rustled the few remaining leaves on the trees above.  A soft, silver halo surrounded the moon for a moment  before the clouds once again drifted across like smoke and the sky fell back into pitch.  

Curtains were drawing the eyes of the buildings shut as the city slipped into early evening.  Before long this street would emerge as a very different creature: a street draped in its evening wear, jewelled in lights and filled with the bird-song chatter of people and throbbing music.  However, for now, the street was sleepy and the only sound was the occasional car driving past.  Jess moved from pool to pool of yellow light which fell from the street lamps above.  She strolled through the evening unaware of the eyes which eagerly  watched the doorway  to her building- a darker shade looming in the shadows of the alley beyond.   

In the bakery, hidden away at the basement of her building, the last of the staff closed up for the evening.  They cleared the chairs onto the tables as they swept the remains of the day away.  Jess’ fingers danced over the keypad of the door code as the watcher memorised the position of each digit she pressed.  The door buzzed and Jess slipped into the warm glow of her building.  Before the door had even closed behind her, the unseen observer was moving forward with heavy feet splashing through the puddles.  

Jess paused in the hallway to check her phone before taking the stairs upwards.  She took the steps two at a time passing through glimpses of the various other residents lives: the wail of a baby fighting the need for sleep; the rich smells drifting from neighbour’s dinners; a neighbour's white cat curled up on a forgotten shopping bag barely managing to force an eye open to view her pass by.  

At her door lay a parcel. The sight of the small brown box brought a tingle of excitement.  She picked it up however  the feeling slipped away as quickly as it had appeared when she saw the name ‘Mr Maughan’ printed on the label.  They had left her neighbour’s parcel at the wrong address again.  She dropped it back to the floor,  slipped her key into the lock and pushed open the door. 

Her school bag was abandoned onto the floor, followed closely by her coat.  It only took a couple of shouts to figure out that the flat was empty.  She wandered into the kitchen, presuming her mum must be late in from work.  However, when flicking on the light, she found a plate of food wrapped in cling film and a scribbled note left on the kitchen worktop.  She scanned the note quickly before tossing it aside where it landed on the cold leftovers.  So much for still being at work she thought to herself.  Her mum had gone out.  Again.  

The phone was in her hand and the number dialled before she even knew what she was going to say.  It rang and rang until eventually she heard her mum’s voice.

‘Hi.  I can’t take your call right now.  Please leave me a message.  Bye.’

The beep pierced Jess’ ears and pricked her anger even further. 

‘Mum, I can’t actually believe you’ve gone out again.  Did you not even think for a minute that I might actually want to see someone after being at school all day?  You’re so selfish sometimes.  I can’t even believe that you call yourself my mum.’

The rant continued.  For the most of it, Jess could not even remember what she said.  She just knew she finished with the words ‘hate you’ which she knew would hit her mum hard.  

She threw the phone down onto the table.  The initial flood of anger was receding, as was the smug feeling of satisfaction at letting her mum know exactly how she felt.  But now guilt was now slipping inside.  She shouldn’t have said those things to her mum.  Fighting back against the guilt, her anger tried its hardest to push those feelings out of her mind.  It was too late for that now, Jess thought as she shoved  the plate of food aside.  If her mum had gone out partying with her friend, there was no way Jess was going to feel guilty or eat cold left overs from yesterday.  She thundered out of the kitchen in search of the takeaway menus.  

Chapter 2: A Stranger Calls

Mr Trick.  ✖️

C2428.

It took Mr Trick several attempts to enter the code, each time clumsily hitting the wrong button with his thick set of fingers. A growl of frustration rose with each effort until he almost smashed through the door with his bare hands.  Then, unexpectedly, the lock buzzed excitedly with the correct code.  Mr Trick shoved open the door and squeezed himself into the hallway.  Like entering codes into tiny keypads, his heavy hands and wide frame made any stealthy task difficult to complete.  They did help, however, in the tasks he was usually required to undertake: those involving breaking, snapping and beating.  He checked the object was still secured in his coat and made his way to the stairs.  The black girl he’d copied the code from was nowhere to be seen but the place reeked of humans.  The stench of sweat, grease and filth left him nauseous and grateful he did not venture into human cities very often.    

From his pocket, he dragged out the crumpled note he had shoved in there earlier.  He grunted in frustration as he struggled to read the note.  The words were written in an unfamiliar language which looked like a jumble of circles and lines.  He recognised numbers easier than the words and so figured out from the strange script that the target was on the fourth floor.  Looking up, he saw that the stairs wound their way back and forth all the way to the top of the apartment.  

Mr Trick began his slow ascent.  Each floorboard creaked under his heavy, leather boots.  The boards bowed under his immense weight.  He was thankful that the howl from a child covered most of the noise he was making.  The repeated thud of his boots and creak of the steps carried him up the stairs; past the noise and clatter from the residents behind their closed doors.  As he moved through each hallway, he kept an eye on every door, ready to react if anyone was unlucky enough to open one.   He approached a white cat, curled up tightly in its own dreams.  Sensing him coming, the cat awoke and reacted immediately at the sight of the approaching stranger.  Leaping to its feet, it darted through the corridor and up towards the higher floors effortlessly twisting past any obstacle which lay in its path.  Mr Trick watched the small animal disappear before following him up the last few remaining stairs.  

Finally, he reached the top landing. On the floor, he saw a brown parcel.  Stooping to look at the small printed label, he recognised the same name that was scribbled on his note.  He reached into his coat and removed the object wrapped in an old, oily cloth.  He handled it as carefully as he could, wary not to make contact with it.  

Gods forbid he should set it on himself.