Part 6

Eric and Samantha, the sixteen year old twins, were walking back from school. They both had bright blond hair and both were too thin. In school, teachers were buzzing around them, asking them softly about anorexia and other various eating disorders, or, in case of the overly practical resistant materials teacher, if they would like some of his chocolate bar. Mental problems were not the issue, when it came down to it, they were poor and found it hard to get the money to buy food. It did not help that their mother was too proud claim government help and it did not help that their Dad had left years ago with another woman. Rather than going straight home, the twins usually sat on the grass, in a field by their house, talking about the day. Today was not an exception.
"Look Sam, can you talk a little quieter, I've got a cracking headache," moaned Eric, running his fingers through his thin, blond hair. Sam glowered.
"AHRHGHg!!" she yelled at the top of her voice. Eric moaned. She smirked and tore out a clump of grass with her right hand. She liked grass, it was green, unlike bark. At this point, she heard footsteps coming up their hill. Both lazily moved their heads to work out the source of this, people other than themselves rarely came up here. A young boy, about twelve, was running up through the long grass. He was wearing a green t-shirt. He stopped, panting, in front of them. He stared at them expectantly. They stared back.
"Well, get up then." Said the boy. Sam frowned, Eric rolled his head back.
"Whyyy?" he managed to say.
"He's summoned you." Said the boy, nonchalant. Sam was beginning to enjoy the whole sensation of mystery, her brother however, had a headache.
"Who, who's summoned us?" she asked. The boy paused, considering the question.
"He...does not have a name."
"Get lost," Said Eric.
"I'll come,"
"No Sammmmm," gowned Eric, trying to grab at her ankles as she stood up and walked purposefully over to the little boy. She grabbed his hand and said,
"Go on then, take me to him."

Part 5

The suit he was wearing had always been his favourite. It was grey, much like his other suits. His shirt on the other hand was bright orange, he wore it purposely to make people feel nauseous. His watch was old and broken, which he liked as it constantly told him the time he would like it to be, 6 o'clock in the morning.

He kicked the door so hard it ricocheted off the wall with a crunch of plaster and shut itself neatly again. He frowned at it.
"That didn't have the desired effect," he said to the boy, slightly disappointed. Sudden hushing noises could be heard from within, and footsteps. The door opened. A woman stood in the doorway. She was in her thirties and reeked of a desperation to be neat. She stared at him for a moment in silence, which was finally broken by the man.
"You've got blood, blood on your check," he said, pointing hesitantly. She blinked, bewildered, watched him for some time, her mouth opening slightly, then, as if her brain had suddenly stopped messing about, started yelling.
"Get out my house!" she screamed, her body looking more angry than neat. The man fiddled with his collar and turned to the boy.
"I've never seen anger like that." he observed. The boy, with a semi-glazed expression, was listening to the faint chattering of the quiz show, apparently uninterested in the woman.
"I have," he stated airily.
"Where?" inquired the man,
"In Star Wars," said the boy,
"Oh you mean the bit where Luke's angry and trashing about with his lightsaber?"
"Yes," The man contemplated this. Indeed he did remember this part, however the anger there was a different sort! He was sure of it. He turned back to the woman.
"Have you got your child in there?" he asked calmly.
"GET OUT MY HOUSE!" she bellowed, waving her fists like an upset windmill.
"Stop waving your fists like an upset windmill," said the man,
"Nice smilie," murmured the boy.
"Mary," called the man. A whimper came from within. The woman was turning red. The man wondered why this was, was it because in the wild, red was a colour of danger and she was trying to scare him?
"Your attempts to scare me with your face are failing," He said blankly, then with one hand, grabbed her by the arm and through her down the stairs. On the way down, she hit the side walls twice, the banister thrice and a coffee table at the bottom once. The man went into the room. It had pale yellow walls and a blue carpet, teddy bears were placed at strategic places around the room to give it a more childlike feel. In the corner was the girl. She was 12, with brown hair that was matted with blood. Her eyes puffy with crying, or bruises, he could not tell the difference.
"This is disgusting," he said, his forehead creasing,
"I know," commented the boy,
"Yellow walls with a blue carpet," said the man, "it's vile,"
"Yes," confirmed the boy.