They came in twos and threes, strutting down the hill behind the bus stop. Feeling the unease that is perenially provoked by groups of teenaged boys, I pretended to be engrossed in the bus timetable, but I watched them all the same.
They tried to ruffle each other’s hair, their fingers getting stuck in copious amounts of gel, and punched each other’s arms, each shouting slurs that called into question their target’s sexuality. They played chicken on the main road, ignoring the crossing to dart between passing cars. Each group made its way into the new housing estate opposite, swallowed up by the growing dusk.
Were they going to a party? I’d noticed no girls among the groups, only boys, with matching haircuts and a sense of fashion so similar it bordered on identical. Skinny jeans, Converse trainers, oversized shirts – their only consolation was they all looked ridiculous together. But what teenaged boy wants to attend a house party in a surburban housing estate if there are no girls present? I’d also counted 27, which seemed excessive – who knew so many young men lived up the hill?
My bus turned the corner far down the road, and I stared into the shadows that hid the estate across the street. A long howl erupted somewhere among the darkened houses, and a chill ran through my veins instead of blood. Was that a dog? No dog howled like that for so long. A cheer went up in the darkness in reply to the howl.
My bus pulled up at the stop, its brakes hissing in the cold air. The door slid open, and I stepped up beside the driver. I told him my destination just as another howl tore open the night. He shuddered, but took my money. The doors slid shut and I shuffled along the bus to sit down.
The bus pulled away from the kerb, and safely ensconced in electric light, I peered out of the window into the housing estate.
That’s when the screaming started.
this reminded me of a time when I was going to motor racing in kent and the train didn’t stop at the nearest station so we had to yomp 5 miles through Kent and we saw this schoolboy army of 10 year old skinheads in crombies when Madness were very big in the charts. it was scary to say the least how so many minds followed the exact same template
Oh this is right scary. Definitely reminds of some punk era anarchy group, but the howls just sharpen more the uneasiness it evokes.
Devils, indeed—out on a dare.
Great atmosphere painting in this, Icy. You give a terrific sense of place to this and then leave the continuation to the reader’s imagination.
Nicely done.
I can very clearly see this sort of thing happening! *shudder*
Watching group after group of young men heading in the same direction would fill me with dread, it may seem innocent, but my subconscious would tell me otherwise.
“And that’s when the screaming started.” Sounded like she got out of there just in time! A boys’ night out can often end in trouble…
Something scary is happening! I don’t know what, but something.
Like lambs walking into a slaughterhouse…
Wow. I could picture this entirely. Then again, I’ve nearly witnessed it a few times…
I loved the last line. It could make a great lead in to a longer section of the story.
My favorite story of yours. You should shape all your stories in this manner. Lean and mean.