Jake Hutchings

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The Walk
The sun hung low in the sky, barely supporting itself above the rolling green and yellow hills; they whispered and rustled as a calm breeze gently combed streaks of the long grass that grew upon them. The heavy sun gave the surrounding peaks an orange halo, a light that called for the few people that lived and worked among them to look beyond the endless farmland. Most of the bales had been collected and all that was left beneath them were the stubbly remains of proud crops – making the patchwork of the land yellowy brown in some places. One of these tired fields, the paddock field, lay dormant behind the farmhouse, a vast expanse that rested in waiting, recuperating in readiness to be ploughed before winter then to be harrowed and prepared for sowing the following spring.
The paddock field sat adjacent to the garden of the redbrick farmhouse, pushed up against the hedges as if demanding more space. The garden was as flat as the paddock field; the grass was a cool, green pool that rippled as the wind swept the dry dust up from under the blades. In the centre of the garden there sat an unusual apple tree, unusual because it had been struck by lightning twice and thus had been contorted into an awkward ‘c’ shape with half the trunk semi-buried in the ground, and the other half curving round until travelling parallel to the buried half. This was the tree that Will had made his own. Will was a fair haired young boy with soft features but deep inquisitive eyes that tested everything they saw. He had become quite adept in entertaining himself and had spent the mild evening swinging from the branches of the tree as though above a 30,000 ft drop to a jagged death below. This particular evening the farm was incredibly quiet. Almost nothing was to be heard from any of the animals, save the pensive hum from the crickets. Will looked up from his spaceship as his father approached from behind Cemetery fields; he waved knowing it would not be seen before jumping back into the cockpit. As the broad, rough man reached the back gate he spoke to Will in an upbeat tone “fancy a walk tonight before it gets too dark?”
Will thought for a moment, he had not seen his father properly all through harvest and tonight was the first night he had come home before dark. He cleared his throat before answering “Ok, when?”
“Now-ish.” He answered, “It will be too dark later, and I can’t tomorrow. We’ll just have tea then I’ll take you across the fields.”
“Ok.” Will hung upside-down with his legs hooked over a horizontal limb before holding on with his hands and letting himself rotate about his shoulders, landing on his feet with a thud. He followed contently behind his father, watching the infinitely strong man swing his shoulders as he strode to the house. Will began to swing his shoulders too but quickly felt off balance, he pondered for a second why men did this evidently difficult manoeuvre. Did it make you walk faster? It must do.
After wiping his feet at the back door, Will barged through the kitchen to retrieve his walking boots from the porch. He did not know why, for as soon as he reached them, he realised he could not put them on in the house – so he carefully carried them to put outside the backdoor, ensuring he did not let any of the dried mud fall onto the carpet, just to be trodden in later.
After tea, Will grabbed a jumper from his room then bounded back down the stairs two at a time reaching the back door to find his father standing there waiting. He frantically stamped on his boots watching the crusted mud fly off from the soles and the sides. “You ready?” questioned his father, eager to set off before the light was lost. “yep.” Replied Will as he tied another knot between his laces.
His father opened the gate as Will ran ahead into the paddock field, crunching, and snapping the stubble beneath his mighty boots. The night had drawn in sneakily whilst the two boys had had their tea and Will felt a pleasurable sense of mystery and potential trickle down his arms and legs. This was going to be an adventure, he promised himself. He knew he was safe as long as he was with his father.
He reached the end of the paddock field where a ditch hid before the row of hedges and trees that separated the two fields. Will waited dutifully at the path that ran parallel to the hedges until his father had reached him. They walked together along the path with the row of hedges on the left hand side and the graceful cemetery fields to their right. The cemetery fields could be seen right from the solitary road that stretched out in front of the house, an hour ago they had shone, however, now they cast a deep red glow upon the two figures below them, exposing them. Will began to walk very low, he softened his footsteps until they merely murmured as they brushed along the ground – carrying him along effectively though silently – he was hunting. He stalked a great brown bear that dozed obliviously amongst the grass on the hill. He came closer, and closer. He pounced, the bear vanished just as his father asked “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Will retorted as he straightened up. “I thought I saw something. But I didn’t.”
he didn’t want his father to notice he had been playing; recently it had become apparent that playing now needed to be fairly private. After all he was getting to be big now.
They continued along the track until they reached the fence that separated the fields from the footpath, Cemetery Lane. Usually the path was almost impossible to tread for all the mud and hoof shaped holes but tonight it was perfectly dry and the banks of the path were speckled with white cow parsley. Will’s father stepped across the ditch and held up the wire fence for Will to crawl underneath then threw one leg over at a time and followed him up the path. The sky had turned a pale shade of purpley-blue, bathing the trees and hedges on either side of the path in a cold and eerie dimness. Will felt a chill of uneasiness, he shuddered and tried not to look at the bushes beside him which contained hundreds of red eyes. He glance back at his father, he was making his way up the slight decent with a relaxed smile smeared over his face. Will tried to do the same but was swarmed with gruesome images of faceless men grabbing at him. He hurried back to his father’s side, grappling at his arm.
“You alright son?” his father whispered, not really waiting for an answer.
“Yeah, I'm fine.” Will insisted emptily. Will let go of his father’s arm and strode on ahead, all the while telling himself there was nothing to be afraid of, which he knew very well there wasn’t. He continued up the path alone keeping his eyes straight ahead, he passed a couple of openings into other fields he had never been in. he soldiered on, feeling braver now that he was nearing the top of the hill.
By the time Will had reached the clearing at the top, darkness had descended upon everything, it caressed the tips of all the trees, pushing them gently to and fro; blanketing the ground in a thick web of dark blue. The black hedge that protected a cow field from intruders swayed in front of Will. He was standing at a cross-road. Will swivelled on the spot and waited for his father. He couldn’t see any movement. He drew nearer to the path he had just come from but swiftly retreated as the trees and hedges circled and pressed themselves upon him. His heartbeat quickened. He called out “Dad?” but there was nothing. “Dad!” he shouted again, his voice cracked a bit. Panic struck all over his body like an electric shock. It pulsed through him, flowed to the very ends of his finger tips. His breaths became short and frequent before he started to cry. He could be there forever – consumed by the darkness. He might never escape. All that stimulated his senses was now very real and intense. Every step as he paced furiously along the same 5 ft line. Every breath of the bitter air around him. He could not move. He could feel himself shaking, he desperately wanted to run, he yearned to sprint along one of the road next to him, but he couldn’t. He called out again; his cry was disjointed and broken by the interrupting jolts from his sobbing. He sat down cross-legged and cried into his knees, rocking ferociously. He buried his eyes as far as he could into his ankles. He dared not look up. the darkness that seemed to have pierced his minds swelled to the backs of his eyes. How could this happen? Where is he? Will searched his mind for all the things he could do but nothing seemed more logical than remaining where he was. He will come and find me. He has to. What if he can’t? what if he’s lost too and…?
A hand touched him on his neck and shoulder. Will was overcome by relief, it poured over him like a shower of light, it was as if he could breathe again after being submerged in water. He flung his arm around his father’s neck and burrowed into his collar.
“i.. wa-s.. so scar-ed an-d…” Will trailed off into more tears.
“I know. I know. I'm sorry son. It’s ok. Shhh. Let’s go home.” asserted his father comfortingly. He then kissed Will on the cheek and raised him onto his shoulders.