A Darker Shade of Sorcery - - (leveled readers .txt) 📗

the grey was a stone that’d been cracked and was now bleeding. It was the only interesting thing about him.

Evan pulled up the chair by his desk and sat down to write. Writing was his favourite, well only, hobby.

Pages and pages of his scrawling littered the untidy desk, reflecting the rest of the room. He picked one at random and began reading.

This one was about his hero Alwar. Alwar was the exact opposite of himself.

Strong, courageous, amazing in every way, he was the stuff of legend. Evan loved writing about his many adventures.

With the warrior Alwar he could lose himself, forget Grandma’s death and his miserable life. He could escape. Alwar conquered terrible opponents and the most ferocious of beasts. Evan couldn’t even escape Ollie and his thugs.

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He peered out of his small window. The hail had morphed into heavy clumps of snow that splattered onto the ground, lighting the garden with a ghostly sheen.

Evan forced everything else out of his head as he wrote long into the night, immersing himself in imagined worlds and allowing reality to slip away.

*

Winter descended upon London, its cold touch bathing the streets. Snow fell heavily, carpeting roads and walkways. Not a street lamp glowed as silence ruled the midnight hour.

In a dark alleyway, the shadowy veils of night shattered as light filtered through a gap in space and time. The beam of light flashed scarlet as it expanded into a swirling mass.

Out of the portal stepped a monstrosity not meant to touch this world.

Quickly, he distorted his features. The abomination transformed to what could pass for a man, providing no human looked closely.

He took in a deep breath, inhaling the air of Earth. Inhaling the air of men.

It appeared he’d come to the right place.

The demon’s lips hooked up. He would take great delight in killing the boy, regardless of his master’s orders.

*

Evan trudged through oceans of snow on his way to school. His body shivered and his hands grew numb as the frost bit deep.

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His grandmother's face haunted his thoughts. He’d accidentally knocked her photo over this morning. The glass had shattered. She was smiling in that photo, her face kind and warm. Her face had been cold and slack when he'd found her. Her body was there, but she wasn’t. She was gone, she…

Evan forced the memory away. He wouldn’t think about that, he couldn’t.

She wasn’t his real grandmother; he’d been abandoned by whoever his parents were, just like he’d been abandoned in London now.

He rounded the corner and Elfort School came into view. It was a typical English school, a mass of brown buildings, usually cluttered with litter as much as it was pupils.

But Evan was late and there was no one else around.

Except one.

A large figure stood by the school gates. He was as wide as he was tall, but hidden by a long trench coat and low-hanging hat. As Evan drew closer the feeling of dread engulfed him. For some reason, he was horrified by whatever waited at the gates. He didn’t know why. Everything just felt wrong.

He froze, not wanting to get any closer to the stranger.

With agonising slowness, the stranger’s face, half obscured by a scarf and hat, turned to look at him. Evan gazed in horror at the repulsive figure. He wanted to run away as fast as he could, but he was rooted to the spot.

Terror clutched at Evan’s mind, squeezing his stomach and constricting his chest.

He had the innate feeling this stranger meant him grievous harm.

A double-decker bus, filled with raucous students, abruptly turned into the street and glided towards the school.

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The stranger turned away fast and walked in the opposite direction. Soon he'd disappeared from view, swathed by the screeching wind and swirling snow.

The bus pulled up by the gates and the pupils filed out, complaining how the snow had made them late.

Evan breathed heavily, trying to stuff down the panic and bile crawling up his throat. He had no idea who the stranger was. He’d always had an active imagination, and right now his mind was telling him the eerie figure could’ve had something to do with Pete’s death. No, you’re being stupid. It was probably just some homeless man.

Trying to shake it from his thoughts, he headed to class.

Throughout the rest of the day, Evan couldn’t stop thinking about the stranger and the sense of dread that’d overwhelmed him.

He was so distracted that he paid less attention in class than usual. He was terrified when it came to the end of the day, not of Ollie and his friends, but that the stranger might be back. That thing frightened Evan more than Ollie ever had.

He walked out of his English class with great trepidation, trying to fight the urge to run all the way to the orphanage. He was almost relieved to see only Ollie and his friends at the gates.

Evan attempted to walk past them unseen, trying to blend in with the other students, but as always Ollie spotted him. Since Evan had first arrived and answered one too many questions in his English lesson, the thug had made his life hell.

The smoke of Ollie’s cigarette lingered about his nostrils, furthering his resemblance to an angry bull.

“Oi, Umbra!”

Ollie had four friends with him today and all five of them chased Evan as he broke into a sprint.

15

Adrenaline coursed through Evan’s veins as he darted between pedestrians and cars, cutting across the road in a desperate attempt to shake them.

The streets retreated and a park came into view. He was nearly at the orphanage.

He’d never made it home before they’d got him though.

Evan leaped over the park fence, only to fall face-first in the snow on the other side. Regaining his balance using the merry-go-round, he pushed off and continued to run. Vaulting the fence had cost him. Ollie and his thugs made the jump easily and Ollie managed to snatch the back of Evan’s coat and swing him round with ruthless force. Evan’s head whiplashed and he veered sideways, tripping over and crashing to the ground.

A cruel chorus of laughter broke out amongst Ollie’s friends, but the leader himself wasn’t smiling. Perhaps he felt especially vicious today.

Before Evan could stand, Ollie booted him back down.

“Why do you always run, eh?” he snarled.

Ollie aimed a kick, but Evan rolled to his feet.

“C’mon!” Ollie shoved him. “Do sumin’.”

This time he landed a punch to the jaw. Evan crumpled under the blow.

“Get up!” Ollie bellowed.

Evan’s anger rose to a crescendo within him, but he lacked the courage to let it loose. Ollie seized his coat and hauled him to his feet.

“Look at you. You’re nothing,” he spat, his nose almost touching Evan’s.

The other boys screamed abuse, threatening to beat Evan to within an inch of his life.

I don’t deserve this. He felt tears at the back of his eyes.

“Aww, you gonna cry again, mate?”

16

Ollie’s gang shrieked their mirth.

“Don’t see him mouthing off today, do we, boys?” Ollie looked to his peers for encouragement.

“You really are pathetic, aren’t you, Evan? Tell me, is it true you're not even an orphan; you just live in that place because your parents abandoned you? I can see why they would.”

Evan’s anger blazed to within an inch of the surface. It felt like the blood in his head was banging against his skull, trying to leak out of his ears.

“Do sumin, Evan, I dare ya.” Ollie’s fat lips spread into a wicked smile. “You know how they always say, if you stand up to bullies they’ll leave you alone? Well, with me… it makes things much worse.” Ollie said the last two words slowly, savouring each one.

“What should we do to ‘im, boys? Beat ‘im bloody, or rip all his clothes off and send him back to the orphanage naked? That’ll be a laugh. Maybe we should stub our cigarettes out on him. Or maybe we should bury him next to his dear dead granny.”

Evan snapped.

His fist smashed into Ollie’s mouth. The bully’s head jerked back as his laughter cut off. Evan launched a second blow to the jaw, then another at his throat. Choking, Ollie staggered backwards. Evan hurled himself at him, his vision distorted red. Again and again he wreaked his vengeance on the bully who’d tortured him for months.

Abruptly hands clutched at his arms and hurled him to the ground. Evan landed a short way off. His head hit the ice hard. He tried to get up, but Ollie’s gang bundled him to the ground. Evan’s breath was crushed out of him as they kicked his stomach, back, and chest. Dizzy and disorientated, his vision no longer a vivid red but a dull

17

blur, he was dragged back to his feet. Ollie struggled to stand in front of him, blood streaming down his face.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he rasped through mashed lips.

Evan stared back at him in defiance, his fear of these savage bullies erased. He wouldn’t be their victim today. He had finally fought back, and he’d keep fighting back every time they came for him. Eventually they’d learn to leave him alone. They had too.

Ollie’s grin was feral as his hand slipped into his pocket. His cohorts egged him on. One word screamed through Evan’s mind— knife!

He’d seen Ollie showing one to his mates last week, chortling as he slashed it through the air. Sure enough, he produced a flick-knife from his pocket.

“I’m gonna give you some scars to remember me by.”

As Ollie advanced his eyes suddenly widened in fear as he saw something over Evan’s shoulder.

Evan fell to the ground yet again as Ollie’s friends let go of him with stricken shrieks and ran as fast as they could, terror hounding their steps.

Blood trickled from Evan’s nose to stain the snow; blood so dark it was almost black.

A large shadow loomed over him.

Evan's shakes turned to violent trembles as he guessed what had horrified the others. Ollie's gang had vanished, leaving their leader to stare frozen at the thing behind Evan.

Something long, black and sharp careened into Ollie's forehead with a squelch.

Ollie's mouth gaped open for a second before the black spike arced up, taking Ollie's head with it. Blood vomited from Ollie's torso as it fell convulsing to the ground.

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Evan turned and came face to face with a creature from a madman’s nightmare.

Terror ripped through Evan's mind, consuming all thought and setting his blood afire. Horror clenched his stomach and gripped his heart. It was the stranger he’d seen before, only now it’d ripped off its garments, revealing monstrosity in its true form.

The hideous contortion of mangled limbs crouched. Its yellow slavering fangs were inches from Evan’s throat and the glare of its five green eyes was bloodcurdling.

The black spike-which had Ollie's head speared on the end like a grisly cocktail stick- was only one of eight legs. The monster was some amalgamation of giant spider and grotesque