The warehouse through the trees, I knew not to go there.
I’d been told since I was a small child that I should stay away. I did, we all did. Except for that small kid with the spiky hair who was always a bit of a loner. He was bullied, not by me at all, although I never did anything to stop it, so I guess that’s nearly as bad. Maybe if we’d let him be part of our gang he wouldn’t have done it.
He told us all one Tuesday afternoon during Maths, he said he wasn’t scared, wasn’t scared of anyone or anything. At the time I have to confess that we were all secretly impressed, although we didn’t show it, well you don’t do you? But we were just kids then, and let’s face it, not being scared of anything is pretty stupid, how did he know what was over there, or if any of the rumours were true?
I know they couldn’t all be true, not the more outlandish ones anyway, but I wouldn’t stake my life on it, but then my life wasn’t as shit as his. Perhaps that’s what took the fear away.
He didn’t turn up on Wednesday, we never thought he’d really do it, and I suppose I still don’t know for sure if he did, no one does. I’ve never seen him since, no one has.
I’ve still not been there, it’s just an empty warehouse, nothing sinister about it, so they tell me. I thought I saw him the other day, I often think I see him, but maybe I’m just seeing my own guilt. I’m sure he’s out there somewhere, fine, no worries. But I wouldn’t stake my life on it.