"Hey, guys! Hey, guys! How about some help?"

Ste and Kelvin were walking ahead of Jim. Kelvin had brought something from his backpack, which the two poured over. They had their backs to Jim, who had been left to carry all the fishing equipment.

"Come on," Jim protested. "This isn't fair."

"Just a second. We're busy."

"What're you doing? What're you looking at?"

Ste and Kelvin laughed together.

"Nothing for your eyes, Jim. You'd get embarra.s.sed."

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Just a magazine."

They pa.s.sed into a small wooded area, then out again into another field. Leaving the dappled shade of the trees, Jim stopped in his tracks. The sun filled the whole of the next meadow. The gra.s.s was high and spotted with color: daisies, dandelions and other flowers Jim couldn't name grew in abundance. The meadow was a wide area of gra.s.s with the sky blue above. Jim was so struck by the place that he could have happily forgotten about fishing and spent the day on his back in the middle of that meadow. It seemed to be the most peaceful, enticing place he had ever set foot in.

Ste glanced over his shoulder. "Come on, Jim. Keep moving."

"Can't we have a rest?"

"Jim-here!" Kelvin raised the magazine. He roared with laughter when Jim diverted his eyes. "I wouldn't mind seeing Zoe Oswald lying down like that, eh?"

"Zoe Oswald!" Ste barked, punching Kelvin on the shoulder. "She's way beyond your league!"

"No, she's not. I was thinking of asking her out next year."

"What!" Now Ste was laughing, bent forward and clutching his stomach. The full act.

Kelvin looked off to one side. "She wouldn't go out with you in a million years! She's a model, you goon. I've seen her in the Littlewoods catalogue. She wouldn't look twice at you."

"Guys," Jim interrupted, "can somebody besides me carry something? These boxes are heavy."

Kelvin stamped toward Jim and muttered, "Give me something then."

Ste was standing apart, untroubled by the shift in Kelvin's mood. He glanced about the field.

"This is where I found the bone, jawbone, or whatever. It was right over there."

Jim winced. "You're kidding, Ste?"

"No. The river's over on that side. Past those trees. The bone probably washed up. Whatever. Hey, let's swim."

Ste began striding off in the direction he had indicated. Jim and Kelvin exchanged a look that said 'here we go again' before wading across the field in pursuit.

The river was wide, but not deep. Standing on the bank, Jim could see the rocks and pebbles at the bottom of the water. He searched for movement. Could there be any fish in this river? He was turning around to tell Ste that maybe they should follow the river to see if they could find a deeper stretch, when Ste came hurtling past him, stripped down to his underwear and hollering at the top of his voice. He hit the water with a loud splash.

Jim dropped the fishing equipment onto the gra.s.s.

Ste shrieked. "Cold! Cold! It's freezing!"

"I'm coming in!" Kelvin said, already peeling off his t-shirt.

Jim sat on the bank, watching his two friends splash each other and frolic in the clear water.

"You're not coming in, Jim? It's not that bad once you get used to it."

"Can't swim," said Jim with a shrug.

Kelvin laughed. "But it's only waist high. You're not going to drown."

"If you go under, I'll save you, Jim," Ste said.

Ste and Kelvin began chanting Jim's name, throwing water up at him until he relented. He stood and kicked off his sandals. He took off his shirt, then stood shivering slightly on the bank, looking down at the water where his friends seemed so at home. It was true it was only waist high, but Jim focused on the slight ripples on the surface, thought about how it pulled and dragged. He thought about himself submerged. He might trap his foot in a s.p.a.ce between the rocks and go under. He thought about himself grasping and fighting as he tried to break free, desperate, losing himself.

He took a step back. "Can't."

"Don't be a chicken. What's the matter?"

"I can't."

Jim turned his back to his friends and began walking toward the trees, attempting to escape their calls of derision, which had already begun. He left them to it. He wandered through to the wide meadow and fell down in the cool gra.s.s. He lay staring at the sky. Sc.r.a.ps of clouds hung against the blue, barely shifting. A flock of white b.u.t.terflies jittered above, then away. Jim felt calm and relaxed. He could still hear his friends splashing and shouting, but distant. He was happy to be alone. He lay still and let himself doze with the sun warm on his face and chest. He smiled to himself, remembering what Kelvin had said about Zoe Oswald. I'm going to ask her out next year.

No chance, Jim thought.

When school started again, Zoe Oswald would be out of reach of all the boys. The girls seemed to grow up so much faster. Every September they seemed further ahead. Suddenly they had a different shape, and styled hair, and make-up, and a certain maturity in their eyes. They had become strange and alien. Their conversations were somehow closed. They made boys feel foolish for doing the things they had always done, like chasing b.a.l.l.s and rolling in the dirt. That look in their eyes said, "When are you going to grow up?" or even "When are you going to get hair on your b.a.l.l.s?" A girl had actually said that to Jim once, to make her friends laugh. It was a girl he was fond of. Her name was Summer. Jim liked her name because she was blond and freckled and looked like summer-to him at least. He had teased her one day and she had turned around and said, "When are you going to get hair on your b.a.l.l.s, Jim Stanley?" Jim knew he was being mocked, but somehow what she had said exited him. He had thought about it often since. He thought about taking Summer away from her friends, taking her to a quiet corner of the school yard. She would not protest. She would stand there giggling. And Jim would lean in close and say Wanna see? Wanna- There was a sound.

Jim opened his eyes. He looked into the blue sky. His face felt hot and flushed.

The sound came again. Abruptly, he sat up.

He looked toward the trees. He turned his head to one side, listening.

There it was again. Laughter. A girl's laughter.

He thought for a minute that Ste or Kelvin might be playing some trick on him, but he realized he could still hear the two of them down by the water. This laughter he had heard was closer. He scanned along the trees with his eyes. He hitched a breath when he saw a movement. Something had slipped between two tree trunks. Again, he heard a low giggle of laughter.

For some reason he felt his heart pounding. He realized he was frightened. Just as he had felt in his dream.

"Hel-h.e.l.lo?" he ventured.

The only reply was another t.i.tter of laughter. He saw a form slip between the trees. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw movement also to his right. He looked that way, thought he saw a girl or a young woman standing at the edge of the trees for a moment, looking back at him. She was wearing some rough white cloth that hung off one shoulder-just like the girl in his dream that morning. In seconds she vanished, but as Jim stood gazing, he realized that the wooded area was suddenly alive with figures, flitting between the trees, hardly letting themselves be seen at all, the only noise the odd giggle. They seemed to be dancing, moving together in the cover of the shade.

By now, Jim was paralyzed with fear. He managed to call out to his friends. He called out over and over again until he saw them stepping from the wood, looking at him baffled.

"What is it, Jim?"

Jim stared at his friends. He stared at the trees. Now there was no movement there. He turned his ear again for the sound of laughter, but heard only the sound of the river running.

His friend's faces were expectant.

"I think I've been in the sun too long. I thought I saw something."

"What?"

"People. Girls. Dancing in the trees over there."

Ste creased up with laughter. Kelvin only stared at Jim, wide-eyed and incredulous.

"You believe this guy?"

"You were having a wet dream, Jim."

"No," Jim said, stunned. "It wasn't like that. It...it was more of a nightmare."

Of course, that made Ste laugh even more.

Kelvin shook his head. He began walking back toward the trees when he stopped and stared at the ground. "Guys," he said, in an ominous tone, but the others ignored him.

Ste patted Jim on the shoulder. "You're a dork sometimes. When we heard you shouting like that we thought you were being chased by a bull or something."

"You see any bulls around?" Jim said, looking Ste directly in the eyes. "We haven't seen anything or anyone. We don't even know where we are."

"Guys!" came Kelvin's voice again.

"Don't be like that, Jim. We're having an adventure."

Jim was about to respond when Kelvin shouted louder still. "Hey guys! Another bone!"

"What?"

Kelvin pointed at the ground. By his feet was a long, pale bone.

"That must belong to the bone I found earlier. This one looks like part of an arm, or leg."

Jim stared at the bone. Then he moved off into the field and began searching amongst the gra.s.s. He was alarmed to quickly come across more bones. He unearthed a skull, horrified. He turned back to his friends. "There's something really wrong here. We should leave. We need to tell somebody about this."

"It's just a few bones," Ste said. "They're dead; they can't bother us."

"I mean it. We need to tell someone."

Ste might normally have laughed at the idea of a tattletale, but instead he nodded and quietly said, "We need to get our things at the tent."

"Leave them," said Jim, glancing toward the trees that separated them from the river. "Let's just go."

"What! Don't be daft. I'm not leaving without my clothes."

"All right, I'm going back to the tent to get my things," Jim said. "Are you coming?"

When Ste and Kelvin stood immobile, Jim immediately turned to walk away. He heard Ste and Kelvin exchange a few mutters, but he was walking fast away from them, leaving them behind. He glanced once over his shoulder and saw them stepping into the trees, gone to fetch their clothes and the fishing gear they'd left by the river.

Once he got to the tent, he regretted his haste. Now he was alone near a meadow of bones. Why hadn't Ste and Kelvin followed him? Jim waited hours by the tent, growing ever more frantic. He was afraid to take off without them because he wasn't sure of the direction home.

It was possible his friends had stayed by the river, or gone off somewhere else. As the day drew on, Jim busied himself by packing up his things. He left the tent standing. When he finished, it was already getting late. He stood looking toward the trees at the edge of the field, waiting for his friends to appear. But still they didn't come.

Dusk was setting in when he saw a figure standing at the far end of the field, almost lost in the high gra.s.s. It wasn't Ste nor Kelvin; it was a girl. Though she was far away, he could see her long blond hair and white dress. She moved no closer, but remained near to the trees. With one arm, she seemed to be beckoning to him. Over and over again she beckoned to him. Jim only stared. He thought about the town, so far away. He thought about his mother, his father and his little sister, who would all be sitting down to dinner together.

His hands gripped the straps of his backpack. He wanted to leave this place. He started walking away. Then he stopped. He stared at the girl, far away, but still beckoning.

"You're scared of your own shadow, Jim," his father told him sometimes. And his mother would say, "Don't listen. He's only pulling your leg."

But he was afraid. It was only a young girl, but he was so afraid.

Jim watched as the girl continued to beckon him from across the field. His heart beat rapidly. He let the straps of his backpack slip from his shoulders, wondering at the same time why he was doing so, telling himself that he had to leave, that it would be dark before he knew it. He set his pack down in the gra.s.s. He gazed at the distant figure, looking for a reaction, wondering if his action had alarmed her. But no, she only continued waving her arm.

He began to walk forward, slowly at first, tentative, then faster. The girl smiled when she saw him, a sweet and rea.s.suring smile. She held out a hand. Jim felt himself breathing heavily as he grasped her hand in his own. Terror flashed thorough him. And something else-something that allowed him to let her draw him into the trees. She looked into his face, smiling. He found himself smiling back at her; she was radiant, her hair glowing in the sun, her eyes alive and inquisitive, the smile settling at the corners of her mouth. Through the trees she led him into the wide meadow where the gra.s.s lilted and the sun touched everything.

She led him through the meadow, toward a glade of trees. He could hear the river running. He glanced back at the sky, now splashed with red as the sun sank behind the distant hills. Again, he felt a flash of fear, but the girl continued to pull him by the hand, gentle yet insistent. She made soft noises that were not words, but which soothed and rea.s.sured him. The light beneath the trees was hazy and strange. In the dimness, the girl appeared luminous, still catching rays of sunlight in her hair and on her skin. She glowed and sparkled with light as she turned to him, laughing. There were other sounds of girlish laughter from round about, other soft, wordless exclamations. Jim looked around and saw figures flit between the trees, laughing as though in the midst of some game.

For a moment the spell was broken and he looked back again, searching for the sky. It was there still, beyond the trees at his back, but it had turned to the color of blood. He thought of his friends. Were they here? Could he still look for them? But then the girl tugged at his hand, so he turned to her and was once again lost. She smiled, spoke something he did not understand and led him into the glade, where the air was moist and damp. Jim could see a thin mist hanging low to the ground. He could feel a film of damp on his face and arms. Now he could hear the river close by. The light was fading and the girl led him further as night closed around them. Jim glanced over his shoulder, aware of footsteps behind him. Though he could not see them, he knew there were others following.

Then the trees broke. Everything was outlined, dimly, by moonlight. They had arrived at a place where the river pooled, and on the surface of the water was a cold phosph.o.r.escence. As Jim turned about in the near darkness, he noticed a long shape on the ground nearby. A still face, pale in the moonlight, lay in the gra.s.s. He wanted to say: Ste? But the girl was there, pulling at his hands, turning him away. As he looked at her, he saw that she was lifting up the white dress off over her head. She moved to stand at the edge of the pool, her body lithe and wan against the blackness of the night, her young b.r.e.a.s.t.s bobbing as she turned toward the water, her hair falling across her bare shoulders with a softness that made him yearn. He wanted to wrap her hair around him, wrap himself up. There he would find peace, in a velvety den of her hair.

There was a splash that startled him and he realized she had dropped casually into the pool. He heard other splashes from the darkness around him; other bodies were landing in the water. The girl swam to the edge of the pool at his feet and reached her arms up toward him. She smiled, making cooing noises of enticement.

Jim thought: No...no...not the water...no! Then he saw that there were other white forms already in the water as though they were waiting for him. These were the other girls, naked in the moonlight, all crowding at his feet and reaching their arms out to him. Some of them laughed and splashed each other. Some floated on their backs, like otters, joyous and at home in the water.

And he wanted to go to them.

He crouched, reaching forward, and at once hands took hold of him. He felt the shock of cold as he fell forward into the pool. He righted himself, gasping, finding the riverbed with his feet. The girls were laughing, and he was laughing with them, shivering but overwhelmed with joy, intoxicated by the bodies crowding around him and the thrill of his own daring.

The girl he had followed was in front of him. He reached out for her and felt the touch of her cold skin. Her face moved close to his and he could see that she was smiling. Then he realized, with a jolt, that she was pressing on him and he was sinking into the water. He felt her lips against his and her body was forcing him down, and there were other arms, other bodies, all pressing him down. He could hear laughter, and he thought there was a ring of mockery in it.

Still the girl continued to cling to him, kissing him, locking him in her embrace and forcing him downwards. His head sank below the water and he wanted to scream, but could not, and he knew he had seen Ste, dead, by the side of the pool, and still he felt the many bodies forcing him and holding him down. And he was under the water and he could not shout or scream or struggle, he could not breathe, and all he could feel was the girls holding him under, holding him under, weighing on him, until all became still and all became silence and all he saw before him was blackness.

About Tim Jeffreys.

Tim Jeffreys grew up in Manchester, England, and from an early age used writing and drawing as a means of escape. His early attempts at storytelling took the form of comic books until he became frustrated by the amount of time this took. So he launched straight into writing and ill.u.s.trating a novel, a vampire tale ent.i.tled The Riders (now, for better or worst, lost). After making it to University and completing a degree in Graphic Arts, Tim decided, after much encouragement, to sideline the artwork and make writing his main focus. This would take some explaining in the years to come. By now, though, he had been introduced to the idea of the short story and he started to produce these in tandem with his longer work.

In 2007 Tim published his first collection of short stories, The Garden Where Black Flowers Grow, and has since put together a second collection, The Scenery of Dreams.

Tim now lives in the South West of England, where he likes to keep himself busy by writing short stories, creating artwork, and working on his novels, as well as holding down an unavoidable day-job in the health service. In early 2010, along with some friends, he founded the small press magazine The Dark Lane Quarterly.

http://www.timjeffreyswriter.webs.com.