The Tree Read online

The Tree

  By Ryan Horn

  Contents

  Chapter 1: The Meeting with Her 3

  Chapter 2: The Mother Comes Home 5

  Chapter 3: Explaining Stale 7

  A Word from the Author 9

  Sample 10

  Dreamweaver 10

  Chapter 1: The Smell 10

  Chapter 2: “Officer, Somebody Has Bent My Cutlery 13

  Chapter 1: The Meeting with Her

  I knocked on the front door and stepped down from the step and onto the driveway below. I swear it, I spend my life waiting for people to get out of the toilet or finish feeding the dog or cat or even wait for them to get out of bed. But it is annoying. Anyway about me, my name is David and I am 21 years old and I am a landscape gardener, and I own Stale’s own David’s Landscape Gardens, pretty creative title I thought.

  As I waited for the occupants of the house to finish their task and answer their door, a very slim beautiful blonde haired young woman about 20 years old brushed past me and opened the door

  “Excuse me, are you waiting for someone” She asked me. Her sweet smelling fruity perfume invaded my nose and infiltrated my senses, they were disarmed.

  “Erm, well, yes. I am from David’s gardens, and I have come about a tree that needs cutting down” I replied

  “Oh yes. The tree is in the back garden. Please come in.”

  She opened the door for me and we both walked through the open plan white lounge and kitchen combination before resting my eyes on a huge expanse of a garden. I fell in awe of this field in front of me.

  “The tree is over there” She pointed at this modest oak tree, measuring about 15 metres into the air.

  “How long is it going to take” She turned to me, and started to eye me up and down

  “I don’t know, at best 3-4 hours to chop the branches and take different segments from the tree, until there is a stump, and then you take the stump out with a shovel” I replied

  She turned and walked into the house, I watched her leave with great attraction, her hair dancing from side to side, like ballroom dancers twisting and fluttering past each other. Her beautiful figure is swaying like a model on a runway. She was perfect, in every single way, and I was smitten. I practically flew over to the tree, and began work. After a good 45 minutes, I had broken two saws and I was starting to get agitated. This tree was a tough old thing. I kept on seeing this model walking throughout the house, and every time she was near a window, she would stop to watch me. I was convinced she was attracted to me, and I felt like I had found my love. By the time it was 11am, the tree was mostly intact minus a few branches I had wrestled with the tree to claim as my winnings. After more branches broken and a few muttered curses, mostly to the tree, the young woman asked if I would like a cup of tea, to which I replied with an eager yes.

  She walked off and within 3 minutes, she returned with a lovely cup of tea. I thanked her and started to sip the tea slowly and returned to pulling at branches aimlessly, she remained standing by me as I did so.

  She rested her hand against the cold dark bark of this wood structure

  “I’m going to miss her when she is gone” She turned to me

  “Please don’t cut her down” She pleaded with me

  “But I have to, your mum called to say she wants the tree down as soon as possible” I started to feel guilty to see her eye glisten with the first tear.

  “Please, can’t you just make something up? You could say the tree has some sort of disease and that it would be dangerous to chop it down” She pleaded, but this time she grabbed my hand.

  “If I did this for you, what would I get in return” I asked, her hand still grabbing mine

  “A date” she said, finally releasing my kidnapped hand, a date sounded like a interesting swap for not cutting down her favourite tree.

  “With who, you”. I hinted at this strong possibility after she said date.

  “Ha-ha, no. Maybe one of my friends, she looks like me, but with brown hair” Her eyes flirted with me as she said this and I was hooked.

  Chapter 2: The Mother Comes Home

  After she walked in the house, I called up her mother to say that the tree has some sort of disease and that it could be dangerous to cut her down. I could tell by her heavy breathing and her panting that she was unhappy with her phone call.

  She wasn’t happy with the refusal to cut the tree down, and she refused to my me for my time, although I wasn’t happy, I thought that it would be worth it when I get a date with her perfect daughter. I put the phone down and nodded to her, who shrieked in excitement.

  “Oh my god, thank you so much” Se jumped up and down with joy and then she grabbed me and then hugged me. After she let go, I was complete.

  “Thank you, again, so much. Wow I am so happy” She was high on the euphoria of saving her favourite in the whole world, as she called it. We got chatting and I found out that her name is Danielle Lloyd, and she is studying Hairdressing, astronomy and Biology, which I thought was an odd mixture of subjects. Although stereotypically she is the stupid blonde girl in horror films, she wasn’t in real life. Her intelligence shone through as she spoke, although she was young her very well spoken manner was that of an older PH.D level professor of Quantum Physics, her well spoken manner blew me away, she wasn’t posh and she didn’t patronise you as she spoke which was comforting.

  As we were talking, her angry mother arrived with a scream of skidding tyres, she exploded through the house slamming doors away from her, the back door was thrown into the brickwork as she walked through the back garden towards us like a cowboy walking through a town.

  “What the hell do you mean by the tree cannot be cut down” I tried to explain to her that the roots inside were full of some chemical stuff and that if somebody were to cut it down, the chemical liquid could become unstable to explode leaving you without an extraordinary garden, it was the best I could come up with off the top of my head.

  She resented but it was no use, and then she told me to get out of her house, although it would have been inappropriate, I wanted to technically say that I was in her garden, but I think she might have used my saw on me, which I wasn’t planning on giving her, so I picked my things up and left. As I was packing my equipment into the van, Danielle came up to me, and apologised to her mother’s behaviour.

  “Look, David. I’m sorry for my mother’s behaviour today, I hope you can forgive me, and thank you for saving my tree” she looked genuinely apologetic towards me.

  “I couldn’t resist asking but, do you want to go on a date with me tonight” I looked away as I said his, and stopped drowning in her oceanic eyes.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t” again she looked apologetic

  “Oh, it’s ok, maybe another time, yeah.” I was destroyed

  “No never, I’m sorry but my kind and your kind don’t mix” oh my god, I can’t believed you just said that. I was annoyed

  “You stuck up bitch” I had genuinely lost of respect for her at that moment she said that.

  “No, I didn’t mean that. I’m something else”

  “Oh my god, you’re a lesbian, I’m so sorry” my mouth blurted the words before my brain knew what was happening.

  “No, no. I’m a werewolf” she whispered into my ear.

  My heart dropped like a brick and shattered into my feet, I can’t believe my luck, the first I fancied in like five years, and it turns out she is a werewolf. Just my god damn luck. I got in the van and drove without saying another word to her.

  Chapter 3: Explaining Stale

  Maybe I should explain the town of Stale to you, its five miles from Plymouth in the south east of England; it is surrounded by lush countryside and fresh green meadows. In the local area there are several smaller villages l
ike: Roman Meadows, Petertown, Rollerup, Iggyton and Hardlet-by-Sea.

  All of the villages surrounding Stale basically drive through town to get to Stale. Stale serves as the main shopping point for these villages, if they need more furniture or more choices for a DVD to watch that night, Plymouth was the likely destination for these potential buyers. Stale has a newspaper called the Stale & Plymouth Local, it has served the area for 84 years and counting, a new lad has joined the team and they are expected big things from him. The main streets are Igg Street, Venom Street, Redwood Close and Plymouth Way, which leads, as you can possibly figure out, leads to Plymouth. There are several smaller roads which lead from the various towns and villages out of Stale. Also there is a church called St John the Baptist Church of Stale and Rollerup. That’s quite a long Title for a church but most people called it St John’s.

  The man who runs the church is called Theodore MacDougall, but to most locals the Irishman is called Father Ted. The 67 year vicar has a sharp wit about him, which he claims that the lord gave him his humorous nature. He has served with the church for the past 34 years, he didn’t want to be a vicar until his car accident when he was 27 left him wondering how he survived without a scratch, he then fell upon the idea that the hand of god prevented him from injury, and that belief he stayed with him since. He was driving along a very wide country in the county wide blast of arctic conditions the snow was blinding and the ice was deadly, as he had turned the corner and onto the straight when a lorry had obviously misjudged the angle of the corner, had slammed his brakes on and the trailer was pushed into his lane, and the Ted had no time to react as his car crashed head on with the side of the lorry’s trailer, right between the wheels where the trailers was covered by the sheet over the side where a sheet of metal was sticking out. The top half of the car was sliced open and his neck was in the firing line, and he had passed out. He woke up in the hospital with no scratches or injuries of any kind. The doctors claim his car had pushed the metal back in just as the car’s windshield was threw inwards towards him at quite a velocity, but he had other ideas about his survival.

  But please, don’t think Stale has been a town without incident, there have a few murders in the town’s history. Also there have been a few fatal accidents and hit and runs and more recently in 2011 there was a fire that killed two people and a flood which killed nine people in the same week. Also there has been a shooting that killed four people. Stale had been gripped by the big toe, by murder mysteries, crashes, arsons and hit and runs, but that has receded in the past 20 years and now it has all but disappeared.

  Stale has been somewhat of a population rollercoaster for the past 60 years, Stale’s population has been upwards of 40,000 people in the 1960’s but in the 1990’s there was only 15,000 people living in Stale and the surrounding areas, in thirty years, 25,000 people have uprooted and left. The local council thought that was strange and they thought something was going on in the town. When they investigated, all they uncovered was that there was no work for these people and have to leave for a better life for their families, which was understandable. There is also a café Nemo which sells the most beautiful caramel shortbread in the world. The smell often entices me to enter the shop, sometimes I can even smell the fresh bread and cakes dancing through the streets of Stale. It’s no surprise why Café Nemo is always extremely busy with locals and out of towners.

  Café Nemo was built in 2008, the building previous was a police station, but the force was integrated with the Plymouth Police so there was no need for the building so Mr and Mrs Nemo bought the building for twenty thousand pounds. So that is Stale and its inhabitants, and in 2013, their lives are going to be gripped by a serial killing with a twist.

  A Word from the Author

  Thank you for buying this short introduction to my full story coming out in Summer 2013. I started writing Dreamweaver in September 2011 and it is almost finished. Stale is my fictional town where most of my future books, if possible will take place.

  Again thank you for reading this prequel, and as a token of my appreciation, I’m going to give you a sample of the first two chapters of Dreamweaver, please enjoy them and give feedback I can use in future books,

  Thank You

  Ryan Horn

  Sample

  Dreamweaver

  Chapter 1: The Smell

  A putrid smell whipped and curled around my nostrils. I didn’t notice it at first as I lay dozing in my bed, suddenly I shot up. Smoke. I sprang out of my bed, grabbing a box full of stuff to take with me. I catapulted myself from the top step to the third and fell on the floor, box intact. I picked it up and ran outside, and promptly stood on an empty milk bottle and fell down the stairs and onto the pavement.

  After a minute or so, dazed, I eventually found my feet and rose to my 5’10 height. I stood gawping at my house in Redwood Close, nothing. I was stunned, no smoke flames, nothing. I was so sure, I cautiously re-entered my home, checking every downstairs room, thinking to myself “have I gone mad”. No putrid smell whatsoever, apart from a stale pizza I ordered 2 weeks ago, but nothing else out of the ordinary.

  I checked upstairs, the dark, daunting bathroom was ice cold and was coal black. After all it was 3:15am; the spare room was quiet as well. The spare room was completely empty, except from a chest of pine drawers which stuck out like a sore thumb against the magnolia walls running throughout the house. Even in the dark, this sturdy set could hold anything. My bedroom was also quiet, but there was that smell, “I wasn’t going mad”. I was shocked, that a smell this dense was practically invisible to my senses in all the other rooms. This smell felt so strong, it could melt through walls, and speak about me in hushed tones, and it felt powerful and corruptive.

  I walked in and out multiple times, just my room was under this sickly cloud, by this time it was 3:25am, and I moved a camping bed which I never used because I came back after sitting in a tent, in the rain, in the Lake District, people say it’s beautiful, if you go in the sun. So 4 hours later, I came back home. I fell asleep on the bed. 5:13am; I awoke to find the stench had drifted from my bedroom to the spare room. Was it following me? No can’t have been. I was horrified and sprinted down the hall to my bedroom; clean air was flowing freely throughout the room.

  This smell was nasty, it smelt different to the other one, and this smelt briny and musky with a hint of hatred mixed in for good measure. I couldn’t understand it; this smell had moved with me to the spare room, was it me? I checked, it wasn’t, of course, but just to make sure, I had a quick shower, used shower gel, shampoo, soap and deodorant. Wow, so fresh, so clean, I smelt like a tropical breeze, I re-entered my spare room, the smell was gone. I made my way slowly to my room, smell wasn’t gone, and it was drifting between my spare and my master room. Last resort, Fabreeze, I bolted down the stairs and into the utility room, grabbed the bottle, ran back up to the room, I unleashed the power of the Lavender and Rosemary spray, attacking the room with flower petals and water. The room smelt normal. 5:45am, the alarm goes off at 6:30am.

  At 6:30, the trusty alarm clock goes off, with a shrill ring and a cheerful welcome to the world for another day. My response wasn’t so welcome back. As my body restarted it’s self, I dreaded to open my eyes and smell the brine, but I knew I had work today so the thought of skipping work was ideal but I knew it would be a deadly mistake.

  Did the usual wash, brush teeth, breakfast and watched the news, as it always interests me, after all I am a journalist. I live in a small town called Stale, about 5 miles northeast of Plymouth. I work for the Stale & Plymouth Local, a paper which has served Stale and Plymouth for 84 years. I worked for the local paper for 14 months, I was 18 when I joined, and the boss looks like Danny DeVito on crack. The boss is called James, last name, unpronounceable, Something Russian. Anyway stuck in traffic on the A569 after a 3 car accident, so I call James to tell them I might be late. He is OK with that, but he is always in a foul, unforgiving mood which has contorted his face to resemble
an angry bulldog. As I put the phone down I picture him mouthing some kind of curse at the receiver.

  I was 20 minutes late, but nobody was injured in the accident, so I decided to write about that and how the road is closed for 30 minutes until the accident was cleared. James slides into my workspace, looking like a slapped pig.

  “Where’s my story?” he bellowed, me quivering below him, I point to the screen.

  “Well print the thing then” I quickly press print and the boss went to get the printout. I breathed a sigh of relief and wiped my wet brow in disbelief.

  “What a load of crap” James charged back into my space, “who cares that nobody was injured, I want blood and guts and a woman carrying a bloody hand”

  “Well sir, it was only a bump” I started

  “Enough to close a major road for 30 minutes” he interrupted with his face like thunder.

  “You’re a good reporter, find something out worthwhile”

  And with that he left, the whole office returned to normal after a relative scary start to the day, I looked at the clock 9:43am, been in 23 minutes, got a story, showed the boss, got it shoved back into my face and some abuse as well, good start! At around 10:30, we were called to a meeting, James looked upset but fierce.

  “There has been a murder at Bishipton Court, who wants to cover the story?”

  There was an awkward silence for a second, I and two others slowly raised our hands. “Ok bill, you can do the story”.

  That wasn’t me, another story comes and goes, and I’m stuck in this boring office with boring fat middle aged men called Frank and Jim and Bill. I’m young; breathe new air in the mediocre life of the office.

  After another day at Stale and Plymouth Local, I returned home to a frantic elderly lady called Anna, banging on my door.

  “Your music is too loud” she shrieked at me

  “What music, I’ve been out all day” I replied confused

  “But I saw you threw the window, I peeped through and knocked, you jumped and looked back, we chatted and after that you turned your music up again 5 minutes later” replied the now hysterical woman.