go pūkeko

I’m bored, bored, bored. Once again, Mrs Wright has given me shitloads of homework to do, so selfish. No way I should touch a school book in my own time. Anyhow, I’ve become allergic to homework; I break out in a nasty rash. Actually, what I do is I sneak outside with my shirt off and roll around in the marram grass. This works a treat – Mum and Dad ain’t figured this one out yet.

My older brother was being a total geek as usual, doing homework at the dining table. Don’t know why he bothers as he’s already top in the class. Next year he’s off to high school, one for brainy kids with all boys. Cool I say, there’ll be no one to dob me in anymore.

I opened up my textbook, read two lines, then slammed it shut. A crappy easterly from the dunes smashed into the upstairs bungalow windows. The panes bent and creaked heaps in their rotten frames. One day the lounge will be all covered in glass – I better not be sitting in here when it happens.

“Hey, how bout we go check out the witch’s cottage?” I asked Martin, “Mum and Dad aren’t home.” 

There was nil movement from the mop of blonde hair fixed on his maths equations.

“Come on, you never do anything adventurous,” I added, “you’re such a nerd.” 

A pair of blue eyes stabbed at me. “You’re so annoying. You know we’re not allowed to go near that place; besides it is much too creepy.”  

“Whammo, I knew you’d say yes. I won’t have to tell your friends that you sleep with a dolly.” 

He lunged towards me with both hands raised.

I jumped back and ducked. I had received a fair few hidings, with bro being taller and heavier, but this time my ninja moves were much too slick.  

“Chill, chill…I reckon we’ve an hour before they get back from town.”

I leapt down the stairs and out the door before he could change his mind. Martin tagged along some distance behind as we crossed the clumpy section, which was the size of a rugby field. Ahead the forest looked extra gloomy and scary, with the sea mist lurking in the towering pines. I started along the shaggy as heck track – you’d think a witch could easily abracadabra it into a neat path. My school shorts were soaked through in no time and the decomposing needles underfoot gave off a rank smell.   

I started to get nervous but didn’t’ let on in case Martin piked out on me.  

“Keep up, don’t be a scaredy-cat,” I said.

We walked deeper into the woods until we must have been about fifty trees in, when it came into sight. I had spotted it once before on the day everyone went shopping to buy Martin’s new glasses. That time I only had the guts to reach tree number twenty-eight. But from there I had caught a glimpse of it through the rows of sap-oozing trunks.

Martin and I stopped behind the last tree.

The cottage sat in a wee clearing, its timber was all decayed and its once creamy paint shit-stained all over. The grey iron roof looked like it had been puked all over with a gooey moss. Growing on this were ginormous red spotted mushrooms – ones that would kill ya even if you touched them. The windows were blacked out and coated with muck. There was a big sign nailed to its side; ‘Private Property – Keep Out!’

Suddenly there was a loud squawk and a flutter in the branches above.

“That’s it, I’m going back,” Martin whined, “I am going to tell them it was your idea.” 

“It was just…a magpie see,” I stuttered, “we are here now, don’t be such a sook. I’ll go first.”

I crept across the patch of sandy ground to the front door and tried the handle. It was well corroded and wouldn’t turn. 

The drizzle had turned to rain and I became saturated from head to toe without the cover. I edged around to the rear of the cottage where the thickness of trees resumed and signalled Martin to come.  He took pint-sized steps towards me.

“Hey hurry up, the window up here has potential,” I whispered out, “but I’ll need a foot up.”  

Martin scuttled back a few metres. “We can’t coz there might really be a witch in there, or something equally terrible.  It’s all your fault.”

“What was that?” I startled and Martin let out a stifled cry.

A black cat had jumped from an overhanging branch onto the roof and stared at us with its yellow beady eyes.

“Told you so, that is totally a sign,” Martin protested.

“Remember the dolly,” I mentioned and flicked my brown hair back to keep the steady stream of water off my face. “Remember the dolly…”

“I’m so going to pummel you and your big mouth for this,” Martin muttered.

He shuffled towards me and joined his hands into a cup then proceeded to give me a hoist up.

I grabbed at the ledge and held it tight with one hand, whilst I tugged at the frame with other. Chunks of wood peeled off like slices of mouldy cheese.

Bit higher, a bit more…”

Martin groaned and wobbled as he worked me up another handful of centimetres.

The window started to budge so I gave it another decent yank. Immediately it flung open in a cloud of dust and splinters. Martin dropped to the ground. I was left hanging onto the opening, but managed to pull my stomach up on to the ledge.

Whilst I caught my breath, I used the long sleeves of my white school shirt to wipe the gunk out that scratched at my eyes. I peered downwards.

“Yikes Martin! You wouldn’t believe it.”

Right then a couple of large grubby hands appeared from nowhere.

“Gotcha, ya little punk.”

“Martin! Martin!”

Before I knew it, I was thrown to the ground on a concrete floor.

“Aaargh, careful,” I groaned, “don’t hurt me, I was only having a quick peek.”

The lights were so bright I could hardly make out the figure that loomed over me. The room stunk worse than the boys’ toilets and green plants grew everywhere like it was a jungle house.

“Where did ya come from?” a gruff man’s voice asked, “come on, tell me, or I’ll smash your head in.”

“Ah, from the other side of the woods. My Mum and Dad will be here soon. Promise I won’t say anything. Please let me go…”

“Yeah right. I’m gonna have to work out what to do with ya,” he replied and grabbed me.

“I’ll shout and my parents will be here straight away.”

The shadowy man gave a filthy laugh and spat at me. He dragged me off by the arm brushing past rows of bushy tubs. I could now get a clear view of him; tall and skinny, faded ripped jeans, jandals, and a dark hoody which covered his head. His tattooed forehead, messy black beard, and reptile eyes left me in no doubt he was a badass crim.

The hallway had the same greenery and smell, lots of plastic hoses, plus loads more lights that hung and hummed from the ceiling. My wrists really hurt as we entered another room. It was a bigger sea of green except crammed in one corner was a scungy mattress, a rusty kitchen bench with a loaf of bread and a few utensils, and a folding metal table with chair.

“Sit!” I was chucked on the steel seat. I found it hard to breathe as the air was being cooked and moistened by the factory of lights and spray.   

The man bent over so close that I could see the blood veins in the whites of his bulging eyeballs. The cigarette odour reeked so much my nose started to go haywire.

“Move an inch and you get it bigtime,” he said then disappeared into the vegetation.

My body started to shake. A warm wetness leaked out my shorts and pooled before it dripped down into my sneakers. My mind whirred around like mum’s blender – no way I wanted to end up minced into plant food. I so wish that I had listened to Martin or was more boring like him. The wimp had scarpered off so I was left captured alone with some up to no good paedo. I’d do anything just to have him here now with me. I’d make his bed and tidy his room for a whole year. I glanced around; the two windows were boarded up, but at the end of the room was a door.

“Don’t even think about it,” the man bellowed, as his head popped up amidst the leafy wilderness. He bustled out then headed around the narrow perimeter of the room, and slammed a number of bolts shut.  

Damn. Next, the man left the room and I heard cupboards being opened and closed in the hallway. If I stay here, I’m done for. I could hide in the crops. Nah, he’d find me in no time.  I could make a run for the first room I came in. Nope, the window is too high without a lift up. Yes, I’ve got it – there was a breadknife on the benchtop.

I started to crab myself and chair backwards to be handier the weapon, but not too far that he would know I’d shifted. At some stage he would turn his back to me and that would be the moment to strike.

However in-between movements I had to freeze, as the man returned and he clasped a serious amount of rope. He started to tie my chest and arms to the chair, then my ankles to its legs. Lastly, he bound the chair to the table uprights.

“That’ll teach ya to snoop on my turf,” he said while he stood over me and rubbed his grimy fist into my face.

I tried to wriggle but the ropes burned my skin.

Then it happened; I blurted out some massive cries and sobs. “Don’t hurt me…I didn’t mean to…I’ll give you anything you want. I can get money from my parents and bring that to you…”

“Shut up! Keep blubbering and you’re finished forever.” he yelled and stormed off.

I clenched every muscle. I wanted it to be a dream and that Mum, Dad, and Martin would walk through the door now. I would do anything in the world to be free. I’d do my homework every day, actually I would do the whole classes homework. I’d even suck up to Mrs Wright.

Next there was a thump, and another coming through the wall. Yep hammering; probably he was fixing up the window I broke. Great, I was completely trapped in a stinky hell hole with a pyscho. My life was finished. I won’t get to say goodbye to Liam and Finn and Johnny and…

The flip flopping of footsteps grew louder. I sat like a statue and dared not shed a single tear. I prayed he didn’t mistake the sweat that ran down my cheeks.

He walked up and down beside the plants, which had oodles of flower buds on their upper parts. He paused, looked at me, and then continued to pace. This kept up until a sizzle sound suddenly filled the air. All the lights dimmed, several fittings went bang, and then their glows fizzled out.

He kicked a tub over and paced again. This time with more urgency.

Clip clop, clip clop, clip clop.

He reached into his jacket pocket.

Clip clop clip clop towards me.

An almighty crash boomed around the room. A huge axe blade split through the door. I screamed. Several more explosions followed. The whole cottage shook and the room billowed with dense smoke.

I choked a ton. I tried to yell but nothing came out my burning throat. I heard shouts, lots of them, followed by rapid gunshots that stung my ears. Someone tugged at me. I forced my eyelids open a crack, there was a fuzzy shape. I was being seized. By Iron Man who carried me and my chair under his arm.

There was still a commotion inside the room but I was no longer inside. Instead, I bounced along a different wooded track out on to a backstreet. My chair didn’t hit the pavement until I was behind a road block of police cars, ambulances and fire engines.

“You are safe now Ethan,” Iron Man said, all decked out in his black helmet, gas mask and armour. As he untied me a swarm of medics approached.

“Thanks, er, thanks…” was all I could say.

Iron Man replied, “We all need to thank your brother who ran home, and with no one there, quickly thought to ring 111 and explain the situation.”   

They laid me on a stretcher and the last thing I saw, before the rear doors of the ambulance opened, was Mum and Dad rush towards me.

And who trailed behind them – my real super hero.