Literature

This page will give host to all of my brain churnings, poems, novels and other such projects relating to the writing that I do.

What Flying Feels Like.
My freedom is an endless leap
With air beneath my feet.
Undaunted in my urban journey,
My new home is the street.

I watch from high above the city,
An old man drops his bag.
A figure in a dark old coat,
Coughing on a fag.

My muscles tighten as I climb,
Agile and alert.
Sweat leaks down my face and chest,
As I remove my shirt.

I reach a new forbidden height.
And sigh in ecstasy
The sun beats down on my rising chest
As I breathe and breathe and breathe.

Again I watch the crowds below,
With silent peace of mind.
A threatening group of chubby teens,
Leaving trash behind.

The City scape, cannot escape,
Billboards glaring down.
Masters of the street below
Enslaving all around.
A prison? Or a town.

Concrete is my habitat,
Glass my all around.
Steel myself, to jump again.
Asphalt my playground.

Now I leave my thoughts behind,
And run alone once more.
Free as a bird, in my urban turf,
With my wings, my art, Parkour.
----------------------------
I wrote this a long time ago but I wanted to post it anyway.





Novel (to be named)
Up to date installment of the novel I am writing.

Am currently working on a Novel based around parkour and general youth life, please read comment and, hopefully, enjoy.
Will be updated regularly.

---
ONE
I sit there; just sit, feet dangling off the edge as I watch the never-ending drop to the street below. Welcoming me with open arms. I wondered what it was like to take the embrace, let myself fall into the warmth of death. The simplicity of sleep. But still I sit, surveying the early morning traffic; I can smell the fumes from here.
When had it all got so complicated, I don’t understand what had happened. I remember a time when I was younger, laughing along with mother and father in a vague but familiar kitchen, a happy time. Now I’m 15, where had all that time gone? When had it all turned to shit? Now I’m sitting exactly where father had been when he had dropped, consumed by sadness and oppression. I could join him. Be together again. I edged a little further over the ledge, staring down. I feel nothing, no fear, no sadness. Braver then I have ever felt in my life. But I’m not going to jump. No. That would be foolish. I just like sitting up here, it keeps me calm and it makes me think. I stand and make my way down. I’m tired
*
I Walk alone beside Camden lock, my mind is completely blank, I feel nothing. I cannot control my thoughts, instead they control me, I cannot escape the strangle hold of life!
I need to get away. I start to run, leaving everything behind, this is the only thing I can do to save me now, I loose myself in the sound of my feet slapping the ground. But I fear soon running won’t be enough.
I need to be more free, only lately have I noticed that we are constantly controlled. Guided by barriers, walls and laws. Freedom is what we fight for everyday, yet we do not receive it. We are limited to the choice of going left or right, back or forward.
My mother says these are dangerous thoughts for a teenager, I should focus on schoolwork and friends. But she has no idea I was excluded over a week ago and that I have no friends,
Just acquaintances. Even now, she thinks I'm over at an unknown boy’s called Tom. Fat chance! She doesn't know a thing about me and I know if she did it would kill her!
My watch beeps, startling me, the sound echoes in the darkness. It's 8 pm. Time to head home. I find my way up onto Camden Road and keep walking along it towards my street. Stopping briefly at the crossroads, waiting for the tedious green man telling me when and where to walk, but something catches my eye. In the dim light of a streetlamp I can see them again. Like I'd hoped, the freedom seekers. There jumps spectacular, totally free without a care in the world!
I envy them….


Saturday, thank you god! No lies today, no conspiracy, no conflict with mother.
My alarm clock wails in my ear, get up you lazy bastard!
I reach over to press snooze, killing the ringing in my ears so I can roll back into the duvet. Warm. Welcoming. Scented.

10 am, the alarm screams again! Swearing I sit up and throw the alarm clock at the wall, sending the cat off in a terrified frenzy! I sit for a minute, listening to the sounds of the outside, birds singing, cars soaring past, the alarm clocks beeps slowly dying. I pull back the curtain, sunlight stinging my eyes, the weather's good. I get dressed quickly, clean my teeth and escape the house. Running out of the estate.
I don’t stop until I reach town. The market is on and I bend over, my hands on my knees, catching my breath.
I walk in through the market, past the council offices, towards the back of the theatre to where they go.
I particularly like watching the movements that flow on, almost forever, it is amazing to see someone join two little jumps or vaults into one big movement, then another, then another. I always find it amusing when the public come by, amazed by a single backflip, I awe of them, not because they train and practice their movements almost to perfection, but because they can go head over heels and not kill themselves. Ignorant I call it...
As usual on a Saturday morning they are perched together on a wall, eating a breakfast bought from the Tesco Metro down the high street. I usually, come and sit close to them, but I was cold so I decided to stand and bounce a little on the balls of my feet. A few new faces today, I noticed. Usually amazed at the movements others were pulling off, or slightly nervous at that big fellow to the far right. I think he's Turkish or something. You see him flying through the air with such agility, landing silently and with such precision; you never thought it possible for someone his size.
The first of them finish their food and stand, starting their warm up. Stretching: first neck, then shoulders, then arms, then waist, etc. Finishing with a jog round the theatre, I know the routine well. It exercises every muscle, the older ones sometimes do pushups as well.
I've warmed up, so I sit down on a bench close by, watching, and munching on a sandwich I had taken from the cupboard in the kitchen. Amazing, watching them leap and move with such speed and stealth, I want to do it too. I want to be able to fly past anything that stands in my way, creating routes where others see barriers. Re-modeling one's paradigm of the world.
The big bloke breaks off from the group and jogs towards me, his eyes looking straight past, focusing on a wall slightly to the left. I shift off the bench and look round, watching him. His first step on the wall sent him flying up it, the second balancing him as he caught hold of the edge, pulling himself up. That wall was over 10 feet high.
"Amazing.", I breathed.
He looked at me and grinned, lowering himself down quickly and landing without a sound.
"Glad you think so.", he replied. "I see you here alot. Do you train?"
I shook my head, my face reddening.
"Well you look in good shape. Why don't you come try it out?"
I looked at him. Oh, how I wanted to. I really, really wanted to.
I shook my head. Eyes down.
"Well if you’re sure. But I recommend it. It is a fantastic feeling. Gets you all happy inside."
I nodded.
He smiled, and walked away.
"Why did you start?", I asked quickly.
He turned back and stood still for a minute.
"My parents died. In a car accident.", he said, sitting down beside me. I shifted over. "I started getting very depressed, I had to stay in some children's home in Hatfield."
I looked at him.
"I'm sorry."
He shook it off, looking unbothered.
"I started getting into drugs and the police had said I was going to end up just like my parents. This was the only thing that kept me sane. Soon it was the only thing I cared about."
I nodded. Amazed at how brave and strong me was, not just physically, but mentally too.
He stood up suddenly.
"You sure you don't want to try it out, you look like you understand what I was going through."
I thought, it was true, I was in a similar position. I really wanted to go, but I was to bloody scared!
I shook my head.
He looked at me, and then walked back to join the group.

After an hour or so they had moved on to another spot, further down the road, usually I leave now and go meet, Timmy and Blake, but I decided that I wasn't in the mood for more damn drugs. I just sat there, watching the now empty space, imagining being able to jump freely, without caring what others thought, breaking down barriers on a daily basis. I stood up and ran as fast as possible towards the wall! I just wanted to touch it, to prove to myself that I was strong enough to get there. I slammed into it, breathing heavily. Finally I had made it. I stared back at my bench, looking so welcoming, but I wasn't going to give in this time, if I did, I might never make it back here.
I clambered awkwardly onto the wall, looking around. Even being only three foot higher felt amazing! I stood up, shaking with excitement, finally able to control myself. From up here I could see all the jumps and maneuvers for what they really were. Obstacle after obstacle, impossible.
Finally, I stood where the ones I envy stand, where countless leaps and jumps have been performed, I could finally experience the feeling of being above the rest of the world. Less scared than I had ever been in my whole life, so balanced, happy.
I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a figure emerge from behind a corner; it was the Turkish guy again. He was watching me with a smile. I avoided his eye, afraid that if anything distracted me, I would return to the real world, floating away from this one peaceful place.
"It's amazing isn't it?", he said. I jumped.
"Yes, amazing!", I said, pacing the wall.
"What made you get up there?", he asked me.
I stopped walking and looked down at him. I didn't know what made me do it; I just got up and ran.
"I didn't want fear to push me about anymore." I said.
The guy jumped up onto the wall, balancing with one foot on the wall, the other waving slightly to keep him straight. I took a few steps back; I didn't want to get knocked off.
"So will you be joining us for the rest of the day?", he asked, hopping slightly in order to keep balance.
I wanted to, but maybe I should just go back home. I had had alot of excitement for one day, maybe next time.
I stared up into the sky, then down at him again.
I nodded. "Definitely."
That one word changed my life, that was the marking point for when things started going well. That day was when my life changed. It's been two months now since I started parkour and met Obi.
Now I jump freely, stopped only by my sense of possibility, of right and wrong. I still have a lot to accomplish. Obi has given me something to think about as well, he's incredibly insightful for someone of his size and age. Anyway, we were just talking, I was showing him how I'd used his latest piece of advice to accomplish my goal. He had said that I should perfect it, land silent or it doesn't count as a move.
"When I jump", he explained. "I do not really feel like I have made it unless the landing is silent and I can flow from there."
I thought.
"But sometimes it is impossible to land silently or keep moving."
Obi shook his head.
"Soon you will realise that as a traceur we see the world differently, we see pathways where others see boundaries, we do not stop when faced with a challenge, we force our brains to accept that there are none. You only say it's impossible because you've been told it is."
I just nodded at that.

That advice came into my head as I stood high above the ground my eyes fixed on the wall in front of me. I was planning to jump the four feet and land with my hands on the top of the wall and my body hanging down while my legs supported me on the brickwork. It wasn't hard jump. I had made bigger. It was the drop down that scared me. If I made a miscalculation at this height, it could mean getting hurt.
"You've been training for this.", Obi said. "The reason you're not jumping is a mental barrier. The hardest thing for a traceur to overcome."
I stared at the wall, still, balanced. Somehow someone had written 'Dannii Waz Ere' on the top of the wall. The red brickwork lead down and down. A bird flew overhead. They fly naturally; I would love being a bird, except for the white crap and hollow bones. But I've always been fascinated about flying.
I focused my attention on the challenge ahead.
3, 2, 1!
Go!
I stayed still, my feet glued to the roof.
Come on!
3.
2.
1.
Go!
I didn't move!
This obstacle was controlling me, I wasn't overcoming it, it was overcoming me. I couldn't be beaten!
"Don't jump when you feel adrenaline. Jump when you are calm.", Obi whispered from behind me.
I closed my eyes, breathing deeply. Thinking about each bit of advice I'd ever been given.
It's only impossible because you've been told it is...
Go!
I jumped! Soaring freely through the forbidden air, I had conquered my fear, I had beaten the obstacle. I hadn't been overcome!


*

A few minutes later I was back on the street below. Edging through the crowds of people. The disembodied sounds around me all meshing into each other;
yes so I told her…ANY BUNCH A POUND…mummy I want it…HELLO DARLIN’…haha, look at that dick head. My eyes flickered to the left, a group of teenagers stared back at me. The cliché group of chubby skin-heads from the council estate up the road.
“What are you looking at?”, muttered one of them.
I looked away and walked by.
One of them caught me by the sleeve.
I lashed out.
He hit the floor.
I was gone…

*

I ran. Just kept running. My mind racing, my legs guiding me, my heart willing me on. I was running past the theatre, down towards the car park at the back. I heard the sound of clumsy running closing in behind me.
The boy I had hit, Darren Stewart, was one of the hardest kids in the neighbourhood, he’d beaten up his step dad when he was twelve, he and his mate Ramzi had mugged two fourty year olds in the town center. I didn’t even want to think about what he’d do to me if he caught me.
I fly around the corner and past a parking car, the driver slamming the breaks and honking me angrily. I run on, catching site of Darren and the other skin heads in a wing mirror. They were closing in, but I wasn’t worried, until now it had been a straight run. That was about to change. It was my turn. I used the ticket machine to propel myself onto a recycling bin and from there up to the top of a disabled ramp.
I slowed slightly, breathed deeply and shot straight at the side of the car park. I flew up the wall and grabbed the top, hauling myself up and running on.
I heard faint cursing from below me, and hurried footsteps looking for another way up.
I ran across the open roof of the car park, past countless chunks of steel with wheels.
“There he is, I’ll kill that fucker!
I stopped running and turned around, the group were walking towards me, sneering. I backed off and felt my back press into a railing. I had reached the edge of the car park roof. I looked over to my left and saw another group of skin heads heading towards me.
“There’s nowhere to go, don’t try fighting us, you’ll loose.” grinned Darren. He’d stopped walking towards me and was striking a stupid ‘I’m hard’ pose.
I laughed.
“What you laughing at, you little twat?”
I walked towards him, staring into his eyes. He glared back, I was only feet away now. Suddenly I turned and sprinted straight at the railings, flying over it and down towards the grass below, I dropped, landing and rolling to absorb impact, I ran down the street, round the corner and towards home.

*

I have anger management issues, I have done since dad… well yeah. Me and him were really close, we were best friends as well as father and son. So once he’…jumped. All I had was my mum, and the child welfare officer, who never listened to me. But anyway, long story short, I ended up smacking him. It was at its worse when mum used to bring home all those strange men, they were always ruffling my hair and calling me ‘kiddo’ or ‘son’.
So I had stopped talking so much, of fear that I’d lash out at someone who didn’t deserve it. Recently though I thought I was over it. Parkour really helped me forget about it and just be happy.
But today, I don’t know what happened, I just snapped.

*

I heard the whistling of the kettle and made my way into the kitchen to turn off the stove. I grabbed a mug and poured myself a cup. I’m going to have to work on my anger. I mean I can’t get into another chase like that.
I sat down with my tea and took a sip. Burning my tongue.

I heard footsteps outside the front door.
I heard giggling.
I heard scratching at the keyhole as mum unlocked the door.
I heard giggling.
I heard mum say “Don’t worry, he wont be home.”
I heard a man’s voice mutter something.
I heard giggling.
I heard footsteps in the hallway.
I heard giggling.
I had heard enough.

I made my way into my bedroom and lay face down on my bed, I felt the firmiliar sinking feeling I got everytime mum bought back another guy.

I didn’t hear kissing sounds.
I didn’t hear mum’s bedroom door slam.
I didn’t hear clothes being removed.
I didn’t hear giggling.
And even if I did…
I didn’t care.

*

A few days later I was climbing alone, on the rooftops, high above the city. Its interesting and slightly shocking to see the world in this way, is this how god feels? I am not religious but sometimes I stop to think about it. I have Parkour now, and from that I’ve learnt that the only person you can trust with your life is you. But still, its an interesting concept. I chuckle to myself and continue to watch. I feel like a guard, or a superhero of some kind. I can’t really explain it. I feel as if I survey this town, as if it is my own. And in a way it is, it is my playground. I crawl on higher, like that cats, swift, graceful. Reaching new and forbidden heights. Each time discovering new obstacles, new boundaries that will be overcome. Sometimes I just hold back smiling and laughing at how amazing I feel. Its like a drug to me. The feeling you get when you jump, you move. It’s unbelievable. A line of roof gardens loom up in-front of me and I prepare by putting on a burst of speed, diving the first fence, landing in a roll and passing catlike over the second. The third garden was tiled and had a small fountain round in the middle. I spun to avoid it and leaped over the fence into the final garden. As I dived past, my foot caught a thorn bush, sending me sprawling to the concrete on the other side. I barked out a swear word as the pain coursed through my body. I rolled onto my knees, keen to get away before someone spotted me, but felt a huge wave of pain. I collapsed back onto the tiles and rolled onto my back. My leg was in total agony, and I gritted my teeth as I pulled back my trouser leg. What I saw almost made me faint. My ankle was twisted at some impossible angle. The foot pointing at a 90 degree angle to the left. Looking like some sort of golf club. I reached down to try and move it but was greeted by a fresh wash of pain. I yelled out and breathed heavily. I had to be calm. I concentrated on my surroundings. I was high above the ground, in an unknown roof garden with high fences surrounding it. I was screwed! I screamed out again. Nobody came…



Either the pain had driven me to unconsciousness or I had been in that garden for so long that I fallen into a strange uncomfortable sleep. But either way, I woke up in a small bright room. I had to look away again to get used to the light. I blinked sleep from my eyes and looked around, realising almost immediately that I was in a hospital bed. What was I doing here?
I played back the events that preceded. I had been climbing, higher than usual. I closed my eyes as I remembered the fall. Feeling the pain spring back into my ankle. I groaned, not because of the pain, but because of what this would mean. I had a friend once in primary school. He was obsessed with football. Then a week before the school’s tournament he broke his wrist, it had taken about 4 weeks to heal. I cursed my luck. This would mean a month of nothing! I would slowly loose touch with my surroundings. I would gain wait, loose muscle. Four weeks without the extisee I feel when I move, the happiness I get when I break a barrier.
A man entered the room, he smiled briefly before coming over to me. I read his name-tag. He was nurse F.D.George.
“Hello there, I’m Frank George. How are you feeling today?”, he said clearly. I looked away.
“Been better. What happened?”, I asked.
He smiled again, “Well we got a call last night at about 7:30, from an old man, telling us a boy had passed out in his roof garden. It was a struggle getting up there I tell you. But we brought you back here.”
“How long was I out?”
“About a day and a bit. We kept you out for the operation but your right as rain now.”
I sat up. “Operation?”, I exclaimed.
Frank George nodded. “Don’t worry it’s fine. You fractured your ankle, all we did was put it all back together.”, he chuckled to himself.
I didn’t see the funny side. He seemed to notice and stopped laughing.
“Your mothers here to see you. Would you like me to call her in?”
“Okay.”
A few minutes later my mum half walked half ran through the open door.
“How are you feeling?”, she asked.
I nodded. “Fine.”
“The doctors say you’re allowed to go home later on today but no roof climbing for about 2 weeks. Is that clear?”, she said sternly.
“It’s not roof climbing!”, I started.
“Just no more!”, she said strictly.
I nodded. I had gotten off lucky, two weeks wasn’t so bad.



I left the hospital late that evening. The doctors had given me crutches so it took a little while getting used to them. I felt empty inside, knowing I wouldn’t be able to go out and do what I love was harder than anything I had come across. On the drive home my mother tried to engage me in conversation but I could barely hear her, noise was all muffled and delayed, like if you were sitting in a tunnel with a pillow over your head. The lights outside the window flew by, fast, free, the shop keepers closing up in the winter cold, their breath spiralling joyfully into the night. I felt a twinge of pain in my ankle, I ignored it and continued to stare. We drove down the high street, and I caught a glimpse of a dark figure leaping through the air, so fluid, Obi? I wanted to push this door open and run, run as fast as I could towards the theatre walls. I wanted to move again. But I couldn’t, not with this bloody thing strapped to my leg.
"Honey".
I wanted to be free, I felt trapped.
"Hello?"
I blinked and suddenly all the sound rushed back, my nose was pressed hard against the window, my breath steaming up my vision.
“Come inside.” my mother called impatiently. “Let’s get you to bed”
I nodded and slowly and awkwardly manoeuvred myself out of the car and onto my crutches. Sudden twinges of pain like pins in my skin.

Before I knew it I was in my bed, lying there rigid, in the darkness. I was trying to go over what had happened today, what had gone wrong. But the darkness was conjuring up pictures in my mind that I knew didn’t exist, and the pain of my leg just made my mind more open so they could come rushing in and before I knew it I was dreaming.

The door to a long dark passage way swung ominously open, totally silent, no dull creak, no monster on the other side. Just an endless passage way, well not endless, that would be impossible. Well it looked endless anyway. I wanted to run there, like really run. Faster than a cheetah, or a bullet, faster than light. I wanted to light this passage before anything else did. I got ready to sprint, to fly. But I couldn’t move. My leg was stuck, I longed to get down this passage and just as I was about to fulfil my greatest need, I was stopped. I tugged at it but all that happened was I was dragged further away, I tugged again, and again I slipped a little way back from the door. Again and again I tugged, harder and harder, I skidded away faster and faster. I began to panic, needing to reach that door again. But as I watched it swung slowly back, with a creak, this time, that echoed around the darkness. A man, with a dark robe and a concealed face walked slowly towards me.
“Who are you?” He breathed.
“Who are you?” I echoed.
“Why are you here?”
I thought this a rather impertinent question, it was my door, my goal, my need.
“Why are you here?”
“Leave now!”, he boomed.
“You leave!”
“Now this is just getting childish”
“Now this is just getting childish”
“Quit it!”
“Quit it!”
“STOP!”
“STOP!”
Suddenly he disappeared, and I fell, plummeting down, so fast I could feel the wind desperately trying to push me back but I just torpedoed right through.

I got a glimpse of a man with red curly hair and a white doctors mask holding a scalpel and then nothing.


I woke with my duvet tangled around me, sweating, my leg pulsating with pain and the sound of giggling next door.
Fuck.



two
Three weeks later I was allowed out of the house for the first time since my injury. I had been cooped up for almost a month and was gasping for fresh air, concrete and noise. I had regained some movement in my leg and the cast had been changed to a thinner one, I was still on crutches but it was easier to move and the twinges of pain were less frequent. I was hobbling out of my estate, savouring every breath, every painless step just longing to throw my crutches aside and climb again. It’s so hard to give up something you love, that has become a part of you. It had only been three weeks and already I was feeling the strain and after another five, it could become torture. I decided to walk the opposite way from the town center and the theatre because I knew it would only upset me. Instead I turned left towards the Highlands Estate up by the river. It was pretty dodgy there but I didn’t care right now, I just wanted to get out. The cold air of winter was on it’s way out now and the small purple flowers in the few patches of grass I passed, we’re flourishing. Just waiting to burst into spring beauties. I was on a busy road now, walking beside speeding trucks of scavengers and sports cars of the rich and famous. A small group of girls walked by, all ignoring me. One edged closer to her friends as if scared I would bite.

I took a left down an almost deserted lane towards the lake. It smelt of the countryside, it was odd being around so much green in such a concreted, technological age.

The lake’s always been a mess really, shopping carts floating upside down in the muddy water. Trying to flip themselves over, to breathe, but failing. I sit on a bank clumsily, placing my crutches aside. Watching the water.

“Oi Faggot!”, a voice yelled from down the path.

I turned suddenly and saw three guys running towards me, it was Darren. Shit! I’d totally forgotten what had happened with them, I had hoped they had too. I tried to stand but my crutches slipped down the bank and into the lake and my leg was throbbing painfully. They we’re meters away now, there was nothing I could do.

I went limp as I was dragged up the bank and onto the concrete path, staring straight into the clear blue sky, the feeble spring sun trying to bathe all below.
“You dead!” Shouted Darren. “You think you can throw one at me and get away with it, your fancy moves wont help you now.”
I closed my eyes.
“Look at me faggot!”
I opened my eyes.
Then closed them again just waiting for the blows, and sure enough they came.
One after another, constant pain, I curled into a ball just trying to protect my leg, as I was pumpled in the ribs and head. It seemed like an eternity before they stopped, I thought they’d left because I heard footsteps walking away but when I turned to look I saw they were huddled in the corner, surrounding a rucksack. They pulled out a large plastic container and one of the boys shook it. Liquid rushed around inside.
“There’s enough here” One of Darren’s mates said.
Darren nodded and turned to me.
“It’s your lucky day faggot.” Darren smiled. “We were going to burn the shit out of something but we decided you’d enjoy this a lot more.”
His mate carried over the container and put it down inches from my face so I could read the single word fuel on the side.
“It’s petrol faggot!” Darren laughed.
His friends joined in nervously, they looked a little less sure than he did. He was mad.
“You wanna’ live?” He asked pulling out a box of matches from his jeans. “You gotta’ a little thing for me.”
I stared up, my heart was in my throat, pounding, faster, faster.
“Kiss my fucking boot!” He laughed.
Again his friends joined in behind. Stopping in perfect unison with him. It was kind of ominous.
“Kiss it or die. Just like your emo daddy.”
I felt white hot rage rush into my eyes, my fists clenched the blood rushing into my brain. I felt more angry than I had ever been in my life.
“Kiss it.” Darren said quietly. “Let’s not make a scene here.”
I spat, a huge gob right on his doc martins.
“Fuck off.” I trembled.
I shivered with rage. That same boot came crunching down on my face and then I didn't care anyway I was already dead. The pain in my face, my nose bleeding. The petrol soaking my clothing, the cold wet death like a blanket. Holding me there. Heavy. I couldn't move.
The smell, the strong sickly fumes gasping at the air, longing for the lighter Darren was retrieving from his pocket. I closed my eyes, I couldn't watch this, I couldn't let him see me beg. If I was going to die, I would die on my terms. I wouldn't give in to his demands.

"Oh my god! Get off him!!"

I saw a dark figure amongst the blurred trees and sky. Darren and his mates had gone. The figure closed in on me, I felt it's fingers on my neck, then I passed out.

*

I don't know if it was the fumes from the petrol that soaked my clothing, or just pure adrenaline overpowering me that made me faint, but all I know is that when I woke I didn't have a clue who I was or where I was. It took a couple of minutes to bring myself to open my eyes, not daring to unless I had awoken in the lair of a mental serial killer. But it was just a room, my room. Scraps of paper, and pictures stuck on the wall. The wardrobe still looked like it had been disembowed from when I had been searching for my tracksuit bottoms this morning. I rolled off my bed, and stood. A twinge of pain shot through my leg but I managed to put some weight on it and walk out the door.
"Mum?" I called.
No answer.
"Hello?"
Still nothing. I walked to the kitchen and filled the kettle, got out a mug.
"Mum? You want tea?"
Maybe she was asleep. I got the teabags from the cupboard and glimpsed the digital clock on the oven. It was 2 in the afternoon, she must be out. I dropped a tea bag in the mug and went to the fridge to get out the milk. Shit, no milk. I closed the fridge, a shopping list i wrote three days ago read 'milk, apples, bread, cocoa powder' I reached over for pen and added 'xbox 360, laptop, car'. I put the pen in my mums bag, lying on the counter. The kettle screeched impatiently, but I turned to away from it and stared at the bag. Mum always took her bag out with her, dad had bought it for her. I shook it off, maybe she just forgot. I silenced the kettle and pured boiling water into the cup, still staring at the bag.
"Fuck!" I exclaimed as I poured the kettle onto my hand holding the cup. I put the kettle down and painfully limped over to the sink to sooth it. I saw my name out of the corner of my eye, I looked around for where I had seen it. I span 360 degrees searching, then i saw it. A note lying on the table. I turned off the tap and went over to it. I picked it up and saw my name on it. Underneath it read

I will be gone for a while.
I left some money, see you soon.
Take care.
I love you,
Mum. x

That was it. Underneath the letter was an envelope full to the brim with fifty pound notes. I stared at it, my hand had stopped hurting, my leg no longer twinged. It was happening again. I took the letter and the envelope and returned to my room. I went over to my desk and took a screwdriver and got on my knees. I selected the loose floorboard and used the screwdriver to lever it up. A dusty hole was presented and I placed the envelope under the floorboard and returned it to it's place. Then I moved the rug so it covered the floorboard, stood up and went straight into my mums room. Just as I had expected, Everything was gone. An unmade bed, a broken mirror, a picture of me when I was six with my dad and a wardrobe with a single hanger balanced on the cross rail. Only now, seeing this all too firmiliar sight did I truely appreciate the seriousness of the situation. I had to get out of here, if Mike found out about this things would not end well. I went to get my phone, slipped into my trainers and left the house. The door slammed shut behind me and I was now faced with freedom. But I didn't feel safe.

Anger pulsed through me.
This isn't supposed to happen! I'm just a kid, mothers don't just leave. I felt my stomache lurch as I released how hungry I was and my leg began to sting yet again. I slid helplessly down the wall next to the flat and put my head in my hands. I could still smell a hint of petrol and dirt and whenever I closed my eyes I saw the images of Darren and his friend's laughing faces - twisting horrifically in my imagination and building up the hatred I felt.

I had not felt anger like this since starting Parkour, but now I was overwelmed, I couldn't deal with it. It was flooding my body, I was breathing it, my heart was pumping it through my viens. The shear unfairness of the whole situation was too much. Fuck Darren, fuck my mum, fuck my dad! Fuck life!

So I ran...


Adrenaline coursed through me with such force I thought I'd feel the energy raging, combining with anger to form some sort of super charged power. I didn't feel tired from running or aching in my leg, it was just a need to run. I leapt over obsticals, ducked under trees and passed through railings and gaps as if it was just another stride in my run. People, faceless and blurred flew past me. The few expressions I could see were alarmed or concerned at the random sprinting teenager dirtying the slow atmosphere of a sunday morning. As if this was going to be a highly important chapter in their life. Some threw themselves out of the way, others I had to dodge or push past. I didn't care, even if they had protested I couldn't have heard them over my own beating heart, stamping feet and cold, quick breathing that was stinging my lungs. Market stalls, cars, houses, cafes, restaurants, carparks and finally the theatre.

I stopped running when I reached the wall. It seemed like a good place to stop, I had originally been planning to go to Dad's building but decided that would be far to fitting. The wall was wear my life had truely started and I collapsed upon it as I breathed what seemed like the most important oxygen in the world. I had not realised simply how exhausted I had become, sprinting faster and harder than I had ever done before had certainly taken a lot out of me. I sat next to the wall and felt through my pockets. I had my mobile, but no wallet and no keys. This meant I could call people but had no money or shelter. I cursed myself for not remembering these simple objects that had been lying beside my bed. The little things all added up in the end, I kept telling myself this. As if to etch it into my mind for eternity, nothing else could go wrong.

My phone vibrated and pinged as a text message came up, I directed to messages section and saw that the message title read
FROM: MUM
TIME: 11:34 am
I opened the message, the screen faded to black as the last inclings of life leaked away and my curiousity and therefore frustrating peaked. It had died. A tear, I was right back where I started.


three
A mess of delicate bones and feathers were strewn over the asphalt on the roof of the post office. This was the highest roof in town, the sun was beaming down on me, the black rubber of the roof melting. Leaving black goo on my hands while I climbed. I had never dared go on this roof before. Mostly because I was frightened of being considered a thief or terrorist and getting arrested. A bank or a post office is a pretty dodgy place to be found on top of. But right now, if i was arrested or if I fell, whatever. It wasn't a lack of reason to live, or that I wanted to die, it was more a case of not really caring, death is only the opposite of life and to be honest the way we live is far more morbid than how we die. I reached an overhang and hauled my self up and over it, to a shelf that hung over a spiked fence, the floor below was painted with bird crap and dirt. It was one of those places that were like forgotten courtyards, no one set foot there, the dark caves of the city. No one really knew about them. But then again, why would they care? I ran across the shelf, and towards a wall with a dirty black ladder fixed just over half way up. I crouched slightly as I ran and jumped up, using the wall as a foot hole to propell myself up to catch the ladder. I reached for the rung and my hands caught it firmly. I used my arm muscles to pull myself to the next rung and the next. I kept going until my legs were level with the bottom of the ladder and I was able to climb it normally. What use would these ladders be in an emergency? Anyone who did get out in the event of a fire would probably break their ankles dropping from the ladder. I continued to climb towards a platform that housed an electrical box, a sign on it read 'Danger of Death'. I pulled myself up and looked around for my next move. There was a door that looked like it had been glued shut with dirt and that even if it had been unlocked it probably wouldn't have opened. This was the top floor, but I couldn't quite reach the top of the wall and the electrical box was too far away for it to be of any use. As I looked past the box I noticed a light that was hung out a foot from the wall on a thick metal pole. There was a gap of about 4 feet from the box to the pole but I knew if I jumped to it I could pull myself up and grab the top of the wall. Completing my goal. I climbed on top of the electrical box, using the sign as support for my feet. When up there I was suddenly shaking. It wasn't cold, the sun was bathing my neck. I was afraid. No, that wasn't it. I didn't feel like fear. I crouched, jumped, grabbed the pole, and climbed to the top of the roof. It wasn't really like fear i'd experienced before, it was more like pure energy. Adrenaline. I stopped, I looked around, I had jumped and gotten up here without even thinking about it, there had been a fatal drop below and I hadn't even thought twice. It was clear that I was either completely insane or had just grown to not fear what would become of me, or not care.

I didn't know where I was going, why I was going, or what I was expecting to realise while there but I just knew that to get to the very top of this building was the smartest thing to do at that moment.


TWO
The cold winter-morning light streamed in on the room. It was an empty room, containing only a bed, a chair and a table. Two shelves were hung precariously on the wall above the bed and the spindly posts that held up the slightly stained, worn mattress reflected the sunlight back at the window. Which was barred. The thin brunette pulled the thin mattress over herself as the light draped itself unwelcomly over her dirty face. The room was a cube, metal, one door, barred. In short, it was a prison cell.
"Time to get up beautiful!" A guard with stubble and short buzzed hair licked his lips and banged on the door. "Come on, no beauty sleep here!"
He banged again.
The girl rolled over to face the wall.
"Fuck off."
Another bang.
"I'll beat your arse for that later, but right now it's breakfast time"
Another bang.
Another groan.
The guard kicked the door again and walked off. K rolled back over and opened her eyes reluctantly. The light filled her sight and she closed her eyes immediately again. She put her hand up as shade against the sun and swivelled her hips round so she was sitting up on the side of the bed, rubbing her eyes. Another day in paradise.

...

The canteen was loud, too loud to eat breakfast. Even if she'd liked stodgy porridge she didn't feel like eating, lots of sleep and little food were always the best things she'd heard. In one corner near the entrance doors a group had crowded around three new inmates.
"So what you in for?" Said the mixed race girl known as Frank. One of the newbies, a small blonde girl looked down to floor, scuffing her shoes on the cheap ceramic tiles stained with years of filth from years of criminal scum.
a tall overweight girl spoke up
"I burnt down an office block with my mates last halloween. We broke in a lit a fire in a paper bin, it just kept spreading." The girl smiled to herself. The crowd laughed.
"So, who have we got to look out for?" Asked the third newbie, a very ginger, very spotty girl.
The group, known at the institute as 'The Pradas' looked around. One of them caught site of K and spoke back to the girls in hushed tones.
"See that girl in the corner behind me?"
The girls glanced over towards K and looked away again quickly.
"She's french, speaks about six words of English. 18 tomorrow, an adult, I suppose, so she's gotta' move today."
"So why is she anything to worry about?"
The girl glanced over her shoulder towards K again and then looked back, leaning in closer.
"She's tried to escape three times since she arrived almost a two years ago. She almost killed a guard who tried to stop her the last time. She's like a black belt or something."
The girls had crept further into the corner by now and leant closely into each other, their words barely audible.
"So why is she here?" The blond girl asked, quivering slightly.
"I heard she snuck on a boat from France and got into England as an illegal immigrant or something. But Anne swears she robbed a bank in Scotland, so it could be anything. Shes a lunatic."
"No, it aint illegal from France to England."
"Well whatever! No one knows is the point i'm trying to get across."

K got up and walked across the canteen towards the group, they all looked at her, K smiled at Frank and walked past. Frank looked alarmed and looked away and picked up an awkward conversation as K left the canteen.

...

Two guards approached K and locked cuffed her hands behind her back, the familiar cold metal dug into her skin as the men took her arms firmly and walked her out of the young offenders institute. None of the party spoke as they moved towards a small armoured vehicle, engine running, opposite the entrance. One guard moved ahead and opened the back of van, the other brought K forward. As she stepped into the back of the van she thought she heard the two guards mutter something, but by the time she had turned around they had slammed the doors behind her. Leaving her in the steel box alone. The engine started, the van moved away.

The prison wasn't far, K had been shown the route by the owner of the institute before the guards had cuffed her. It was a hundred miles or so, around a two hour trip, but she only needed ten minutes. Making sure she was out of sight of the small bullet-proof window that led into the driving compartment, she dislocated her shoulders slightly and passed her legs through her arms. She relocted her shoulders and rotated them slowly. It always hurt a little. She moved towards the glass and pushed herself against it. The guard in the passanger seat turned.
"Help!"
The guard turned on the microphone that meant she could speak to K through speakers in the compartment.
"What do you want?"
"Help!"
The guards looked at each other.
"What is wrong?"
"Help!" K screamed desperately.
The guards looked at each other again and then the driver tapped the brake, slowing the van. The passenger got out of the drivers compartment and closed the door. She heard footsteps outside move towards the back. As the doors were unlocked and sunlight flooded in K collapsed. The guard shouted to the driver and climbed hurridly towards K. This was the delicate bit. The guard grabbed K and as he did so she rolled off her front, grabbing the guard around the neck. She pushed herself up and over onto his back and brought the cuffs around his throat. He yelled again, the guard span around in his seat and saw what was happened, K pulled tighter as the guard opened his door and ran around the van. She felt the muscles under her relax and she quickly untightened her grip, jumping out of the van as the guard ran around the side. She grabbed him and, noticing she was on a busy road, brought him back into the van with her so as not to be seen. He grabbed a baton from his waist and swung at her. K ducked and swiftly dodged behind him, pushing him hard into the side. She grabbed his hair and smacked his heard into it repeatedly until he collapsed onto the floor of the van. Job done. Now what?


THREE



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To be continued...