I think this one pretty much speaks for itself, nice to see them popping up in Dundee, Scotland, over the past few months. Last week as I passed it, a group of women were standing next to it talking in disgusted voices. Maybe its a generation thing, but given the choice between a dull rusted bollard and a 'desecrated' one, I'll take the latter any day!

Part 4

3pm came around faster then he expected. Reasons for not turning up turned over in his head, but nothing he thought of could save him trouble with the gang. He excused himself from class and walked through the halls until he was in the corridor with the door at the end. It looked different, darker around the edges. As he moved closer, he realised that the door was ever so slightly ajar. John was nowhere in sight, though he had obviously done his part.

He stood on the precipice of the door, sweat rolling from his forehead. The darkness seemed to grow around the edges ominously, and he realised the door was slowly opening, cold air rushing out to meet him. He was surprised to find himself confronted with a staircase, descending into the ground, the walls turning from wood to solid rock. It surprised him even more to find himself placing a foot on the top stair, before stepping fully over the threshold and closing the door behind him. Darkness came quickly, broken only by the infrequent dim bulbs which were strung out along the sides of the staircase, throwing grim shadows onto the walls. The air was silent.

His confidence grew as he descended the staircase; He had always preferred small dark spaces, it suited his character. Though he had been pushed into this small adventure, his natural curiosity overcame his fear, and he made his way further down the staircase before reaching the stony bottom. The tunnel levelled off, extending horizontally forward, as poorly lit as the staircase. It was large enough for only one man to walk through, and improvised passing places were carved into the rock. He moved forwards through the tunnel, stepping lightly on the rock underfoot, reducing his echoes. Keeping his eyes on the tunnel ahead, he stopped suddenly. The lights ahead of him seemed to be slowly extinguishing themselves, the darkness crawling towards him.

It took him a few seconds to realise that someone was coming up the tunnel, and a few more to un-glue his feet from the floor to dive into the neared passing place. Luck was with him; Its sides were horizontally cut away from the tunnel, giving him a shallow but well shadowed hiding place. The squeak of soft leather shoes gave away how close the shadow was, moving slowly through the tunnel, getting closer to the boy's hiding place. He held his breath as the shadow drew level with his hiding place, where the footsteps stopped suddenly. Without a face, what he presumed was a man was only a shadow, filled with hate and malice. He knew that if he was to see that face in light, it would still be a soulless shadow. The boy trembled.

Part 3

After three hours, or three days, lunch break arrived. Standing outside the canteen, three of the boys in the gang stood, scanning the crowd for the boy. They rushed forward once they saw him stop in the hall, standing out among the throng of moving schoolkids. One of them was the leader. His immediate thought was to run, but there was nowhere to go, and they were next to him in seconds. Taking him by the shoulders, they led him to an empty classroom, standing in a semi-circle around him next to the wall.

“We need you to do something for us, then you can hang around with us, if you want.”

“What is it?” asked the boy, completely confused by what he expected to be a beating up of some sort. He knew these weren't the kind of people he should be friends with, but also knew the problems that arose once you made an enemy of them.

“We want to know whats behind the door, and i want you to find out for us. If you do it, you can join our gang.”

The boy thought about the door, for the first time in weeks. There was an air of mystery about the door. It was well known in the school, mainly because it was the only place no school kid had ever been inside in the history of the school. The door was used once a week, by the rector and janitor, only ever at the same time, and only ever on a Thursday. The kids weren't supposed to know about this semi-regular use, but toilet breaks seemed to occur with worrying regularity as kids strived to watch the men open, then enter the room the door protected.

What the children never seemed to notice was the white van which arrived fifteen minutes before the door was opened, around the back of the school, driving through unmarked doors into part of the school which was never used. A pair of vigilant eyes would have seen the van leaving the school an hour later, sitting lower on the road, and struggling to get up the school drive. If that vigilant pair of eyes were connected to a sharp mind, a further thought would occur. How did the van manage to enter the school driving forwards, then leave it an hour later, also driving forwards. Where would it have found the room to turn? These questions however, had never been asked, which attributed to the death later that day.

“How will i get in? The boy asked.

“Is that a yes?”

“I guess so” replied the boy.

“Good. Don't worry about getting in, John here will meet you at 3pm. Just make sure you get out of class at that time. He'll take care about you getting in.”

“Ok, sure” said the boy. Even if caught, the teachers could hardly punish him any worse that these boys could.

One of the perks about arriving so early was that the people who made life hell for him were often late, or turned up just as class was beginning, meaning he could sit on the school steps and read, as the teachers, janitor, then school rector arrived in their expensive cars. An older boy might have thought twice about the fact the janitor was driving a car not dissimilar to the rector's, but he was intent on his book, dreading the day ahead in the back of his mind, checking his watch more and more often as 9am approached.

For the past few weeks, a group of boys had started paying him more attention than usual. They were the type who snuck chocolate bars out of the corner shop and sold them to younger kids for half the price. The kind who smoked the occasional cigarette at lunch, not because they enjoyed it, more often than not they ended up coughing uncontrollably after a few drags, but to look cool and older to their 'friends' and the younger kids in the playground. It had started with comments in class, snide looks in the corridors and shoulder nudges in the canteen. This he could deal with. This was normal. When their attention progressed to following him home, just more than a stones throw away, then standing outside his bedroom window for and hour or so he became really quite worried.

As the bell rang, he came out of the trance his book had over him and was startled to see the playground was half full, kids standing in groups, some playing football. The gang who had taken to following him were walking towards him. The tallest, obviously the leader, called to him.

“We wanna speak to you, at lunch!” he called.

The boy just looked at the leader of the gang passively, as his heart pounded in his chest and he could hear banging drums in his ears.

The leader of the gang sensed a challenge and furrowed his eyebrows, before breaking eye contact and looking down. He walked past the boy with fierce concentration, shouldering him for good measure. The boy turned and followed the gang into the building, then took a seat in his first class. He knew it was going to be a long three hours.

Guns and Roses - Part 1

Guns and Roses - Part 1

The boy woke to the pre-emptive beep of his alarm clock, for the fourth time this week. Waking early was necessary, if he was to avoid his parents before leaving for school. Recently, they had taken to questioning his downhill attitude in class at every opportunity they had, which he had been able to put up with for a while, but after a couple of weeks, found he couldn't.

He slid out of bed, standing in front of the mirror before dressing. At fourteen, he is tall for his age, but is well aware that being a veritable giant among his grade 12 peers, doesn't guarantee respect, or at best, unfriendly invisibility. He was just as much a victim of bullies as the kids with angled ears or red hair.

After washing and moving downstairs, he munches through a few slices of toast, through routine rather than necessity, whilst turning over idea's in his mind about what reason for leaving early would least alarm his parents. Yesterday it was playing football before school. He was sure they saw through it immediately, and their worry would have gained momentum, but it went unmentioned at dinner, and he wasn't interrupted while spending the evening cooped up in his room.

A bump from upstairs. He hurried to collect his bag, sat his plate on the counter and was out the door before the person moving upstairs made it to the bottom of the stairs. It was only halfway to school before he realised he had forgotten the note.