The Window Boy Arran's Magic Kingdom

 

The Window Boy

Arran's Magic Kingdom

 

 

Dream Sequence

 

 

The stars shone in the night sky like millions of crystal eyes suspended in a liquid shroud.

 

As cool air washed over everything, rain fell from the darkness it froze instantly as it hit the surface of the road.

 

The streams overflowed as they struggled to cope with the extra deluge of water.

 

Arran awoke and looked out of the attic window; he had become aware of an oncoming storm.

 

As lightning erupted across the sky, as it danced beyond trees in the distance, it cast split second

 

silhouettes of oaks and chestnut trees onto the field that was covered in water as the overhead clouds

 

unleashed their payload.

 

Arran spent long hours looking out of the attic window. He gazed silently out into space as he looked

 

for places beyond the confines of his room. But he had never before seen a storm quite like this.

 

It was a raging torrent of fork lightning and freezing rain that mixed with winds reported to be almost

 

sixty miles an hour.

 

At least that’s what he heard on the weather forecast coming from his radio on the night-stand.

 

He gazed at the sky, as a bolt of lightning struck a tree; he shook with fright and held onto his chair

 

so as not to fall off.

 

Flashes of white and yellow lightning bounced off a tree trunk, seconds later the tree bent in half

 

then split in two and crashed to the ground. Arran watched in awe as a violent storm raged across the

 

skies in the distance. He waited in anticipation to see what other fantastic and extreme delights the

 

night would bring. He did not have to wait long, as the storm took a sudden turn, as it became even

 

wilder than he had first predicted. As the elements raged, lightning arched out across the field and

 

struck a small iron railing and then bounced off a crumbling wall.

 

 

It struck the greenhouse on the other side which then exploded from the force of the huge electrical

 

charge it had sustained. The flashes of blue and bright white light became a kaleidoscope of colour, as

 

the greenhouse fell in on itself until it became nothing more than a pile of wood and glass.

 

The flames from the burning shell were soon extinguished by the falling rain, as it pounded the soil

 

and earth. The silvery drops bounced off the window sill as Arran watched on. He was so transfixed by

 

the weather outside, that he was unaware of a silhouetted figure that stood amidst the deluge of rain

 

and lightning.

 

As it watched him from the confines of trees, which were known to many as Crows Wood. This dark

 

the creature was silent and still, as it waited for a single flicker of light from the room where Arran sat.

 

As he looked out of the attic window. He sat there and watched, with only a single candle as a source

 

of light.

 

 

It waited for a split second until Arran turned his head, then this figure, that hid in the darkness had

 

vanished in the blink of an eye. It then reappeared as a bank of mist and floated across the nine acres

 

of the green field that surrounded the area of the children’s home in which Arran lived. All of a sudden,

 

the storm subsided, as a flicker of light from the single candle in the room made shadows that danced

 

around like demons. Arran jumped out of his chair, as a chill ran through his veins; it gripped him like

 

an ice cold wind that came from deep within him. He turned sharply and felt a twinge in his neck as

 

his muscles strained to move quickly enough.

 

He reached up to rub his neck to ease the ache and had not realised that the attic window had been

 

pushed open by an unknown force. As his painful muscle spasm eased, he heard a sound from the far

 

corner of the room, he turned and saw that something had moved which caught his eye.

 

He watched in disbelief, as a dark haunting shadow from the candlelight became much more than just

 

a simple flicker. It now had a life of its own, as the flickering formed into a phantom-like presence that

 

 

twisted and turned into a grotesque figure, that had two heads and four arms. This dark and bizarre

 

shadowy phenomenon peeled away from the wall, almost as if it had been part of some silhouette that

 

had been produced by a light projector; except this puppet had no puppeteer. Arran wanted to scream

 

but he could not find the emotion deep within himself to shout out a single word.

 

The dark form moved towards Arran. It lingered over of him like a giant from some old Celtic fairy

 

tale. He just wanted to scream out loud, but he could not even manage a single breath of air, he felt

 

like the life was being drained out of him. As this cold spectre of the night grabbed hold of Arran, and

 

began to pull his arms and legs. Every ounce of energy had been slowly squeezed out of him, until

 

he could no longer move.

 

 

Only his eyes remained open as he watched the shadowy figure, as it walked off into the distance and

 

into the night. It carried Arran’s soul imprisoned within its closed hands. Arran opened his mouth and

 

tried to scream out loud but there was only silence. Sweat poured down his forehead, and his sheets were

 

soaked as they clung to his body. He awoke like someone possessed, and knocked the lamp off his own

 

bedside cabinet. It hit the floor and smashed into pieces.

 

The sound it made as it crashed to the floor woke his carer who slept in the room next door.

 

She unlocked the door and ran into the room still half asleep. She was about to turn the bedroom light

 

on, then realised that it might have disturbed the other kids in the beds nearby.

 

So she used a small pocket torch that she carried in her dressing gown. She walked over to his bed, to

 

check on him. The instant she saw Arran, her heart raced slightly, until her own maternal instincts took

 

over, she rocked him slowly and held him tight to her, as she sat on the edge of the bed.

 

Arran stopped crying for a brief moment, then looked over her shoulder, and gazed out of the window

 

there he saw a dark figure. It stood there holding something in its hands. His fear rose within him again,

 

as he realised that it was the same dark form he had seen in the nightmare he just had.

 

 

 

The night now had blood red eyes that stared back at him. He screamed with sheer terror at the sight.

 

Only this time, he had a voice. The fear was real; the figure that walked off into the distance was real,

 

and no longer just part of his vivid and creative imagination. What was once simply fantasy, had now

 

become very real. 

 

 

 

                           Chapter One

 

                       Silent Screamers

 

 

It was nine o’clock on a cold Friday evening and Arran was focused as he sat and gazed out of his

 

bedroom window, and waited for the storm clouds to subside, even though deep down he knew they

 

would not. For some bizarre reason, Arran knew exactly when the weather outside was going to change.

 

Almost as if he had predicted the forecast himself. This was one of the many unexplainable gifts that

 

he was born with. Which meant he discovered and learned things at a much faster rate and pace than

 

other children of a similar age, Arran was very unique.

 

He was capable of counting at a much faster rate. If he looked at random numbers on a piece of paper,

 

he could add them up and then come to a conclusion very quickly. People began to notice his abilities,

 

when he had created some artwork, made from pieces of torn newspaper that depicted a small boat as it sailed on ocean waves.

 

 

 

It was Kelsey that discovered what he had created when she walked into the lounge as he was in the

 

process of building it. She didn’t know how Arran had built the paper sculpture, all she did know, was

 

that it had not been there an hour earlier when she had turned off the television. He was indeed gifted

 

Arran was born with Autism. He was bright but struggled to socialise with other kids and people in

 

the orphanage, he knew what was going on around him.

 

Five years had passed since Arran had been placed in the Children's Orphanage when he was only seven

 

years old, and he was now twelve. He had a fascination with the weather and would spend at least an

 

hour every night watching the skies.

 

Arran hardly spoke and had no understanding of emotions, body language etc. He was also very fond

 

of animals, especially the orphanage cat, called “Tiger”. He once belonged to a staff member.

 

 

But after they died due to illness, Arran spent a great deal of time with him, until they became almost

 

inseparable unless “Tiger” was eating or had gone hunting for mice.

 

He related to animals in a way that other people were unable to.

 

When he was in the orphanage gardens, he spent hours there, as he watched birds and insects.

 

He liked to take photographs; and would be seen on a regular basis with a small Kodak camera, that

 

his Kelsey had given him as a gift.

 

The children’s orphanage where Arran lived, was called Harwood, this was surrounded by nine acres

 

of beautiful woodland.

 

He had no parents, as they had died in a house fire when Arran was only five years old.

 

This left him extremely traumatised, to say the least. The first two years in the orphanage were very

 

difficult for Arran. He spent most of his time on his own, which was partly because of his autism, and

 

also because he preferred it that way.

 

He had not spoken a word to anyone until he was eight years old; even when he did, it was very little,

 

just a few words here and there.

 

Which were actually more like whispers. He also had Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. He would stack

 

things neatly packed or placed together in a neat line. And knocked on doors, even when people on the

 

other-side answered, he just kept on knocking.

 

Although he was gifted and had many skills, he was also very timid and rarely made eye contact with

 

people around him, eye contact was an emotional bond, one that many autistic people find difficult.

 

This helped Arran in many ways, but it also hindered him, because the other younger kids didn’t like

 

to talk to him, as they thought he ignored them deliberately. But it was far from the truth.

 

Because even though he was so innocent in appearance, with his dark brown hair, blue eyes and slim

 

frame, he was not at all what he seemed to be because he had a big secret. Something within him was

 

hidden. He harnessed an imagination that could help bring things to life.

 

 

As he gazed through the window, the storm raged across the night sky, Arran imagined an image of

 

the bright ferocious lightning. He envisioned the power of the electrical charge as it struck the trees in

 

front of the building that Arran was in.

 

His mind raced with all the possibilities of what could become reality. He stared at the tree as it bent

 

and swaid in the wind; his mind focused on the one point of the tree, its trunk. It suddenly moved and

 

twisted, as its branches took on a life of their own.

 

It moved from left to right in a violent torrent of creeks and groans. The entire tree, with its roots and

 

loose earth lifted out of the ground. The massive oak had been rooted in the earth for over one hundred

 

years, maybe even more, but that didn’t interest Arran one bit.

 

All he wanted to do was to let this giant organic mass fly into the fierce lightning storm, so he could

 

watch as it was blown into thousands of pieces by the electrical storm, as it stretched across the night

 

sky, like hundreds of snakes tongues, that reached above him.

 

Suddenly, the tree flew upwards. Then there was a huge explosion so thunderous that it lit up the night

 

sky and the blink of an eye it was done. The tree disintegrated into a pile of burnt ash.

 

Arran hid away, from everything. His imagination was the only way he could escape the world around

 

him. In his mind, he could create anything. Somewhere, no one else would ever see, unless he wanted

 

 

them to.