A short story – Behind the Canvas

Behind the canvas the shadow loomed large and dangerous. The head was enormous and it seemed to be floating in the air. The feet, as immense as canoes, would rise and fall as the other elongated shadow moved up towards the top of the tent.As John entered the tent, the head burst. It was a balloon, a silly childish prank. The shadow, a petite ten year old. Falling on top of his mates in laughter, John started to come round from his ever-lasting laugh fit.That was the worst monster Ive ever seen, laughed James. It wasnt as bad as your go yesterday chuckled David.OK, but you have to say that that was awful David, James stated. Time for nearly real stories I think.Not ghost stories, James theyre boring, whined John. Not a ghost story, John, a real storyThe judgment of conviction was 2-45pm and there was only fifteen minutes until kick-off and the road was deserted. A piece of tumbleweed blew across the pavement. A bulky shadow squeezed under the thin barriers and a tall, lowset middl e-aged humankind was walking across the road towards the ground. By his side his son, a skinny seven year old. They rushed through the busy traffic and into the long invariant passage carriage, which reflected the sight of a Leviathan winding through the prehistoric woodlands, towards the stadium. The boy was furiously tugging his fathers hand in an attempt to arrive on time. Stopping 100m from the ground the boys protoactinium slowly bent down to tie his shoelaces up. By this point the young boy could see the amount of people. Thousands gathering for the match. He began to sweat. His father rose he quickly grasped his hand and tightened up against the giant figure. And pulled.As they pushed through the big crowds plaguing the entrance, a sight similar to an ocean of tall, blue and white waves crashing into each other, a loud, unfamiliar crackling sound rang in his ear. He sharply turned his head and could see a speaker blurting out messages that just seemed scrambled to the wo und up boy. They took their seats for the start of the match. With his father to the left of him, the boy looked across to his right where he saw a big-boned brazen supporter, with distinctive dark glasses, tucking into a Cornish pasty. The man lowered his head.As the match progressed the crowd grew more and more agitated. A large, black crow hovered over the grandstand. The boys father was fidgeting constantly. After a a couple of(prenominal) minutes the father got up from his seat. Ill be a few minutes son, just got to use the toilet.The small boy looked like a pebble on the beach in contrast to the crowds attendance, which was like the mountainous Rockies. Minutes past and his father had comfort not returned. He looked over to his right. The man with dark glasses had disappeared. A grey cloud passed over the stadium. The boy started to panic. His heartbeat rocketing, his body trembling and his eyes watering. The referee blew his whistle loudly to signal half time and the cro wds started to disappear into the toilets and hot dog stalls, into the bars and club shop.In an instant the crowd had plummeted in number. He couldnt see anybody he recognized and he snarl so alone. The minutes ticked by, never before had he been left so alone.As the crowd reappeared from the exits, every fan that wasnt the boys Dad was like a poke in his heart, as painful as a pig to the slaughter. After nearly giving up hope of his father returning, the strange dark-glassed man emerged from the exit, a wide grin on his face. As he placed himself next to the boy he glanced over. Alright kiddo, are you enjoying yourself? The small boy, as frightened as a cat running away from a dog, hesitantly replied with a nod.As the match progressed so did the boys anxiety. It had been 30 minutes since his Dad left and the boy was really starting to shake. He lowered his head onto his lap and as he lifted it spine up he could see a tall, broad, sinister looking Caribbean man with an afro plo dding up the steps in a fluorescent orange jacket. The boy sat up properly and the man squeezed his way through the seated crowd and placed himself next to the boy. Before the boy could speak he was being carted off towards the emergency exit and thrown into the back of a shiny silver Renault Cleo.The boy didnt know what was happening and as they passed through the gates of the football stadium he could see the chunky bald man hed been sitting next too staring at him with his dark shaded glasses. Suddenly I shiver wriggled down the boys spine. The car, being driven more recklessly by the minute, every junction they passed through a loud ringing sound would come out of the car. The car, going faster than the boy was used to when his pop music was driving started swinging round roundabouts, accelerating through motorways and skidding past corners at great speed.The car finally came to a halt outside a big four-storey build the boy was swiftly whisked out of the car and marched into a plain white room where he was left. This room was plain, with five simple chairs around an oak table. A few womens magazines were all that lay upon this furnished table and it seemed an eternity for the boy whilst, he was waiting. The boy didnt know what was happening with nothing to do he stared at the low walls. He heard the door rattle and turned sharply, the door hadnt been touch.The boy, panicking, ran to the door to answer it but it wouldnt budge. He yanked it. He kicked it. He barged into it but it still wouldnt open. He was going, crazy what place was this? He could see men and women in wheelchairs and crutches ambling round the place. Men with head bandages and women with there arms in slings. Every few minutes a big trolley would pass the room. The boy would knock as hard as he could but still there would be no answer. Nobody could see him and no one answered his cries. As the fourth trolley rushed past it stopped just outside the door. A tall, chunky middle-aged man ste pped off it. The boy instantly recognized the figure. It was his father. The door was unlocked immediately and the two were re-united. The boy was still unsure what had happened but he didnt care in the slightest.That wasnt alarming at all James, tell us another one, laughed John.It was scary John, look how scared Peter is,Peter, whats the matter that wasnt as scary as one of mine. As the boys looked across to Peter who was shaking like a leaf, the door flap flew open as a cold demoralise wind descending down their spines, and in the door laid a pair of dark shaded glasses.