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Kiss of Blood by Strephyn Mappin

By Strephyn Mappin

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After Gino had set the balls up on the table and shown me how to hold my cue corr e c t l y, he proceeded to break with a loud clatter, sending balls f rom one end of the table to the other. I was impressed, of course, and did my best to line up a half-decent shot, sighting down along the cue the way I’d been shown. Because I’d been watching the older boy’s game, however, I tried to imitate their style of play, hitting the ball as hard as I could. This lifted the ball right off the table, sending it skittering between the legs of players several tables away and forcing me to run after it in a half-crouch, my face red with embarrassment and my ears ringing with the jeers of the boys who’d been watching me.

It was unsettling and my skin crawled uncomfortably. Behind me, the pump gave out a sudden loud gurgle and I leapt a couple of feet into the air in fright. It had sounded like some very large person clearing their throat. I laughed nervously when I re a l i s e d what it was, and that seemed to break the tension. Scooping up a bit more water from the trough and splashing my face once again, I headed back towards my bike, saying my goodbyes to the creepy old mansion. I could feel its windows watching me as I moved through the trees.

Hey Gino, lovely morning,’ my mum replied. She was rather fond of my friend and enjoyed having him over at our place. She placed a large glass of freshly squeezed orange juice down in front of him. ‘ H e re, you keep our wounded warrior company. I’ve got to go into town to do a bit of shopping. I just love these post Christmas sales. ’ Darryl is my younger brother. I get along fine with him, but he’s just eight years old and can be a nuisance when he wants to be, especially if he feels he’s being left out of something.

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