James Turner and the Spirit of Death

Welcome to Pergatoria Part One

James Turner and the Spirit of Death

Chapter One:

Welcome to Pergatoria

As James Turner left Little Whimsy Primary School that misty October evening, he had no idea just what lay ahead. Of course, he knew what the plans were for the next day – it would be Thursday, meaning English all morning, maths after breaktime and then history after lunch. His mother was expecting him to come straight home after school, with no dilly-dallying on the way home, least of all talking to strangers.

He was a brown-haired and rather slim boy of 12 – yes, soon he would be leaving Little Whimsy Primary School and heading to Clyst Valley Secondary School. He couldn't wait to leave – he had been begging the day that he got to be freed from Michael Santon's bullying ever since last year. He was in his final year at the primary school, and soon his salvation would be granted.

Dazed by the thoughts and concerns of what tomorrow would hold (the odd stare from Michael and relentless playground bullying, no doubt), he almost got hit by a red car as he stepped out into the road without looking.

Then, he noticed a rook squawking at the black and creepy-looking bird swooped over his head, no doubt heading back to the rookery beyond the graveyard. That graveyard was where his dear grandmother had been led to rest not six months ago. He thought about her every day, and dearly missed her. In fact, in one awkwardly embarrassing moment, Michael had actually caught James sobbing in the cloakroom over her passing.

He tried to brush Michael out of his mind as he continued his solemn yet blissfully peaceful journey home. As it was nearly four o'clock on this October evening, the sky was barely beginning to get dimmer. The smells of food from the local pub and someone's bonfire filled the darkening evening air. The sounds of rooks cawing and the odd dog barking filled the evening with a sense of peaceful normality. There were kids chatting joyously, laughing with their friends and skipping along homeward bound, saying goodbye and parting ways with their friends.

James had no friends. He had always been a bit of a weird kid. He had always preferred reading over sports, and had been known to seek the company of animals over other kids his age, or even his own company. Some days, not having friends really got to him. Some days, he didn't care. Other days, he just wanted a friend or two for practical purposes – you know, helping with homework and standing up for him and perhaps beating Michael and his gang up, only to defend him, of course. Then, he was kind of glad he didn't have any friends at school, as he wouldn't want them to get into trouble, and, secretly and deeply down, he wouldn't want Michael to get into trouble anyway. Besides, at least he had his mother to talk to. He couldn't let anyone at school know it (if he did, he'd get slaughtered), but he was always a mummy's boy. Of course, he did love his dad, too. His dad worked at the local pub, and so he and his family would often go there, as they had discounts. James had always liked the pub, but what he cared for most was spending time with his family.

His family had lived in Little Whimsy for a couple of generations. In fact, his late grandad had had humble beginnings in this quaint and friendly English village, before going on to beating a sinister individual named Abaddon Campbell in the UK Government. Since then, Abaddon had become a distant and barely mentioned enemy; a rival of the Turners. He had made himself known only twice since then, both times attempting to steal money from the Turners. They hardly ever spoke of him. It was as if they feared that speaking of such a vile individual would somehow summon him, or somehow betray a precious secret, such as their current whereabouts.

James' mother, while she didn't work herself, she did, as she would often put it, the most important and weary of jobs; caring for her family. She cared for James above herself, as did her husband, Mr Turner. Moll Turner had Irish Travellers in her family. She was proud of her heritage, and had made sure to teach James to proud of who he was.