Ian's idea

Ian's idea: Part. 18

By the time Harry reached the edge of the woodland, it was almost completely dark. Unusually, he was overcome with a wave of sudden sadness; he really missed his life before his burial.

He thought of how uncomplicated his world was, before Ian's idea had created this turmoil. He felt nostalgic for those happy, carefree days.

He stopped and recalled Ian's words when Harry had told of his yearnings for a star studded life – "If you wanna change your luck and become a superstar, pray no more– endure!"

How he wished he'd never got into that coffin.

But he had. And he now had to deal with the consequences. One thing Harry was sure about– he wasn't insane. Of course Beth would think he was, he didn't blame her, because the whole sorry story sounded so insane.

But Harry clearly remembered the man slicing his throat and his life ebbing away with the blood that gushed from his throat.

He recalled the intense light and the pleasure he felt whilst floating towards it. He arrived at a place he didn't understand; an infinity with no horizon nor sky– just a vast white space.

He vividly recalled the woman and how her ethereal beauty had mesmerised him as she gave him three options. Of course, we all now that know Harry didn't think twice; she could have his soul in exchange for a second chance of life and fame and fortune. After all, Harry didn't care what happened to his soul when he was old and over.

Standing at the edge of the woodland, Harry found himself smiling to himself as he thought, 'it all sounds nucking futs, no wonder Beth thinks I'm one fry short of a happy meal?'

No, Harry wasn't certifiable; but he had to admit that in the far corners of his brain lurked a little doubt– and Harry had to unravel Ian to prove without a doubt that he wasn't whacko.

###

Harry ventured further into the woods. He used his phone for light, but when he noticed he was low on battery, he decided to go the rest of the journey lightless.

The extreme darkness meant that he had to rely on touch to get him to the grave. He walked slowly, with outstretched arms acting like tentacles to both guide and protect him from slamming into a tree.

Instinctively he knew he was close; such was the trauma of his burial, escape and subsequent slicing he knew the terrain intimately.

He stopped when he felt he was close and called out, "Ian!"

But the only reply was a howl of wind that seemed to come from nowhere.

Harry leant by a tree and took out his phone to use the precious light. The beam illuminated his target, the grave, and he walked towards it.

At the exact spot of muddled earth, he stooped and squatted down, "Ian, it's me, Harry. If you're down there please come up, I really need to talk," he said.

He allowed the light to linger for a few seconds to see if there was any sign of the earth moving, when he saw none, he switched off his phone and put it in his pocket, disappointed.

He dropped his head and buried his hands in his hair. Prickling tears stung his eyes as he began to wonder if he really did need a check up from the neck up, like Beth had suggested.

Fighting the tears he stood up, "Ian, please mate, I need a friend!" He shouted.

But again, the only response was the sudden gush of wind that was so at odds with the calm still evening.

Harry leant his head back on a tree and listened intently– until a rustle alerted him.

But the rustle didn't come from the grave. He moved his head to the source of the sound and listened hard. There it came again, a rustling from the outer edges of the woodland.

Harry wasn't fearful; in fact he was quite the opposite. His heart filled with hope and his head filled with questions ready to be downloaded for Ian.

As the rustling sound continued, Harry saw it was accompanied by an intermittent, flashing light.

'Do skeletons need lights?' Thought Harry, as the rustling continued to pick up pace.

Harry's ears were pricked and fully trained on the rustle– he ascertained that it was most definitely approaching footfall.

But something else in the sound shattered his hope that it was Ian– it was four feet, indicating two people. Harry very much doubted that Ian had acquired a mortal friend; so he slinked behind a tree and crouched down, in hiding.

The footsteps grew louder and the beam of light brighter. Harry's ears strained to hear and soon he picked up muffled words, "It's over here, we're close now." But the voice was so low, he couldn't decipher whether it was male or female.

'Had his premature burial spot been leaked online and was it now the destination for ghoulish thrill seekers?' He thought.

The beam of light grew stronger and Harry had to edge further around the tree to avoid its glare.

But then it blinded him– the light hit his face– he couldn't see a thing– he heard shuffling and yelping and confusion– Harry felt helpless and cried out, "Please don't hurt me!"

There was a moments silence before he heard, "Harry, is it you?"

It was Gwen's voice. Bewildered, he answered, "Get the light out of my eyes."

The beam shifted to the woodland floor and Harry looked up, at both Gwen and Beth looking down at him.

"What are you doing in here?" Asked Gwen.

And in that instant, Harry knew, he was: delusional, imagining things; in short, Harry now knew he was insane.

He slowly stood up and looked at Beth, "You were right, I belong in here, with you," he said.

Beth looked around, "In where?" She asked.

"In here, The Mental Health Institute," he said.

Beth chuckled, "Harry, we're in the middle of the woods, standing next to the grave you were buried in," she said.

Harry shook his head, ruffled his hair and began stroking the trees, to be sure they were real trees, not hallucinatory ones, "Right, yep, we're in the woods." He looked at the girls, "So what are you two doing here?" He asked.

Beth was full of a fevered energy, "We've escaped; Gwen's told me your side of the story and I'm so primed to meet Ian, the walking skeleton. He can prove your story's true," she said, excitedly.

Gwen looked sheepish, almost apologetic, "I couldn't stand it in there Harry, it really was driving me insane," she said.

Beth jumped about joyously, "We'll be able to hide out at yours, won't we?" She asked.

Harry now knew he wasn't insane, but his situation had just reached a whole new level of insanity...