a short story by Lance Marwood

“He couldn't stop walking. He couldn't drop the smile. And the only thing that could save the world was a gang of drunk teenagers doing their worst…”

The ancient, English forest around the old market town of Buckingham choked the night sky glitter of stars and satellites. It was late at night, and the plaza in its centre was abandoned. The odd group of local youth had taken to giving anyone walking through its corridors late at night a hard time. It had resulted in some catcalling and some serious fights from time to time, but despite the verbal warnings and even the occasional arrest by the police, the problem persisted. It was the one keeping the village from true tranquillity.

Tonight, however, a lone man walked through the plaza.

His movements were odd and jerking, his legs almost locking against themselves every time he went to take another step. He wore a smile that clashed with his pained eyes. They were watery, as though ready to cry at any moment. He carried a motley assortment of clothes, including a dark green overcoat, a bag with some old work boots ripped apart at the seams, an old, brown Homburg-style hat with a white band around it, a thick flannel shirt, a pair of dark green pants, and a brown leather belt. He was carrying them as far away from his body as possible, as though they were repulsive to him. Like they were diseased.

His name was Eric. He knew all about the youth terrorizing people at night, though he tried to keep it out of his mind. He simply held his breath from time to time, holding the clothes as far away from himself in the most uncomfortable way possible. He strained against the motion of his legs and found he could not compel them to stop. He knew this because he had commanded it. Eric was powerless to stop moving, unless…

At that moment, rounding a bend, he was faced with one of the main arches of the plaza, and inside of it were about eight or so youth, blanketed in darkness. They were smoking and drinking from bottles concealed in jackets, someone’s phone playing loud, angry music. They were laughing and joking with each other as they were making their way into the plaza. One of the boys was talking loudly about a fight he’d had earlier that day, while another pair were hissing about chasing girls. They were drunk and restless. Once he came into view, a number of them fell silent, suppressing laughter as they looked at each other and back at him.

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