So, a sort of prequel to working memory. Based on a real young offender's story (apart from the supernatural bits!) Dialect is from Buckinghamshire England rather than Wales, but I think it won't be too far off. Batty Boy is a derogatory term for a Gay man. Boffin is an educated person. The attitude expressed by Gazzer is unfortunatley prevalent amongst this strata of society, and yes they are able say paedophile.
"Oy Ianto, yer know that perv wot lives down your road? The batty boy at number 15? We were thinking we should show 'im wot's wot."
"How do you know he's a batty boy?"
"Well he just is int 'e? Everyone knows if you're a batty boy then you're a paedophile, so we're gonna teach him to hang 'round 'ere!"
"Yer know just cos you're gay it doesn't mean you're a perv."
"Ooh Ooh Ianto's a Gay boy luvver!"
"Just sayin' is all."
"Well you comin' or wot?"
"Na, I'll give it a miss. Need to do a bit of school work, keep Mum and Dad happy."
"Ya know wot Ianto? You're a fucking wuss. That's wot you are. A bleedin' boffin. Just make sure you say nuffing, or else!"
Ianto nodded, eyeing up the baseball bat in Gazzer's hands.
Gazzer and his crew walked off and left Ianto leaning up against the metal shutter of the local convenient store (shut, so not that convenient.) He drew deeply on his fag, throwing it to the path and stamping it out before walking off in the opposite direction. He was deeply conflicted, sometimes he felt split in half, living on the estate he had to find ways to blend in, so he tried running with Gazzer's crew but he hated the ignorant prejudice of it all, if he tried to fit with the kids at his Grammar school, he was bullied because his accent didn't fit and his uniform was second hand; "Christ, add to that, the fact that Gazzer was bleeding gorgeous to look at, and he was completely fucked." Ianto thought.
He considered calling the cops, but he was street wise enough to know that the only reason Gazzer had told him what they were going to do, was that he would have seen them heading towards number fifteen, all tooled up for a fight. He was unhappy, but not suicidal. He prayed to a deity he wasn't sure existed that Pete was out. He actually quite liked Pete, who often helped his Mum carry the shopping from the bus.
Ianto carried on walking, off the estate into the Allt-yr-yn nature reserve. It was weird how this area of land had been left, nestling between his council estate and the posh private estate to the east. He thought that the posh people had probably insisted on it as a kind of buffer zone, to keep them apart from the peasants.
The nature reserve was where he went to get away from everything that bothered him. It was calm, quiet and wild. He had seen creatures here that he had only seen in wildlife documentaries, some of the birds he had to look up in books at the library. He half heartedly went round the fitness trail, stopped for another fag on the bench at the end, sitting on the back, feet on the seat, just because he could. Then he headed west, down the hill where the undergrowth grew thick, holly bushes vying with bracken and saplings for what light there was available. He needed to get lost, to be nowhere. Convince himself that Pete would be OK, and that someday, he would be too.
Ianto stepped in a pool of wet mud, the cold stopping the constant round of thoughts in his head, and helping him back to the here and now. Which was …..nowhere like he thought he would be. He shook the mud off his trainer, cursing, leaning against the bole of a very sturdy Ash tree. Sun shone down through the canopy in brilliant rays, illuminating the clearing before him. Emerald green grass, dotted with wildflowers was surrounded by magnificent and ancient trees, Oak, Ash and Thorn alternated in an almost perfect circle. Inside the circle tree trunks lay, also Oak, Ash and Thorn. In the centre of the circle a magnificent but dying, ancient oak tree, fully twenty feet round, reached broken limbs to the blue sky, and out to the surrounding trees. A huge hole pierced the trunk nearly all the way through, and in it sat a small, wizened man. He was knotting a sturdy rope, very skilfully, whilst staring intently at Ianto. He cackled disconcertingly loudly, and suddenly the circle was full of creatures, all male (naked and wrinkly), all cackling, the sound growing in volume, until Ianto had to cover his ears. His heart beat painfully in his chest, and fear kept his feet from moving. The old man in the tree moved towards him, and Ianto recognised the rope for what it was – a noose. He swallowed, and looked around wildly for escape, but more of the creatures were at his back, silent now, all eyes upon him. He could feel the sweat running down his back, he shivered, and felt bile rising in his throat. He tried to speak, but only a croak came out and the cackling grew again. The old man was nose to nose with him sniffing, Ianto also smelt him, creature of earth, mould, and decay, the man held Ianto's gaze, holding up the noose threateningly. Suddenly the man turned to a figure on the opposite side of the clearing, twilight was beginning to fall, but Ianto recognised the clothes.
As suddenly as the creatures appeared, they were gone, the sweet smell of decay and a few fluttering autumn leaves all that remained. Ianto took a deep breath of unutterable relief, smearing a hand over his face, rubbing away tears. He looked up at the dying oak tree, through the gathering dusk and spitting rain. He lost all his breath once more and stumbled forward. The figure swung in the breeze, the knot of the noose pushed against one side of its neck pushing the head to one side, and he knows it is him, from the clothes and the build. He turns and runs up hill as fast as he can, followed by rustling in the trees beside him and the faint sound of cackling laughter.
Aviv B wanted more teenage Ianto - not sure this was what she meant, but I think she may have started something... Reviews = Love!