Morris' searching eyes slowly made their way up from the shoe on his wallet to a tracksuit-clad leg, then to a baggy hooded sweatshirt, and finally rested on a pair of sneering eyes, which seemed to glow yellow in the lamplight, and now narrowed as the lips below them parted.

"Shouldn't you be at home tucked up in bed, old man?"

Sniggers coming from all directions made Morris realise that the figure in front of him was not hunting alone.

His foolish pride made him get up from his sprawling position on the pavement; his shaky legs giving away his panic. As he opened his mouth to speak, he was startled to find his voice even shakier.

"Wh…what do you w…want?" cracked the noise from his throat.

The figure in front of him did not answer right away, but bent to pick up the wallet, his eyes never leaving his prey. Morris became aware of something else now over his left shoulder. In the silence, the shallow breathing in his ear echoed around his head.

Suddenly, he felt the unmistakable coldness of metal on the back of his neck.

"Don't move," hissed the voice in his ear, "or I'll put all four inches of this knife in your skull."

Fear froze Morris solid. He stared straight ahead, not daring to close his eyes for fear tat they would never open again. Consciously, he quietened his breathing lest his tormentors take the sound of his life as a threat.

The figure in front of him was now upright, and tossing the wallet from hand to hand. His eyes bore into Morris' as if daring him to try and take the wallet back, but Morris, wisely, stayed as still as stone on the outside. On the inside, his fragile organs were being pushed to their limits. His heart was racing, his lungs desperate for more oxygen, his stomach flipping over and over, yet Morris dared not move.

After what seemed like an eternity, the figure before his eyes stopped playing with the wallet and held it still, clutched tightly in his hand the way Morris had held it mere seconds before. The menacing eyes and tightly-drawn lips moved nearer to Morris' own troubled features. There they stayed while the beings behind Morris stepped back; their job successfully done. Then, the face moved nearer, again and again, until Morris felt he would be swallowed by the sharp eyes and yellowing teeth less than five millimetres from his flesh. The spiteful lips drew back once again and from the back of the throat there came a snarl, barely audible above a whisper to everyone else but Morris.

"Run."

For a moment, Morris couldn't move. Then, just as suddenly as he had been stopped, he felt himself go again. Blinded by terror, Morris found himself running faster than he had ever run before. His jellified legs fought the urge to collapse as, unfortunately for Morris, they carried him straight into the dark and endless clump of trees nearby.

Branches cracked and snapped beneath Morris' hurrying feet, and twigs seemed to deliberately attack his face as he ran for his life into a place of death. No birds sang, no squirrels chirped and no peaceful stream babbled. All Morris could hear was his own rapid breathing and the sounds of footsteps behind him. He was vaguely aware that the footsteps were not running as his were, but almost strolling as if mocking him. He was glad of this, however, for he knew that if the pack of youths started to run, they would easily catch up with him.

Fear and adrenaline are powerful stimulants, and it was these that enabled an elderly man to continue to move through the trees and plants of the forest. He turned left, then right, and then jumped over a log that tried to trip him up. He could hardly hear the footsteps now, but his heightened instinct told him that they were not far behind. This was indeed the case, but would not be for much longer, as the gang had done what they wanted to do, and would soon want to go to the pub and start spending Morris' pension. To them, he was just another easy target, a vulnerable creature to satisfy their appetites for money and fright. As Morris rounded another clump of trees and dodged a patch of nettles as though on some strange obstacle course, the gang turned around and ambled back to civilisation.

It had been less than fifteen minutes since Morris had been attacked, but to him it seemed he had been running scared for most of his life. The vital adrenaline was starting to fail him and he was on the verge of collapse when he spotted a large house just beyond some trees in the distance. His common sense told this was where he would find help, a drink and a toilet-three things he needed now more than ever before. Morris' pace slowed as if he had unconsciously realised that the youths were no longer chasing him and struggling for air like a fish out of water, he made his way toward the large wooden doorway. As he knocked with all the strength he had left, he felt water start to soak him through. It had started to rain.

There was no answer. Morris knocked a second time. Still no answer. Desperation made Morris jerk the door handle back and forth, and to his astonishment the door opened towards him. His sensible brain could not help him mentally scolding the owner of the house for not being more safety-conscious. The first thing he did on the other side of the door was slam it shut, and then bolt and lock it, before grabbing a nearby chair and putting it under the door handle. He stepped back and admired his work, feeling sure the owner would thank him.

As Morris' heart finally started to resume its normal beat, he turned his back on the door and looked around. The hallway was huge and dark. In the gloom, Morris could just make out some furniture, a table and a few chairs, to one side and a once-majestic staircase directly in front of him. There were many doors leading off from the walls, and a lightless chandelier hovered above his head. Absurd reason made him remember a certain scene from the Phantom of the Opera, and he moved further into the room. His tired footsteps were the only sound above the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

Morris stopped and silently scolded himself. Where were his manners? He opened his mouth to speak, but dust rushed in to his throat, and he had to cough and splutter before he make another sound.

"Hello? Is someone there? Hello?" he shouted as loud as he could. Maybe the owner was an elderly person who could not get to the door very easily. He decided he had better explain himself.

"I beg your pardon for the intrusion. I've lost my way in the woods. I've just been mugged and would ask you for a drink of water and possibly the use of your telephone, if you wouldn't mind……..Hello?"

Morris sighed, and started to resign himself to the possibility that no-one was home. Even more of a reason to lock the door, he thought. He decided to try and find the kitchen. He would get some water and sit down, and then try and think of what to do next. He started to move towards one of the doors to his right, when, a very slight movement to the left caught his eye. Morris' head whipped round and he peered into the darkness. The movement seemed to have come from a corner of the room underneath the staircase. Morris felt his heart begrudgingly start to speed up again as he moved towards the corner.

"Hello?" he whispered. His aged eyes struggled to make out what was in the corner, and so he crept slowly forwards.

"Hello?" he whispered again. He could now just about make out a bureau of some sort with a chair facing it. He thought he could just see something in the chair but still moved forwards to get a better look.

Gulping down the urge to whisper again, he reached out a shaking hand to the back of the chair and turned it to face him.

"MIAOW!"

A cat screeched at Morris, leapt out of the chair and ran through the nearest doorway.

Morris fell backwards and lay on the floor, his organs once again jumping all over the place. The last few moments had drained all trace of energy from him, and so he just lay there, trying to get his breath and some of his sanity back. His eyes focused on the ceiling far above him and he noticed swirls and colours dotted around. His experienced eye told him that this house once would have been beautiful to look at. A sadness filled his heart and he felt himself shaking his head. He hated to see beautiful things fade into ruin.

Suddenly, the ceiling no longer interested him. His ears picked up the sound of heavy footsteps descending the staircase. Morris groaned. Hadn't he had enough shocks for one night? He decided he just wouldn't get up. That way he wouldn't have to face what was coming.

The footsteps started to walk across the floorboards towards him. Morris closed his eyes and waited.


And……….stop!

Heehee, aren't I mean? I can feel you hurling things at the computer screen as I type. That's gonna be all for now folks. I'd love to write this all day but alas, I have things I need to be doing.

Once again, I would like to thank everyone's kind reviews so far. They're all so encouraging :)

TrudiRose- I'm glad you liked my first cliffhanger, and that it had the desired effect. Hopefully, they'll be many more, depending on how I develop the storyline. Good that you think my character development is good so far. Like I said, I'm kinda inexperienced at this so its good to know that I'm getting stuff right. Tristan is now outraged at his lack of appearances, I'm having to put him in the next chapter just to shut him up lol

Bellamegs- Thank you once again for your warm and fuzzy praise. I would like to point out though that I personally think you are a fantastic writer. I love your story 'Tale as old as your mama!", it inspired to me to write my own modern take, and though I can see our stories being very different in style, they show that there's more than one way to update Disney! Morris' remembrance of happy times was partly inspired by me, for some reason all my favourite childhood memories involve an ice-cream van! LOL And, yeah, I'm not going down the horse route (as much as I love Phillippe) cos I can't see it working properly in this story.

Rosakara- It's great you're still liking the chapters. I hope they all end up as good as eachother.