Kieran is hungry, and he is getting tired. The sun is beginning to set and his Mum will be expecting him home for dinner. His best friend Phillip Hynes is going to cycle back with him. Phillip’s parents have allowed him to stay the night, so they're going to play computer games and stay up late to watch a horror movie. It is Friday evening, and there will be no school until Monday.

He's in Ealing; at the place the other kids call “Vanguard’s”. It's a BMX track beside the motorway. It's called Vanguard’s because of the factory on the other side of the motorway, which has the word “Vanguard” written on the side. Vanguard is also the name of a computer game that looks great, but he has never played it because twenty-five pounds is a lot of pocket money to save, and Kieran has too much of a sweet tooth to be able to save for that sort of thing. That’s five weeks of paper-round money. Kieran simply doesn't have the self-discipline for it. He likes sweets too much.

‘Come on Phillip we’ve got to go. Dinner will be ready soon.’

Phillip is out of breath. He’s just done a full lap of the circuit in forty-six point five-three seconds, which is the world record. He stops his bike beside Kieran’s and says; ‘Let’s race one more lap. Then we’ll go okay?’

Kieran looks at the sky. The sun is dropping below the houses and the clouds are turning a deep pink and yellow. The light is going, sure. But there is always time for one more lap.

‘Okay, but we’ll have to bomb it home after. My Mum’ll go mad if we’re not back in time for dinner.’

Kieran and Phillip race one more lap. Phillip is in front most of the way, but on the big jump down the back straight he lands badly and his bike buckles underneath him. Kieran thinks it's mad, like a stunt out of a film, a stunt that has gone wrong.

Phillip has grazed his knee pretty badly, and he has to pick out all the gravel, wincing each time he puts his fingers near the wound. The cut bleeds down his leg as he limps back to Kieran’s house; Kieran riding alongside him as he pushes his bike up the hill.

Phillip wants to go home.

‘Don’t go home, come back to mine still. We’ve got plasters and Dettol and we’ll sort you out, no fear.’

‘I dunno, maybe I should just…’

Kieran is desperate for Phillip to come over and stay. ‘You’ve got to see our cellar. It’s absolutely awesome down there. Especially at night. It’ll be great, and then we can watch Halloween Two after. Or even better. Before! That’ll really freak us out. We can go down there and… well it’ll be great.’

Phillip takes some persuading, but he does go round in the end. Kieran’s Mum helps them clean up Phillip’s leg, on which the little rivers of dried blood have run all the way down to his socks. Kieran loans him a spare pair of socks and trousers and his Mum puts the dirty shorts and socks in the wash so that they are dry by the morning.

 

~

 

Kieran is thirteen and his Dad has been dead a year by now. Graham Whyteleafe lost control of his car on a motorway and caused a pile-up. After his death things changed a lot. Kieran’s Mum has been different to him. A better kind of different. For his last birthday she’d bought him a bike. It was the best present he’d ever got. Of course he never knew that she had to extend her overdraft to pay for it, pushing her more into the red than she ever wanted to be. It was like the way she paid for the supermarket shopping with a cheque she knew would bounce. It was necessary. It wasn't until many years later that Kieran understood the significance of the bike. That is one of the funny things about being a kid. All this grown up stuff is happening around you, and at the time it doesn't all make sense. But when you look back at some of the events that you don't quite understand, well… viewing them with grown-up eyes often provides a new perspective.

 

~

 

After dinner she lets them watch Halloween Two on video. She even lets them move the TV and video into Kieran’s bedroom so they can build a camp out of tables and chairs with blankets draped over them and put the TV inside and get all cosy and switch off the lights. The film is scary, and by the time it is finished, Lorraine Whyteleafe has gone to bed.

It is well after eleven o’clock, the perfect time to go into the cellar.

Kieran goes and gets a torch from the kitchen and switches it on to check the batteries are okay. He also gets a large flathead screwdriver. The two of them are wearing their pyjamas, but they have put their shoes on because there is a lot of rubble down there.

The hatch down to the cellar is in the hall near the front door, and it's like the negative version of an attic hatch, where a section of the floor needs lifting out of the way to enable access.

Kieran lifts the piece of cut carpet that fits snugly over the hatch, revealing a chessboard style tiled floor. Then he uses the screwdriver to lever up the section of floor. There is a small area at the side of the piece of floor where the levering has always been done in the past, and the floor is partly worn away by all the activity. But it actually makes it easier to get purchase. Once Kieran has levered the hatch up enough, they ram their fingers into the gap and lift the hatch clear, and lean it against the wall, taking care to be as quiet as possible.

Looking down at the pitch black square that is now part of the floor, Kieran can feel the cold musty air rise up to his face. He is more than a little scared by then.

The two boys look at each other. The fear is rising in Phillip also. It is clear from the look on his face, even though it is hard to see in the gloom. They’ve just watched a horror movie, and the darkness means much more than just a lack of light right now. But there are two of them, and neither will allow themselves to be branded a chicken.

Kieran points the torch down into the hole, and the light seems to get swallowed up by it. They can see however, that leaning against the wall in the cellar is a small stepladder.

‘You first,’ whispers Phillip, and Kieran needs no more encouragement. It is his cellar after all. Of course he will have to go first.

Kieran sits down with his legs dangling into the black pit. Then he feels forward for the top of the ladder with his foot. When they connect, the ladder wobbles more than he would have liked. One of the legs is probably resting on a loose brick.

Phillip instinctively grabs Kieran’s shoulder to provide him with additional stability as Kieran descends the steps, and soon he is safely at the bottom of the ladder, surrounded by the blackest darkness ever. Michael Myers from Halloween Two could be standing two feet away from him right now, brandishing a long kitchen knife, poised to strike, and Kieran might never know.

Kieran makes the ladder more stable for Phillip, who then climbs down to share the darkness with him.

~

They walk some way under the house, around the brick supports and uneven ground, passing a huge pile of old newspapers and an old Tesco bag. Kieran tries to shine the torch everywhere, to provide them with constant assurances that they are alone in the cellar, and that no demons are lurking at the fringes of the gloom, or behind the nearest pillars. Phillip stays near. Very near indeed. Kieran has the torch. And in the kingdom of the dark, the boy with the torch is King.

Once they are underneath Kieran’s bedroom, the two of them sit down on an old purple blanket Kieran placed there on a previous visit.

‘Got the bines?’ says Kieran.

Phillip produces the cigarettes and matches from his pyjama pocket and they light one each, inhale, and share a silent moment of enjoyment.

‘Isn’t it great to have a whole cigarette to yourself?’ whispers Kieran.

Phillip nods, ‘Oh yes. Yes sir. Not to have to deal with someone else bumming the filter. It’s always a good thing.’

‘I hope you’re not saying that I bum the fags.’

‘Don’t worry I didn’t mean you.’

They’d used a letter to buy the cigarettes. Back then the shop owners weren’t so hot on catching underage kids buying cigarettes. Most of the time a forged note from your mother is enough to secure the goods.

As Kieran is thinking about this loophole in the cigarette market, toying with the cigarette in his hand, rolling it between his thumb and index finger because it is too girly to hold it between the index and middle, Phillip has taken the torch and is swinging it round like a light-sabre. He is even making the noises. Then he says; ‘I’d bet you’d like it if Samantha was here now.’

Kieran smiles and thinks of Samantha. ‘Ah Samantha. I’m still getting over that new pink top she wore to school on Wednesday. What I wouldn’t give to play spin-the-bottle with that girl.’

Phillip is smiling, ‘I don’t think Samantha’s all that. She’s totally flat-chested. Jennifer though. She’s developing a nice pair don’t you reckon.’

Kieran shakes his head, ‘I don’t go in for the whole tits thing. And her nose has that strange bump on it. It’s more of a man’s nose I think.’

‘Nah, she’s hot. I like her. It would be cool if they were both here right now. Jennifer sitting beside me here and Samantha over there next to you.’

‘That would be pretty cool wouldn’t it?’

They are silent a little longer and Kieran is thinking about Samantha. He stares at the cherry on his cigarette. Down here in the dark that cherry is like another friend. Another friend with a warm glowing heart.

Phillip is swinging the torch again. But he stops, and a few seconds later he says, ‘What does Spireclaw mean?’

Kieran looks up at where the torch is pointing and sees the word. It is written sloppily in thick white paint on one of the brick supports. In the blackness, Kieran’s eyes can't help but be drawn to the word. It even seems for a moment that everything around that wobbling circle of torchlight is moving towards it. Like the word is drawing in all the shadows of the cellar.

Just a trick of the dark.

Kieran blinks away the illusion and looks at Phillip. ‘Spireclaw. Don’t know. I don’t remember seeing that there before.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. I mean. I might have done. It’s a weird word though. I’m sure I’d remember.’

‘But how many times have you sat down here?’

‘Not that many, just a couple of times.’

‘And you never saw that word?’

‘No. I mean there are some pots of paint down here somewhere. Don’t think there’s any white though.’

Phillip looks at Kieran, ‘Doesn’t that freak you out just a little bit? I mean, it’s right under your room. Someone could have been down here writing it while you were asleep, just up there.’

Kieran looks at Phillip. Phillip’s face is only half visible in the torchlight, ‘Freak me out?’ He looks around at the dark that surrounds them. Strangely, something about the darkness is beginning to turn. It is rapidly shifting away from being a friendly dark. Now it is just a weird dark. A cold dark. He really hasn’t seen that word before. Spireclaw. But he should have seen it because he’s been down here a few times now. Could someone really have been sneaking around down here? Doesn't it freak him out just a little bit?

‘Actually,’ he says. ‘Yes it does.’

‘Shall we get out of here?’

‘That’s a very good idea.’

They find themselves moving quickly back to the cellar hatch. Not too quick. They don't want to be branded as chickens after all. But something about the word has chilled Kieran, and Phillip looks equally scared about it. Back at the hatch, they quickly reposition the ladder, and Kieran shines the torch upwards, lighting the way for Phillip, who wastes no time in mounting the steps.

As Phillip climbs, Kieran dares not look around at the enveloping darkness. He dares not try to peer into the immediate blackness that exists just inches away from his face, and stretches away in all directions in the expanse of the cellar. He just looks up at the things that he can see and pretends that he is bathed in light.

But it is too late. An image has found its way into his mind. Perhaps it is a silly image, but it is dark and he is feeling the urgency. Behind him, underneath his bedroom, in the dark cellar, is a three-foot high dwarf. It is carrying a tall white altar candle to light its way.

Phillip is halfway up the stepladder.

Hurry up Phillip I need to get out too.

The dwarf is fumbling with the lid of a white paint pot with a gnarled hand, his stinking breath forming condensation in the musty air.

Phillip is at the top of the ladder and is climbing out of the cellar, he twists round and reaches for the torch and Kieran passes it to him. Kieran stares wide-eyed into the hallucinatory dark.

The dwarf is dipping a thick brush into the paint. It is the brush that Kieran’s mother once used to paint the bathroom a few months back. The dwarf is rubbing the handle and cackling quietly to itself.

Kieran can stand it no longer. If his brain can't galvanise his muscles into movement, then his nerves can. He starts up the ladder.