EX2 : Fishlock Wood (standard:drama, 1773 words)
Author: red1hols	Added: Sep 27 2003	Views/Reads: 3398/2338	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
My go at the TOF Project. Writing like this is so alien to me and I really need your feedback!

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

Wood. 

The women catch up with the man. One stands scowling, her hands are
tucked under the opposing armpits, her shoulders hunched and her chin 
rests on her chest. The other pauses and points her flashlight at the 
man's feet. There is a smile and then a gentle, rhythmical rise and 
fall of her shoulders. The man wags a finger in her direction before 
stomping off down the path. 

Inspector Bill Walker grabs at his phone and stabs it with a malicious
finger. One mention of Fishlock Wood and the lure of his bed and the 
warmth of his inviting wife are set aside. Within seconds he is 
dressing, making more calls as he pulls on whatever comes to hand. 

The three intruders reach the stile that marks the boundary of Fishlock
Woods. In the observation Centre, Eddie selects a new camera and 
adjusts his view. The coat-hugging woman is shaking her head violently 
and stamps one foot. The other woman edges forward and attempts the 
stile. The man reaches out and grabs the woman; the woman turns and 
slaps his face. The momentum of the blow causes the man's head to snap 
sideways and the woman to lurch forward. She wobbles for a few seconds 
before falling upon the man causing both to disappear from view amongst 
the soggy undergrowth. 

Under the patrol car's courtesy light Constables Watts and Pickle,
spread out the map and rub their chins in unison. Like a good music 
hall act, they keep perfect timing as the scratch their head, rub the 
back of their necks and scour the map. Suddenly, and still in perfect 
harmony, they bring forefingers down on a splodge of green. Watts folds 
the map and Pickle coaxes the van forward. 

The coat-hugger turns her back on her fallen companions and has her head
cowed. Her shoulders gently quake. She makes no move to help the other 
two as they rise from the muddy ground. No assistance is offered to 
their half-hearted attempts to brush off vegetation and mud. Nor does 
she follow as they inelegantly conquer the stile and cross into 
Fishlock Wood. 

Bill Walker has reached the motorway. His car flashes past the latest
batch of vehicles to be disgorged from the ferries. White-knuckled 
hands grip the wheel; his eyes flash as they scan the road for 
potential hazards. At junction 12, he expertly overtakes the Animal 
Protection Squad convoy and turns his car towards rural darkness. 

There is an impasse at the stile. Coat-hugger is on one side with her
two companions gesture frantically for her to follow from the other. 
The man turns to the other woman and throws back his head. The woman 
looks down at the floor and holds up her hand flatly. The man raises 
his own hands to the heavens, fingers mimicking the branches of the 
gnarled oak. 

Constable Pickle brakes hard, causing tyres to scream and the van to
fishtail. There is a metallic crunch as he selects reverse gear and the 
engine whines at being forced to go backwards at speed. Pickles stops 
and spurs the van to veer off down a narrow country lane. The van 
obliges, spitting up granite chippings as it goes. 

The two inside the stile turn away from coat-hugger and walk deeper into
the wood. Eddie selects a new camera. The two walk around a large 
Hawthorn, halt, and look back the way they just came. Eddie checks on 
coat-hugger. She is sat upon the stile. Eddie cranes his neck to the 
window and strains his eyes toward the lane. 

Two patrol cars, bellowing clouds of white light turn into the far end
of the lane. Flashes of blue strike out from the cloud of white as the 
large Range Rovers skim first one hedgerow and then the other. Inside 
the motorised light shows, uniformed policemen hang on grimly to avoid 
bouncing into the roof. 

Coat-hugger sits up. Her head jerks first one way, then the other. Her
eyes are wide and glow an eerie green on Eddie's image enhanced screen. 
Coat-hugger swings the beam of her flashlight around. Left then right, 
up then down desperately trying to overcome threatening darkness. Eddie 
checks the other two. They are still where he left them. As he watches, 
they become three again. 

Inspector Walker has caught up with Watts and Pickle. The two cars
hurtle down the narrow lane. Rabbits spin and dart into hedgerows. 
Vermin scurry into drains. An old fox gives a single disinterested 
glance and saunters back across the field. Bill Walker looks in his 
mirrors and notes other lights behind him. Watts spots flashes of blue 
ahead and lets out a large sigh. 

Eddie changes cameras anticipating where the three are headed, but is
left looking at a patch of empty wood. He frantically flicks from 
camera to camera until he locates them at the old badger set. They are 
stood in a circle. All their mouths are moving at once. All arms are 
being waved, even coat-huggers. 

The lane at the end of the footpath is full of lights. Car doors open to
spew out Inspector Walker, Constables Watts and Pickle, Animal 
Protection Inspectors and eight other assorted policemen. Over a dozen 
flashlights challenge the darkness. Doors are left swinging in the 
breeze as the crowd rushes down the path towards Fishlock Wood. 

Eddie watches a frantic melee of flashlight beams as they hurry towards
Fishlock Wood, nods then turns his attention back to the screen. The 
man is on his knees with one arm down the Badger's Set. The two women 
are bent forward, eyes fixed upon the entrance. The man withdraws his 
arm, takes a flashlight and plays the light across the mound of earth. 
Slowly he draws himself upright and makes a couple of paces to his 
right before kneeling again. The women rush to get a better view as 
once again his arm disappears into the set. 

Inspector Walker trots down the path at the head of the blue-clad
cavalry. The stile proves no hindrance as the trees of Fishlock Wood 
blank out the mass of flashlights. 

The man pauses and looks up. The women spin round. Inspector Walker
strides forward, grinning. The Animal Protection Inspectors form a 
little huddle, shrugging and shaking their heads. Watts and Pickles are 
forgotten as the other policemen stride forward, collect up the three 
intruders and march them back towards the lane. 

The vehicles swallow up their charges then drive off. The police rush to
exit the lane. The Animal Protection Inspectors turn off and head up a 
pitted track to the barn. Eddie watches them approach, turns on the 
kettle and produces a tin of biscuits. 

Fishlock Wood returns to pre-historic, natural darkness. The last Black
Kites roost in the tallest Elm. One sits on the nest, the other on a 
branch. Neither knows nor care that Inspector Walker has at last got 
his man. 


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