Date: Wed, 25 Nov 2015 17:35:39 +0100
From: charlie.fenderson <charlie.fenderson@o2.pl>
Subject: St Johns Eve: Prologue chapter 1

Disclaimer: this story is based purely on my fantasy. No character is based
on a real, living or dead, person; this story will include explicit scenes
of sex between teenagers under age of eighteen and mild scenes of violence
of unnatural nature; if those topic disturb you, please do not read any
further

Introduction: this story is about summer holidays of a 17 year old guy
named Michal. After a last month at school, that he mostly spent inside
after suffering rejection, he decides to spend a month at his grandparents
house. His stay will be filled with sexy and scary of an unnatural nature,
as he will get the opportunity to explore his sexuality with a help of
ancient demon called Rusalek...

PROLOGUE

Footsteps, echoing in my head. Half asleep, I'm opening my eyes and remove
an arm from above my face to see a white ceiling with decorative
chandelier, which I would never let anywhere near my room. As yawn escapes
my mouth, I remove a flowery duvet, certainly not my style, from over my
chest. As sleep fades away, I'm remembering my yesterday's arrival at my
grandparent's house. It's located in a village so remote from civilised
world, that you have to travel seven kilometers to get to the nearest
convenience store. There's also no internet and running water, even though
it's already 2007. You must think, I'm crazy for choosing such place as a
vacation spot. Well, maybe I am. Or maybe the world kicked me so hard in
the ass, that I wanted to get away as far as I could. I'm looking around
for my phone, only to realise, that it's still in my travel bag, as I'm
still not ready to check my inbox and call log. I sit up, feeling my feet
sinking into a soft, brown carpet, and throw on a zip up hoodie, that was
hanging on the chair nearest to the bed. The room has retro feel to it,
with heavy-looking, wooden furniture, white starched tablecloth, and
pictures of Jesus and Holy Virgin hanging over the bed.

The only other room in the house acts both as a kitchen and living room,
with TV set, standing just few meters away from the stove. The design of
the room was completed by two sofas, each from different set, a kitchen
table, white cabinet and tiled stove, a remnant of buildings fifty years
long history, which hasn't been once used in my presence. My grandma, who's
footsteps woke me up, is walking around the room. She is a thick woman with
short grey hair. She wears plain clothes, as she doesn't want to stain her
"church attire" while doing housework. Rubbing my eyes, I take a peek
inside the fridge and take out three eggs and a slice of ham, which I
transform into scrambled eggs by the stove. While I eat, my grandma asks me
about school and whether I already have a girlfriend. We didn't have much
time to talk yesterday, as she and grandfather were busy catching up with
their children, my folks, who drove me here on the evening. To be polite, I
ask in turn, where grandpa is. The answer is that he went to tend to the
field. Though they are almost seventy years old, my grandparents are still
very active and sharp, something I envy them big time. Despite their
children keep convincing them to sell the livestock and enjoy their
retirement, they refuse to do so, and year by year they keep sowing their
fields and gathering crops. Once finished with my breakfast, I return to
"my" room and take a peek into my travel bag. Today, I'm going to wear a
black t-shirt with Stormtrooper print over, and glaring red shorts.

To wash myself in these conditions, I needed to bring fresh water from the
well outside and excuse grandma from the kitchen. I place a washtub on a
chair in front of the mirror that was settled into a cabinet. I put a foam
on my cheeks and neck and look in the mirror. With a razor, I unveil a face
familiar to me like none other. As I barely left my apartment throughout
last month, my complexion is pale with freckles clearly visible, my thin
lips seem bright red in contrast to the substance on my face. I chuckle to
myself. It's almost as if I was a male Snow White. Skin white as snow, lips
red as a blood and a mop of hair black as ebony. I wipe off remains of
shaving foam with a rough towel as I stare into my hazel eyes and replace
water in the wash tub.

After I get dressed, I'm trying to keep myself busy. I'm a big city guy so
at home there's always something to do. Playing a video game, seeing
friends, or going to the movies. But what do I do when I'm in a two room
house in the middle of nowhere? First I turn to the TV and watch all the
re-runs that were showed on the three available channels, most of them are
a soap operas or silly mockumentaries, so I have my share of laugh, but
soon get bored, as all of them seem to have identical plot with just
different actors.

Then, desperate, I turn to the book. It 's some crime novel by author named
Agatha Christie, the name unknown to me, but as someone who doesn't read
much, I was attracted to a thinness of the volume. I decide to read
outside. I walk out into summer heat. The sky is spotlessly blue and the
sun is bright, even though it isn't noon yet. Ignoring a barking dog, I
pass the fence of my grandparents' property which included a barn, cowshed,
henhouse and the stable. I head for the tree, that stood in the middle of
the meadow owned by my family. Cows are mooing, as I walk by them. Then I
sit in the shadow and lean against the stub. The village was situated on a
vast plains circulated with a forest, just a several dozen houses standing
by the road and the lake. From what I remembered only few families with
children lived there, with rest of villagers being around the age of my
grandparents. However, my information could be outdated. Call me heartless,
but I wasn't a frequent visitor. For the last five years, I was here only
for big family reunions, as I found the lack of basic conveniences
unbearable. However, before I was twelve, I spent every summer here, and
had few friends.

Now that I think about it, my thoughts avert from the title page ("And then
there was no one") and turn in the general direction of a house of my long
abandoned friend. He was one year younger than me, so now he should be
around sixteen. I'm hesitating. Will he remember me? And whether I would be
better off if he does? What if he's angry? What if he has a girlfriend and
doesn't have time for someone who disappeared five years ago and never
contacted him since? And then there is a possibility that he won't
recognize me and I'll make a fool of myself. Cause let's face it - I don't
even know how would I handle introduction.

`Hey, I'm Michal, we were friends once, but then I got bored with coming
here each summer and never even left you a phone number. Remember me?'

or maybe

`Hey, my name's Michal, I was just walking down the road and thought that
someone my age may live here, look at my luck!'

I know that it's terrible idea, but as I look back at the book, I find
myself more and more desperate. I guess I'm a pack animal. Finally I make
my decision, close the book and head back to the house, to let my grandma
know that I'll be gone for the afternoon. As I mention my friends' name,
she smiles and tells me to be carefull. With her blessing, I leave and
stroll down the road. I walk slowly and somehow reluctantly, still trying
to conceive a plan for the moment of our reunion. In search of inspiration,
I look around. As I said, on the sides of the road, there are houses, most
of which are built of brick, but once in awhile I pass by a wooden hut
covered with thatched roof and with a stork nest on top.  But the walk
can't last forever, as I happen upon yellow one-story house, covered with
brown roof tile, that undoubtedly belongs to my friend. I pass the gate,
walk up to the door and still with no idea on how to start conversation, I
give a door three knocks.

After a dozen seconds, a time enough to change my mind about standing here
three times, I hear someone behind the door, then clanking of the doorknob,
and then I see him, dressed in a light blue t-shirt and plain black shorts
. He is lot taller than at the age of eleven, but with the same features I
liked about him back then. But I have little time to enjoy his looks, as
the moment he realises it's me, he charges in my direction and hugs me
tightly.

`Michal! Long time no see!'

`Hello Damian.' - I say and pat his back awkwardly, as obviously I wasn't
expecting such a warm reception, and as I'm in general a person who enjoys
having their personal space intransgressible. Still, I feel a sting of
disappointment, when he lets go and abashed, takes few steps back, refusing
me a delicate smell of shower gel mixed with just a hint of sweat. He must
have showered not too long ago, as his house was one of the few in the
village that was connected to the waterworks.

`Jesus, you asshole, I thought you were dead or had cancer or something!' -
says Damian, frowning his thin eyebrows. The anger doesn't suit his
golden-tanned face, with those big innocent eyes and thin, pink lips. I
smile involuntarily, as I see he still wears his blond hair in crewcut,
with top formed in spikes.

`Gee, sorry man. I had a lot going on. And besides...' - I interrupt my
improvisation, as I see a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. There was no
need for explanations. We're still friends, as if instead of five years, a
mere day had passed since we last saw each other.

`Oh, just shut your trap and come in. You look like an idiot, waving your
hands at the doorstep.'

`Lead the way then, wise-ass.' - I reply, and we chuckle. He moves aside
unnecessarily, as we're both so thin, that we could stand in the door face
to face and still be comfortable.

`Oh, and by the way, happy birthday.' - he says, as we walk up the stairs,
me with a perfect view at his bony ass.

`Thanks.' - I reply, stunned by his good memory - `How come you still
remember?'

`Well, some people aren't morons with memory of a goldfish.'

`Oh, give me a break. Besides, I remember that your birthday is August
twenty fourth, so stop bitching.'

`It's on twenty fifth, you jerk.'

`And there we go again.' I sigh and we both laugh.

Damian's room is that of a typical teenager. A desk with the computer and
the lamp, a bookcase and small bed, on which I sit, while my host chooses
to place himself on a swivel chair. I look around the walls sticked with
posters of rappers and r'n'b singers, most prominent those of Eminem, 50
Cent and Beyonce in her famous diamond top.

'So, what were you up to, for those last few years?' he asks, his voice
giving an impression of polite curiosity.'

'Nothing much.' - I answer instinctively, but quickly decide to elaborate
further - 'I've managed to enroll at Herbert High.'

'Whoa, congrats!' - he says with a cheerful smile. That's the Damian I
knew, gentle and polite, not the one that calls me assholes and jerks -
'Girlfriend?'

'Yup' - I answer, protruding my chest - 'You?'

'I had once, but we broke up couple months ago. No luck since then. It gets
hard sometimes.'

'That I can imagine.' - I reply and we burst into a giggle. My words have
yet another undertone though. I literally was sometimes imagining hard
dicks. I have a girlfriend for show, but really I'm one hundred percent
gay. Although I'm still in closet in general, I've managed to come-out to
few of my closest friends. Hearing about this, my bestest friend, Ola have
offered to become my mock girlfriend in order to avoid suspicions and
awkward situations. Not wanting to sound full of myself, I was considered a
hot stuff at my school and in past I had to turn down few girls, which was
both troublesome and unpleasant. Coming down from high horse of my
grandeur, I ask Damian:

'Where are your folks?'

'At work till five PM. My sisters are home though.'

Damian is younger brother of identical twins - Karolina and Paulina. I, on
the other hand, am an only child. We envied the others' situation and never
were able to come to a consensus on whether it was better to have siblings
or not. Damian's parents weren't farmers. They had a nine-to-five job in
the nearby town, which left a house in Damian's and twins hands for most of
the day.

'So, what brought you to this shithole all of a sudden?' - asks Damian
after a moment's hesitation.

'Do I really need a reason? I just came to visit my grandparents.'

'Yeah, right. Then what about last five years?'

'Look, I've been through some serious shit lately. I need rest. I-I know
that coming here was...Jesus, I feel so stupid! You must think, that I came
here just because I was bored.'

'No, you did the best thing you could! I just thought that there was
something you want to get off of your chest. If there is... I'm here for
you.'

You bet there is, I think as I feel my heart melting as shy smile appears
on his face. If only I could tell him...

'Nope, I was just bored at home. Needed a change of the scenery. Try
something different. But thanks for the thought.'

'Well then, you couldn't pick a better time!' - he gives me a wider grin -
'Tonight there is a St John's Eve! There'll be music, girls and bonfires.'

'I don't know.' - I whine, as I don't feel confident enough to encounter
crowds yet.

'Oh, don't be such a tight-ass, it'll be fun!'

'I'm not a tight-ass! I'm just not sure if it's my style.'

'There's only one way to find out .- he says matter-of-factly - Besides,
you don't have anything better to do anyway.'

'I could go to sleep earlier.'

'What are you, ninety-nine? Trust me, you won't regret it!'

'Ok, since you're recommending. ' - I smile and have a rare opportunity to
see his eyes full of triumphant glare.

We catch up on our lives in greater detail until his parents come
home. They don't recognize me at first glance, but after reintroduction,
they praise me on how much I have grown, and what a handsome young man I
have become. After a bit of a small talk, I leave, and head back to the
grandparents' house.

Once I get here, a heavenly smell surrounds me. As I enter the kitchen, my
grandma, and grandpa, a short man with balding head and warm eyes, are
sitting by the table. I quickly join them and begin to devour potato drop
scones, and washing them down with curdled milk. As far as I know it's only
popular in Poland and the rest of the East Europe, but trust me, if you
never had chance to drink it, you're missing out big time! Once my hunger
was satisfied, I ask them for a permission to attend the party, and we
agree that they'll leave me a spare key under a doormat.

Three hours later, with a hoodie on my back, accompanied by Damian, I head
to the lake outside the village, where the festivities are supposed to be
held. Once we reach our destination, we meet up with three guys, Damian's
classmates. A chubby redhead named Tomasz, scrawny-looking dirty blond guy
named Marcin and Adam, a guy with brown hair and rather average
built. Their unpopularity and awkwardness is palpable almost like a
scent. We don't talk much, while taking a stroll at the side of the lake as
they are pretty shy. Instead, each of us is looking around the
festival. The high flames from the bonfires are reflecting in the water in
the gathering darkness. The people, mostly families with children and few
bored teenagers are already gathering. From the direction opposite to us,
comes a tall bearded man with two kids, about ten years old far ahead of
him.

'Wlodek, Adam, stop running off, or we're going back home!'

The kids giggle to themselves, but obediently come back to their father. At
the end of the lake, there is a wooden stage, obviously raised for the
occasion, on which a band is warming up.

'Hey, fancy t-shirt, I've never seen you before.' - I hear a voice from the
crowd. I look around. Damian and the guys turn motionless. In front of me
stands well-built ginger. At first, his eyes widen as we cross glances, but
soon they narrow into thin crevices, his hostility almost sparking in the
air. Behind him five guys are lurking as if they were his shadow.

'Maybe you shouldn't squint your eyes so much. Otherwise a lot can escape
unnoticed.'

'My name is Lukasz and nothing in this village escapes my eyes.'

'Nice to meet you then. Can I go now, or maybe a bow is in order?' - I
chuckle to Damian and the others,but it seems they're turned into stone.

'Watch your mouth, or they may end up bumping into my fist.' - grumbles
Lukasz. What a charmer!

'I guess that depends on who's arm is longer. Wanna check?' - I ask
defiantly, staring right into his eyes. Eyes that somehow seem familiar to
me.

'Come on Michal, he's not worth it.' - Damian urges me, as he places a hand
on my shoulder. I notice it's ice-cold.

'Yeah, Michal, run with the rest of the chickens.' - mocks Lukasz, as his
minions laugh obediently. If only I was alone, I would rub that grin off of
his fucking muzzle. Even in six to one situation, I could put down at least
three of them, given my strength. But I'd hate to expose my new friends to
danger, so I chose to fled, even if it meant being branded as a coward.

Soon enough, we leave the unpleasant encounter behind us and manage to
enjoy festival. We eat sausages roasted over the fire, watch girls throwing
flowery wreaths into the lake, and even ask few of them for a dance to the
terrible country music played by a band. Marcin, Adam and Tomasz are
clearly impressed by my handling of Lukasz and act more confident and
friendly in my presence.

As the midnight is getting closer, some old guy (according to Damian, he's
a provost) comes up to the stage, takes over the microphone and announces
in overly cheerful voice:

'Hey folks! Are you having a lot of good time tonight?!'

'Yeah!' - shouts the crowd, part of the excitement caused by the beer
they've drank.

'Wanna have even more fun?'

'Yeah!'

'Then it's time to begin our annual quest for the Fern Flower! Somewhere in
the forest there are ten stashes with hidden clues which will lead you to
the magical flower of fern! For a finder, or finders of a flower there'll
be a reward! But hurry up, because there is only one flower and it will
bloom in about an hour! -' he said and laughed at an unintended rhyme.

'Is this guy nuts? Ferns don't bloom! '- I asked guys bewildered.

'Oh, relax tight-ass, it's just a legend. '- laughs Damian. Guess I earned
myself a new nickname.

'There is a legend - picks up Tomasz - that each year on this night
somewhere in the forest blooms a unique flower...'

'Are you ok in the head?' - I ask, looking at their shit-eating grins.

'Whoever finds and conquers the demons that are guarding a flower...' -
says Marcin.

'Will gain eternal wealth!' - finishes Adam in a mysterious tone.

'Oh, now I get it! - I say, struck by illumination - You want to go into
that forest, collect some fake flower and get some cheap reward? Well, have
fun while I go home and sleep through this madness.'

'Jesus, you're such a...' - Damian begins his defensive speech.

'Call me a tight-ass once again, I dare you.'

'Trust us, it'll be fun - says Tomasz agitated - I bet you haven't ever
seen a forest at night. It's cool!'

'What a great idea! Getting lost in the woods and being eaten by some
beast! That's the best thing I've ever heard!' - I snap.

'Don't be such a drama queen! Nothing's gonna attack you!' - exclaims
Damian, spreading his arms.

'Besides, we'll stick together, and the forest's not that big.' - adds
Marcin eagerly.

I contemplate idea for a moment. The night was bright, with stars clearly
visible. In the worst case I could use them to navigate.

'FINE. But we are going back in an hour. I'm not spending a whole night out
there.'

'Alright, alright. We'll get you safely to your home and bed - says Damian
as he passes me - tight-ass.'

As I walk behind them, my fists are clenched, although I can't contain my
smile.

An hour later we're still walking around the forest. We found shit, but
only figuratively, as in reality even such achievement is out of our reach.

'Okay guys, I've held to my end of the deal. Now it's your turn.' - I say,
tapping my finger on the face of my wristwatch.

'But Michal, I can feel it, we're just a few steps away from.." - moans
Damian.

'From catching cold. I'm not taking another step, unless we head home.'

Just as these words leave my mouth, we can hear a loud screeching, clearly
coming out of a throat of some big animal lurking somewhere to the east of
us.

'W-what was that?' - I ask in a high-pitched voice. From arguing group of
friends we suddenly turn into a scared-shitless group of friends.

'We should run. - suggested Tomasz in a trembling voice - Run as fast as we
can.'

'Let's scatter. Whatever it is, we'll make it confused.' - I add.

'Okay, but we should get together by the lake. ' - agrees Damian.

After we agree upon it, we part our paths. Although at first I was going to
navigate based on position of stars, now there is too little time to do
it. As I run, I'm not sure whether I'm moving to the edge or the center of
the woods. My heart is thumping, I can almost sense a wild eyes on my
back. I'm accelerating. Suddenly my foot gets caught up in the root of a
three. I trip and roll down the slope, feeling fern leaves slapping my face
and sticks grinding into my body.

Feeling dizzy, I stand up and look around. I'm standing in the hollow,
where strands of mist are larded with stems of fern. An otherworldly light
is coming from the center of the hollow. I forget about my fear and
desperate situation. The flickering gleam draws me closer and closer, as if
I am a puppet. Finally I can see it clearly, although find it hard to
believe.

One of the ferns has managed to produce the most beautiful and pure flower
I have ever seen. It's heavenly scent was almost unbearable, like you could
go crazy out of mere enjoyment of inhaling it. The petals of a flower are
whiter than a snow and seem delicate as the mist. It's pistils and stamens
resemble a dancing flame. The urge I feel to collect it is so powerful that
my hand is reaching out on its own volition, while my mind is reluctant to
even touch the flower, afraid that it will evaporate. Finally I grip the
stem and tug. As I collect the flower, the blinding light engulfs me.

TBC.