Woodseats Young Writers

  The Driver By Django Perks Jim October 31 st the date was. When I died. I was 31 back then. Young and full of spirit. You could even go as far to say I was energised. My profession was an artist. I painted stunning views of cities and luxurious, green pastures in the countryside around. I don’t remember a lot of the details of how I died, but I will tell you as much as I can. It all started as I was on my way back from the pub. I was drunk as hell. I staggered through the crowds that inhabited the pub this evening and into the cold night. I had to swerve slightly to avoid a gang of kids dressed in Halloween costumes. They stopped at a house just next to the corner of the road. You could hear them from a mile away. “TRICK OR TREAT!” they shouted as they grabbed their sweets and went off into the night. Funny, I remember doing exactly the same thing when I was young. The same house and all. It might even have been the same costumes. Déjà Vu. I staggered further on the lane b

  The House That Should Not Be Here Part 2 By Django Perks The House, Just Outside of Eyam, 2017, The Present Day “The House Should Not Be Here.” “The House Should Not Be Here.” “Stop! Just STOP!” You shout out against the words that jump, leap, and scream at you. They do stop. Eventually. You walk back over to the bed and lay down on it, puzzling over the words that infected you. You dare not to repeat them in case it echoes in your brain; making you mad with torment. You look towards the door, realising that it has just swung open. Walking over to it, you find yourself facing an endless corridor with just one door. The door glares at you from the other end of the corridor and you feel the urge to open it, to pour every single bit of yourself into it. It is compelling but you realise what you have just thought and shake yourself out of the stupor that has taken hold of you. You turn around so that your back is against the corridor. You look around once more before turning your b

  The House That Should Not Be Here Part 1 By Django Perks Yorkshire 2017 A storm rages across Yorkshire. Lightning flashes across the sky and the heavens...oh, how they rumble. It is a storm so unlike any other. So unnatural, so strange. It’s violent, thrashing at everything within its reach. It reminds people of an animal trying to get loose of its cage. It reminds them of a mental man or woman thrashing around in their bed. The rain beats a rhythm out against the ground and anything that fails to get out of its way. Trees fall against the wind, losing their footing and bringing up tremendous amounts of earth. As soon as you leave Yorkshire, the rain stops, the storm itself appears as though it never existed. Except...when you look back, it does. A thick fog is now ascending from nowhere. Cars are forced to stop in their tracks as it becomes impossible to see where they are heading. Children sit huddled together in the back of the car. The storm won’t stop at all. ‘The footba