Group Plot Synopsis

A long, sharp, distant whisper - 'Morgan' - like a caged animal, unable to escape from the maze of his mind. An intelligent mind. A lost mind. His friend with him, nameless, white and pure and malicious. 1:31am. Sweat soaked sheets, shaking and laughing.
'What now?'
Silence.
'It's too early, why now?'
A twitch toward the door. A hand beneath his flesh. Pointing?
'Your body. It's a sheet?'
Silence again. An effort to stand.
Then nothing. It had gone as soon as it had come. But a note on his desk assures him, Morgan, of what it tried to tell him. It can write, but it cannot talk. A mute.

The note read:




Please.


Kill.


Them.







7th January, one week later. An extract from the Abergavenny Chronicle:




It’s still unclear as to the cause of the three children’s most hard-hitting deaths, as it is reported each had never met one another in the past. Casey (13), Robyn (8) and Lucy (15) were found last weekend on the banks of the river Usk, near Llanfoist, Abergavenny. Police say the wounds found on Casey and Lucy resembled an attack from some foreign animal; that of a grizzly bear or wolverine. Robyn was found 20 metres from the other two, with his face in the river and no evidence of a struggle.




‘I didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. I swear to you, I did not do it!’

‘Morgan, don’t you dare lie to me!’

‘Zac please, you dropped your money, I swear! I didn’t…’

But then, before the word even had chance to form on his tongue, Morgan was on the ground, dazed and winded. Zac above him at a horrific worm’s eye of an angle. This was the first time he lost a friend. Only last month was really the first time. He lost himself last month. Of course he gained something with it: the something that killed those poor children down by the river last weekend. Or was that Morgan? Or was that the thing telling Morgan to do it? One of the children, Lucy, knew Morgan’s sister. They’d go to the cinema when Baker Street actually showed something worth watching, then Lucy would come back with Rebecca, half-hiding behind her, shy because she wasn’t used to sixth formers like Morgan, the intelligent and not so bad to look (stare) at ones. Of course that was before now. He was lying on the floor now. Zac had given up. No time for ‘pathetic girls’ like the one that lay down, sprawled, winded, taste of, wait. Is that…




Two weeks later

‘Blood?’

A slow nod.

‘Mine or yours?’

A slow shake of the head. Sheet dragging across the dust, it begins to move.

Last week they had killed Rebecca. She just wasn’t very good at keeping his secrets anymore. Morgan would tell her a lot, but not mum or dad. They divorced about two years ago maybe? Not so long before Christmas. That wasn’t good timing. Sometimes it feels like telling Morgan to kill them as well. But not yet. Perhaps never. But it would be nice. Morgan barely saw his dad anyway, so it would be difficult.

‘Where are we?’

It turns around. A yellow sticky note on its back with the words ‘Nearly. There.’ Written in black marker.

‘Like the note in my room.’ Morgan whispers. And at this whisper it stops, dead, like a car against a brick wall. No ricochet. No correcting of balance. It just stops.

‘What?’

It’s kneeling now. (Does it even have knees?) It’s in the way of something.

‘That’s Zac isn’t it?’

The head turns beneath the sheet.

‘You showed me in my…’ (My what? My dream? My wander of the mind? My reality?) ‘My dream. No. Yes, my dream’

It shakes its head. It stands. An effort to stand.

‘That wasn’t a dream.’

It thrusts its fist against the post, anger? It feels anger. It feels sorry for the people it makes Morgan kill.




Two days later

No more dead. Only the three at the river, he hardly remembers, and Zac, and Rebecca before that. But Rebecca wasn’t his fault. Zac was his fault, and the three at the river were accidents. I promise you. Nothing in between the One week, Two weeks or Two days later intervals. Morgan spends most his time away from people. He goes to school, but cannot cope. The teachers notice he cannot cope. But they see his eyes. The dark oval voids that grieve the loss of sleep. The eyes that laugh ‘I killed them all. Uh-huh. Now my grades are spiralling and my mind is spiralling and you won’t do anything about it. Because it told you last night, or it will tell you soon, that if you involve yourself, take what you shouldn’t have, well… I’ll kill you too!’.







Morgan will sit on the floor of his father’s bathroom tomorrow. He’ll have tried to kill himself, but I’ll be gone. It won’t be my fault this time. His psychiatrist won’t know that though, neither will Morgan. He’ll think he saw me because his mind makes him see me now. He misses me. So he creates me.