As soon as he steps outside, the hair on Alex's bare arms and legs stand on end like he had been shocked by a bolt of lightning? He rushes towards the shed; the cold mud flicking from his heels is splashing up the back of his legs. It felt rather strange. It’s a good job he is in his boxer pants. Otherwise, his jeans would be covered in mud right now, and it would have been difficult to explain that one to his mum. A simple wipe down when he gets back will do. But he also wishes he had at least put his jumper on. His short-sleeved t-shit is useless at keeping out the cold. He walks up to the shed, his breath rising into the cool night air like steam from a boiling kettle, he’s not sure what to do next. With his ear to the door, Alex is listening for any sounds. It’s quiet inside. He can’t hear a thing. Grabbing the cold latch, he has to jiggle and lift it at the same time to get it to open.

A wisp of light from the high moon drifts over his head and into the shed. He peers through the partially open door. It’s too dark inside to see anything clearly apart from the floor near the door. Alex slowly opens the door wide. The hair on the back of his neck stands to attention, matching the hair on his arms and legs, but not because of the cold, it’s because of the strange feeling that shoots through his entire body? Something he has never experienced before, and it is making him feel on edge. The shed has a weird smell, not horrible, just… weird? It’s probably the old box of fertiliser for the roses in the front garden, it’s been in here for years, but his mum won’t let him throw it away.

It is eerie inside the shed. Deep, dark shadows engulf everything, not just dark shadows, but pitch black like the blackest of black, blacker than black even, if that were at all possible? “Hello.” Said Alex, hoping that he doesn’t get a reply. He doesn’t really know why he just said hello? It was the only thing he could think of. A little hesitantly, he takes a step. The shed is messy inside, with dirty garden tools hanging from the walls. There’s a big old lawnmower at the back somewhere hidden in the darkness. There are boxes of old toys and a few old books back there too. Alex doesn’t want to go to the back where the shadows are, and he doesn’t have a torch. Well, that’s not exactly true, he does have a torch just, it’s in the shed somewhere, but he doesn’t know where? And he would need a torch to find his torch, and that doesn’t make any sense. He grips the door frame and with a deep breath. He steps inside, his eyes wide and glaring.

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It was at this point that he decided to leave it until morning. And it’s not because he is scared, of course, he’s not, he said in his head, trying to convince himself. He just doesn’t have the time right now. As he turns to leave there’s a noise from behind him, he looks back, his eyes are wide and glaring as his heart beats faster and faster. The blood seemed to drain from his entire body for a fleeting second. And for some reason, it’s difficult to catch his breath? “Who’s who’s tttthere?” He stutters. Alex again is hoping he doesn’t get a reply.

Seconds pass, nothing but silence from inside the dark shed… Alex takes a deep breath and holds it as he stares into the darkness one last time. He can’t see anything. You could hear the relief in his voice as he lets out a long breath until something emerges from the shadows. He jumps back, his eyes half-closed, banging his head against the door frame, there’s an almighty crash as he clatters into the tools hanging on the wall near the door. His football rolls across the shed floor, stopping at his feet. He grabs out for something to protect himself with; he holds it in front of him. “Come out now! I’m warning you I’m armed with a…” He looks at his hand, he’s holding a large plastic flower his mother often put’s in the front garden in the flower beds. “A plastic flower and I know how to use it.” He said, unconvincingly. In fact, the threat was so weak he didn’t convince himself. The end drops off, landing on the shed floor, leaving him with just the stalk. It would be about as effective as a weapon as a piece of spaghetti. Not sure what to do next, Alex stares into the shadows, his eyes wider than ever before. A football doesn’t just roll on its own, something or someone has to move it?