The Story Collection: Volume One

by Matt Shaw

  All these thoughts of ending my life and I’ve only just come to realise...

  ....I’m not ready to die....

  ~ END

  A Quick Word, if I may...

  I realise ‘The Last Stop’ is pretty far from my usual type of story but, you know me, I like to mix it up a bit. It’s also two ideas mashed into one. The first was about a manic depressive who was going to travel to his favourite place, in the whole world, for a final blow-out before topping himself.... only to realise there’s so much beauty in the world, he simply wasn’t ready to throw it all in. I had even prepared a title for it, ’30 Days Notice’.

  The only problem was, I don’t really like happy endings (sure you’ve come to realise that now - unless this is the first book you’ve purchased of mine). I like the twists and, what’s more, I like the shocks. I like to keep people on their toes and try and hit them from a blind-side with something they weren’t expecting.

  Okay, so not all the time do I get away with it. “Writer’s Block”, for example, had many of you re-reading the last chapter to try and get your head around the twists. But then, I just think that’s because you’re thick (joking, of course). I still stand by my statement, ‘I think that’s a great story.’ Anyway, that’s not the point of this section.

  The other story was always going to be called “The Last Stop” - an idea I had, when I was about fifteen years old, about a guy who woke up at the last stop of a train only to.... well, you know the story - it’s where I picked up with the middle section of this book.

  I combined the two ideas because I thought it worked better - it made the story better and gave it more substance. It also fleshed the characters out a little more. Every time I have previously gone to write “The Last Stop” I always struggled - not with the idea... With the characters. They were dull and flat. I hope, making the main character from “30 Days Notice” take the lead, he became more like-able. More so because, towards the end of the book, his viewpoint of suicide changes as he considers the possibility of a future with Lisa.

  Now, I know the ending is far out. Like I previously said, it’s nothing like I’ve played around with before and, to be perfectly honest, not something I’m comfortable with or plan to return to in the future. Horror or comedy seem to be my preference. But, I did like the idea of the ending which is why I went with it. After all, I’m trying to get a book out based on all of the different possible genres. That way, I’ve got something for everybody. I don’t want to narrow my audience before I’ve really found it!

  Before I started writing this book another possible ending hit me, though, and I very nearly ended up going with the alternate. What if the train had crashed... Lisa and James being the only people in the carriage, the last station is a holding ground as they wait to move on. Blue flashes from Lisa’s room, when James goes to get her, could signify paramedics trying to shock her back to life with defibrillators? Everything going dark, at the end, for James because The Reaper is coming for him....

  It was an idea I toyed around with for some time - going back to the Alien idea (the one I ended up with) and back to this one again. I struggled to decide. In the end, I went for the Alien story for two reasons....

  The first reason was because it was a story I had from an early age and one I’ve always wanted to write. With that in mind, I wanted to stay true to myself and go with my gut.

  The second reason was far more basic - the ‘train crash’ ending... well, it just sounds like typical Hollywood rubbish. The same lame ending you see again and again in films where the screenwriters were obviously rushing just to reach an end product. Sure, sometimes it can be amazing if it’s done correctly (and I haven’t seen a film do it properly since ‘The Sixth Sense’) but... it’s still been done before.

  That’s not saying this idea is one hundred percent original - sure there are probably films out there which have done things similar but, I haven’t seen them! Anyway, I’m not here to justify why I chose this particular ending - I just felt as though I was cheating you by not telling you about the alternative...

  Either way, I hope you enjoyed the book.

  Matt Shaw

  THE CHOSEN ROUTES

  INTRODUCTION

  Sarah’s voice woke me from the peaceful slumber that I had drifted into, with the help of the calming drone of the mini-bus’s engine.

  “We’ll arrive in a few minutes…”

  … After four hours of dull country-side driving and an evening meal at an over-priced Little Chef restaurant that took most of my weekend budget…

  “… I just ask one thing of you – behave yourselves,” she continued.

  Her request is met with sniggers from around the mini-bus. I cast my eyes around and see Hannah and Josie smiling innocently at Sarah; like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. They flash a look of innocence in their beautiful blue eyes. Sarah’s not stupid. She knows that, although the two girls sat towards the back of the bus aren’t the main culprits behind trouble – their beauty certainly encouraged some of the male members of the group to do stupid things as they tried to prove to the girls that they are the alpha males worthy of a date with one of them.

  Alpha-males.

  They wish.

  I turn to them; James and Joel. James is staring out of the mini-bus window, watching the world pass him by as he listens to Oasis on his mp3 player. Joel is sat next to James, resting his head on James’ shoulder – his eyes closed and some frothy dribble running from the corner of his mouth, trickling down his stubbly chin and onto the lapel of James’ knee-length coat.

  Alpha-males.

  I laughed to myself.

  They come from the shallow end of the gene pool.

  “Don’t worry about us – you just make sure you behave yourself in your fancy bed and breakfast,” said Adam from the back row of seats. I turn to look at him but he’s out of sight; laying down, no doubt clutching Tracy tightly in his over-enthusiastic arms. “Just because you left your husband at home, it doesn’t mean you should fuck around…” continued Adam; a typical eighteen year old with nothing but sex on his brain.

  Lucky for him he met Tracy really, the perfect woman for him. She was once suspended from college for giving Simon Jenkins a hand-job at the back of the classroom during a maths GCSE re-sit.

  Other than myself, I’m not sure of many a person she hasn’t given a hand-job too. For the record, I turned her down although that’s not the story that got circulated around the drama group.

  “Yes, thank you, Adam!” said Sarah in a stern voice.

  “At first I thought they were just asleep back there,” Tom whispered in my ear, “but I’m sure he was fingering her earlier. She was moaning and muttering ‘deeper’. And there was certainly a lot of fidgeting going on back there!”

  Tom, another typical ‘sex-on-the-brain’ teenager – the only difference being is that the only sex he’s been getting is in his brain – small brain I hasten to add. Tom’s still a virgin and, unfortunately for him, it’s painfully obvious. I drew the short straw when he sat next to me.

  Another pretty girl from the front of the bus, near to where Sarah was seated, called Claire, liked Tom. It was nearly as obvious as Tom’s glowing virginity sign that hovered over his head and if Tom calmed down his sexual innuendos and spoke like a normal human and not the dirty pervert that festered within his soul – he would have probably been able to sleep with Claire by now.

  I have a bet with myself that this is the weekend she’ll be drunk enough to let him penetrate her.

  “I’ve got the mobile phone if things do get out of hand,” Claire said to Sarah.

  “Teacher’s pet!” taunted Adam from the back seat.

  “Can you imagine those two getting it on in a full on phone fuck session?” Tom asked me.

  Claire shot him a look.

  It’s going to be a long weekend.

  “Now Mr Singleton doesn’t normally allow people to stay the night here so this is a huge privilege…” />
  If you say so.

  “… and I want you to remember that whilst you are here. I want you on your best behaviour at all times. If he tells you to keep it down, you quieten down. If he tells you a time to be in bed – go to bed…”

  “I don’t plan on getting out of bed,” muttered Adam with what could have only been an audible slap of Tracy’s buttocks.

  “… and don’t give him any of your back chat. That goes for all of you…Adam.”

  Claire spun around and fired across another of her trademark dirty looks in the general direction of Adam, who was still lying out of sight on the seat. Realising her look was going to waste, she turned her attention back to Sarah, “We’ll be good, I promise.”

  Tom whispered to me, “God, she makes me so hard. I mean hard. Not a semi. It doesn’t even go through the semi stage when she is around – it’s like soft to hard in the flash of an eye. In fact, quicker than a flash! What’s quicker than a flash?”

  “Any questions?” asked Sarah, oblivious to the perverted ramblings of Tom.

  I can’t contain myself any longer, “Is it too late to turn back?”

  Claire spun her head towards me in a style that reminded me of Linda Blair in ‘The Exorcist’, “If you didn’t want to come you shouldn’t have got your parents to fill in the permission slip.”

  I don’t bother replying – not with words – not when a simple smile and slight rising on the index finger will suffice. A look of horror on her face and Claire turned back to Sarah who just shook her head; a grown woman who knew when there wasn’t any point in saying anything.

  “Wouldn’t you just love to stick that finger…?”

  “Fuck off, Tom.” I think Tom is definitely handled better with words.

  The mini-bus driver turned to Sarah, from the relative safety of the driving seat, “We’re just pulling into the driveway now.”

  True to his word, the mini-bus turned from the smooth tarmac of the country-road, onto the gravel-stoned driveway and we all turned to get a glimpse of this supposedly haunted mansion where we’d be spending the next two nights.

  After a short drive down a long drive-way surrounded by large trees – a full moon shining through the autumn bare branches – we came upon what I could only describe as a large car park with a concrete water fountain based in the centre – behind that, the old Edwardian mansion where we’d be staying. It was too dark to get a proper look at the structure but I could tell that it was big. Very big.

  “Do you think it has a Bat-Cave?” asked James as he nudged the sleeping Joel back into the land of the living and took his earphones from out of his ears.

  “Do you think it has a Bat-Girl? So hot...” asked Tom – a true one track mind.

  “Well, if it doesn’t have hot water and a socket for my hair-dryer, I’m staying with Sarah,” mumbled an unimpressed Josie.

  “I’ll join you,” purred Hannah.

  “Les—“

  “Don’t,” I warned Tom mid-sentence. He didn’t finish.

  The mini-bus rolled to a gentle stop and the driver killed the engine before jumping out and closing us back into our metal prison.

  “Where’s he going?” asked Claire.

  “He’s walking back,” I said sarcastically, “he won’t go any further because of the curse...”

  Another trademark dirty look.

  Another raising of my middle finger.

  Tom turned to me, “Dude, what curse?”

  The ice-maiden Claire couldn’t help but laugh at Tom’s stupidity. I simply looked at him - a vacant look upon his face - and wondered whether he was for real or not...

  “What curse?” he repeated, I guess he thought I didn’t hear him the first time.

  It’s going to be a really long weekend.

  THE

  CHOSEN

  ROUTES

  MATT SHAW

  1.

  It was hard not to be impressed by the sheer size of the mansion, when the driver finally did let us off the mini-bus, and it was easy to see why people thought it to be haunted. I won’t lie, I even felt a tingle of excitement rush through my body at the thought of staying in it. I bet it looks even more impressive in the daylight.

  “What do you think they pay on Council Tax?” asked Joel, stepping off the bus behind me - fresh from his peaceful slumber. How one person had the ability to turn everything so mundane was beyond me. The first thought he has, when confronted with a building as striking as this.... council tax.

  “What’s Council Tax?” said Adam from the mini-bus step.

  Joel ignored him and walked past me.

  Adam jumped down from the bus and pointed to one of the larger windows at the top of the mansion, “My room....”

  Sarah corrected him, “A lot of the rooms are sealed off - all the boys will be staying in one room whilst the girls in the other as per Mr Singleton’s instructions.”

  “Fuck that,” whispered Adam - his eyes drawn to Tracy as she was stepping off the mini-bus, rearranging her mini-skirt. There’s no denying Tracy is a pretty girl - long wavy brown hair, slim waist, full lips.... a young Angelina Jolie. Hard to fancy her, though, when you consider the amount of cock she’s had and her hatred for all things rubber. Harder still, to fancy her, when you know for a fact she’s been with Adam regularly.

  Adam had been smoking weed for as long as I could remember, and I’ve known him at least five years. His eyes are permanently glazed over. He’s been caught with cocaine and people have also suspected he’s tried things harder than that too. Adam is trouble.

  And he has a pony-tail.

  Underneath every pony-tail is an asshole.

  Sarah was crazy if she thought she could stop them from sleeping together this weekend. Especially considering she won’t be staying with us to keep an eye on them. The first chance they get, they’re bunking up. They’re probably going to be the only things which go bump in the night.

  Sarah was stood at the front of the group with her back to the mansion, waiting for everyone to climb from the bus so she could, no doubt, give us one of her speeches. I’m sure she’s said enough by now. A woman who clearly loves the sound of her own voice.

  “You’re going to have to masturbate or have Sarah,” said Tom.

  I frowned. That caught me off guard.

  “What?”

  “I’ve got Claire... yeah? That’s a given. Adam won’t share Tracy...”

  Thank God.

  Tom continued, “James fancies Josie, Hannah fancies Joel.... that leaves Sarah or your hand. What do you think?”

  I shook my head, “Mr Singleton might be hot...”

  Tom frowned - again, unsure whether I was being serious or not, “Sarah’s older.... probably knows a few things....”

  I turned to Tom, “Look, if you want to survive this weekend... you’re going to....”

  “CAN I HAVE EVERYONE’S ATTENTION PLEASE....”

  I stopped and turned to Sarah.

  “What am I going to have to do?” whispered Tom.

  “Fuck off,” I whispered back. To the point and hard not to understand.

  “Sorry for giving a shit,” he whispered back, “I just didn’t want you missing out on all the shagging...”

  I flashed him another look before stepping forward next to Josie who, in turn, flashed me a look as though I didn’t have permission to be so close to her. Nothing one of my charming smiles can’t fix. She turned away, indifferent.

  “and you’ve all handed in your permission slips,” Sarah was saying, at the front of the group, “so this is your new home until Sunday. Remember, this is Mr Singleton’s property and he will, no doubt, show up at some point. You are to be on your best behaviour for the duration of your stay. I want to hear nothing but praise from Mr Singleton when I come and collect you, on Sunday.... I know praise may be pushing it for some of you but I’m sure you’ll try your best...”

  “You don’t have much faith in us, do you Miss?” James piped up.

  “No.”


  “Fair enough. Can’t argue with that.”

  Sarah continued, “You never know.... behave yourselves on this trip and I may be encouraged to organise more for you....”

  Good enough reason there for me to act like a right bastard, then.

  “What time should we be ready for you, on Sunday?” asked Claire. I couldn’t help but laugh. She even raised her hand before asking the question. This is a small drama group. Admittedly smaller than usual as some of the group weren’t allowed to come when their parents found out Adam was coming.... but regardless... it’s a small drama group, run in the evenings by a woman who lacks the necessary qualifications to become a real teacher. She’s hardly the sort of person you raise your hand to before asking a question.