Stan trudged angrily along the footpath, hands in pockets, kicking at the small stones. the soft cries of argueing ravens drifted  on the breeze, or was that a crow? suddenly somewhere in the quiet a stastic sound and a muffled voice coud barely be heard.

stan became almost desperate, "sam?" He called, chasing the sounds off the path and into the trees. the sound grew louder and louder until finally stan tripped, stumbling down a  hill, grazing his face, elbows and palms as he fell. he cursed as he look at his stinging hands and brushed away the dirt.

as he went to stand the static came again, this time right in front of him, he pushed away the dry leaves until he found it, it was sam's walkie-talkie "he must've dropped it." stan mumbled to himself, he was annoyed, and his hope of finding his son was cut short. he stood and stumbled around in the brush looking for some sign that the child was still there,  he called out into the stillness, but the only thing that returned was the quiet rustle of the leaves on the evening breeze. 

stan circled back  and realised he had gotten himself lost, he walked on through the prickly bushes and poking sticks, growing more irratable as he went. the sun was dipping below the clouds, slowly slipping away, pretty soon the bush would be dark, the crickets were already chirping and stan didnt have much daylight left. 

finally he found a break in the trees, beyond the trees was a horror that stan would wish he had never come across. he ran for the opening, finally, once he was out he'd be able to find his bearings and call it a night, he'd trudge back home and apologise to his family, flop down on the couch as if his failed search had shattered his hope and he'd give in and let his wife call the police. but that didn't happen.

when he emerged from the trees he found he was on a cracked footpath stained with blood, it was fresh.. but stan didn't pick up on that. there was a road by the path but it seemed unused, and the houses on the opposite side were run down. only teens and druggies would hang around those houses, they seemed abondoned. the state of this area surprised stan, usually the council made sure their area was well kept, and there were hardly ever bad people around.  "i've hit the wrong side of town.." stan spun and walked the length of the path, somewhat hoping to recognise something or at least figure out where he had ended up.

as he walked the blood stains grew, and eventually it became sticky underfoot, and stan grew nervous. he looked around as if someone where watching him, and looked down at the wretched stains, he tried to avoid stepping on it, and eventually he grew curious and followed the path, taking the garden bed to avoid soiling his shoes with the substance.  he came upon a bike, and not far ahead was a small lump, he couldn't quite make out what it was in the dark, finally realising how late it was. 

he bent down to the mangled bike and instantly his eyes grew wide, he stood and ran to the body, he was shaking wildly, and could hardly keep himself steady enough to touch the body, he instant drew back his hand once he did, tears began welling in his eyes, he placed his hand on the body again, kneeling in the thick pools of blood, he turned the body over and instantly drew His hands to his mouth, sam's face was drained of colour, colour which was replaced by large amounts of blood, his mouth was dangling open, his whole body limp, but what horrified stan the most was the large, gaping holes where sam's eyes once resided. the torn ligaments and bright red flesh were just too much to bare, stan leant over and gagged, empting out his stomach onto a nearby bush.

It had to be a dream, a nightmare, it had to!