This is part of the #MAYnia challenge run by the @freewritehouse. Today I have written 1712 words. The first 200 or so were written using the following prompts
Today's Maynia prompt: fungus
The Daily Freewrite prompt: almanac

Check out @mariannewest’s and the Maynia prompt here:

https://peakd.com/hive-161155/@freewritehouse/maynia-day-two

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_{If you have nothing better to do you can read my previous “chapter”: One}
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"I'll be in the book shop," Billy said.

“Okay, hun,” his mum smiled. “Try not to buy too many books!”

“Oh Mum!” he said, putting on a fake whine. “You know there is no such thing as too many books!”

Billy’s mum laughed and watched him as he crossed the road. She waved and blew him a kiss. Heather waved too. She had a huge grin on her face and was almost bouncing with excitment. If you could capture the energy from seven year old girls, Billy thought, we’d never run out of power. His little sister was excitied: she loved the seaside and she adored the old ghost train at the end of the pier.

Billy preferred his thrills to spring up from the pages of books.

The second-hand bookstore was on the main road, almost opposite to the pier entrance. The old wooden sign creaked back and forth in the in wind. "The Old Man and The Sea". Billy knew that was a reference to an old book, but it wasn't one he had read and he didn't know the author.

A bell rang as he pushed open the door. The shop was small, full of shelves crammed full of books. There was no one behind the counter and Billy let the door swing shut behind him, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He loved the smell of old books.

"Can I help you, son?" An old man now stood at the counter, a long white beard and glasses perched on his nose smiled at him as he opened his eyes. Where the hell had he come from? Billy felt the heat of embarrassment blush his face.

"Just browsing," Billy said.

“You take your time,” the old man said. “I’m right here if you need some help.”

He began to walk slowly around the shelves, occasionally reaching up and pulling down a book. He looked over his shoulder at the old man to make sure wasn't looking and then he’d open the book up in the middle, stick his nose close to the pages and inhale deeply.

Was book sniffing weird? Billy wondered. Was it a recognised addiction? He’d never asked his friends if they liked the smell of books. They kinda thought he was strange enough as it was. He didn’t need to give them any other reasons to poke fun at him.

In the far corner Billy found a section labelled Local Authors / Local History. Billy liked reading novels mostly, but he had recently become interested in collecting books of local legends and ghost stories from the places he visited.

There was an entire row of books called the Humpbuckle Almanac dated from nineteen sixty three up until nineteen ninety four. He pulled one out and looked at it. It was just full of tables and numbers. He sniffed it. It smelled wrong. Like it was damp, mouldy. Like fungus. He put the book back.

There were two books on the shelf above that caught Billy’s eye. A Bloody End: The True Story Behind The Humpbuckle-on-Sea Murders and Humpbuckle Hauntings: Ten True Terrifying Tales.

Humpbuckle-on-Sea Murders! Did this sleepy little seaside have a secret past? It seemed so… quiet. His mum said she liked coming here because it felt so safe.

“Safe is boring.” That was what Billy’s friend Dave said when Billy said he didn’t want to cycle down the old Chalk Pit on his bike because it wasn’t safe.

Billy opened the book.

A Bloody End tells the true story behind the murders in the quiet seaside town of Humpbuckle-on-Sea. The story of the respected publican Arthur Krip who one stormy night in May 1993 went on a killing spree, killing four young women, before returning to the Bobbing Buoy pub and hacking barmaid Jenny Travis to death before killing himself.

The Bobbing Buoy! Billy had seen that name somewhere…

A plaque on the wall just around the corner from the apartment they were staying in! That was it.

His mother didn’t really like him reading about true crime. She said it wasn’t nice for a boy Billy’s age to know about things like that. But she always insisted on watching the news and the news was full of true crime. Besides Billy was almost twelve. He would be a teenager next year and Dave said that was almost a grown-up.

Heather would like the ghost book. She liked all things spooky. She wasn’t much of a reader, but she liked it when Billy read to her. And he liked trying to find stories that might scare her.

He checked the price of both books - written in pencil on the first page - and took them to the counter.

The old man looked up and smiled as Billy put them down. He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a few coins.

“You like ghost stories do you kid?” the old man asked as he check the price of Humpbuckle Hauntings. Billy nodded. “You’ve come to the right town. This old place has history. I could tell you a few tales alright.”

He frowned when he saw the cover of A Bloody End.

“I forgot I had this book,” he said. “Written by a friend of mine.” He tapped the cover. “Jack Painter. A fine man and a good policeman.” He looked up at Billy. “Not much of a writer, truth be told. But the story kinda tells itself. You wanna bag?”

Billy shook his head.

“No thank you, sir,” he said. “Have a nice day.”

“Well, look at you,” the old man said. “Such a polite young man. You come back here when you’ve read those books. Tell me what you think of them. And if they’re in good condition you can exchange them.” He frowned. “You’re not one of those kids that turns over corners, are you?”

“No, sir,” Billy said. “I use a bookmark. But I might not finish the books before I go home.” He frowned. “I’m on holiday with my mum and sister. We go home at the weekend.”

The old man smiled.

“Well, hold on a second,” he said, reaching under the counter. After a moment’s searching he passed Billy something. “Have a bookmark from my shop. It has my phone number and my email address. If you don’t finish the books before you leave you can let me know what you thought of them.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Billy said, sliding the bookmark into A Bloody End. “I’ll do that.”

The books tucked under his arm Billy left the book shop. The wind had picked up a little bit, while he had been in the shop, and it had dragged a couple of mean looking dark clouds in from the sea. Without the sun’s warmth, Billy found the sea breeze raised up goosebumps on his arms. He shivered as he waited for the lights to change at the crossing.

The lights changed and he walked across the road to the pier. His mouth watered as he walked past the stands selling food at the entrance - candyfloss, ice cream doughnuts, fish and chips. It was almost tea time. Mum said they could have fish and chips tonight. A bag of chips to share on the way home and some fish and another bag to eat when they got home.

He loved walking along the pier. The smell of the salty sea air, the sound of the old wooden boards creaking under his feet. There were a few old people sitting on benches, a young couple too, snogging. Billy looked away quickly with embarrassment. In the centre of the pier there were various small huts and halfway along an arcade full of games, noise and people. You could walk around it if you wished, which is what he did when he was with his mother and Heather because Heather didn’t like the noise of the machines. But Billy loved the sound and the flashing lights and the buzz of conversation. He walked slowly through it, looking at the slot machines, the video games and the people playing them.

When he emerged from the otherside he could see the entrance to the ghost train. It was next to the theatre at the end of the pier . Billy’s mum said she would take them to see a show before they left. Heather wanted to go. Billy wasn’t sure it would be his kind of thing.

As he approached he could see his mum cuddling Heather, while talking to a tall man with no hair. Billy could tell by the way his mum was standing she was angry. And he could tell Heather was crying. He started to run.

“What happened?” he puffed when he arrived.

Heather’s eyes were red, she clearly had been crying but had stopped now. There was a thin red mark running down her face.

“I’m sorry,” the man was saying. “I can’t imagine what happened. The mechanism gets checked before every ride.”

“There was a man in there,” Heather said. “He had a knife.” She pointed at her face. “Look what he did! He tried to kill me.”

“There wasn’t any man in there, darling,” mum said, her voice soft. Billy could hear the anger bubbling beneath the voice and knew it was not directed at his sister.

“No, we’ve checked, love. There’s no one behind there. The ghost with the plastic knife isn’t real. Mechanical.”

“It was a man,” Heather said. “He had blond hair and a funny look in his eye.”

“Never mind, dear,” mum said. “Let’s go and get an ice cream.”

“And fish and chips!” Billy reminded her.

“Yes. Of course.”

“You can have a free ride,” the man said, his voice sounded worried. “All of you.”

“No thank you,” Billy’s mum said, coldly.

“There was a man,” Heather told Billy as they walked back down the pier. “He wasn’t a very nice man.”

“There wasn’t a man,” mum told Billy. “Just a dangerous contraption on that ride. I’m going to tell the Tourist Office. It shouldn’t be allowed.”

“There was a man,” Heather repeated, her face in full pout. The red mark did look to Billy like quite a bad scratch. “He was nasty. He told me he goes by the name of Poppery.”

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As usual I wrote the freewrite in five minutes using themostdangerouswritingapp.com and then copied and pasted it into a googledoc, tied it up a bit.

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