The alleyway was quiet. DEAD quiet. The petrified leaves fled in terror, crouching behind the careless, wondering rubbish that scatted on the patchy floor. The moaning winds screeched their howl of sorrow as Mark staggered cautiously, flat against the wall...   He had heard rumours about this place. Stomach-churning, sickening rumours about matters that were definitely not welcome in his imagination, that ran as wild as a wolf chasing what could possibly be the most tempting bone in the world!

Wolves. Urgh! Don`t get him started on wolves. He had encountered a werewolf before. Falling out of a tree at night was one thing, but falling into the arms of a vicious predator was a whole other story, so, for an eleven year boy on his summer holiday, that was just too much to handle!

The mousey haired, squally boy tripped up on an absurdly large and saturated cobble. For once, Mark's lightning reaction was simply not good enough; Whilst consulting what had just happened, he could not repress the sudden urge to shudder forcibly as a deep, eerie breath engulfed his timid self. It filled the cowardly figure with a strong aroma of rotten eggs. Unexpectedly, a rather strong and super-natural claw clamped aggressively upon his peculiarly bony shoulder. He panted deeply, slowly and glanced cautiously at the extremely filthy and grubby hand that twitched at the slightest sound in the deserted alleyway. The fur was stained in a suspicious looking, dark, velvet splat. It trickled with a gloop across the rough surface that spread out on his arm and, although it looked fresh, it was as set as jam on a Winter's morn.

''Long time, no see, my friend''

A crisp, sharp, voice drilled in his ear like a revolution of tanks, the grotesque saliva fired from the strangers mouth. Unfortunately for Mark, this was far too familiar as the spit dribbled victoriously down his back.

The new, unwanted, companion continued his speech.

''You have escaped me once before, and now...''

There was a slight, deafening pause as he heaved a rasping breath before he, the suspicious newcomer, chuckled maliciously,

"You're in my grips! Flesh, and rather appetising, blood."

Mark felt his blood curdle- he was a foolish boy- if he still had his wits about him, he would have legged it by now and never, ever, leave the comfort of his home again... However, the now praying boy, was a leaking, fountain of sweat.

Just as the moon slyly crept behind the rooftops, Mark felt pure evil strike through his body, as a set of deadly, revolting, teeth, cut deeply into his neck. Without warning, all went black as Mark's sight slipped, slowly away from him. He could not bring himself to scream- or even breath- fainting from the sight of purple blood, protruding from his neck. That Saturday night the earth stopped spinning for the eleven year old boy as his rolling head slammed cruelly on the slab of the soaked stone that only minutes before had been resting beneath his feet.

Upon awakening, Mark weakly lay on the deserted road with a blurry eyesight that re-focused on and off for what seemed like a decade. The nosy sun shone, streaking rays of sunlight that spotlighted a befuddled Mark as he stood up on unfamiliar turf. How did he get here? What had happened in that gloomy walkway? So many questions buzzed through his diminutive head. However, his top priority was to get out of this place. Soon, all the sleepy-eyed and drowsy people of this small town would wake up, and pootle off in their polluting cars and flatten him to shreds. If that wasn't a dream then there wouldn't be...

His hand crept slowly up to his neck...

COULD IT BE? He let out an alarming yelp as his trembling hand fell into a moderately deep hole that bled his icy blood. It was a bite...

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT??? (write you're version of Mark's future in the comment box below)!