Ackley swept his fingers through his ash, black hair subconsciously whilst wondering what to do next. He had managed to restrain himself for a long time already, but had an insatiable urge to visit the 'den' his mates had told him not to enter without them. Ackley was the bravest of the gang, the others wouldn't dare to go anywhere near the place by themselves. No one had ever been before, but told storeys by the fire with melting marshmallows on sticks at scout camp. Apparently, a sixth former had been murdered there over ten years a go, but Ackley was convinced this was just a ghost storey to spook the little kids. He didn't care for dramas, romances or horror films, he was much more the adventurous type. For a thirteen year old, he was quite the typical boy, but so different at the same time. Basically, he didn't see what was so terrifying about an old playground with a couple of abandoned sheds and garages surrounding it.
With many a backward glance, Ackley turned around and headed in the direction of home.
