Take It To The Grave || Secret Life

1: Kids | Martyn

I click my ballpoint pen rhythmically. Being one of the only police officers in a small desert town is definitely what I planned to do as a child living in New York.

Adamsbrough is the only settlement in Dungeness by a mile. Nobody comes through these days. Not much touristy in 40 degree weather—it's enough to cook someone if they stand outside long enough. Thankfully I have a fan along with air conditioning to keep myself from broiling alive.

I look to my desk clock: 15:44. How is it not 5pm yet? I've been here for what feels like an eternity! Just sitting and waiting. To be fair, at least I'm not Tim. Tim has to drive around under the sun all day looking for invisible crime. It's a mystery as to how he's not already melted away.

I became a police officer in the UK when I was 26 and have been here since I was 28. So it's been a good four years. Now, despite my complaints, I do enjoy Adamsbrough (if I didn't I definitely won't be here) It's quiet and quaint but that's the charm of it.

What makes up for the hot summer days are the windless nights stargazing. You can't see the constellations in such beauty in the city. Since our town's only got around 20 to 50 people, I've grown close with most of them. It's something I could trade cool summer night drives in the city for.

"Martyn! I've caught shoplifters who tried to steal from Gem's bakery." Jimmy comes into my office. My office isn't big so he just stands by the doorway, idling. What he says is surprising—he actually caught shoplifters? Nobody in Adamsbrough commits such pathetic crimes so that means....

Jimmy seems to pick up on what I've concluded as he continues, "They're not from here. Judging by one of their accents I reckon they're from up North—Yorkshire." Yorkshire? Now I'm questioning Jimmy's accent recognition because who in their right mind would bring their 4 kids to down south to a desert to shoplift?

Do the people up there even know of Adamsbrough? And why make your kids do the crime? "How old are they?" Maybe they're teens who are touring more central (and populated) parts of Canterbury? "Mid or Early Teens. All of them. One of them's super tall but I doubt he's older than the rest."

"What do I do with them?" Jimmy asks, adjusting his deputy badge. He wears it everyday, shining the badge of honour. I, personally, don't take care of mine but we're separate so who am I to judge? "I'll take it from here. If I need help, I want you to be outside. We don't want the punks to feel particularly threatened when we ask for their parents."

Jimmy relaxes, this dummy. I stand up and follow Jimmy to where he put the kids. Silly Tim. He's always been a bit antsy with this kind of stuff. Despite loving being a member of law, he hates disciplining people. He hates being the one to tell people to get their shit together.

'Room 08' Jimmy stops. "This one's with the tall boy." Jimmy fumbles with the key, unlocking the door. There sat a boy with black hair and the starting of facial hair growing above his lips. He's wearing a black sweater and joggers, his white t-shirt looks to be unironned.

He's obviously a supernatural.

From the way his pupils are larger than that of a human, to the obvious aviation mark on his neck. If he has wings, they're pretty small compared to his body since they're not noticeable.

"Hello, I'm Martyn Inthelittlewood. You are?" I sit down across from him. He seems anxious, which is normal for a kid who's being detained by the authorities. The boy seems to be debating if he should be honest with me considering he's taking this long to respond. "I'm pretty good at seeking out liars." I smile, watching him panic.

"Mumbo. My name's Mumbo." I may have lied myself, I have no idea if he's lying or not. People have creative baby name ideas these days don't they? "Alright, Mumbo... You can relax! We're just having a conversation. Anyway, how old are you?" Mumbo seems to be the quiet type. That's common among teenagers, right?