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    Jason Sinks to a New Low
    Jason Sinks to a New Low
    Jason Sinks to a New Low
    Ebook88 pages1 hour

    Jason Sinks to a New Low

    By Violetta Antcliff

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    About this ebook

    Lost in a maze of underground tunnels, Jason and his friend Wayne are not only in danger of freezing to death or dying slowly of starvation, they are also at risk of being murdered by two dangerous criminals if they are caught. Danger lurks around every dark, dank corner and Jason needs all his wits about him to keep one step ahead.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGypsy Shadow Publishing, LLC
    Release dateSep 17, 2011
    ISBN9781619500037
    Jason Sinks to a New Low
    Author

    Violetta Antcliff

    Violetta Antcliff has been a member of the Nottingham Writers' Club for over twenty years. A winner of numerous short story competitions, her work was area short listed in Waterstone's Wow Factor story competition. Took first prize in Nottingham County Council short story competition with a story called "Irish Mouse Tales," which was published by Gypsy Shadow Publishing as an eBook in July of 2012. She has had her poetry and short stories read on local radio. Violetta is a prolific writer of short fiction, having written and published more than 40 short stories with Gypsy Shadow.

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      Book preview

      Jason Sinks to a New Low - Violetta Antcliff

      Contents

      Copyright Page

      Editor’s Note

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 14

      About the Author

      Jason Sinks to a New Low

      Book Four of

      The Adventures of Jason Foster

      by

      Violetta Antcliff

      All rights reserved

      Copyright © September 2011, Violetta Antcliff

      Cover Art Copyright © 2011, Charlotte Holley

      Gypsy Shadow Publishing

      Lockhart, TX

      www.gypsyshadow.com

      Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

      No part of this book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and email, without prior written permission from Gypsy Shadow Publishing.

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      ISBN: 9781619500037

      Published in the United States of America

      First eBook Edition: September 17, 2011

      Editor’s Note to Readers

      Conkers are horse chestnuts. Children the world over collect them and play with them. Your bonce is your noggin, your head. Any other British terms won’t truly bother you; the context should be sufficient to give you a hint; if not, just jump on the Internet and Google it.

      Chapter One

      Trespassing

      A notice the waste ground had been acquired by the council and was up for redevelopment was big enough for anyone to see, but the boys chose to ignore it. They knew where a section of the fence surrounding the ground was in need of repair, and it wouldn’t be the first time they’d taken advantage of the fact.

      After first making sure no one was about, they pushed one of the lose panels to one side, scrambled through and pulled it back into position behind them.

      Once inside they stood, hands shading their eyes from the fading sun, and looked around.

      They’ve done nowt, cried Wayne in disgust, and throwing his arms in the air, spun them round like a windmill.

      What did you expect? returned Jason, equally disappointed at finding nothing had changed since the last time they’d sneaked inside.

      I thought at least there’d have been a workman’s hut or summat, Wayne plonked down heavily on a fallen log and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. Shall we go home, then? Jason joined him on the log and rested back against the trunk of a tree.

      You can if you want; I’m staying here for a bit, mumbled Wayne. There must be something round here worth looking at.

      Jason thought about the homework in his duffle-bag and how he should have been at home doing it, instead of sitting there wasting time. He knew Wayne was in no rush to get home, because for the second time in a month, he’d smashed a pane of glass in the next-door neighbour’s cold frame. His spends were already being stopped for the last time it had happened, and he knew he’d be in for another ticking off when his dad got home from work.

      Jason closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting slowly back to the hard day he’d had at school and how unfairly he believed he’d been treated. Mr. Cox, his teacher, had told him off in front of the class, twice. Once for daydreaming when he hadn’t been; he’d only been thinking how he could get his dad to fork out for a new pair of football boots, as the studs on his old ones needed replacing. Then again for talking in class, when he’d only asked Richard Bates what time it was because he was ready to go home; and for this he’d been given fifty lines to write.

      The sun had gone in, and it had turned cold, cold enough for Jason to stir himself. He opened his eyes, scratched his head and rubbed his hands together to warm them up. Way-n-e, he drawled and waited for him to answer. When he didn’t, he looked around to find out why, but Wayne was no longer sitting where he’d been only a short time earlier; he was nowhere to be seen. Jason was puzzled, couldn’t believe his friend would creep off without saying anything to him first.

      Wayne, where are you? he called sharply. But apart from the sound of wind rustling through leaves on the tree, and the pitter-patter of a mouse scurrying from behind an upturned rubbish bin, there was neither sight nor sound of Wayne or anything else; it was creepy.

      Jason gave a shrill whistle, but there was no reply, nothing. He tried again, still no response. He was fuming and muttering under his breath what he would do the next time he saw him. He stomped over to the loose piece of fencing they’d come in by and pushed it roughly to one side. He was just about to step through, when he heard someone calling his name. He stopped and listened. He didn’t think the voice sounded like Wayne’s; it was too croaky, but in spite of that, he knew it couldn’t possibly be anybody else’s as nobody else knew he was there.

      He returned to the spot under the tree where he’d last seen Wayne, but nothing had changed. A mouse vigorously sorted through the rubbish looking for titbits, and the tree still shook its leaves.

      Jason stood, arms folded, listening; I know I’m not hearing things, he said to himself. I definitely heard someone calling me.

      He raised his voice, Wayne, you’d better show yourself, or I’ll go home and leave you to it. And, he threatened, "I won’t come and visit you if you

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