I started writing this…Oh, I think in April, maybe earlier than that. I’ve never quite decided what I want the plot to be, so it’s just been an up and down intro to what I could decide on. The titular character doesn’t make an appearance for quite some time. I’m nervous about it, because it’s an easy thing to do wrong. And although he is the titular character, he isn’t the protagonist. He might actually be the antagonist, to a major or minor extent.
The initial idea was that a demon called Triggerfish attached himself to a little boy and left sacrifices to him. At its simplest. I looked up what I’d written about it in my blog before, and it had more details, but I’ll probably drop those. Anyway. The sacrifices were more than a little inconvenient for the boy, and when he actually meets Triggerfish, he finds that his case, although odd, is not entirely unique. His friends also have demons that they were previously unaware of, and their greater purpose is rather darker than naive Triggerfish’s goo-goo-eyed fascination with a human child.
Basically, they’re about to enter a life-or-death situation, while Triggerfish is a big dork who just wanted his life to be like Pete’s Dragon.
This is what I’ve had written for ages, and doesn’t include anything I added after coming back to it recently-ish. In fact, re-reading what I added, I might junk it and rewrite from my original cut-off point.
The first time a dead body was found in Ned’s sandpit, he laughed. At the time, he was less than three feet tall and missing two of his front teeth. He lisped when he spoke, and asked the police for a souvenir. The detective in charge of the case, one Jonathan Bell, gave him a sweetie and asked about his black eye. Two weeks later, Detective Bell arrested Ned’s stepfather. Two years later, Detective Bell replaced Ned’s stepfather.
The second time a dead body found its way into Ned’s sandpit, he spent an hour contemplating it. He had grown between the ages of six and nine, and considered himself an expert on bugs, dead bodies, and pokemon. However, after spending some time poking the dead body with a stick, he went to find Papa Bell.
When he returned with his sticky hand wrapped tightly in Papa Bell’s calloused one, the body was gone. Ned received another sweetie and a thoughtful pat on the head. The following Monday, he was introduced to a woman who told him to call her Hannah, and spent an hour every week asking him questions about his feelings and dead bodies.
Ned soon realised that this was a dreaded practise called “therapy”. He taught himself to despise it. By his twelfth birthday, Hannah had classified him a rebellious terror in her private notes, and diagnosed him with a number of behavioural disorders that made his mother’s hair go grey early.
Given his past experiences with bodies in his sandpit, Ned was not at all surprised when a third corpse appeared there. He had recently celebrated a birthday that had doubled as a victory party. He had turned sixteen and convinced his mother and Jonathan to remove Hannah from the calendar.
It seemed to him that this body had chosen an inopportune time and must have been some git taking the piss.