Charlie Carter stared across the kitchen table at his eight year old twin siblings.

‘You two are up early.’

Johnny and June looked up from their bowls of cereal. They smiled back at him.

‘Summer holidays.’ said Johnny.

‘We don’t mind getting up when we’re off school.’ June added.

Charlie downed the last of his mug of tea.

‘What do you kids get up to all day?’

The twins exchanged a quick glance that their brother couldn’t quite read.

‘Playing out.’ said June.

‘Exploring.’ said Johnny.

‘Well, behave yourselves,’ Charlie said. ‘and be careful.’

‘Yes, Charlie.’ they replied.

Seconds after Charlie left for work the twins darted out the back door.

To the twins, the six week break meant magical days spent roaming the Yorkshire countryside that their terraced street backed on to. Since the death of their mother three years earlier, their father had paid them little attention. He busied himself with work and his friends. He barely bothered with his children. When not at the factory, Father would be off playing golf or hiking with his pals. He would often take himself off for days at a time. He would return as unexpectedly as he’d departed. He would ask Charlie how the twins were doing but there was something uninterested in his tone. It was as though he was enquiring about the weekend weather forecast. Perhaps, Charlie thought, the family and the home itself was too painful a reminder of the life he’d had with his wife.

Johnny and June seemed happy enough. They enjoyed each others’ company and spent all the time they could outdoors. They had always loved nature and wildlife and growing up just outside Hebden Bridge, they spent hours off roaming and exploring the natural vast emptiness of the moors and fields and woodland.

No matter how bad the weather the twins would be outside. Charlie had no idea just how deep the connection with the wilderness went.

The twins headed down the narrow yard and slipped out the back gate as usual. Leaving the cobbled streets behind the children dashed free and wild across the moor. Under blue sky they ran through the long grass. The warm sun felt good on their skin. They ran out further into the countryside. They came to a tree.

They stopped running. Laughing and breathing hard they nodded to each other.

Spasms racked their bodies as the change started. They dropped to the grass on all fours. Bones cracked as limbs changed shape. Their clothes slipped to the ground. Their fingers drew back into hand, becoming paw. Thick red fur spread across their skin like a rash. Their human features twisted beneath their fur, becoming animal.

Moments later the two foxes left the shade of the tree. They trotted over the moor. The world seemed a different place now. They could hear livestock being fed on a nearby farm and rodents moving underground. They bounced along through the wilderness.

It had all started three years earlier. The then five year old twins had just lost their mother. Autumn was creeping into winter. The leaves were turning glorious shades of yellow, orange and red. The twins roamed a patch of woodland just as darkness was falling. They emerged on a clearing and discovered a fox. The twins stared in fascination. Its red fur was so bright it seemed to be on fire. The animal stared back at them. There was something hypnotic about the gaze. Neither side was afraid of the other. The children stepped closer. The fox hopped towards them. Before they knew what was happening the fox bit them both on the hand. As the fox darted for the trees the children clutched their bleeding wounds. The next afternoon while out wandering the moorland the twins changed for the first time.

One Saturday afternoon their brother Charlie went off fishing for the day. Having spent the day by the reservoir he headed for home. He had his fishing rods over one shoulder and his catch over the other. He spotted two foxes padding towards a large tree. He looked on as the foxes retched and shook as though sick. They twisted and growled and groaned. Charlie wondered if they needed help and went over. Then he noticed that the foxes were changing. Their thick red fur was receding to reveal pink flesh.

After a few moments his twin siblings picked themselves up and quickly dressed. Johnny was buttoning his shirt when he saw Charlie looking on. He gave his sister a nudge. Smoothing down her skirt she gasped when she saw him.

‘Charlie!’

‘I-I don’t know what to say.’

The twins explained how it was that they could transform following the fox bite, how after the first time they could change at will.

Charlie looked at them both with a new sense of wonder.

‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’

‘No, I won’t tell a soul.’

The next morning as the twins headed for the back door Charlie simply gave them a knowing smile and told them to have a good day.

A few months later. Father arrived home from a day out. He had a shotgun slung over his shoulder.

‘Evening, Father. Where’ve you been?’

‘Me and the fellers have been hunting.’

‘Where did you get to?’

‘We stayed local. We went out onto the moors.’

Charlie felt sick. A feeling of dread swept over him.

‘Did you catch anything?’

‘A couple of foxes. I managed to hit them but they ran off. I wounded them good, though. They couldn’t have survived.’

Charlie rushed upstairs. He crashed into the twins’ bedroom. Their lifeless bodies lay under bloodstained bedclothes. Their faces looked peaceful as though they were sleeping. As his father headed upstairs Charlie crumpled to the floor.

At the hospital the doctor confirmed that the children had died from shotgun wounds. He suggested that perhaps they had stumbled across a hunting party and had been accidentally shot. Charlie sobbed as the doctor explained that the twins had been shot but survived long enough to flee back home. Father looked shocked. He stared in bewilderment. He seemed unable to cope with the second tragedy to befall his family. Charlie hugged him. This man was now the only family he had left. As they were leaving the hospital Charlie noticed the bandage on his father’s hand.

‘What happened to your hand?’

‘One of the foxes bit me.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom