to bestir

		Hesitating, looking back repeatedly, the boy strolled through a small

alley which was surrounded by old big fences and even older mostly dirty cottages. Having a slight jitter in his eye he tried to focus on things surrounding him as if there was to be an option, a redemption, something which would occupy his thoughts so he could continue to not think about what was coming up.
His eyes found a small raven to glance upon, whose black feathers shone in the merciless rays of the 1pm sun that seemed to reach for new heat records. The raven peered back, as if deciding whether to pick his eyes or better just stay as is, enjoying the little waves of cool air that were streaming through from time to time.
The boy passed the raven, and as his eyes were about to find something new for banning unwanted thoughts upon, it dawned on him that he had already reached the end of the little alley, breaching for a scruffy meadow enclosing a wooden chalet whose best years had probably been a long time ago - if ever. Shoutings could be heard from inside and the red sign on the grass reading 'do not trespass, our dog eats your for diner'  was probably just as worse.
The boy swallowed, entagled his little bag even more, took another last glance back, and finally, with shivering feet, managed to head for the front door.
The wood was even wreckier than it seemed at first sight, and there were enormous scratches marking the floor which had totally fullfilled their reason if their reason was to scare nine-year old boys to death.
The positioned himself in front of the door and aimed at the door bell, only to realise that he already shivered too much to hit it the first time.
His heart accelearted it's beat, he tried again.
"Booong". The Doorbell rang. It was one of these old-fashioned non-digital doorbells which used a real bell and a small electric circuit to conduct a steady hammering onto the bell.
There're moments in life which seem to last forever, situations in which only seconds feel as heavy as days. Imagine the first phone-call to the beautifull girl (or boy) you just met on the train; every phone-beep feels like a guillotine splitting your brain. Imagine worse.
Just as the boy was about to turn around, releasing anxiouty, fleeing from the situation, the door opened.
(to be continued)