NaNoWriMo 2014 - Winner!!

I did it. I actually did it.

Today I validated my novel (or at least the story so far) on the official NaNoWriMo site and it currently sits at 50,120 words. 

I cannot begin to describe how I'm feeling right now (great for a writer, well done, genius) as it has been a really tough slog. November has been a non-month for me as my life has revolved around work and my story, so I apologise to all that have missed me in their lives. To all those that haven't missed me in their lives, that think it's actually been quite nice and peaceful, sorry, I'm back now. 

I want to thank really-wife for all the cups of tea and putting up with my lack of patience with anything that wasn't to do with Alfie. Also for listening to the story as it was written, laughing in all the right places and always asking what was coming next. I couldn't have done it without you, thank you, my love.

So, what's next? Where is Alfie and when do you get to read the whole thing? I honestly can't say at the moment. I've done 50,000 words, I've achieved this challenge, but the novel is far from finished. Alfie still has some hurdles to face and I am going to stand tall with him, but I need to re-engage with the world a little. Don't worry, I will finish, and I aim to have a first draft by the end of January, but I'm taking my foot off the accelerator a little.

Once there's a first draft I will be after some readers to give me some honest feedback, so watch this space, I may ask you. Then I'll be knocking on the doors of publishing houses until my knuckles are raw, asking for validation, and who knows where that will lead?

For all those avid readers out there, here are the next two scenes - I couldn't just leave you with a short one. After this, you'll have to wait until the book is in your hands...

If you need a recap, here are the previous scenes:

Week 1 - Alfie sees something
Week 2 - First Aid
Week 3 - Clearing the site
Week 4 - Getting out of the storm

After the ride

‘Woo, what a ride, huh?’

Alfie blinked. There wasn’t anything covering his eyes anymore, and he could move his head. In fact, he could move everything as the grass cocoon had disappeared totally, with just a slight itch on his skin to indicate it had been there at all.

He was sitting on a dusty floor in a dimly lit cavern, leaning against a wall. The surface behind him was comfortable and when he looked, he saw the wall had shaped itself to fit his body. The wall was dark, and seemed to glisten, but when he ran his hand over it he found it was simply compacted soil.

Above him, the same soil curved over to form the ceiling, high above, and continued on to make the far wall, some 100 metres away. The entire space had no other features that he could see, and contained nothing, except one large archway, leading who-knows-where, and one small standing stone, a half-size replica of one in the ancient circle.

He couldn’t make out where the light was coming from, a dim glow seeming to emanate from the soil itself. There wasn’t much illumination, but it was enough to see by, and Alfie could easily see the figure of the old man standing nearby, his white hair once again creating a soft halo around his head. Something about this niggled at him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The sound of someone retching made him turn his head, and Alfie saw his parents and Polly lined up, further round to his right. His father was leaning to one size, noisily emptying the contents of his stomach onto the floor while his mother patted him on the back, clearly struggling to keep her breakfast down, too.

Polly slapped the ground with both hands. ‘’Gain! ‘Gain!’

‘Nice to see somebody’s appreciative,’ said the old man, walking over and holding out a hand to Alfie. Alfie took it and was pulled to his feet. The old man’s grasp was deceptively firm, with calloused palms.

Suddenly, Alfie knew what had been bugging him about the man, aside from the strange events. He let go of his hand and looked down at himself, feeling his clothes, his hair, wiggling his toes inside his trainers. ‘We’re all dry!’ he said.

‘All part of the service,’ grinned the old man. ‘Be thankful you didn’t need the spin cycle more than once.’

‘What the hell is going on?!’ Alfie’s father roared, staggering to his feet and wiping his mouth. ‘Get away from my boy. Who in God’s name are you, and where have you brought us?’ He rushed across the cavern at the old man and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, dwarfing him.

The old man looked amused. ‘Sorry, which god are you referring to? They have known many names in my time.’ As he said this he reached up and touched Alfie’s dad’s ear.

Alfie’s father closed his eyes and gently folded downwards into the man’s arms, a soft snore escaping him. The old man caught him as if it were no effort for such a frail looking person and lowered him down to the floor.

Laura Bird watched her husband so easily subdued and let out a little scream, bending down to pick up Polly and holding out a shaking hand to Alfie.

‘Now, now,’ said the old man, ‘I think we may have got off on the wrong foot. Your husband is just having a little nap due to him being bigger than me, and will wake up feeling wonderful. I’m afraid I don’t do much socialising, so my people skills may be a little rusty.’ He showed his hands, palm up. ‘I mean you no harm.’

He turned and began walking towards the archway, his bare feet slapping on the floor. ‘Come, let’s get a cuppa, I’m parched. I’ll explain everything.’

‘Alfie, don’t you dare.’ His mother’s voice was quavering.

‘You’re welcome to stay exactly where you are for as long as you like,’ he threw back over his shoulder, ‘I’ve not studied all the walls in this chamber, but I’m sure there’s something interesting to read, and you can of course suck the moisture from the soil. Your choice.’

The old man disappeared through the archway, leaving them gaping after him.

Polly waved.

Alfie rushed over to where his father lay and shook him, hard.

The old man’s head popped back into view, smiling. ‘Oh, and he’ll be asleep for a good couple of hours, which is why the light will go out in about five minutes. You can all see in the dark, right?’

Tea?

‘Come in, come in, don’t be shy,’ the old man said, waving his arm at them. ‘Tea?’

They had followed him out through the archway after a couple of minutes, not wanting to leave Alfie’s dad behind, but reasoning that as there were no other doors, or any windows, and even between them they couldn’t lift his sleeping form, that it was probably best for Polly’s sake, yes, for Polly’s sake, that they didn’t spend too long in the dark. Alfie didn’t recall a time when Polly had ever been afraid of the dark, but his mum was very insistent. She had hurried out first, Polly in her arms.

Passing through the archway, a corridor curved off to the right, seemingly constructed of the same materials as the chamber they had just left. Two closed doors were set into the wall of the corridor, both a pale, bare wood. From around the bend had come the inviting smells of freshly brewing tea and a brighter, warmer light.

The corridor ended in another, smaller archway, and through it was what looked to Alfie like the sort of kitchen his grandmother had always had. The walls were painted yellow and there was a blue and white chequered linoleum covering the floor. Against one wall stood a large, shelved unit that contained what looked like bread, cheese, various jars and baskets of unknown goodies. A selection of battered pots and pans hung by their handles from a rail attached to another wall, just to the side of an old cooker that must have been older than anything Alfie had ever seen in his own house, or his grandmother’s. A big black kettle was still simmering on top of it. A perfectly ordinary door stood closed on the other side of the room.

In the middle of the room was a great wooden table that looked like it had been carved from a single piece of wood, and at it sat the old man, on one of half a dozen wooden stools.

‘What, you never seen a kitchen before?’ he said, sliding a tray of chipped but clean mugs into the middle of the table, along with an ancient teapot that was gently steaming.

Alfie’s mother looked at him, ‘A kitchen, yes, but usually in a house, not attached to a dungeon.’ Her tone was acid.

‘This is my house, and that is not a dungeon, it is my front hallway.’

‘Your front hallway?’

‘Yes, as in the place just after the way in. It’s not strictly at the front, and I suppose it could also be seen as the place just before the way out, so not the best description, but I always think of it as my front hallway.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You’re excused. No harm done. Take a seat and grab a mug.’

‘No, I don’t think you understand,’ Laura Bird said, putting Polly down and giving him that look. Alfie recognised that look. That was the look that made his father go very quiet and then he and Polly would be asked to go and play upstairs. It didn’t happen very often, but Alfie knew that when that look was deployed words were going to be had. ‘You have abducted us,’ she said, ‘and we have been drugged; my husband twice. You have scared my daughter-’ Polly giggled up at her. ‘-and assaulted my family. I do not know where we are, who you are or how you have done what you have done, but I promise you, you will regret-’

‘Hobnob?’ The old man held up a plate of biscuits. ‘Chocolate ones, my guilty pleasure.’ He took one and put the plate down on the table. ‘Look, Mum; may I call you Mum? Splendid. Great. Look, Mum, none of you have been drugged, you haven’t been abducted, and the little one doesn’t seem particularly terrified.’ Polly was standing at the edge of the table, straining her arm to reach the plate of biscuits, a look of concentration on her face.

‘You are currently where you were an hour ago,’ he said, taking a bite out of his biscuit.

‘Impossible. We were at Stonehenge an hour ago and now we are…’ she trailed off. ‘I don’t know where we are.’

‘You’re at Stonehenge, as you call it.’ The old man looked up towards the ceiling. ‘It’s just that you’re now about 300 feet-’ He glanced down at her. ‘Are you a feet or metres person? You look like a feet person.’ He grinned. ‘You’re about 300 feet below it, as the worm burrows, so to speak.’

‘Below?’

‘The grass did it, Mum,’ said Alfie. ‘Don’t you remember? It was like a roller coaster.’

‘Bingo. Give that boy a biscuit.’ The old man pushed the plate towards Alfie, grabbing a biscuit as he did and sliding it towards Polly with a wink.

Alfie’s mother dropped onto one of the stools, her face ashen and a faraway look in her eye. ‘I thought I’d dreamed that.’

‘No dreams, just reality. Want to know how it’s done?’ He was looking right at Alfie when he said this. The grin was gone and Alfie could have sworn for a moment there was a look of pleading in the man’s eyes.

Alfie nodded.

NaNoWriMo 2014 - Week 4

Hungry for a bit more Alfie? Well, here it is, scene 4. And guess what? Due to the fact that November covers 5 weekends, you get another scene next week, you lucky people!

That day, next Sunday, is the last day of NaNoWriMo, so I'll be able to tell you if I have achieved what I've been striving for, 50,000 words in 30 days. It's been hard work, that's for sure, but I'm currently standing at 38,473 words, so I'm on track.

Alfie's life is getting interesting. Hope you're enjoying it as much as I am...

Week 1 - Alfie sees something
Week 2 - First Aid
Week 3 - Clearing the site

Getting out of the storm

The Bird family hurried between the huge stone pillars of Stonehenge, following the strange old man. He stopped as they reached the middle of the circle, the giant carved rocks towering above them, and they slowed, looking at each other.

‘What’s going on?’ Alfie’s father demanded as the man turned towards them.

‘We’re not getting wet anymore,’ his mother said, almost at the same time. She was stretching the hand out that wasn’t holding Polly and her expression was one of wonder.

‘How could…’ Alfie’s father trailed off.

‘It’s quiet in here, too,’ said Alfie, softly, staring at the old man.

The old man merely nodded, his eyes shining.

Even Polly lifted her head. ‘Ki-et,’ she stated, sniffing and looking at her brother. She started to wriggle and her mother lowered her to the ground, to the dry grass.

Alfie’s father was turning, peering out between the stones, watching the sheets of rain soak the last few people that couldn’t move as quickly as everyone else. He looked up at the sky, at the mountainous clouds filling the horizon, then at the portion of sky directly above the circle where they were standing. 

‘But…’ 

Alfie had never known his father to be so lost for words and he couldn’t help but grin.

‘I told you it was the quickest way to getting dry,’ said the old man. ‘Well, actually, this is just getting you into the dry. Getting you dry is the next bit.’ He placed his hand on one of the slabs lying in the circle and chuckled to himself. ‘Now, this may tickle a bit.’

Alfie felt a movement beneath his feet and looked down. The grass had started to grow.

He glanced up at his mother and she had noticed the same thing, moving her feet for a better look. His father was hopping from foot to foot and Polly was on her knees, both her hands buried in the weaving grass, giggling at the feeling of it twining it’s way around her fingers.

‘Gars funny,’ Polly said, laughing.

Suddenly the grass shot up, faster than Alfie could blink, clinging to all four of them, wrapping itself around them, growing up and over their bodies, under their clothes, seeking out the skin, until they were totally enclosed in a soft, warm cocoon. He heard his mother gasp and his father’s wordless exclamation. Polly was still laughing, the grass tendrils tickling her as they moved.

As soon as the grass reached their necks the whole covering tightened, pulling their arms into their sides and going rigid, preventing any movement. Alfie could feel his pulse racing and let out a whimper.

Alfie could only see his mother, a green statue, unable to move or talk, her eyes wide as the last few stalks covered her head completely.

Just before his eyes became fully covered in green, Alfie saw the old man looking at him, still smiling. The old man winked. ‘Keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times,’ he said, and then all Alfie could see was green. The smell of freshly dug soil came to him then, mixing with the freshness of the grass, and it was a mixture that made him feel strangely calm, in spite of the situation.

The rumbling began deep in the earth, the vibrations travelling up the blades of grass until Alfie could feel his teeth starting to chatter.

The sensation that came next was the weirdest thing that Alfie had ever felt, even after such a strange day. It felt as if he had breathed in one moment and breathed himself out through the top of his own head, before spinning, turning upside down and plummeting back down through his own body and just carrying on down. He was vaguely aware of a rushing sensation, of the damp, cold earth moving all around him, of a darkness the other side of the grass and a terrible weight being held at bay. He was no longer standing on anything and a thought came to him - I’m underground. I’m being swallowed by the ground. Please no, I don’t want to die, I’m not ready.

NaNoWriMo 2014 - Week 3

This week saw me attempt something silly. Remember last week, when I said I'd have to catch up with my word deficit this weekend, due to working last weekend? Yeah, me too. I mean, how hard could it be? It's not like I'd be tired during the week and that word count would slip further, is it. Is it? Oh boy, did it. I woke up yesterday morning in the knowledge that to get back on track I had to complete over 8,000 words over this two days (I managed just over 3,000 on my first weekend).

Did I do it? Hell, yeah. Can I feel my fingers? What fingers?

Alfie is well and truly coming to life for me now, but so is everybody else. The world is getting richer, there are some funny moments and some sad moments. I really hope you are all still with me and wanting to see what the world has in store for Alfie when I've finished this challenge, but regardless, Alfie has a fan in me and I'm itching to see what he's going to do.

Here's the third scene, which follows on from the second scene, last week. And here's the first, in case you missed it. Trust me, this is only the beginning...

Clearing the site

The next few minutes were a blur. Looking back on it afterwards, Alfie realised that what he’d experienced was not what everybody else had experienced, but whichever way you saw it was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

The old man had stood up and to Alfie’s eyes he had seemed to grow. It was almost as if the man had breathed in, but instead of just his chest expanding his entire body had filled up. He got bigger. He got taller. Alfie thought that if his father had stood right next to him at that point they would have been about the same size.

The world slowed again.

The old man closed his eyes and whispered one word ‘Ve-or-do.’ The ground reverberated with the word and it echoed long after it had left his lips.

All the pillars of Stonehenge lit up with the same green light that Alfie had seen before, a fine network of filaments emanating from the centre of each stone, but this time they had a purpose. The spider-webs of light crawled to the top of the stones and started to drip upwards, as if gravity had been reversed and the light was a fluid under it’s control.

The man opened his eyes and looked down at Alfie, a knowing smile on his lips.

Distantly, Alfie could sense his father’s grip tightening on his hand, slowly building to what could eventually become painful, showing him that his father was aware of something happening, on some level. The reaction was so very slow, though, that Alfie knew he was seeing things that would be over in the blink of an eye from his father’s perspective.

Behind the old man the upward flow of the light increased until rivers of it were streaming from each pillar, falling away into the sky. A sudden strong gust of wind whipped the old man’s cap off, his white hair flailing around his head, and continued in and around the stones, bringing the streams of light together into a single torrent.

The warm, cloudless sky went dark and foreboding as it suddenly bubbled with energy. A bolt of lightning crashed from nowhere, the thunder rolling over and under it, and huge ferocious clouds boiled into existence where the green light met the colder air high above the monument, hiding the sun.

‘Who else is here, with you?’ The old man’s words were right next to Alfie’s ear, even though neither of them had moved.

‘My mum and my sister,’ Alfie said, wondering how he was able to move his mouth or talk when everybody else was still moving so slowly, or why he wasn’t more scared of what was going on.

The man’s eyes flicked up and Alfie knew that he was registering his mother and his sister standing close by. The old man knew they were the ones and Alfie was aware of this knowledge, and aware of his own certainty that the old man knew it - it wasn’t guess-work, it was an unquestioning reality that was as obvious to him as his own name.

The old man sighed. ‘Of course.’

Time fell back into it’s regular rhythm and Alfie winced as his father’s hand crushed his.

The spectacular light show winked out and the old man was back to his normal size as the heavens opened and raindrops the size of pebbles suddenly hammered down from the dark clouds, drenching everyone and everything.

Somebody screamed as another lightning strike lit up the area, followed almost immediately by an enormous crash of thunder.

People began running towards the exit, trying to seek shelter.

Alfie’s father pulled him around and took his face in one huge hand, looking into his eyes, oblivious to the weather. ‘Are you ok?’ he said, concern etched on his face. Alfie nodded.

Alfie’s father hauled himself and Alfie up from the grass in one movement, looking round for his wife and daughter. They were being jostled by the people running to find cover and Polly was whimpering into her mother’s neck.

‘Laura,’ said Alfie’s father, holding out his hand to her, ‘let’s go.’

‘Yes, let’s get you somewhere dry,’ said the old man, moving up behind them. His hair was plastered to his head and the water was running into his eyes.

Alfie’s mother frowned at him, her eyes signalling her distrust. ‘Well, I don’t think-’ she began, when a huge bang exploded around them and the world lit up once again. ‘Or actually, that’s a brilliant idea. After you,’ she finished, pulling Polly tighter to her.

‘Right, follow me,’ he said, spinning on his heel and lifting the rope, gesturing to them to move under it.

‘What? You’re mad,’ said Alfie’s dad, ‘we need to get out of the rain, away from the storm.’

‘I assure you, this is the quickest way to getting dry,’ said the man. ‘I’ve been here a while and I know all the shortcuts.’

Alfie could see his father hesitating, unsure, when his mother nudged him in the back. ‘Just go, Nicholas.’

Grabbing Alfie’s hand, Nicholas Bird ducked under the rope and took it from the old man to allow his wife underneath while the man led the way.

Wiping the rain from his face, feeling it seeping into his trainers and even through his jeans as they followed, Alfie looked around at the last stragglers as the skies emptied onto them. Not a single one of them appeared to have noticed that there were a bunch of people heading into the monument, between the stones, they were all too concerned with their own wetness. This is a very strange day, he thought. 

Little did he know, the strangeness was only just beginning.

NaNoWriMo 2014 - Week 2

     It's been a tough slog this week. Writing on the train while commuting and every evening after work is exhausting, especially as I've been trying to keep my word count up to a constant level of approx. 1,700 words per day. Even so, I was doing well until this weekend, when I've been at work, with some extremely early starts. I am now dog-tired and falling behind, but my intention is to try to keep to 1,700 words per day during the week and attack my deficit next weekend. I can't be too upset as I do already have over 11,000 words, which is a nice chunk.

     Alfie is doing ok. The story is coming along nicely, the world seems to be building itself and I've met a couple of fascinating characters (they may only exist in my head, but they're the ones living the story so I have little control). Only really-wife and my 10-year old niece have read the story so far and both are fans (no bias, I promise). Here is the next scene for you to digest, following on directly from last week's post. It's not very long, but hopefully it'll keep you wanting more. And there is more...

First Aid

‘Alfie! Alfie, wake up! Are you ok?’

Alfie opened his eyes and found himself lying on the grass, his face pressed into the ground. He rolled over and looked up.

His father was kneeling over him, worry etched on his face. His mother was standing behind him, face distraught, holding a crying Polly tightly to her. There were a crowd of people standing around, too, some of whom were genuinely wanting to help and others who just wanted to see what was going on.

‘Alfie, say something. What happened? Did you fall?’ his father asked anxiously. He started to check Alfie for head injuries, broken bones and signs of bleeding.

‘I’m fine, Dad,’ Alfie said, propping himself up on his elbows and trying to smile at his mother. ‘Honestly, I don’t know what happened, but I feel fine.’

‘Did you fall over? Did someone hit you?’ Alfie’s father glared at a group of older boys that had wandered over to see what the fuss was all about.

‘No, Dad,’ said Alfie. ‘Everything went slow when I saw the lights and-’

An old man in a bright fluorescent yellow jacket and a cap suddenly plonked himself next to Alfie and his father, a green first aid bag in his blue-gloved hands.

‘Lights? You were seeing lights?’ the man asked, nodding at his father. ‘Qualified first aider, mind if I…?’ he gestured with his head towards Alfie.

‘Great, thanks,’ said Alfie’s dad, moving back slightly but taking Alfie’s hand.

‘So, you were saying you saw lights.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yeah, green ones, coming fro-‘

‘Any history of epilepsy?’ the man asked, prising open one of Alfie’s eyelids and taking a good look. ‘Schizophrenia? Madness?’ He took a look in the other eye.

‘No, nothing like that.’

The man pulled down Alfie’s chin and peered inside. ‘And things got a bit slow?’ He leaned forward and sniffed at Alfie’s mouth, then put his ear to it.

Alfie’s father frowned slightly. ‘’Scuse me, what first aid are you qualified in?’

The man ignored him. ‘What about the grass? Did the grass feel different?’ He looked straight into Alfie’s eyes and at that moment Alfie saw the white hair stuffed under the cap and the fact that the man wasn’t wearing anything on his feet, and knew that this was the man that he’d seen across the circle.

Alfie scuttled backwards, towards his father.

‘What do you mean, did the grass feel different? What kind of a first aid question is that?’ Alfie’s dad grabbed the man by the jacket. ‘Who are you?’

The man just looked at Alfie. ‘The grass?’

Alfie nodded.

‘Thought so.’ The old man stood up, brushing off the hand on his jacket. He pulled the cap more firmly onto his head and shrugged the jacket to the floor. ‘Guess we’d better get started, then.’

NaNoWriMo 2014 - Week 1

It has begun. Two days in and so far I have exceeded my required word count on each day (I'm currently at 3,812 words). I am very aware, however, that I haven't been at work for the past two days, so it's the coming week that will show me what I'm made of. 

The hardest part is usually getting started and I did struggle initially, but I think I've found the tone now. Let's see how we get on!

The excerpt below is currently intended to be either Chapter One or part of it. No working title yet, but I'll think of something eventually. Hope you like it...

Alfie sees something

‘Alfie Bird, you get back over here this instant!’

Alfie Bird jumped and looked round guiltily. It was a look he’d perfected through many years of practice and at 12 years old it was his go-to look. He wasn’t yet sure what he was supposed to have done wrong, but when his mother used his surname it usually meant she was pretty cross. Not as cross as she could be, or she’d have used his full name, including the dreaded middle name. When she used the middle name he knew he was in for it and no reasoning or pleading that he hadn’t even been there would help. He always found it best when being told off to start from a position of denying everything and work from there, but when the middle name was used he’d learnt to hold his tongue for fear of making things worse. Adults could be so irrational.

His mother was glaring at him from the other side of the ropes while trying to hold on to his little sister, Polly. His mother was a slender woman, with short, dark hair, a tiny nose and a tendency to wear lots of layers because she was always cold. Polly, by contrast, had a mop of wild, blonde hair, a runny nose and as usual was wearing her favourite scarf, regardless of the warm weather. She was a late starter, learning to walk at almost two years and was constantly running off into places she shouldn’t be. She was straining at her mother’s hand and trying to run under the rope towards him.

Trying to run under the rope towards him.

Alfie looked around, bewildered. How had he got here? He was standing well inside the roped off section, somewhere he shouldn’t be, and he had no memory of crossing the rope at all. No wonder his mother was angry at him.

He ran across the grass towards her and ducked under the rope.

‘Sorry, M-’

‘What on earth do you think you were doing?’ she said, pulling him close, her voice low.

‘Doin’?’ Polly echoed, grabbing his trouser leg and grinning up at him.

‘It’s a good thing nobody else saw you or we’d probably be asked to leave,’ his mother said. ‘This is a national monument-‘

‘World Heritage Site,’ he said, then wished he hadn’t. 

‘-and it’s roped off for a reason,’ her voice was getting lower. ‘We came all this way because you insisted you wanted to see Stonehenge, so don’t make me take you home.’

‘But I didn’t-’

‘Don’t try to pretend you didn’t know it was off-limits.’

Alfie honestly couldn’t remember stepping past the ropes, it was something he was still confused about, but he looked up at her with what he thought of as his best puppy-dog eyes. ‘Sorry, Mum. I shouldn’t have done it. I promise I’ll be good.’

She looked at him, holding his gaze.

‘Good,’ Polly said, slapping his leg.

They both looked down at her, her brow creased in mock fury, her lips pursed. Alfie felt his lips twitch involuntarily and heard his mother’s soft snort before they both burst out laughing. He could almost feel the tension draining from her body and started to relax himself.

‘Oh, what’s so funny?’

Polly launched herself at their father, who’d just wandered up behind them, an easy grin on his face. He caught her under the arms and swung her up in the air, to delighted squeals.

Alfie’s mother gave him a peck on the cheek as he threw Polly over one shoulder and ruffled Alfie’s brown hair in exactly the way he didn’t like.

‘Dad!’ Alfie complained, pushing his hands through his hair and trying to get it right just by feel.

‘Polly has just been telling her brother off for going somewhere he shouldn’t,’ said his mother, waving an arm in the direction of the giant standing stones.

His father saw where she was pointing and then looked at Alfie, eyebrows raised. ‘Cool, must look awesome from over there. Could you-’ he recoiled as his wife prodded him, hard. ‘I mean, you should know better, young man.’ He smiled and winked at Alfie.

Alfie grinned.

‘Nicholas.’ Alfie’s mother looked exasperated.

Alfie’s father grimaced. He recognised the name usage, too, and wasn’t any more immune to it than Alfie, in spite of being well over 6 feet tall and very well-built. His middle was starting to soften now, but he had played rugby at weekends until Polly had come along. He had always towered over his wife but he knew when he was being told off and knew not to argue.

‘In’clas,’ came Polly’s voice from over her father’s shoulder. He pulled her back until she was sitting on his hip, a stern look on her face. ‘In’clas,’ she said again, waving a tiny finger at him. They all laughed.

‘I consider myself suitably chastened, dear Polly. Am I forgiven?’ he said.

Polly reached around his neck and gave him the tightest hug she could manage.

‘Thank you, sweetheart,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek before lowering her to the ground. ‘Shall we keep going?’ He took her hand and they started wandering further along the path around the ancient stones.

Alfie’s mother started to follow, glancing back over her shoulder.

‘Alfie?’

Alfie realised he’d fallen into a bit of a daze again, staring at the centre of the stone circle. His hand was on the cordon rope, almost as if he were about to lift it and duck under again. What was the matter with him?

‘Coming,’ he said, and stepped towards his mother.

At that moment, a flash of green light caught his eye. It had come from behind one of the stones on the far side of the circle, he was sure of it. Nobody else seemed to be looking that way, but he couldn’t believe that he’d been the only one to see it.

Alfie wanted to ask his mother if she’d seen it but she was already walking away, so obviously not.

There were people on that side of the circle but they were all acting normally, milling around, posing for photographs. Maybe it had been a camera flash?

The flash came again, this time from behind a different stone. No, not behind, within. He’d been looking straight at it this time. That was no camera flash. Maybe it was part of some new effect or exhibit, something he hadn’t read about.

Alfie shook his head, eyes closed. He’d read everything there was to read about Stonehenge; it had fascinated him from an early age, he’d no idea why. If there was a new exhibit he would know about it. His walls had posters of superheroes and Stonehenge, his two obsessions. He’d watched all the Time Team programmes about the site, even owned them on DVD, something which never ceased to amaze his parents, and there had never been anything about green flashing lights.

He looked up at the nearest stone, a huge, grey monolith, and the world suddenly seemed to go into slow motion. He was aware of people all around him, but at the same time they were distant shadows. Alfie could feel his mother moving away from him, actually feel it, but it was as if she was swimming slowly through the air. A dim part of his mind registered the feel of his father and his sister, further away, warm and familiar.

A calmness came over him, a certainty that this was all perfectly normal, this was meant to be.

A green glow began in the middle of the giant stone, not on the surface, in the middle of it, filaments of light growing from that central point and tracing their way to the edges of the block like bursts of lightning, illuminating everything around with a cool green aura. The grass under his feet seemed to grow, brimming with life, a scent of freshness and promise, and even the air suddenly felt somehow cleaner.

Alfie realised two things at the same time; what he was seeing as a spectacular network of light on the stone block was actually the same flash that he’d seen previously, only very much slowed down (or he was very much speeded up), and he was the only person seeing anything at all. Everybody else was just getting on with the business of visiting an interesting place, but none of them could see what was happening. What was going on?

A figure moved, off to one side, and Alfie stared. His mind was working really fast but his body didn’t seem to be able to respond any faster than anyone else’s, moving as if through treacle, so how was it that the man he could see appeared to be walking normally? He was walking purposefully away from the circle as if he had somewhere very important to be - was he just a figment of Alfie’s speeding imagination, trying to make sense of it all, or was he, as he appeared to be, moving incredibly quickly?

The man stopped, his back visibly stiffening. Alfie couldn’t look away as the man’s head turned, searching. He looked old, with a lined face and a shock of white hair stuffed under a green flat cap, but his bearing was that of a much younger man and he seemed to be wearing a pair of very trendy white trainers. 

The man saw him and went very still, his eyes widening as their gazes locked. His lips moved. From that distance Alfie shouldn’t have been able to hear him, except if he’d shouted, but the low whisper reached his ears as if they’d been standing next to each other in a quiet room.

‘You’re here.’

Everything went black.