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.