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.