Post Info TOPIC: The Boy from Space II - Chapter 1
The Storyteller

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The Boy from Space II - Chapter 1
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Chapter 1 - The writing in the mirror


Never a day went by when Dan wouldn’t think about it at least the once. He would find himself forgetting what he was doing, staring ahead blankly, an idle, gormless expression spreading across his face. As he dreamt, the same thoughts would come flooding in, going round and round in his mind, always more concise and vivid than the last, almost as if time was simply strengthening their power and intensity. 


There they were. The mysterious boy, the painfully pale man. the old sandpit, the magic compass, the spaceship, everything. But he never talked about it. In fact, Dan hadn't talked about what had happened on that summer’s day in 1973 for nearly twenty-five years. Who was there to talk about it? Who would believe such a bizarre story? He’d be locked up if he started telling people that he’d once been held captive on a space ship or that he had once spent time with a bizarre family from outer space.


Only Helen knew the truth and she had long disappeared. Where? If only Dan knew the answer. That was something else that bothered him; Dan’s daydreams about the boy from space and what had happened on that day always hit their peak with the image of his missing sister. For all he knew, Helen might now be in the exact same place that Peep Peep and his father had returned to. A mysterious, distant World far from here. A World where spaceships and magical compasses were a part of everyday life.


Usually the click of fingers or a call for him to "wake up!" or suchlike would draw Dan out of his fantasy World. He would always mumble an apology and silently promise himself to try forget about the day the boy from space had stumbled towards him and his sister back at that old sandpit in Wokingham.


Dan was no longer the 11 year old boy he was on the day he and Helen had been at the sandpit. Today, he was a primary school teacher who had a class of 7 and 8 year old children to work with every morning and afternoon. Part of any good teacher’s job is to ensure that his or her pupils have a good understanding of what was make believe and what wasn’t. Peep Peep and the spaceship and the compass and the rest of it were all make believe. Dan’s life today, that of a 44-year-old schoolteacher was what was reality. His wife, Rosa, and their two children, Carly and Sara, were reality. His home on the outskirts of Liverpool was reality and his car and his job and his life in the North were reality, hundreds of miles from the old sandpit and the place where the mysterious boy from space had come from and possibly a billion miles away from wherever he was today. The sooner Dan got used to it, the sooner the memories of the boy from space would die.


Or so he hoped. As he drove home that evening with another hectic school day behind him, he realised that Peep Peep might never leave his thoughts until the whereabouts of Helen was discovered. His beloved sister had been missing for nearly sixteen years now and Dan didn’t believe she was dead any more on this day in 2004 than he did on the tragic evening that she had been reported as officially missing. It was the day after the pair had returned to the old observatory as teenagers and had together relived some of those magical childhood memories. He had only been with her for a few hours when….


….Dan found himself breaking sharply to avoid hitting an oncoming Mondeo. An angry driver beeped loudly and Dan promised himself that he had to try and pay more attention. His mind was slipping away more and more these days. He finally reached home and poured himself a large glass of whiskey when he got there. He gulped the lot back before making his way through to the kitchen and greeting his wife.


“Did you have a good day?” she asked.


“Not bad. Loads of marking to do. You?”


“Loads of ironing to do.”


This was the usual kind of banter Dan had to look forward to when he got home from work. They ate supper – fish fingers, beans and chips – and then Dan did a little marking before throwing himself in front of the TV for an hour. Carly and Sara were rehearsing for a play they were in, and, just before eight O’clock, Rosa went to collect them from the local amateur dramatics club. Dan always looked forward to seeing his daughter’s when he got home from work. Carly was seven and the youngest. Sara was thirteen months older, and, unlike a lot of sister’s, the two got on like a house on fire. They did everything together. Just like Dan and Helen had.


When Rosa returned with the kids sometime around half eight, Dan spent a little time playing with them before Rosa packed them off upstairs to bed. Dan spent the remainder of the evening watching TV whilst Rosa did the ironing in the corner. Every evening seemed to be getting like this these days.


That night, as Dan and Rosa slept soundly, Dan was awoken by a loud thud. He sat bolt upright and listened intently. As he peered round the room, waiting, listening, he heard what sounded like the sound of weeping coming from nearby. A girl weeping. But no more thuds. As Dan’s head rested back on the pillow and he turned to face his sleeping wife, the sounds of the crying seemed to get louder and closer.


Finally, Dan climbed out of bed and tip-toed out the bedroom and onto the landing. The crying seemed to be coming from Carly’s room. Walking across the landing, Dan opened the door softly and poked his head into his youngest daughter's bedroom. Carly was sat upright in bed, her small body shaking from head-to-toe, her face staring straight ahead at the opposite wall. Tears were streaming down both cheeks and her pink pyjama top was damp with perspiration. Dan flicked on the light and rushed towards her but she didn’t seem to notice anything. Instead, she merely stared straight ahead.


“What is it?” whispered Dan as he threw an arm round his daughter and pulled her towards him. “What is it sweetheart? A nightmare? Did you have a nightmare?"


Dan could hear Rosa stirring in the other room. Carla’s expression stayed firmly on the wall in front. “You’re burning up,” Dan gasped. “Princess, what’s wrong? What are you looking at?”


Finally, Carly’s head turned and she looked at her father. “He’s with us daddy,” she whispered softly, “He says….he….he says he needs me.”


“Who needs you sweetheart? Who needs you?”


Carly began to get up from the bed, her small frame climbing off the edge, her feet touching the carpet beneath With this, she added:- “He knows daddy. He knows.”


“Who knows Princess? Who are you talking about?”


Rosa came into the bedroom and a look of panic fell across her face as she watched her terrified-looking daughter standing upright in her soaking bedclothes staring straight ahead, apparently not noticing that her mother was now with her. The child simply walked slowly, zombie-like towards the bedroom door, her small arms now stretched out in front


“Let her past,” Dan hissed, “Let her passed.”


Dan and Rosa followed their daughter along the landing as she did a left and stepped into the bathroom. They watched as the seven-year-old flicked on the lightswitch and made her way to the basin. With seemingly little effort, she turned on a tap and stared ahead at her reflection in the mirror as warm water gushed out and ran into the sink. Watching from the doorway, Rosa leaned forward to try and pull her daughter away but Dan stopped her. The warm water began to turn to hot, and, as it flooded out, the condensation began to cause the bathroom mirror to steam up. The steam grew thicker and thicker until little Carly’s reflection had all but disappeared.


Finally, Carly stopped the water by turning the switch and brought a tiny finger to the mirror. Without hesitation, she began to write. The first letter was an 'n' which the seven year old wrote in a large Capital. Then an 'e.' Then an 'l.' Finally, she completed her word. The mirror read 'N E L E H' but Dan hadn't needed to see the final letter being applied. What his daughter was writing was already too obvious.


Finally, Carly turned to her mother and father and held out both hands.


“He’s here,” she whispered before collapsing, exhausted, into a tiny heap in the centre of the bathroom.



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Samuel

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BillyH

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:O


HOLY...WOW. That was AMAZING. I can't wait for part 2!


Just an extreme nitpick though- it should say 1971 rather than 1973. Other than that, superb stuff!



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