The Sixth Door - Part Two I awake back in the white room. The small window has now become a huge two way mirror. It felt like an interrogation room you would find in an American cop show. And indeed there is a table and two chairs now situated in the middle of the room. And who was sat tied to one of these chairs, but the grey skinned boy. I stare at him for a moment, his eyes flashing at me. Silence engulfs the space between us. We are there minutes just looking at each other before one of us makes a move, and it is he who does that. Just a small, quiet chuckle, but it is enough to make me flip out. I run up to the table and slam my hands down. “What?” I scream. “What is it – why were you chasing me in the forest. What is it that is so funny?” “you.” he whispers through gritted teeth. “Me? – what about me.” “Just how sad and pathetic you are. You have no clue, no clue at all. It amazes me – it really does. Why he thinks so highly of you?” “Who thinks so highly of me – the boy of gold? Who?” at this the boy in the chair bursts out in a huge guffaw of laughter. “That Boy? Ha! That boy is nothing. He’ll be dead before long.” “Why, what are you going to do to him?” The boy wriggles in his seat, trying to break the chains that bind him to the chair. “you stupid fool! I’m tied to this chair! How the hell can I do anything to him. No, no, it’s you – you that’s going to kill him.” “Me? Why would I kill him? He’s the only person to help me in here. Wherever here is.” “Ah, but your killing him right now.” “How – how am I doing that?” I shout. The boy chuckles once more. “Thats for me to know, and you to find out!” I feel anger once more welling up inside of me, and before I have time to think my hand whips out and strikes the boy on the face. I must have hit him extremely hard, as yellow blood trickles from a cut that it’d inflicted in his right cheek. “And so it begins…” the boy whispers. “What do you mean?” “So many questions, and yet if you just turned around you’d get all the answers!!” “What the are you talking about?” “Go on, turn around.” he pauses for a few seconds, then looks me directly in the eye and says “I dare ya!” I stare at him for a few more seconds, but then I stand up straight, and swivel my body around so I am facing the two way mirror. I am taken aback so much that initially I cannot move, but I hear the boy guffawing behind me so I step forward. Surely this must be some kind of trick. I move forward ever so slightly again, and it suddenly dawns on me. For as expected there were two faces looking back at us from that mirror, mine and the boys. But what had taken me aback, and what my brain was trying to compute was that both faces had identical features, but not only that, in the exact same place the boy had a cut on his face – the cut I had inflicted. I had one too. I spin around. “What the Hell is going on?” I shout him, he just ups his laughter. “Hell?” he shouts “Hell? That’s what you think this is? Hell? Ma you’re so…” he pauses a moment, as if trying to think of something. “You know what, you’re so stupid, they never invented a word to describe you!!!” I walk slowly back to the table, and get as close to this – thing as possible. And Whisper “You tell me right now what is going on and who you, or otherwise….” “Otherwise you’ll kill me right?” the boy says “you still don’t get it do you? I’m you – at least part of you anyway. If you kill me, you’ll die too!” “What do you mean you’re part of me?” “You created me, I’m every negative thought you’ve had about yourself. When you’ve blamed yourself for something, felt guilty over something else. I’m every time you put yourself down, thought you weren’t good enough. When you didn’t measure up to comparisons to others. I’m all that and more.” “I don’t get it!” “And you never will.” “Who made you?” “You did? “What do you mean I did?” “You created all of this, everything you’ve experienced since you woke up in this room was created by you.” “Now I know your lying. Why would I create something like this? Why would I put myself through such things.” “I don’t know – because you’re an idiot?” I slumped to the floor, cradled my head in my hands and started rocking backwards and forwards. Then I start to think, what if this boy’s right, what is I am creating all of this? But, wait that doesn’t make any difference does it? I slowly look up at him once more. He is sat their laughing quietly to himself. I think about the cut I inflicted on him. I move a hand up to the same place on my head. I feel something warm and wet beneath my fingers. I dawns on me. I inflicted a cut on myself, by punching the boy. What if it works the other way around? At this moment the boys smile starts to fade – as if he knows what I am thinking. Which I think to my self is quite possible. What I need to do, is do something to myself to destroy this creature. But there is nothing in the room that can do such a thing. Then I come back to thinking – I created this – this universe. If that is the case, can I still create things now. But the question now is how do I do it? The only thing I can think of is thought. The boy said he was created out of all my negative thoughts. So I think about a cup of water and twenty-two little pills on the table. When I turn around, they are there. I rush to the table, and swoop the pills into my mouth. I look the boy straight in the eyes when I reach for the cup of water. As I tilt it towards my mouth, I see something new in his eyes. Fear. I swig from the cup, the boy starts to shake, but as he starts to do so I start to feel faint, and fall to the found. The boy starts shaking more and more. And just as I pass out, the boy explodes. I awake lying on the floor. To start with I think I’m back at the beginning. But the room is the same as before. The only difference is that the boy is now gone. I slowly get to my feet and dust myself down. I stretch. I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious on the floor, but my body aches all over. I stare at the room for a while. Im expecting something to be different, but it all seems the same. Out of the corner of my ear I hear a small hiss. At first I think I must be imagining it, but I then hear it again, and again, and then a third time. Then all of a sudden it becomes constant. I spin around in to face the direction of the hiss. I don’t see anything for a while, but then I realise the shadows are wriggling. Not only that they are starting to creep my way. The way the shadows are hissing reminds me of the way the boy laughed at me, hours before. My eyes start adjusting to the darkness of the shadows, and I realise that the shadows are not shadows, but millions upon millions of tiny creatures, all with their eyes firmly set upon myself. Each one is is about the size of a hamster, grey fur lining it’s entire body, hiding the legs, so giving the impression they are gliding across the floor. The only part of them that is not covered in fur is their faces. Each Identical, Each the same as the boys. Each the same as mine. All of a sudden they are on me, claws and fangs digging into my flesh, draining me of everything I have. I try and scream, but they have already consumed the air in my lungs. But then I realise I am clutching something in my right hand. I have no idea how it got there, or what it is, and I cannot look as two of the creatures are gorging at my eyes. I drag my arm up, and somehow manage to find the strength to swipe it across the air around him. I feel a warm sickly pain in my left arm, and then a cool breeze on that area. I must have knocked a couple of the creatures off, I think. I repeat this action some more times. I don’t get the warm pain again, but I start feeling more creatures falling off. Finally the ones on my eyes fall down, and I see millions of these creatures’ corpses lying around me, some cut in half, others just wounded by what turns out to be a knife in my hand. I look down briefly to the sickly pain in my left arm and discover I cut myself in the process of killing these creatures, blood seep from it’s wound. At least I’m still alive I think – that’s one thing. I star again knifing the creatures, and one by one they fall off dead. Soon I am able to breathe again, and it tastes like sweet wine to my body. Soon there is only one creature left. This one is bigger than the rest of them, more the size of a Guinea-pig. I rip it off my chest with my left hand, still clutching the knife in my right. I throw the thing across the room, it hits the two way mirror with a thud and slides to the floor. It lays there stunned for a few seconds, but then slowly shakes itself awake. It turns around and faces me dead on. As it does so all kinds of voiced start to speak to me. Some of them my own. All telling me how useless I am, telling me I’ll never be able to defeat this creature, never be able to leave this room. But then it dawns on me, these voices, my voice, they are all this creature. It is making me hear these thing, think these things. I scream at the top of my voice, drowning the voices, and leap at the creature, knife in hand and plunge the the knife straight into it’s heart. It yelps, squeals and screams, but then falls silent, dead. Blood squirting everywhere. Suddenly a door appears by the two way mirror. I get to my feet, dropping the knife, and walk to the door, at first I think it’s locked, but I then hear the lock inside click , and it swings open to reveal a corridor on the other side. I walk through. The Fifth Door The corridor has wood paneling lining each wall, with no windows, yet like the room I just left was immaculately lit. The carpet is slightly warn, about a hundred feet in front of me there is a desk with a computer, telephone and lamp on it. There is a person sat behind the desk, but before I could make out any features my vision started going blurry, and I found myself slipping to the floor and defending into unconsciousness, before I passed out I could just see a pair of womens legs running towards me. I awoke lying on a leather sofa, I had a wet towel on my head, I went to sit up, but a voice from a kittle way off said; “Easy there, your not strong enough yet, here let me help you.” I then felt a pair of arms embrace me, and help me sit up. I then looked into the eyes of the woman that had helped me up, she smiled at me, “hey, there. You look like you’ve been through the wars!!” “you could say that.” I joke. My eyes start to focus, and I realize I know this woman, but my memory fails me, as I cannot place her. She walks over to desk – the desk that I saw as I entered the corridor – picks up a bottle and some cotton-wool and returns. “you’ve certainly got some nasty wounds, I treated as many as I could while you were asleep. I see blood seeping through your top. Remove it for me.” I lift my top over my head, revealing a number of cuts and other marks all over my torso. The woman momentarily looks horrified at the site, but is soon back to normal. She reaches for the bottle, and pours some it’s contents onto a ball of cotton-wool. She then dabs it onto the wound. The sting such an action produces is so intense I believe I’m going to pass out again. However this does not occur, and I bear all the stings as she dabs them down. After she dabs them she covers them with padding, leaving me looking like a game of noughts and crosses, except without the noughts. All but one wound is covered up. she is about to dab that one down, but when she gets close to it, she recoils from it. A quite hiss emanating from her throat. She staggers back, looking at me with horror and disgust. I stand up, and walk over to where she now is. She is curled in a ball on the floor. “Get Away From Me!” she shouts as I get near, I crouch down, so I am the same level as het. “What’s wrong?!” “I said get away from me!!” she yelled again. I am about to reach out a hand to comfort her, when another voice behind me says; “I’d do what she says mate.” I turn my head to see the golden boy standing in the opposite corner, leaning against one of the walls, arms folded. “What are you doing here.” “Where were you when I needed you?” “I told you, in my note, I couldn’t help you anymore. He wanted – no, scrap that, needed you to do the rest along. He was disappointed in me for helping you anyway.” “Who the hell is he? That other – thing – talked about a him too.” “By ‘thing’ you mean your dark-self.” he said, walking over the the woman, he indicated for me to step away, which I duly did. “Hey now,” he whispered to her “it’s okay, he won’t hurt you – he’s just passing through.” he gave her a hand up, and she took it. He whispers something to her which I cannot hear, and she disappears through a door I hadn’t realized existed. When she was gone the boy turned to face me. “You don’t recognize her do you?” “Well – kind of, but I’m struggling placing her.” “Understandable, she’s aged faster than you, everyone progresses at a faster rate.” I tried picturing her younger, and as the realisation dawned on me I started to feel nauseous. It was the girl from the wood, the one who tried catching me as I fell, the one who I had last seen being pulled away by the others, turning grey as they did. “What happened to her.” “she’s ok now, that’s all that matters. He’ll explain more later.” “Why did she recoil like that?” “she didn’t recognize you at first you see, but as soon as she recognized you she was reminded of what had happened, to her events are slightly different. The same but different. Seeing that wound reminded her.” I looked at the wound in question in question. Only now did I realize which wound it was. It was the cut I had inflicted on myself when fighting off those creatures. I looked up and at first I thought the boy had gone, but then he spoke. “Oi!” he yelled from behind me, I spun around and saw him standing by the leather sofa I awoke on. He had my top in his hand, which he duly threw to me. “Get this on, He’s waiting for us.” “You haven’t told me who he is.” “Nor will I, to be honest, I’m surprised you don’t know yet. I put my top back on and he told me to follow him. We walked down the corridor. Towards the door I came through. When we reached it the boy placed his hand on the door knob. “Why we going back in there?” I asked. “Back where?” “Into – whatever that room is.” “Look again.” he said. I examined the door to see what he was meaning. I didn’t see at first, but soon I noticed a plaque head height on the door. On it wad inscribed “The Sixth Door!” “The Sixth Door – what does that mean?” “You’ll see!!” he said, turning the knob as he does “Oh, this is going to be great!!” The Sixth Door The boys silhouette blocks my view of the room to start with, but he soon moves out of the way and reveals a huge old fashioned study, a gigantic wooden desk is situated bang centre of the room, two broad lamps adorn either end of the desk. Behind the desk is sat a elderly gentlemen who looks like he’s right out of a Narnia novel. The walls were lined with rows upon rows of books. Much like the corridor and the first room, this room was lit, but had no obvious source of that light. As we closed in on the man I noticed he was reading a book. As we approached he took notice of our presence, shutting the book he got up, and removed his glasses “Ah, then, right on time.” he said, walking around the desk and shaking my hand. “it’s nice to meet you St last, we’ll meet you properly of course.” “How do you mean?” I asked. “Have we met before.” “I was with you in the art gallery, and again in the banquet hall.” It suddenly dawned on me that he wad that security guard that wad then with the boy at the table. I was about to say something then I realized he hadn’t finished talking. “of course I was there with you all the time, but those were the two times you felt my presence more strongly than others. When people feel me more strongly in this place, I appear to them more solidly than other times. Just the way it was designed.” “What is this place, and who exactly are you both?” I asked, remembering the boy wad still in the room with us, he had moved so he was situated behind the desk. Standing so facing me, the man was perched on the front of the desk. “Well I cannot really answer the second question, for you see I am different to everybody. That is not to say exactly that you have to search for me using different methods, I am easily found. However one person will perceive me differently to another. As for what this place is, let me explain it this way. It’s kind of like a training camp, getting you ready for the job I have for you.” “and what if I don’t want this job?” “My boy, you have little choice in the matter.” “How do you mean?” ” I created you, and I created you for a very specific purpose.” “I cannot say, – that is to say, I know what your purpose is, but you have to find it on your own, because without that journey of discovery – well, let’s say your heart won’t be in it, the most passionate people are those who have been through a journey to find that passion.” “OK then, ” I said getting more and more confused. ” so how can I be in training if I don’t know what I’m in training for. “Ah, there’s the thing, I said it was LIKE a training camp, not that it was actually one.- you see my boy, I created you, yes. But I cannot always control what happens out there in the real world, and somethings happen that make your road to your destiny that little bit harder. I can usually use those events to help my goal, but sooner or later most people have to come in here, do a little spring cleaning as it were.” “So everybody has gone through, or will go through what I’ve been through?” “not exactly, this placed is designed so that is tailored to the individual, some people experience the same things, only a different way, but that’s only when their lives outside here are linked.” “like the girl in the hall.” the boy pointed out. ” exactly.” the man says. “some rush through here quickly, others spend almost a #lifetime in here. You yourself have spent eight years in here.” “Eight years? Surely it’s been just s matter of days!” I exclaim, but the man shakes his head “Time,, my boy, is a matter of perspective. Some come and think they’ve been in here years, but have only been in here days, but others, such as yourself it seems, have been in here years, and think it’s days.” We all stood there in silence for sometime, “If it was a training camp, as you say, moulding me. Why was it so hard?” “you see lad, the deeper the damage the harder the recovery. What happened to you was horrific, and so your recovery was horrific. That was demonstrated by your creation back there.” “The Grey Boy?” I ask “The very one, he was created from your psyche, in fact, so is he.” he said indicating the golden boy behind him. ” you remember the pictures in the art gallery?” “yes.” I say “you then must remember that the pictures were pretty much identical. That’s because they were both pictures of your #life. Or at least the way you picture your #life, one, the one from which that creature escaped, is the picture of your past, where as the other one is your future. You, like many others, though desperate to escape it, and are more attracted to your future, struggle to escape the fascination with the past, but as you experienced, that can be a very dangerous scenario. Though he wasn’t supposed to, it wad lucky your future self came to the rescue.” “My future self?” I enquired “Hi” the golden boy said, waving to me. “hey, but you look nothing like me. Yes, the boy back in that room did, but not you.” “perceptions my boy, perceptions.” the man said. The golden boy walks around the table towards me “What he’s trying to say is this. Myself and that other boy don’t particularly look alike, but we are both part of you, indeed what you look like in here changes, and has no reflection of what you look like in other places.” he walks over to the desk, opens a draw and retrieves a handheld mirror from within, he then brings it back to me. “Take a look for yourself.” he says handing me the mirror. I move the mirror so it is in line with my face. I’m shocked to see that they are indeed right, it is not the person I saw in the two way mirror looking back at me, but a version of the boy that just handed the mirror. “What does this mean?” I ask the room. “it means.” the old man says “that you are nearly ready for your destiny.” “nearly ready?” I ask “Ah, but no ones ever completely ready, what would be the fun in that?” they both laugh to themselves. “Ok then, what do I have to do next then?” “next, you have to walk back through that door.” he indicates the door through which we had entered moments before. “I don’t get it, isn’t that just going back to where I’ve just been?” ” That’s it though, my boy, I’m not exactly going to ask you to go somewhere entirely different am I? I placed you where and when you were for a reason. You have work to do there.” I still couldn’t quite get my head around all of this, but I knew that these two were not going to reveal the answer to me, so I started making my way towards the door. I had my hand on the door knob when the man told me to stop. When I turned around, he smiled at me “What is it?” I asked him “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he replied with a question. I looked down at myself and then looked around, and couldn’t see anything that I had forgotten, but when I looked back at the man, the boy was standing in front of me. “He means me.” the boy said. “oh, are you coming with me too?” I enquired “Something like that, but not really.” “That doesn’t really make sense.” “Now, be honest.” the boy said, “has any of this made sense – yet?” “umm, no I guess not.” “What your future self was trying to say” the old man said. “is that he isn’t exactly coming with you, but coming in you.” “huh?” ” just stand where you are, you’ll see.” I stood there as instructed and the boy started walking towards me, real slowly. As he did so he started to turn around, so by the time he was inches away from me his back was turned. He started walking backwards, which was of course by this time, still walking towards me. I thought for a second that he was about to walk into me, and in someways that description was right, for as he got into my person space, those parts of him that should have just pressed down on me just disappeared through me, it was then that I realized what he wad doing. He was becoming part of me. As he got nearer and nearer doing this I felt the same warmth and electricity that I felt when I grabbed his arm in the art gallery. This grew stronger and stronger as he became moe of a part of me. Soon it consumed my body, I was ready and rearing to go, I had no idea what awaited me, but to be honest I didn’t much care, whatever it was it was going to be exciting, difficult, but exciting, and all I wanted to do was go do it. The old man walked a few steps towards me, with a huge smile on his face. ” now then, that looks much better. – so then, are you ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I said ” Good answer.” he chuckled, as I turned to face to door once more I felt a pat on the back. “Go get em kid” he said. I placed a hand on the door knob, I hesitated for a millisecond, pondering what I may find on the other side. But I shoved those thoughts out of my mind. I twisted the door knob and it swung open. I peered through, and what I found was the garden from the pictures in the art gallery, the very garden I had tried to reach in that alley way. My heart stopped along with my breath for a moment, tears welled up in my eyes. Children were running around playing, screeching when they got caught in a game of tag. One of the children stopped his game, looked at me and waved. “do you wanna play?” he called to me. “go on then.” the old man said from behind me. “what you waiting for?” I smiled at him, then turned to the kid who had invited me to play and called “coming!” I then sprinted out of the door, and towards my destiny.

The Sixth Door - Part One I awake from the nightmare, and all I can see is white. All I know is I am cold, scared and alone. Soon my eyes start to adjust to my surroundings. I am lying on a mattress on the floor. I can not remember how I got here, I just know I had been beaten down. The fear of what happened happening again Paralyses me. I look around. At the far end of the room are five doors, nothing to particularly to distinguish them from one another. Looking up to the ceiling, two things stand out. First, there are no lights. The room however is not in darkness. The more I think about it, the more I realise it is dark, a darkness I cant quite describe. The second thing I notice is that the room seems to be immaculately decorated, except for a small crack near the ceiling. There are four doors all in a row along one side of the room. The First Door I sit for a while, but eventually I move from the spot where I am. I pace around the room, summoning up the nerve to try one of the doors. I walk up to one and try the handle. It slowly creeps open. At first I don’t dare to walk through. But I decide the best thing to do is be confident about this. Nothing can be as bad as what I’ve come from – Whatever that was. So I stride through the door. I find myself in a long alleyway. Once I’ve walked a few steps the door closes behind me. I look forward, either side of me are two high walls. I can hear people on the other side of those walls. “Hello?” I cry, the voices hush. I shout it again. Still there is quiet, I push an ear against one of the walls, I can just about hear whispering. “What do you want?” a voice says above me. I look up, and see a boy of similar age to me peering over the wall. “Well?” I tell him my name “So?” he retorts “Did I ask for a name? – No, I asked what you wanted” “Sounds like your having fun over there – can I join you?” “If you like.” he says reluctantly – “The door is down there.” he points down the alley, “Better be quick mind, they are locking up soon.” I cannot see any door, so presume it must be beyond my vision. I run, and run for what seems like hours. I run until I am too tired to run anymore. I collapse in a heap. “Why you stopping” A voice asks. It was the same boy. I wonder to myself how he stayed with me all that time. I am exhausted, he could not have run as I did, otherwise he too would have been out of breath surely? “Where’s this bloody door then?” I ask “I told you – just a little further up.” “But I’ve been running for hours!” I cry “Can’t you just help me climb over?” The boy seems to get furious with this request, and tells me with the most venom I can imagine that he cannot. He then disappears behind the wall from where he came. I sit and catch my breath. Soon I am back on my feet, this door must exist. Part of me wishes I had never walked through that original door. Though I know what is the other side of this wall is something great – Don’t ask me how, I just do. Is it really worth this much effort? Suddenly I feel the ground beneath my feet tremble. I peer down, and sure enough there appear to be cracks emerging from the ground. I snap my head back to the forwards position. There it is. The door is only a few hundred yards away now, but I am not sure if I am going to make it. The ground beneath me is now crumbling away. It takes all my energy to keep going. As I look ahead, I realise a gigantic crater has grown between myself and the door. Which has now opened. The boy is stood there. Urging me forward, “You’re going to have to jump!” he shouts to me, over the noise of everything crumbling away. I speed up ready to launch myself across the abyss. Though I am not sure I have got enough length anymore, I Propel myself through the air with my foot on the corner of the chasm. For a few seconds I believe I might be able to make it, but I look up and see the lack of hope in the boys eyes. Despite this he stretches out his arm in the vague possibility that he might be able to catch me. Our fingertips touch, but it is too late. Gravity has won. I am falling, I spin my body around. I am able to see the boy, as he closes the door behind him. I hit the floor with a thud. When I come to, I realise I am back in the same room. I pick myself up and brush myself down. I then look around again. The crack has now gone. In it’s place is a tiny hole. I imagine if I was able to climb up I might just about be able to put my arm through it. I walk over to the door that leads to the alleyway. I turned the handle, which crumblesx off in my hand. I tried ramming the door down. However I soon realise that path is now closed to me forever. Maybe these other doors lead to the place across the wall. Who knows, it is worth a try. I move to the next door, and slowly turn the handle. The Second Door As I Enter the room on the other side. I realise two things, there is no other door in the room. The other is that there is a man sitting on a chair beside the door I just walked through. He is fast asleep. He appears to be wearing some kind of uniform, the cap that would usually adorn his head was placed on top of his face, muffling his snores. I walk past him, further into the room. There is a patch of light sprawled on the floor. I walk into it. As I do so two spot lamps burst into #life on the walls running parallel to myself. Both shining themselves onto paintings framed in ornamental frames. Both appear to be of some kind of landscape. From this distance I can tell they are of similar, if not the same garden. But they are both very different. In one it is a glorious summer day, children playing with each other. No one left out. The other one though, that is what is dragging me in. I just have to see it. The man is still asleep by the door. I approach the second painting with apprehension. It is a hideous thing, painted with dark blues, greys and blacks. It is indeed the same garden, it is even the same children playing in the same garden. At the far end is a high brick wall. A single door leads out through this wall. An Enormous tree stretches its branches out, over the wall itself. Casting it’s shadow over almost all the garden. It is obviously a winter scene, for the branches wear no leaves. As I gaze upon this hideous piece of art I observe that all the children are just standing there, none of them are looking at each other, it strikes me that it is almost as if they are avoiding each other. Very different to the picture on the other wall. Even from a distance I can tell how wondrous that garden was, even now I can almost imagine I am hearing the laughter from joyful lips. However my attention is still captivated by the one in front of me. There is one boy that takes my attention hostage. He is stood at the foot of the tree, miles away from everybody else. It seems as if he is not only staring straight out of the picture. But staring right into me. His eyes appear to shoot out like lasers. I try and look away from him but his power is too strong and my gaze returns. I almost stagger back, for the boy has moved. He is now standing in the centre of the garden, a boney little finger pointed in my direction. I suddenly realise the finger appears to be coming out of the picture. Followed by the hand. the pointed finger turns into and outstretched arm, followed by the boys head. Eyes piercing straight into my soul. Soon his whole body is out of the painting. He is the colour of the paining, Grey and blue. He stares at me intently, as if I were prey. His bare feet take a step towards me. I take a step backwards. We repeat this pattern a number of times. I find myself back in the light in the centre of the room, the boy is hunched over just in the shadow. He flashes a smile at me, his teeth I notice are rotting almost completely away. I take a quick glance back at the painting where he had come from. I notice that all the children have now got all their eyes fixed on the room, each face as grotesque as the next. I then realise I’ve lost track of the boy. I whip myself around just as the boy launches himself at me. I make a protective barrier with my arms, but the attack never comes. I quickly open my eyes. Before me stands another boy, this one is every shade of gold. He has the other boy by the neck. The first boys claws are scratching at the newcomer, whose back is facing me. He slowly walks, carrying the first boy by the neck, towards the main picture. When they are some distance off I hear the golden boy whisper something to the scrawny devil, who in return hisses something back then spits in his face. The golden boy just stares back at him unflinching and repeats his original statement pointing to the painting. The Creature, who would have surely attacked me takes one last look at me, hisses, and then slinks back into the picture. A snort comes from the man sat by the door. The golden boy and I stand in silence for a minute or two, then he starts walking towards me. I think he is coming to talk to me. I realise that he looks identical to the boy who tried helping me in the alley. Except that boy was not glittering like this one. His eyes are purest white. There is just an air of calm about him. He walks past me. So I grab his arm, I need to speak with him. As my fingers curl around his elbow, a fiery shot of heat surges up my own arm. So intense all I can do is let go. He obviously understands what I want, as he turns to face me. “I cannot really talk now.” He whispers, peering over at the sleeping man “You’ll meet that boy again.” he warns. His voice seems to wash over me, calming me down even though what he says is not what I want to hear “When?” “I cannot say. When the time is ready – when you are ready.” “What does that mean?” “I have told you too much already.” He glances at the snoozing figure by the door then turns and walks towards his painting. I follow him. He reaches it and stands there for a while, takes one last look at me, and says “It’s not time yet – Indeed, It may look very different by the time you can get through. But it’ll be right.” He sighs, then walks into the painting. A cold breeze washes over me. The man by the door awakes with a start. Without looking at me he says; “Sorry laddie, time I was shutting up shop.” I then find myself back in the original room. I look for that hole that was in the wall when I was last in this room. It is no longer there. In it’s place is a small window, to high for me to properly look through, but I can see a blue cloudless sky from the other side, a shower of sunlight streams through it. I realise I cannot stay here for long. It is time for me to walk through the third door. The Third Door Behind this door is a gargantuan banquet hall. Thousands of people are seated at the stretched out tables, each of them with a plate piled up with food. At the far end of the room a large orchestra is sat, sweet classical music emanated around the room. A ripple of chatter follows in its wake. At first this all seems normal. But I soon realise something is not right. No one is moving, neither the feasters or the members of the orchestra. I walk around a while. I am struck with how many people are guests of this meal, for I seem to walk forever, but never reach the walls of the hall. I peer down an aisle between two tables. A third of the way down I notice an empty chair. The first empty chair I had seen in this room. I walk down. Suddenly realising how weary I have become so I decide to sit myself in the empty chair. To my right is a prim lady, dressed in a early twentieth century evening dress, rows upon rows of pearls adorned her neck, as well as strewn amongst her hair. To my left was an elderly man dressed in tails, a grey handlebar moustache sprouted from upper-lip. he holds a full glass of wine in his hand, poised just before his lips. Gazing around, everybody seems to be dressed as if from Edwardian times. All of a sudden I realise I am not the only person moving, about five tables away the boy and and the old man from the room with the paintings are sat, talking to one another. the boy catches me staring at them, and raises his glass in toast to me. I get out of my seat to walk to walk over to them, but as soon as I look back, they disappear. So I sit back down again I start to eat the food. For a while the food takes my whole attention. But then is suddenly dawns on me that there is a bee hovering by a vase of flowers in front of me. I stare at it, all the while eating. I realise I can see the smallest vibrations of it’s wings moving. If I look carefully enough I can see it actually moving through the air, getting faster and faster. I am still eating. Beyond the bee I notice the ladies fork, it too has started to move. And sure enough everybody around me starts moving, slowly catching up with the noise that has continually filled the room. Soon enough everything is as it seemingly should be. I join in the conversation around me. It turns out that the folks that I am dining with are very nice people, and I soon forget that a while ago everybody was statuesque. I plunge my fork down for my next bite. But instead of a scrumptious piece of meat of veg the fork brings up a piece of paper. On it I notice there is something scribbled. This is all an illusion. No one here is actually moving. The more you eat the further you fall into the illusion. Stop eating, otherwise you’ll die. There is more planned for you ahead. You must fight this! Fight it with everything you’ve got. It may seem more comfortable to stay and eat, but it will destroy you! This is the last time I’m allowed to help you. I look around to see if I can see the person who’d left the note. Though I am pretty sure I know already. The word it was signed off by gives that away This is the last time I’m allowed to help you that suggested it is someone who’d helped me in the past. And there’s is only one person who fits that description. The Boy. I get up from the table. But the man with the handlebar moustache grabs my arm “Where are you going my boy? Pudding is about to start!” “oh yes!” cried the woman with the pearls. “how delightful! Always my favourite part of the day! Oh you really must stay!” “I’m really sorry.” I apologise. Very conscious that the man still has my arm in a vice like grip. “But I realise I must be going!” “But nobody leaves before pudding!” the man exclaims “No, not before pudding!” the lady echoes. Which is then echoed by everybody else feasting away. Slowly rippling away. “Unless…” the man says thoughtfully. “unless?” ” unless, they want to become the next course!” he cackles. Suddenly they all lurch towards me. I somehow manage to wriggle from the grip of the man. And run straight for the door. Though all the guests are chasing after me. All now have fangs sprouting out of their mouths. Their eyes blazing with fire. Some pounce at Me, but collide mid air, I am able to swoop under another couple lunging at me. I am soon at the door, not before one has managed to scrape my arm. I place my hand on the doorknob. Suddenly everything goes quiet. I turn. Not letting my hand let go of the door. They are all still there. But the are statues once more. I open the door and leave the banquet. The Fourth Door Once on the other side of the fourth door I find myself in a forest. Trees stretch for miles around me. A path winds it’s way for what seems miles ahead. Birds are singing in the trees and the sun is shining. I think to myself that at last I have found somewhere nice, maybe even this path may lead to that garden I saw in the picture. So I start to walk. It seems like I am walking forever, it is so delightful I start singing to myself. My heart sings with me. All of a sudden I hear a soft voice calling my name. Calling me forward. I quicken my step. The voice keeps calling me, repeating my name over and over again, but I am yet to find who it is that is calling me. Over time I begin to realise that the voice has gradually gotten harder and harder, and what wad once a kind and caring voice has now become harsh and spiteful. It dawns on me that along with this the wood has been pitched into darkness. I can just see the path ahead of me. I carry on walking, though I do not know what will be around the corner I do know that I cannot torn back, my future lies in a forward momentum. Suddenly before me a see a silhouette of what seems to be a rock. But as I move closer I realise it is in fact a corpse of a dying animal. I can begin to hear it’s ever decreasing breathes. I slow my pace, a sense of foreboding waves over me. Though I know whatever the creature is will not – or at least can not – harm me, whatever did this to it can, and all my senses told me that that creature wad near by. I’m close enough to the creature now to see the glimmer in it’s fading eye. Fear consumed the look in that eye. It twitched as if that fear was about to be realised, and sure enough just as the creature twitched, a boy jumped out of the woods onto the path in-front of me. Hunched over on all fours he faced the dying creature, ignoring me completely. He was dressed in ripped jeans but very little else, his skin was a dark grey and hair black. It looked like he hadn’t eaten for days. He crawled closer to the creature, who tried in vein to move. I could not tell what this boy was going to do, but my ignorance was soon quashed. For the boy bent down and ripped into the creatures neck with his bare teeth. He chewed on the lump of flesh of a moment, then slowly turned towards me. A smile sliced it’s way across his face as he saw me stood there. “We meet again!” he said in a cold hushed tone. It then suddenly dawned on me who this was. This was the boy from the painting. Not the golden boy, but the one who had tried to kill me. “No one to save you from me now is there?? All alone, no one really cared for you did they?? Where’s golden boy for yiu now, that pathetic waste of air. Why he was ever chosen!!” the boy seemed to get distracted for a moment. I knew I needed to get past him. So as he was distracting himself, I slid myself into the shadows. Very carefully s edged myself around him, around the corpse – his dinner. Just as I got the other side and the path was open for me once more the boy came around, realising I had moved he whips around. “Thought you’d get away from me huh?” A drop of the creatures blood dripped from his lower lip, he raised a hand to his mouth and wiped the residual away. He then looked up at me and whispered; “Run!!!!” I don’t hesitate in doing as he says. Soon enough however he starts a pursuit. “I’m coming to get ya” he shouts out. I keep running, but soon he’s at my heals. Snapping at them like a wild dog. “I’m going to kill ya!” he cries. I quicken my pace. It seems like we are in this chase for hours. Sooner or later I look back and realise he is no longer there. I lessen my pace until I’m stood still, I hunch over. My lungs feel like they’re about to explode. The boys voice is still echoing in my head. Why is he so hateful against me, there was no kindness in his eyes at all, how can that be?? I look around me. I notice a fair way off a figure stood, for a moment I think it must be the boy back for seconds, but then I realise that this figure is infect golden. It’s the other boy!!! I quickly run to him, but in fact I am once more mistaken, it is not the golden boy, but neither is it the boy who is out to kill me. In-fact it is more than one person. There are six figures in all. All. Are golden like the boy. But they all appear to be incased in a giant glass box, seemingly unable to move. I feel an urge to rescue them, that that is the true reason They are here. I look around for something that will break the glass prison. A few yards away is a large enough tree branch. I pick it up and swing it at the glass, which shatters into a million pieces. The six people inside the box fall to the ground. After a number of r minutes they are all composed and thanking me for their rescue. None could quite remember how they got there. One of them, who was older than the rest started a fire, while another went and fetched some food. We sat around for ages talking about whatever came to peoples mind. It dawned on me how beautiful they all looked with the fire light reflecting off their golden skin. One in particular caught my eye, a young girl a little bit younger than I. But before I could think anything much more about that a sniggering grew out of the woods, and the grey-skinned boy slinked from within the shadows. “hmm, isn’t this nice.” he said, as he started circling the group. ” you’ve found some friends. – some golden ones for that matter!” he said chuckling. We all stood up, we were all in this now. The boy was circling us like a vulture. I looked over at the girl, who was looking scared. Before I knew what was happening we were all running, with the boy in pursuit once again. This time however the pathway became rockier. There were more hurdles to face. Somehow the seven of us managed to keep the same pace. But the the ground beneath our feet began to tremble. Cracks started appearing beneath our feet. I looked behind us, and I realised the cracks were starting from behind the boy. He was struggling to keep steady. He took a leap, but it was a wrong footed move for a crack had just appeared beneath him. And he headed straight for it, within seconds he was gone. It was the that I realised what I had failed to do – which was look where I was heading. I too was heading for a crack. I skidded to a halt, but my right foot went over the crack had I tumbled down. I thought I was falling again, but I felt a hand grasp my wrist. Looking up I saw the girl smiling down at me, “Dont Worry.” she said ” I got you.” It started raining. Soon enough the other five were stood there, but none gave the girl a helping hand. Looking at them I realised all but the girl had become tarnished, and were getting more so as the rain washed over them. One bent down, a woman, she smiled down at me, she placed a hand over the girls had which was holding on to me. Then the girl started shaking, and her skin got dimmer and dimmer, and soon her skin had turned grey like the boys, but yet unlike the boys I knew she could turn back. I felt her grasp turn from warm to cold, the other four were holding her now. She started shaking like she was having a seizure. Her grip loosened around my wrist. And I started to fall. Before I disappeared I saw the girl, being pulled away by the other five.

Heaven's Halfway House From the outside you wouldn’t have realised this building was anything other than a building, let alone Heaven’s Halfway House, the place where every living soul goes at least twice in their existence. One when it is very young, and the next a number of decades later when it is time to return. As the car approached the building the little girl squirmed in her seat, she was really excited. Her friend had told her she was going on an exciting adventure, though he failed to mention what that adventure was going to be. When she asked, all he said was ‘Now that’s what we will discover when you see me again’. That was the reason why she was excited, she was going to see him again, and however long that was going to be, it was going to happen. The driver of the car turned towards her.
’Are you okay, little miss?’ the driver asked.
’Uh-huh.’ the girl replied with a glee smile on her face.
’Well we are almost there.’
’Goodie!’
As they got closer to the building the girl noticed two huge doors at either side of the building. Both had huge lettering on them. One had ‘ARRIVALS’ the other had ‘DEPARTURES’, the girl’s car joined the queue of cars that led to the Arrival door. The girl wrapped her arms around the satchel that her friend had given her. In a car that had just joined the queue for the Departure door sat Malcolm Forrester, Math’s Professor, recently deceased. He was sat with his briefcase which his driver had given him by his side and was watching his funeral on a television built into the back of the driver’s seat. He leaned forward and knocked on the window between him and the driver. The driver pulled the window back.
’Yes Sir?’
’Excuse me; I was wondering if you could tell me what time we will get in?’
’Time sir?’
’Yes – You know, 1 o’clock, 2 o’clock. Surely you know what time is?’
’I do, but time doesn’t exist here.’
’Oh.’
’But I can tell you we are next for the door.’
’Okay, thank you.’
’Anyway, would it matter what time we got there?’ Malcolm thought about this, and replied with a perhaps not. They pulled to the door, just as a car with a little girl inside pulled in to the Arrivals door.
The room was crowded, people bustling, some sat around some talking to each other. There were only two seats left in the room, of over a thousand seats. Situated next to each other. The girl sat in the right hand seat and Malcolm in the left. Neither acknowledged each other’s presence. Malcolm immediately opened his briefcase and withdrew a newspaper from within. On the front there was a picture of Malcolm himself, with his name and birth and death dates on as the headline. As he read the girl peered over his shoulder. After a while he looked down at her, sniffed and finally commented:
‘Yes and what do you want?’ The girl looked up at him. ‘That’s my mummy, that is.’ Malcolm looked down at the picture the girl was pointing at. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, that’s my daughter and she was only just pregnant.’ ‘Yes it is. I know because my friend told me so. He showed me pictures. Look.’ At which she delved into her satchel and pulled out a photo album. She flicked through it and finally came to a picture of a woman.
’Look.’ she repeated. Malcolm took the photo album from the girl. As soon as he had soaked up the photograph his hands started to tremble. ‘Are you okay?’ the girl asked. Malcolm nodded and tried to smile.
’You miss her don’t you?’ the girl asked. ‘I do.’ ‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after her.’ at this the girl got off her seat and skipped around. Malcolm watched her for a while, happiness came back into his soul. He knew his daughter was going to be okay, for she was going to have this little girl in her #life. Soon the girl got tired of skipping around and came and joined Malcolm once more. ‘You’re Lucky.’ she stated manner of factly. ‘Why’s that?’ he said ruffling her hair, which made her giggle ‘You’re going to meet my friend.’ at which the girl started talking about her friend, about how he looked after her, and all the people who returned. She went on for hours about her friend and all the wonderful things about him.
 ‘He sounds really nice.’ Malcolm said ‘I’m looking forward to meeting him.’ Malcolm thought for a minute or two, then picked his briefcase up and withdrew a photo album, which is very similar to the girls.
’Would you like to see some photographs of your family?’ The girl nodded so Malcolm peeled the album open. They spent hours looking through the album; the girl slowly got tired and placed her head on Malcolm’s lap. But she stayed attentive all through Malcolm’s stories laughing at the tale of when her mother got her pony tale stuck in a locked toilet door, and cried at the story of the pet dog dying. But to Malcolm the crying didn’t seem natural. it almost seemed as if it were the first time she had ever cried. They soon got to a photograph of Malcolm’s late wife. He quickly turned the page over but the girl forced it back. ‘You don’t want to see that.’ Malcolm said ‘Yes I do.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because it is important to you.’ ‘Bu……’ Malcolm started to object, he really didn’t want to go onto this subject. ‘But nothing, tell me about her. She was important to you, who is she?’ ‘She’s your grandmother.’ Malcolm started to tell her about his wife. He spoke for hours on the subject from when he met her in the local market when they haggled over a melon – to her untimely death, at the news of this the girls eyes lit up. ‘I know her.’ ‘What?’ the girl was getting more and more excited. ‘I know her. I know Grandma.’ she said, she got up off her seat and started skipping around. Malcolm whipped up from his seat and grabbed the girl lightly by the shoulders. ‘What do you mean you know her – how?’ ‘Where you’re going – where I’ve been. She was there, she was telling me about you. I thought I knew the stories.’
Malcolm collapsed back into his chair; he hadn’t thought he would be seeing her again. The girl sidled up to him. ‘She misses you, you know. She was always talking about you. I just hadn’t realised.’ tears started streaming from Malcolm’s eyes. The girl moved so she was in front of Malcolm, clasped his head between her small hands and look him straight into his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’ ‘Nothing.’ ‘But you are crying.’ ‘It’s just I- I never thought I would see her again.’
 The door marked ARRIVALS swung open and a driver walked in, he walked up to the girl and Malcolm, bent down and spoke to the girl. ‘Hello there, I’ve come to take you.’ the girl embraced Malcolm with a hug, whipped her photo album back into her satchel, and placed the satchel back on her back. She started to go. Malcolm grabbed her arm. ‘Tell me more about her.’ he asked ‘Hey, why not ask her yourself. you’ve got 30 years of catching up to do.’ ‘So we do.’
The driver turned to Malcolm and smiled. ‘Your car will be here soon to pick you up. I’m looking forward to talking to you once I’ve dropped her off.’ ‘Thank you. – What’s your name?’ Malcolm replied ‘Gabriel.’ the driver replied.
Gabriel led the girl away just as she got to the door Malcolm sprang up off his chair and over the bustle and noise shouted to the girl. ‘Have Fun!’ the girl looked in his direction and smiled. she then mouthed back to him, the words ‘Will Do.’ once she had gone Malcolm sat back down, and muttered to himself ‘And good luck.’

Midge Sara ran, her chest had started to get painful from the lack of oxygen. Why did the boys at school have to be so cruel? What had she done to them? Especially Gareth Jones, she thought they were friends, maybe even more – at least she had hoped so. But obviously no, what was wrong with her height? Granted she hated being tall, but didn’t everybody hate how they were. The pain was getting quite great. She was going to have to stop soon, but was she far enough away from them? No. she did not think so. But she was going to have to stop. She crumpled to the floor outside a broken in front garden wall. Pain seeped up her legs. She was going to have to stay here for a while. She looked around her and realised she had no idea where she was. Panic started to creep up on her, Mum would be expecting her home, she had only hanging around with the boys because Gareth was there, she should have been home ages ago. ‘Are you okay my dear?’ asked a disembodied voice from behind her, Sara looked around and saw a lady of around 80 looking over the garden wall at her. ‘Um – yes – err – I’m just a little tired, that’s all.’ Sara stuttered, the lady giggled. ‘I can see that my dear, you wouldn’t be sat on that dirty pavement if you were not.‘ Sara laughed along with the lady. It was nice to have a friendly face beaming at her. Sara then blurted. ‘ I hope it not too much, but can I call my mum, my phone is out of credit you see…. I seem to have lost my way, and I need to get home. Mum will be very worried about me.’ ‘Sure deary, why not have a cup of coffee while you wait as well, it is a long way to your house.’ ‘Yes, that sounds nice, but I must call home first.’ ‘You are a bright girl, Sara.’ ‘Yes…. Yes mum…. I should not be so sensitive I know….. Yes mum, I am a pretty girl mum…. Look I will see you in a while….. Yes mum…… Ok see you in a while.’ As Sara hung the phone up the lady came through with the two steaming cups of coffee and laid them on the table by the side of two chairs. ‘Come on Sara, take a seat.’ Sara walked over and sat in the nearest seat to the door. and picked up one of the coffee. ‘Now then,’ the lady started. ‘You were saying to your mother that you are upset about your height?’ ‘Yes.’ Sara said, it was strange that this lady was prying, but she had been so nice a generous, she could not exactly be rude to her now. ‘I hate my height. But I had not realised others did too.’ ‘Sara, do you mind if I tell you a story – While you wait for your mother that is?’ ‘Sure.’ Sara agreed, settling in to listen. ‘But first let me put some sweeteners in your coffee for you. The lady delved into her handbag and pulled out a small metal box, Sara could not see the label. The lady pulled out a small white pill, and dropped it into Sara’s coffee. ‘Now then Sara, have you ever heard of a boy called Midge?’ Sara shook her head. The lady laughed to herself. ‘I’m not surprised, but this is his tale. He hated his size too.’ Henry Joseph Malcolm MacDonald had always been called Midge by his school friends because he was short. He was about a foot shorter than all the other boys, and almost two feet shorter than the girls. He hated being short. He had tried a number of things to make himself grow, ignoring his parents telling him that he was just a late bloomer. He had asked two of his class mates to pull him, one holding his legs, the other his arms. Unfortunately this did not work, all it accomplished was making his arms and legs hurt for weeks afterwards. He then realised relying on other people was foolish. His next plan involved his father’s weights; unluckily his father would not allow him to borrow them. So he snuck and stole some of them while his father was asleep. He creeped out into the back garden. where the only tree in the neighbourhood stood. He dumped the weights at the foot of the tree and retrieved some rope from the garage. Returning to the tree he climbed to about half way up where a branch extended out further than the others, he tied the rope to the middle of the branch, climbing down to fetch the weights he paused for a moment, somebody had awoken inside, he could hear someone clattering around. It was his father going to the toilet. He grabbed the weights and climbed the tree again. Attaching the weights to his wrists and the rope to his legs he jumped off the branch. He hung there over night, surprisingly he did fall asleep. He awoke to find his father looking at him upside down. A severe look on his face. He was grounded for a week after that. He had given up when this story really starts. He was walking home when he bumped into someone. ‘Oh, I’m really sorry.’ Midge blurted out. ‘That’s fine Midge, it was you I was coming to find.’ Midge looked at the lady he was talking to, but he did not recognize her, but he was fascinated by her, she must have been a few years older then he was, about mid twenties, and had never seen her before. So why was she looking for him, a fourteen year old boy? Her bony fingers curled around his wrist. ‘We cannot talk here Midge. Come with me.’ with that she started running, pulling Midge with her, his legs flew above the pavement, almost like in the cartoons. They got to an entrance to the local park and she slowed down. ‘I know a place in here. Quickly now Midge.’ they walked around the park a bit, and then stopped by a hedge. ‘At once.’ She whispered. ‘In here.’ at which she pulled him into the hedge. Once through he found himself inside a little clearing, the woman crouched down and beckoned Midge to do the same. At which point she produced a small tin from her shoulder bag. ‘I here through the grapevine. Midge.” It was very strange the way she said his name. But Midge liked it. ‘That you are unhappy about your height.’ Midge nodded, just thinking about what the guys will say when they hear about him being in a hedge with an older woman. ‘Get those filthy thoughts out of your head at once.’ She snapped. ‘I am here to help you.’ she opened the tin and produced a small pill; she grabbed Midge’s hand and placed the pill on his open palm. ‘Take this with a cup of coffee, just before you go to bed. But do not go to bed. Instead go outside and sleep standing up. You will find you will be taller than you could ever imagine.’ Midge snorted at this, that anybody could make him taller with a pill was too unbelievable. ‘Don’t laugh at me boy!’ the woman snapped. ‘Or I might take this back. Now go, go straight home, and don’t tell anybody about me or the pill.’ She then, pushed Midge out of the hedge and he found himself running back home. Midge placed the pill in his secret shoebox, which nobody knew about, though he was not going to take it, he thought he would keep it, to remember the woman by. But he did not need that as a reminder of her, because she was waiting for him when he finished school the next day ‘You did not take it?’ she asked ‘No.’ ‘And why not?’ ‘I don’t know. I just didn’t.’ ‘Look Midge, I am trying to help you, all you need to do is help yourself.’ this conversation, and others like it happened everyday, Midge’s fellow students started to tease him about his ‘girlfriend’ that met him outside school everyday. By the time this had been going on everyday for two months Midge had enough. That night Midge delved into his shoebox and retrieved the pill. He made himself a cup of coffee and pretended to go to sleep. Once his parents had gone to bed he snuck outside and waited. He fell asleep, but about midnight things started to happen. He awoke with a sharp stabbing pain in his left arm and foot. Very quickly the pain drifted to his right side, while still remaining where it was. He tried to move one of his arms, but though it moved, it moved extremely stiffly, almost as if it were wooden. when Midge was able to get his arm in sight he almost started crying, as his skin had turned brown, and his fingernails were slowly turning green, he moved his other arm, also very stiffly and touched his arm, it was rough and starting to turn hard, his hand drifting down his other arm towards his fingers, which had become slimy and wet. But he could not be sure as the touch in his arm had all but gone; the thickness of his skin was stopping the nerves in his fingers getting the message. He tried running back inside. He wanted to grow, and whatever was happening, that was not it. But his feet were not moving, this was not like his arms, they actually were not moving. Midge looked down and saw that his feet were rooted to the ground. Literally, as there were tiny root protruding from his shoes and digging themselves into the ground. Early next morning Midges Mother woke early. She drew back the curtains, and because of the sleep that remained in her eyes didn’t notice that the room did not get any lighter. She went about her normal business, knocking on Midges door, getting no reply as usual. She went down stairs and made herself a cup of coffee. Went into the sitting room and drew the curtains, to come face to face with a Squirrel who was clambering up a tree that had not been there when she had gone to bed. She ran back upstairs and dragged Midges father out of bed and dragged him downstairs. Her hand was on the door when her husband yelled. ‘What is the matter with you woman! Can’t a man get dressed before he goes to work!’ ‘A Man can go to work dressed, but when a tree has sprouted from nowhere, then he must go outside in his pyjamas’ At which point she pushed her husband outside. They were so preoccupied with the new tree in their front garden that it wasn’t until noon that they realised Midge had gone. Midge’s parents carried on living their until they died, while Midge carried on living, families moved in, grew up and moved out, People built tree houses in Midges branches, and let them rot. One family buried their pet dog at the foot of Midge. Midge was delighted as it gave him company. Midge grew and grew and became a landmark of the town, every now and again he would see the woman who gave him the pills walk past, and with a little smile would greet him with a hello. She would age, but not in the same way others did around her. Years Later the woman came to visit Midge. But he was no longer there. She asked somebody what had happened to the tree. They said that it had been cut down to make the chipping for the new school that was being built a few streets away ‘So, you see Sara. It is wrong to get preoccupied with the ways you look.’ Said the lady as Sara gulped down the last slurp of her coffee. ‘That’s right my dear, Your Mum will be here soon.’ Sara’s mother arrived an hour or two after she was supposed to, things had just got on top of her. So she approached the house in a hurry. The lady took a while coming to the door, but when she finally did it was apprehensive and with the latch on. ‘Yes?’ the lady asked. ‘Hi, I believe my daughter is here.’ ‘No, I’m sorry; there have been no girls here.’ ‘But I’m sure she said it was this address.’ ‘I’m really sorry my dear, but I have not seen her. But would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?’ ‘That does sound nice, and will I be able to use your phone as well.’ ‘Sure my dear.’ Sara’s mum entered the house and immediately went to the phone. As she dialled her daughters mobile number she saw a spider crawling across the phone table, She hated spiders, so she got a piece of paper and whacked it down on the table, squashing the spider underneath. ‘What was that?’ asked the lady, who came to Sara’s mum with a cup of coffee. ‘I’ve put some sweeteners in it for you.’ ‘Oh thank you, but I do have my own.’ Sara’s Mum continued dialling the number, and then took her first sip of coffee. The lady commented on the colour of her hair. ‘It’s dyed I’m afraid.’ ‘I thought so.’ The phone clicked into action, Sara’s phone was in a strong signal area. in fact it started ringing from within the lady’s sitting room.