Character Bios: Leanne

Hey there!! Welcome to a new series I hope to keep up on here. As you might have guessed I mainly use this blog to brainstorm ideas which later become fully fledged stories (or get consigned to the scrap heap depending).

I thought a good place to start my mind ticking might be to do some character bios as if spoken by the characters themselves. After all, well rounded characters make for interesting tales.

Therefore, and without further ado - meet Leanne.

I'm what you might call a control freak really. Or at least so people tell me. I don't really think so but there you are. After all, what exactly is freaky about wanting to know what's going on and who's doing what at any given time? Hmm? Nothing freaky there I'd say.

But hey, I'm used to people not seeing things the way that I do. That has pretty much been the case my whole life I guess. I was always the one at school who tried to do things right. Who tried to perfect at things. Who really wanted to do the best she could.

Other kids called me a swot, a teacher's pet, a creep. All sorts of names really. But I didn't mind - not really. I knew I was doing the right things and for the right reasons. Not just doing what everyone else was or doing what others wanted from me. If that made me a creep then so be it.

I guess people don't really expect me to be so forthright or so unrelenting. They expect me to give in to doing things their way I would guess. But that's just not me. It's not me at all. And if people don't like that they can simply lump it!

I have never given in to any kind of peer pressure and I'm definitely not about to start now. No matter how many feather I ruffle in the meantime.

Snapshots of Sophie: another little peak!

Here's some more on Sophie - I have decided to keep writing this story and see where it takes me:

2060

The wind whistled past the window she was sitting at. She stared out at nothing really. No matter what she had in front of her, nothing really seemed to get through to her anymore. Her eyes were there and technically they were working (the doctors had made sure of that fact). Hours of tests and other annoyances had led them to that very inconsequential conclusion. Who really cared whether or not her ears worked? What possible use could they be to her or anyone? There was nothing in the world she could possibly want to hear any certainly nothing to pass onto anyone else. 

She felt like she had left her entire world behind – her life as she had known it had crumbled around her ears. So she retreated into herself. Into her own world. A world of her own creation and a way to escape the oppressive feelings of deep unhappiness and often terror. Fear was her constant companion it seemed. It was always present, even though her days were very much the same routine and she knew really that she was safe. That didn’t stop her from feeling this fear though – it was almost her constant companion.

Not that she ever articulated that fear in words or actions. She simply sat, stoic and implacable each day looking to the view outside of her window, wondering if it could calm her nerves. Wondering if in fact there was anything that could do that job for her.

She sat there, day after day completely immobile. There was nothing that could tempt her away from her spot on the ledge there and nothing that could distract her from her aim: to just be left completely alone. To be left to think, to hide, to reminisce and to lose herself in her thoughts and her memories. That shouldn’t be too much to ask she thought to herself. After all, if she was simply sitting quietly here then she wasn’t hurting anyone or causing anyone to have to do anything for her or any of those things. She simply wanted to be allowed to be. To be herself alone and quiet in her own private little world. 

She could tell that this was difficult for people to handle really. Even as an old lady she wasn’t completely unaware of the things around her. She could sense her carers worrying for her and trying with all their might to drag her into conversations and other “fun activities” that they somehow cajoled the other residents into. Not for her. Sophie was entirely immovable in her desire to just be left to be quiet. She was content within her own little walls and was content to remain there for as long as they would let her stay. That was what she really really wanted. To just not be pushed or challenged or cajoled in any way. She wanted to be left to her own devices – however quiet those devices tended to be.

This she knew seemed selfish to others. She heard them whispering when they thought she couldn’t hear them (her hearing was in perfect working order thanks very much) and she felt bad for them she really did. That they could be so easily affected by little old her seemed such a surprise to Sophie. She felt that they placed far too much importance on her involvement and her words. She was nobody too special (at least she couldn’t see how she was so special to those specific people) and so she thought they should just simply leave her well alone. God knows she gave them enough opportunities. She never really responded at all. And they just couldn’t seem to get that at all.

She actively wanted to be in her own little world. She wanted people to ignore her. She wanted to spend her days in contemplative silence. She didn’t even want to have music to listen to. Sure, they put it on for her all of the time and she was expected to respond in some way. But she learned to block it out like everything else over time. She quickly found that if she were to get up ad turn off the music once the carer had left the room they would do that all the more often as a reason for her to get up and interact with something in the world (the radio was hardly a case for interaction though she thought). So she learned to leave it and just zone out from it’s noise. The carers seemed disappointed the first time she didn’t choose to turn off the radio. She heard them whispering about how they felt she had “lost the will to even make her own choices now” and that “she must be so very lonely inside her head.” Little did they know.

She knew loneliness and what it was. She had lived with it for most of her life. She knew how it felt to spend hours and days and weeks on end on her own, longing for someone to take an interest – or at least to take the right kind of interest in her and her life. It was so hurtful. So unbelievably painful that she could hardly bring herself to bear it. Those were times she would sooner forget all about. They were times when for one reason or another she had been coaxed out of her protective shell and felt brave enough to try to be a part of this so-called wonderful world people raved about so often and so much. A world where people could hurt you and upset you and take you for granted and do their damnedest to make you feel like you were worthless and a nobody and not even worthy of any kind of recognition. A world where people took your feelings, your hopes, your dreams and your innermost thoughts and turned them against you. It was a world of sadness and pain, and it wasn’t somewhere Sophie was keen to revisit.

She could feel her temper rising inside of her as she thought these thoughts. Her emotions were burning a fire inside of her and she had a real struggle to get back to a place of peace and control. She often struggled this way when sitting absorbed in her thoughts. Particularly if she had had a lot of unnecessary interruptions to her day and she was feeling picked on and got at.

There was no trace at all of this turmoil on her lined and weary face however. Anyone watching her would see a picture of calm and serenity. Not the troubled woman she really was inside. She was careful to show no sign of any turmoil in her face at all. She was afraid this would lead to more questions and fussing and other such things, which she had decided long ago she could definitely do without.

The day was shifting slightly outside the window she could see. The clouds were gathering and the mist was down on the grass. It would be a cold and possibly rainy day here she thought. She could feel a semi shiver snaking it’s way down her spine. Not that it was especially cold where she was. The temperature was kept very much at a constant warmth for her – consistent and comfortable to the last. She never complained of the cold and wore much the same clothes every day – all picked out for her by her carers. She took no pleasure at all in her appearance these days. Nothing about her life could excite or interest her at all really.

It hadn’t always been this way though. Her life had been very different.

*

Snapshots of Sophie

Hey! Here is a snippet of my NaNoWriMo novel Snapshots of Sophie - enjoy!!

“There was nothing more she could do. She had done it all before. Nothing worked - at least not for her anyway. No matter how hard she tried or how industrious she was there was no denying it. Things had gotten so bad that she felt she was a total failure. Only one possible solution lay before her now – one possible way out of her current crisis and onto a calm and peaceful future.

Death was her only option. Her friend, confidante and soul mate. She felt it now more than ever before – this was in fact the way, the truth, the light. There was nothing anyone could do to stop her.

It was already done anyway – too late for even her to interfere. Nobody could get in the way of this now. The deed was done. The outcome set in stone. Finally, she would be free of everything that was troubling her, everything that kept her awake at night and kept her from getting a good night’s rest. Everything. It would all be over once and for all.”

Sophie sat perfectly still gazing into her bedroom mirror in an absorbed but also slightly bored manner. She took in her pale and interesting skin, her deep blue eyes outlined dramatically with the blackest eyeliner, mascara and shadow she could find. Her stare lingered on her pale pink lips and on the black velvet choker encircling her delicate neck. Not a bad look over all – pale and interesting, distant and aloof. She felt she had a regal air to her that could rival even the snootiest of girls. She lifted her chin experimentally, practicing looking down her little button nose. Yes, she felt she did that well and that she could easily be a high society lady if only she had been born into that life.

As it was, she had been born into the most ordinary and dull life imaginable. The feeling of clanging disappointment she felt with each and every day was almost nauseating at times. Why should she have been born into this mind numbing dullness? Why should she have to continue her life this way when every fibre of her being was telling her it was all wrong?

Sophie sighed and put down her little silver fountain pen. She looked at the words she had written with a cool detachment. They weren’t bad she supposed. They pretty much summed up the typical teenage cry for help – the mention of death and the hint of suicide. This should keep her teachers occupied worrying about her so that she could focus on more important things herself. Like how she was going to change her life into what she knew it should be. She could feel the impatience eating away at her. The need and urgent desire to get things moving in the right direction were too much to bear. She wanted to be here perfecting her look and writing her heart out. But the world (and by the world she meant her mother) dictated that she had to go to school instead. As if somehow that was way more important. 

As she worked her way around her room, pulling on the tortuous uniform she was forced wear (blazer, tie, skirt – all in the most awful of colours) she thought of how different her life would be if she had been born a high society lady. If she had no school to go to but a governess to teach her singing, art and sewing. How very much more at home she would be under those circumstances. Staying at home in the country manor house, having lessons alone each day, learning to sit and stand and walk correctly. How to enter a room and command attention from the right people. Not how to do equations and how to boil an egg on a Bunsen burner. The mind boggled for her – it really did to be honest. How could she expect to grow up a lady when she was learning things that really were for boys to know not for a young woman of substance.

She pulled on her clunky school shoes – which had to be that way for health and safety reasons her teachers told her. She just looked so very ugly to her eyes. Not at all the way she wanted to look and be perceived. Sophie sighed once more. She felt that she was putting on her armour ready to face the world. That she had to pretend to be someone she really wasn’t just in order to fit in and be accepted and most of all left alone.

She hadn’t always done such a good job of hiding things. She had at one time been very open about how she felt with everyone. She told her mother, her friends and anyone who would listen how she felt. How much of an outsider she felt. That way just seemed to lead to inquisitions and questions and nag nag nagging. She soon learned that if she kept things to herself a little more then she was able to spend more time in her own little world undisturbed and uninterrupted. She could spend most of her time pottering around through her own ideas and fantasies without people constantly asking her how she felt and trying to get her to interact and connect with other girls her own age. She shuddered at the memory of those times. She had really hated the other girls in her school and felt as though she had nothing at all whatsoever in common with them at all. And yet she was forced to go through wit all of these little gatherings and get togethers. She had hated every minute of it.

Now she kept up the pretence pretty well. She stayed behind after school each day, telling her mother that she was with friends (so her mother didn’t worry that she wasn’t mixing properly) when in fact she was alone in the library with her favourite books. She was entirely lost in the worlds of the characters there and at her absolute happiest. She revelled in the lives of her favourite characters and imagined herself vividly living scenes from those lives. Right down the to tiniest details – the jewellery and it’s feel on her skin, the weight of her hair all piled up on the top of her head for a special event or the feel of a silk slipper on her foot. She loved the attention to detail the girls showed towards every aspect of their looks. She imagined that getting themselves ready for a social event was a mammoth affair involving not just her own hard work but that of many others in her fathers’ employ.

The characters in her favourite novel could while away a whole day in the most rigorous preparation for an important event. They could in fact spend more like weeks preparing other aspects of themselves and the impression they want to give to the other attendees of the do. Clothes had to be researched, colours and matching trims painstakingly put together. The best designers from London would need to be visited to ensure her dresses were most definitely up to the minute in terms of cut and neckline. The bodices would need to be adorned with the finest beadwork and lace that money could buy. And then the accessories would need to be chosen with great care. Slippers, jewels, handbags and silks for her hair. It was disturbing how quickly Sophie went from describing her characters to relating their lives to hers. She talked as though she was the character she was reading about and her imagination really ran wild a lot of the time. 

She would often read only one short chapter of a book then spend the following hour drifting away on a sea of her imaginings into a time when she could have been one of those young ladies. Imagining that she was anywhere in fact but right where she was in her real life. She really wanted nothing at all to do with this so called real life. She wanted to live within the kinds of worlds she read about. She wanted to find herself living the life of a lady in high society.

This was her fantasy world. Her escape. Her way to feel happy and exactly the way she longed to be. Her source of inspiration for how to dress, how to act and how she would like to be able to live her life. She knew she didn’t have the amount of choice over her own life and her appearance as she would like at the moment but she was preparing for a time when this wouldn’t be the case. She could not wait until the day she shook off the constraints of school life and exchanged them s=first of all for the easier and more accommodating life of a college student. The part of her life she was really looking forward to the most was her university years. She felt that she would be much more able to be herself then. She wouldn’t have her mother checking up on her every move and she would (she felt sure) find solace amongst her fellow literature students. She would find like minded souls who understood her. Not stupid people who just saw her as strange and funny and someone to be pitied and mocked. 

Those were the days that kept her going. The thought of living a fuller and more fulfilling life made her life at the present time much more bearable. Still her most favourite of pastimes was to read the books of her favourite characters and to let her imagination carry her away on a wave of dresses, manners, meetings and high society excitement. She revelled in the drama of it all. The chance encounters, the longing looks from suitors and the excitement of each and every ball and event. 

This was the stuff of dreams for Sophie. Her ideal life if truth be told was one of a lady living in wealth and luxury in a country manor house or estate. The only pressure on her would be to behave always as a lady should and to achieve a good match when the time came. In the meantime she would focus on learning to sing, to sew and to laugh prettily. She would have no need of cares or worries or problems. No reason to be a realist, to prepare for a life of hard work and sacrifice. She would be pampered, cared for and treated as though she was a precious gem and something to be cherished and shielded from all things difficult and potentially harmful to her delicate constitution. That idea seemed to Sophie like such a wonderful notion. Such a romantic ideal. Never mind being equal partners in a relationship. Never mind having to share one another’s burdens and woes. She wanted to be kept safe and warm, like a pearl in a shell being cushioned and protected comfortably and constantly. That was the life she longed for. Not this life that seemed so very difficult and stressful.

Her life hadn’t always seemed this way. She could remember when she was much younger feeling as though her world was the happiest one on the earth. She had enjoyed every minute of her childhood and had never imagined a day when she would feel as she felt right then. She thought the long sunny afternoons with the wind in her hair and the feel of the sun on her back would go on forever.

She had loved spending her days making up stories for her dolls and other toys to act out. She would give each of them their own parts and would imagine to the best of her ability that they really were those characters. She would have these very vivid pictures in her mind of exactly what her characters did day by day and she fell asleep at night imagining that they came to life when she wasn’t looking. 

She dreamed and dared to dream that her life would be happy forever. That nothing could possibly shatter the feelings of peace and serenity that surrounded her. She felt alive and full of fun and adventure. She didn’t even feel she had to shut herself away each day with her books just in order to get by. She felt she was happy just as she was. There needed to be no pretending of any kind. The dreams and stories and the fantasies were just that: fantasies. She indulged in them for fun and fun only. She was happy with her day to day reality and just allowed herself these moments of fancy as part of what was a very rich and rewarding life in fact. 

But now, her fantasies were the only things keeping her going. They were the moments of her day that she looked forward to the most. The moments when she felt truly alive. When she felt like her life was exactly as it should be. She had no fears, no qualms, no dread or despair. She just focussed on her ideal life and her ideal self. That way she could shut out all of the other things which blighted her day.

Sophie was finally ready for school. She looked at herself in the mirror. She felt that every trace of her individuality had been drained away. She had to remove her makeup and her choker (not becoming of a young school girl apparently) and stared at her tiny little eyes (or so they seemed when they were so uncovered). She had also shrugged into her horrible school shirt (which looked so much like a man’s shirt on account of the tie she had to wear). The tie itself was so very ugly: a really sickly combination of yellow and brown that just made her feel horrible whenever she looked at it. It matched the badge on her blazer perfectly – two yellow and brown design disasters staring back at her from the mirror. The blazer was just an ordinary black and it hung from her petite frame, engulfing her in a sea of black polyester. It was itchy and uncomfortable too. Coupled with her awful matching black polyester skirt and those clunky shoes she felt like a monster. A big, clumsy, heavy, clunky monster. A million miles away from the delicate, pale and interesting young lady she had seen in her mirror earlier that morning. She had been happy then looking at her reflection. She tried that look she had practiced. Raising her chin and looking down her button nose at herself she realised that the look (although she had it down to a tee) just didn’t work at all well when she was dressed as her ordinary boring day to day self. She sighed once more. Nothing really suited her well at the moment.

She picked up her bulging school bag, placing into the compartments her notebook and silver fountain pen. She checked for extra ink cartridges (she really hated to have to write in biro) and shrugged the bag over her shoulder. It was so very heavy – so many subjects and each one requiring it’s very own book plus textbook and other sheets of paper. No wonder the rainforests were dying out really. Teachers she was sure were the main culprits for this. If they didn’t spend all of their time photocopying handouts and insisting on everything being written down then she felt sure the world would not be in the mess it currently was. In fact, teachers had a lot to answer for really. A lot of things would not be as they were currently without the influence of teachers. Some of the kids at school who didn’t want to be there (such as Sophie herself) would be able to organise their own education and choose their own path in life. 

Of course, teachers always tried to make you feel as though you had your own choices to make and that you could feel confident enough to make those choices yourself. After all, you get to choose your own GCSE subjects (well, some of them anyway. And of course only from a list of approved topics that the teachers provide). There really was so little choice available at all. There also were the compulsory subjects which were forced upon every student no matter what their preferences. Which was very frustrating. But it was always sold as though students had all the choices in the world to contend with and as though they should be very happy and grateful to have those. The worst teachers were the ones who went on and on about how much choice kids have these days compared to when they were at school. It that really supposed to make us feel more grateful about our choices Sophie wondered? Because it really didn’t. Not at all. Not even a little bit in fact. In fact, it only really served to wind her up more and more. In fact, thinking about it now was getting her more and more angry by the second.

She had to take a moment to compose herself. She could hear her mother downstairs pottering around in the kitchen with the breakfast things and she knew that she had to have her face straight ready for then. Her mother was always on the lookout these days for any emotions or anything appearing different or wrong with Sophie. The slightest change in her glance or her posture would unleash a whole world of fuss from her mother and would make for some very uncomfortable times for Sophie. She had learned to operate a little more under the radar really in order to avoid all of this fuss and worry. It only served to limit her freedoms and meant that she couldn’t escape into her literary world as much as she liked. Her mother would want to sit down and talk about it all and check in with her and make sure she was alright. And that was definitely the last thing she wanted. 

Sophie took one last look at herself in the mirror, checking for any clue as to her mood or feelings deep down inside. She felt she had hidden them sufficiently away from prying eyes and so headed down to face the day. It wouldn’t be long she reasoned until the school day was over and she could immerse herself in the library once again. Those were the hours of the day she really lived for. The hours that made the rest bearable.

She headed down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Her face was already prepared with a half happy half sleepy look to it and she felt the minor spring in her step she was cultivating as part of her jolly façade which was constantly presented to the world outside. This was the kind of Sophie that people wanted to see after all. So she was only giving them what they wanted from her.

*

When life is full of lemons continued....

Sally was what people described as a bright girl. She had sailed through her education pretty well, and had even spent a lot of her time at school helping others to do their work whilst completing her own.

She was kind, friendly and open. Hard working, honest and trustworthy. “A credit to her family,” her reports read. “A pleasure to teach.” She left school with a very good set of GCSE results and went onto sixth form college. It was always crystal clear that she would end up going to University and would study for a degree. It was deciding which subject to study that was the only difficulty.

When life is full of lemons continued

It all began after leaving university. No, wait – that wasn’t really true. There had been issues before then too. During college. But not to the same extent. Uni was where the rot really set in.

The thing Sally couldn’t seem to do at all was to budget. She never had been able to. Not that she hadn’t tried. She really had. Plan after plan had been made and failed. She had all the right intentions but somehow things never seemed to follow her plans. If she planned to put away some money one month, an extra bill would come in that had to be paid. If she had only just enough money to manage, a payment would be late and the bank charges that followed would mean she couldn’t afford all that she had to.

But the irresponsible spending – the real root cause of all of the trouble – began in earnest during her University days. It started with a generous overdraft – quickly maxed out. Then a credit card from the bank – again all spent up so quickly. The real killer though was a store card she got on a cold rainy night that allowed her to buy a new dress for the upcoming social that really tipped her over the edge.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the difference between right and wrong. It wasn’t even that she didn’t understand the consequences of not being able to pay off and deal with these debts. She just really struggled with making ends meet. And the more she struggled, the more kind and friendly people seemed willing to offer her a way out – an answer to her problems. Or so they seemed. In fact, they really weren’t the answers she wanted or needed at all.

When life is full of lemons

When life just throws you lemons, when your world is upside down.

What can you do? What can you say? To turn your life around.

When life don't seem to friendly, when it seems to spit you out.

Simply pick yourself up and dust yourself off and don't give in to doubts.

Life is a funny old game - it really is. Just as soon as you think you've got it all figured out and everything is planned then BAM!! Presto chango!

Sally knew that feeling all too well. She had spent most of her adult life it seemed swerving from one mess to another and feeling time, money and opportunities slip through her outstretched fingers. Every plan, every solution, every well formed idea for getting herself back onto the straight and narrow seemed to somehow go astray and leave her little or no better off than she was before it began.

What was the secret that other people - more successful people - clearly knew of but that she had clearly missed out on? She wondered this daily. Sometimes even hourly. How had she not gotten herself out of this mess already?

Chapter 7

Murphy thought initially he was in the exact same place he had been standing before he had blinked – everything seemed the same. The stone bridge, the specific stone with the copperplate T was still there and Jake and Jacobi were holding onto it as before. It was as he looked down at his feet that he noticed the first difference. Instead of the dirt road he had been on Murphy was most surprised to see concrete pavers underneath his feet. He realised also that he could hear the sounds of lots of people talking, walking and generally buzzing around coming from the edges of the supposedly new tunnel he found himself in.

He Jake and Jacobi headed left out of the tunnel towards the light and presumably the street outside. Murphy was bracing himself all of the time as he had no idea what to expect. One thought really excited him however: Jacobi had said “London” – maybe he would get to see his friends John and Sasha on this trip! He eagerly hurried towards the exit of the tunnel.

He found himself in a bustling and busy street with people hurrying past him in both directions. He could see people chattering away to themselves it seemed on all sides, much as he’d seen businessmen do into mobile phones before. They all seemed to be in such a hurry, the movement and noise of them made him feel a little dizzy at first. He looked around some more, trying to get his bearings. He was in a busy street in London suddenly, far away from the quiet village and country lanes he had almost gotten used to finding himself in before. He was still quietly baffled, but was just glad to be anywhere other than Whitleby to be totally honest.

He looked more closely at the people jostling by him as they made their way down the street: they were, as he had thought earlier, talking to themselves. He could see no other explanation for it. He tried hard not to stare and stare at the smartly dressed man in a pinstripe suit and bowler hat coming towards him having a very heated conversation with no one as he walked on by. Or the mum with her baby in a pushchair talking to herself also. Jake and Jacobi were paying no attention to anyone around them at all, so he assumed this must be considered totally normal behaviour with them. Especially as everyone almost as far as the eye could see was doing much the same thing. He filed this away in his brain as something he should ask about once he got the opportunity.

They were heading towards the business district Murphy assumed as the buildings on either side of him seemed to be getting taller and more imposing as they walked. It was at this point that Murphy really started to look up at the buildings around him. What he saw made him want to duck and run out of the way. Office after office was piled one on top of the other, all in different styles with some looking very precariously balanced on the property beneath them. They were all different  sizes too you see – and they weren’t stacked according to that  either. You had huge impressive looking steel framed offices with floor to ceiling windows sitting atop tiny little offices with more conventional bricks and mortar walls with average size windows. There were more flamboyant offices in all the colours of the rainbow it seemed – some in the Spanish style he had seen on holiday: the bumpy walls, oval windows and vivid colours of Gaudi. Others were in a more Moroccan style, with terracotta walls and large windows. The result of this was a series of buildings which tottered on their foundations and gently seemed to sway in the breeze. Which everyone else around him seemed to be totally OK with – in fact, they didn’t really give the buildings a second glance at all. Murphy wondered how exactly these Montalians could live in London and still not be known to any of the humans living here also. How was that possible? Surely someone would have noticed. They would certainly have noticed the buildings even if they didn’t notice the people.

Murphy was straining hard to stop himself from just gawking and staring at everything around him. It was truly breathtaking – he felt totally in awe of what he was seeing. Buildings that seemed about to fall down around him – indeed, buildings that by all logical argument should not have been able to be built – were all around him. As he wandered on further, only dimly aware of keeping Jake and Jacobi in his sights lest he get totally lost, he stared upwards in disbelief. He could see a miniature Taj Mahal up ahead, on top of which he saw what could only be described as a Circus tent of the red and white stripy variety. It's doorway flapped idly in the breeze as he wandered underneath it's swaying, tottering form. How in the world could that have gotten there? Was he quietly hallucinating? He wouldn't be at all surprised if he was hallucinating this entire experience. This entire day – or was it night time? It should be after all...... maybe he was dreaming. Maybe that was it. Maybe. He would wake up soon to no doubt the pouring rain lashing the windows of his house in Whitleby. Maybe he might even prefer the dream.......

*

They arrived at their destination as they rounded the next bend in the road. Around which corner another little surprise awaited him. If he had thought the people were a little strange, the traffic here was most certainly not what he had expected. Bicycles – every colour, shape and size imaginable. There were single bicycles powering down the road with suited and booted passengers along for the ride. There were whole families sharing bicycles and having obviously friendly conversations whilst they were at it. Which isn't all that strange really. But when he realised that no one seemed to be pedalling these bikes, then he really started to wonder. They all had pedals – where else would they rest their feet? But no one was using them. The bikes seemed to propel themselves along the street quite happily under their own steam entirely.

They also seemed to leave behind them a kind of vapour trail almost. A little like the white smoke the Red Arrows use in their displays. Murphy got the impression of the bikes acting almost as rubbers as they pootled along, erasing any dirt or pollution in their wake.  The air and the sky certainly seemed to be clearer and brighter as they passed through it. Which is in fact exactly what the bikes do, as Jake explained when he asked him. “Pretty cool huh?” Jake asked with a grin. Pretty cool indeed thought Murphy, but satisfied himself with a nod in Jake's direction. They had most definitely arrived as Jacobi was disappearing through a glass door of a very tall building indeed. They were being ushered inside of it somewhat impatiently, Jacobi no doubt wondering what the big hold up was. It's not as though anything was a little strange here right? Yeah, right thought Murphy. Nothing to see here at all. Sheesh.

So, he did what any boy of his age in a foreign country – maybe even on an alien planet – would do: he followed them inside. And once more silenced the little voice in his head that was growing bigger and bigger by the minute. What harm could it do? How bad could it really be? He felt relatively safe here with Jake. Jacobi he wasn't so sure of though – he smiled as he walked past him through the door he was holding open for him. Jacobi was an entirely unknown entity to him at this point, and an impatient one at that.

Jacobi shut the door smartly behind them and took off into the main lobby of the building they were in towards the lift. He was all business like and efficient it seemed, and there wasn't a moment to waste at all. Wherever it was they were headed to it seemed Jacobi was eager to get himself and them there.

We scurried along behind him, Jake and me, as fast as my curiosity would allow. All over the lobby were so many interesting people. I wanted to stop and take it all in. I also wanted to try and check out the signs to see if I could figure out where exactly we were heading for. No such luck. It seems when you travel with a Montalian you have to travel fast. And Murphy was already falling way behind.

He reached the lift just in time, as the doors closed right behind him. Jacobi tutted with impatience and Jake grinned. He really was holding Jacobi up today it seemed. As they headed up through the different floors Murphy got a chance to catch a glimpse of what was actually going on in the building. They stopped with the usual ping on floor four where two of the tallest men he had ever seen got into the lift with them and continued the journey upwards. They wore cream and brown robes and little round flat caps, patterned and embroidered all around the edges in a style Murphy had never seen before.

They talked between themselves, barely even noticing that there was anyone else there. There was no way the other passengers in the lift could eavesdrop their conversation however: they were talking so quickly and in the kind of native tongue that only a native could follow. Lots of “kuh” and “chuh” sounds and almost constant gesturing with their long and descriptive hands. They were it seemed having a very heated debate about something. What they were debating Murphy couldn't even begin to guess.

They got out of the lift only two floors later, and left the other occupants with a slight ringing in their ears. It was tough work being in a small, echoey metal box with those guys – thank goodness they hadn't been going all the way to the top along with them. Which Murphy now realised they were: going al the way to the top. The lift stopped on a few more floors and other characters made their way into and out of their personal space with varying degrees of intrusion. A lady got into the lift wearing a hugely flowing gown and the tallest hat Murphy had ever seen. EVERY time she moved she was seriously in danger of hitting one of them with the pointy end of it. Another was followed in and immediately surrounded by the thickest fog of the most sickly perfume he had ever smelled. In such a small space it very quickly became very hard to breathe. They covered their mouths as discreetly as possible and tried not to cough –  or even worse to gag. How could the woman herself be so utterly unaffected by this? After all, she was at the very epicentre of the perfume cloud. Surely she should be feeling it the most.

As she exited the lift they breathed an audible sigh of relief, greedily sucking in the fresher air outside of the lift before the doors could close on them. They felt they had had a very close call there with suffocation. They were so happy to be given back their ability to breath. Thankfully they didn’t have much longer to wait in that lift anyway.  Two more floors and they had arrived. Jacobi strode purposefully out onto the landing leaving the others with little choice but to follow him out there. Murphy took his one hundred and fifty six thousandth calming breath as he followed Jacobi down an unknown corridor to goodness knows where. How bad could it possibly be after all? It can’t seriously be any weirder than it already has been for him. Or so he hoped.

They came to an abrupt halt outside of an office door. Brown wood, looked perfectly normal. Nothing to fear here. The name on the door was a little unusual however: His Excellency the Royal Misoman Emperor of State (and all things human related). Interesting – very interesting. That was one heck of a title for any man. One heck of a title. All things human related. All things? How was that possible? For one man? Very strange. Very strange indeed. Or in fact very ordinary. After all, everything here was ultimately strange.

Jacobi knocked on the door and an extremely deep voice answered that he should enter. Murphy would know soon enough about the man who owned this impressive top floor office.

*

When he sat down in a vacant chair in front of a very big and important looking desk he found himself face to face with the biggest smile he had ever seen. This most excellent Misoman was clearly an exceptionally friendly person (or indeed a very good liar). He felt at ease though – he didn’t sense anything scary or dishonest about this man. He seemed honest and very much glad to see them.

“How are you my friends?” Misoman beamed at the assembled group in his office as though they were all old acquaintances. Never mind the fact that he had literally just that second met Murphy. He smiled to himself at this did Murphy – he liked Misoman already.

“I hope you had a pleasant trip here,” Misoman continued with a twinkle in his eye. “I have been looking forward to meeting with you – it promises to be a very interesting conversation and an interesting time in our history. This new agreement I have very high hopes for personally. I think you will be a valuable asset to us here Murphy. No doubt about that.” Misoman smiled around the group and seemed really happy with the current situation. Murphy just felt even more baffled than before. What exactly was going on here? What were they trying to sign him up to?

“Ah my friend. You are wondering however about what exactly you will be doing as an asset to our little community, no? A very good question indeed, and it is indeed my honour and my pleasure to explain it to you.” Misoman had a very roundabout way of talking- each of his sentences seemed to go on a huge journey before they reached their conclusion but he did seem genuine in his intentions for Murphy and in his affection for his role. Murphy decided right then and there he would trust him.

“Now Murphy. Let me explain to you all that is expected of you when you move between our two worlds. We are in need of a liaison – a go between for our two peoples. We have had many of these wonderful people over the years, and indeed our own people also travel between the two worlds when necessary. It is important in order to keep our two worlds working in harmony together (and yet still separately) that we do keep up this spirit of co-operation among those in the know.” Misoman smiled warmly – he was really all smile to be honest. That was the biggest, most important part of him. It was his most impressive and overwhelming feature really. He was pretty much all smile. His deep, warm voice only served to emphasise that to anyone who cared to look and listen.

“Now, your roles will be very important. You will be key to our efforts to stay a secret from most of the human race, and you will also act as our eyes and ears - alerting us to any potential dangers or issues we need to take care of. You will be our key witness and our confidante at the same time. You will be steadfast and trustworthy but also sneaky and evasive when we need you to be. You will be a walking talking contradiction, no?” Misoman laughed loudly at this, throwing his head back and really letting loose with a big laugh all the way down to his belly. “It sounds difficult I am sure. What we are asking of you can be difficult at times. But we have faith in you – we believe you will be able to succeed at this. If not we would never have chosen you.”

Murphy found himself smiling confidently. He was sure he could do it too. Wait a minute: did that thought really just fleet across his mind? Where on earth did it come from if so? He thought he could do what exactly? His “job description” was exceptionally vague – possibly the vaguest job description he had every heard. What exactly in real terms did they expect him to do? What exactly was this role he was expected to fulfil? How on earth could he be honest and sneaky at the same time? The mind boggled – it really did. He decided it was time for him to speak – he had done too much listening already.

“Are you asking me to be some kind of spy?” Murphy though he had it here. All that sneaking around between different peoples and different worlds. He would be a spy. That would be his new role.

Misoman frowned. He was clearly a little uncomfortable with that word in particular. Although he did kind of shrug whilst answering, so Murphy figured he couldn’t be too far wrong. A spy – now that sounded kind of exciting. The kind of thing he would really want to take part in.

“Not so much a spy Murphy – we wouldn’t want to be thought of as spying on the human race – that would be very bad. Very, very bad.” Misoman shook his head and rubbed his chin in a thoughtful way. He was clearly looking for a way to phrase this just right so that he wouldn’t come across as some kind of bad guy. “ We need someone to be our eyes and ears. Someone who can easily go to places and observe things that we can’t always see. It is very difficult for us to move around in the human world during the day time – in fact we can’t really do that at all without drawing a huge amount of attention to ourselves. Therefore, during the daylight hours we need someone who can keep an eye on things for us. Someone who can make sure our operations are running smoothly. Someone who can vouch for us. At night time we need the opposite really. We need someone who will keep us from being detected. Night time is when we are most active, when we do most of our work. We need to be able to do that work undected. You will help us with that Murphy. This is probably the most tricky aspect of our work here. We have to keep ourselves a secret both for our own safety and well being and for the safety and well being of the human race.”

Murphy needed to take all of this in really. He needed time which he realised he didn’t really have. The sun was setting outside of the window, and he knew this meant he had to return to the real world. To return home.

*