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6M

P8

LINES

By

Pam Henry

A work of fiction for children aged 8+

 

Synopsis

Wintertime, more snow than anyone has ever seen, and with the ice and snow and biting, swirling wind comes something else, something with a mission and a message to deliver. Not many people will understand, so it needs to target a particular family, whose ears are tuned to the language it speaks. The snow is choosing where it falls and the wind is targeting where it wants to blow.

A voice is heard by Stoke, a Staffordshire bull terrier belonging to Ross Edwards.  Ross hears a few garbled messages, seeming to come from the snow and the wind, but he doesn’t understand until Christmas Eve, when his grandmother comes to stay. 
 
With the help of their family and friends, and one wacky teacher, they race all through the Christmas holidays, following messages to find the answer to the riddle before the deadline, midnight on New Years Eve.
 
The earth has found its own voice, it’s reacting against pollution and is sending instructions for the damage to be repaired, in particular the hole in the ozone layer.  Voices in the wind, faces in the snow, all-seeing tornadoes, videos in the ice, and an ancient forgotten energy source catapults them to the midnight gathering.
 
TOTAL Word Count : 55,274
 
Copyright © 2004 Pam Henry 
Reg. No. 241468

 

Chapter One - First Words

There was a sound, not very loud, and he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He was in the house on his own; it was late afternoon in winter and just thinking about getting dark.  He stood in the hall and listened, he could still hear it but very faintly now; was it coming from upstairs?  He flew up the stairs two at a time and stood quietly on the landing, his heart was pounding.  It was definitely a sort of sighing and he thought he’d heard something like it before.  He was at the top of the stairs looking down, there it was again, louder this time, there was someone in the living room.  He barely touched the carpet going down, doing a three-sixty round the banister rail at the bottom, he shot along the hall, straight across the room at the end, and with his back to the patio doors facing the fireplace, his head jerked sharply towards each of the four corners, no-one there.  He didn’t dare move for a moment, but he knew it was impossible for anyone to get into the house, the doors were all locked and only the family had keys. 
 
He felt a bit stupid after all that dashing about and he was beginning to relax, when softly, just a whisper at first but getting louder every second, the sound was back and now he knew exactly where it was coming from, he was staring straight at it; the noise was in the chimney.    This was no whirling of the wind through the chimney pot though, these were certainly words, but he couldn’t understand what was being said, or who was speaking.  He took a couple of careful steps towards the fireplace, his head tilted to one side trying to make it out.  He sidled cautiously a little closer and just at that moment he almost jumped out of his skin, the front door banged and someone was thundering up over the stairs.  He raced into hall and, looking up, was just in time to see Ross disappearing into his bedroom.
 
At last, someone was home and he could get them to come and listen to the whispering voice. He chased after the boy, Ross  door was ajar, but crashing into the house the way he had he was probably in a bad mood, so it wasn’t a good idea to barge straight in.   He nudged the door open a little more and peered round, but drew back immediately when he saw a very heavy looking book flying across the room aimed in his direction.  The boy regretted the action even before the book hit the door, he threw back his head, eyes clenched shut in frustration.  
 
 Come on in,  he growled.   Come on, it’s OK.   That slight lightening in tone was more than enough invitation, the dog’s broad black head butted the door open wide and Stoke launched himself at the boy.  One slight touchdown on the edge of the bed, and the dog landed squarely against Ross  chest; it was like being hit by a flying concrete block, Staffies are solid little dogs. 

 

Chapter Two.  Ghost Story

 

That skill has now been lost, the stones have long since been moved, and the earth has been quiet for a long long time; the energy has faded and died away to nothing because no-one’s been listening.  We’ve been overtaken by science and technology, caused untold damage around the globe and most people have forgotten about the earth itself - but not the people of Wessex. There will be a voice in a language that can be understood; perhaps it will be the wind in the trees, or the lapping of water, or crackling in a fire, one way or another the earth will make itself known.

 

***********************

 

Cold air found its way under the door and round the curtain, its fingers kept tickling Ross on the back of the neck.  The service galloped on much more quickly than they’d expected; perhaps the vicar still had Christmas presents to wrap.  There were the usual carols and readings, culminating as always with  O Come, All Ye Faithful ; whilst this last old song was booming round the church, the curtain over the door had shivered to such an extent that it had moved aside completely, leaving the door clear.   As the congregation reached the final roof-lifting chorus, the wind whistling under the door reached its own crescendo, spitting out a furious message in an icy rasping voice it whispered.  ROSS! LISSSSTEN!

 

Chapter Three   Down To Earth

 

 The first time was the day the snow began, you guys had gone out and Dad was late getting home.  There was a wind blowing, but it wasn’t the wind, it was a hissing whisper coming from under every door in the house, but I couldn’t make out any words; I was scared stiff, I thought we had ghosts or a poltergeist or something.  Then there was the day we had to be collected from school.  There was a problem getting people in and out of the car park because of the slope, so we all had to go out the top gate and round the side path.  I’d forgotten my clarinet so I was behind everyone else, and when I came round the side of the building it was as though I was inside a tiny whirlwind, it seemed to be trying to hold me in one place.  I was really frightened, but I managed to push my way through and I pelted down the path to Dad’s car, as I ran it hissed after me.  The last time was Christmas Eve  ..
Her voice tailed away as she stared straight at Ross, she was shaking from head to foot. 

 

***********************

 

As they started to climb the first bank, they all heard it at once, there was a distant but distinct pinging sound coming from the next ridge.  No-one spoke and the dogs had no inclination to run ahead, with every step they took up the bank they gained a better view of the ridge beyond, and as they drew closer to the second steep bank they saw something crouched low at the foot of the next incline.  This was certainly the source of the pinging sound, the kids edged quietly forward but the dogs held back, the sound was obviously more piercing to their ears.  They could see a dull green light coming from under a small grey dome.  Ross got close enough to touch it and found that the outer skin of the dome was soft, it pressed in as he pushed it with his fingers.  They all leapt back as the side of the dome opened and a curved edged segment folded back on each side.  The green light spewed out across the carpet of snow and mingled with the falling flakes, pervading the whole area with a green haze.
The group stood transfixed as a hooded figure stepped outside, it threw back the hood and shouted at the same time.