Once upon a time...actually it wasn't once upon a time because this kind of thing always happens. Actually it doesn't always happen but sometimes it does and you might know someone who has had it happen to them or you might not, every man to their own or whatever. There was a little girl who went to sleep. Zzz lll qqq... and so on... Except that she didn't sleep. She lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and tried to sleep but she couldn't. When I say this girl was little I mean little like a giant baby, she was five foot six which is actually massive for a child of eight. This
towering
ginormous,
girl lay in her bed that was too small
for her. The bed didn't fit, but she wore
it. When her dad made it, he hammered
at his hand without looking.
He turned to admire his wife, Angela, who was bringing in their cups of tea, which were
more sweet, warm, tea flavoured cups of milk than tea, when he slammed the hammer on his hand.
She stopped looking where she was going and tripped over the
little doggy who just ran in
and went flying – yes flying like an enthused, adrenaline filled, tiny, squeaky, fluffy, bird into the dad, Eric. Not into, but on. A woman can't go into a man. Not the way a man can go into a woman, unless she does it from behind. Angela felt weird about the thought of doing that to her husband. And as she did, the tea went flying too and splashed over both of them.
Milk milk milkmilk milk
Splish milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk water milk milk milk milk milk milk milk Splash milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk water milk milk milk milk milk milk water milk milk milk milk water milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk crash milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk milk water milk milk milk milk milk milk slop.
Lucky there wasn't much water, otherwise it would have
reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaally hurt.
But the girl was still in her bed, unable to sleep. She imagined lots of things, a huge palace, pink with roses and puppies and kittens and rainbows and ponies and chocolate
f
n o s
u a
i n
t.
But she still couldn't sleep. And that's when she noticed a figure in the
corner
of
her room. It didn't glow like the sun but it glowed warmly. It was as hot as ice. The ice that refreshes you in the summer after you've just ran up and down the road playing 'it'. The figure was calm. She was calm. She felt safer with it near her and she smiled. What are you doing here? Asked the girl. It's time you come with me, Emily. Emily knew that you shouldn't really go with people or things you don't know, you should always ask your parents.
Emily got out of bed.
She went to her mum and dad's room and told them that this shining person asked her to go with them. What should I do? she asked. Go back to sleep her dad said. So she did. And when she got to her room the shining thing had gone and she slept. This happened the next two nights. Each time she asked her parents what to do – until the last night, her father, in frustration, murmured – if he wants you to go so much just go!
So next time the thing appeared she said ok.
The next morning was odd for the Hendersons.
Mrs Henderson cried all the time.
Mr Henderson hardly spoke. He did speak, but not about anything important.
The child's body
was removed from the house, shortly after. It was something wrong with her brain. Something typical, that you hear about people suddenly dying of.
She was only little, although not really when you think about how tall some people get by the time they die. Some are massive – even more humungus than
Emily henderson
2002-2010
