The call of nature                                        

I'm sat on the loo,

Answering the call!

It's all peace and quiet,

Out in the hall.

Then...............

Bang,bang bang,

Knocks on the wood.

Granddaughter's there,

And she's up to no good

Thump, thump, thump,

She wants to come in,

I'll be out in a minute,

I say with a grin.

I'm feeling quite safe,

She can't reach the handle,

No matter how much,

She thumps with that sandal!

Big sister is talking,

Grandma's having a poo!

Do you want to go in,

Do you feel the need too?

My heart gives a thump,

Oh dear this is bad!

The door slowly opens,

And round creeps a hand!

In she toddles,

A grin on her lips,

She stands quite near me,

With her hands on her hips.

My husband hears,

My shout and my cry,

In he runs,

And swings her up high!

He shuts up the door,

And laughs as he goes,

Better get on now,

I think, I suppose.

But oh, woe is me.

For now I'm alone

The urge has quite passed!

The moment has flown!

So I exit the room,

Go wash my hands,

Smile at the children,

Such cute little lambs!

Instagram Woes

I'm a happy old lady,

Often stuck in my house.

I don't harm anyone,

Quiet as a mouse.

But my hobby, you see,

Is causing me grief,

I like entering comps,

And I'm fed up to the teeth!

Why you may ask,

What's going wrong?

Instagram, that's what!

For so very long.

I partake of my hobby,

Nothing new there.

You're banned – again.

I read with a glare.

But why, what did I do?

I'm just having fun,

But Instagram says,

I'm jumping the gun!

My comment is spam,

I'm garnering likes,

But really all I want

Is to win those there bikes!

I'm following the rules,

But still I get banned.

My innocent comments,

Are frequently canned!

For days, sometimes weeks,

I can't like and follow

Cos Instagram says so

It brings me such sorrow!

Come on Instagram,

Sort yourself out!

You're stopping our fun,

While spammers still spout.

All I want,

Today and tomorrow,

Is to enjoy my hobby

Without any sorrow.

Please take heed,

Of this simple verse,

Sort out your bots,

Before things get much worse!

For if you don't,

People will vote with their feet.

And go over to X,

To follow, compete.

And then Instagram will die

Because no one is left!

We'll all be happy,

While you are bereft!   

For the love of her

Felicity climbed carefully into the trap and sat down, smoothing out her long skirts. She smiled as she placed the wicker basket beside her. Toys and treats for her Nephews and Nieces. She shook the reins and clicked the pony on. She hadn't seen her sister for a few weeks, and her time was drawing near, so Felicity wanted to check that Mother and baby were well and happy. Not that she should worry, as Elizabeth's husband Leo absolutely doted on her.

Until a few weeks ago, Leo had been working as a manager in a bank, so they weren't short on money – just as well with all of those children! But unfortunately things had changed and he had lost his job. It was such bad timing, what with another baby due any day.

She thought about her sister. Despite her disability, she was well and happy, and loved. It had happened nearly thirteen years ago now, shortly after she and Leo had been married. A horse riding accident! Her back had been broken and had paralysed her from the chest down. Leo had stood by her, taking care of her every need.

When Elizabeth's nurse had a day off, it was Leo who bathed her, changed her bed and brushed her hair.

Each day he would lift her tenderly, carefully carry her downstairs, lower her into her bath chair and wheel her around their immaculate gardens.

They found great comfort in being together, for they were so much in love. Which of course, led to many babies.

Elizabeth found birthing babies easy. She couldn't feel her pains when her time came, and everything had always gone easily and smoothly, with the babies arriving happy and healthy.

Apart from little Martha. She had been born long before her time and did not survive. Elizabeth had cradled the infant for the few days that she had lived, giving her warmth and love until she passed away peacefully in her arms.

The pony trotted on, until they finally reached the large town house. Felicity drew the pony to a stop outside and waited for the groom to take it to the stables for a rest and some food. She looked around. Strange, there was no sign of him. Shrugging, she released the pony from his harness and led him to the stable herself.

Slowly, she walked back to the front door, noticing that the flower beds were not as tidy as usual. She looked around. No sign of the gardener either. How very strange!

She rang the doorbell, listening to it jangling brightly somewhere deep within the large house. The cries of excited children came to her ears, making her smile. Here they come, the tribe, she thought to herself. The door opened, and there stood Leo, a child in his arms and several more gathered around him.

'Felicity,' He said quietly, 'This is a surprise, I had no word that you would be visiting today!' She smiled up at him. 'No, I thought I'd surprise you all and see how Elizabeth is doing as the new baby is due any day.'

'Well come on in' said Leo, standing aside to let her pass. She noticed that he looked haggard, older, tired. 'How are you Leo? Are there any new jobs on the horizon?' He raked his fingers through his hair. They were shaking. 'No, not yet, but things are looking promising.' He replied. 'Come on in.'

She stepped into the house and looked around. Dust lay in a fine film over the surfaces, things weren't tidy as they usually were. 'Leo, I think you need a new maid!' She said jokingly. 'Ah yes,' he replied. 'She's looking after her Mother at the moment, she's been taken ill with a fever!'

Felicity walked into the parlour, surrounded by the children, who were eager to see what treasures were in the basket for them. She laughed. 'Alright, alright, let me take off my hat and coat off first and then we shall see what I have for your all.'

She walked over to the coat stand, and hung her things upon it. She caught a smell, faint, but it was there. 'Leo,' she said, 'What is that strange smell? It is almost like rotting meat. Maybe cook has left something too long?' 'Yes, maybe so,' said Leo looking away.

Felicity sat on on a chair, smiling at the children. 'My goodness, how many of you are there now?' She asked. 'Eight!' replied Jane, who was the eldest. 'Soon there will be nine because Mamma will have a little baby soon!'

'And how is your Mamma?' Felicity asked. Jane's face fell and she began to sob quietly. 'Mamma is not feeling well. Daddy says she is sleeping. We haven't seen her for a week!'

Felicity looked at Leo. 'Is this true?' She demanded. 'Elizabeth would never refuse to see her children, she dotes on them! What is wrong?'

Leo looked away and muttered 'She's just tired, that's all!'

Felicity felt an odd stirring within her. Something was very wrong here!

Little Paul tugged at his Father's sleeve. 'Papa, I'm hungry,' he wailed. 'I'll take him down to the kitchen, if you like, and see if cook can find him something.' Felicity suggested.

'No! Snapped Leo, 'I'll take him!' She looked at him in surprise! Never before had he been so short with her. He had always been very polite and caring!

He stalked out of the room with Paul, some of the other children joined him, pleading hunger too.

Felicity looked around. The other children were happily playing with their toys. I'll just go and pop in on Elizabeth while everyone is busy. If she is sleeping, I'll let her be, she thought.

She left the room and went upstairs to Elizabeth's bedroom. She pushed open the door quietly, so that she would not wake her sister if she was sleeping.

There's that smell again! Perhaps Elizabeth's bed needed changing, as it often did. She tiptoed across to the bed and looked down at her sister's face. It was so pale! She reached out and stroked her face and recoiled in horror! Elizabeth was cold. Stone cold! How could this be? Felicity looked down, taking in her sister's serene face and the bulge of her belly, with her unborn child within.

The door behind her opened and Leo walked in. 'Please don't wake her,' He said. Felicity's mind somersaulted. 'Leo, what's happened here, call the doctor, please Elizabeth is dead!' Leo smiled. 'No, she's not dead, just sleeping. She's been sleeping for a week now. I've been bathing her, brushing her hair, making sure that she is comfortable.

One morning, on the nurses day off, I came in to see her, as usual. There was blood, so much blood and she was sleeping. I cleaned her up, thinking that the baby was coming, but it didn't and she slept on.

He sat by the bed, taking Elizabeth's hand in his own. 'My love, He said. 'Once you wake, I will bring the children to you, they are missing you so much my darling. Please wake up soon, we all miss your laughter and smiles.'

I sat down, tears filling my eyes, looking across at Leo, who loved Elizabeth so very much. So very much that he could not bear to be without her, ever.

After a while, I stood, crossed the room and went back downstairs. The children all turned their happy faces towards me. How could I tell them. How could I possibly tell them. But I had to! Someone had to.

Leo came downstairs and looked around at his crying children. 'Its alright, its alright,' He said, kissing them one by one. Mamma is just sleeping, she'll be fine soon.

Tears once more filled my eyes as I turned and left the house. I had to get the Doctor. He would know what to do! I put pony back into his harness, climbed into the trap and set off.

I need food!

I need food!

My cupboards are bare,

But I can't go to the shops,

Its just isn't fair.

The Government say I'm vulnerable,

I've got to stay in!

I can't leave the house.

Even to empty the bin!

They contacted the shops,

Sainsbury's, Tesco and Asda,

For a delivery slot,

When I need rice and pasta.

The shops sent an email,

Giving a priority slot.

But I've just had a look,

And there isn't a lot!

There's one on Saturday,

At eleven at night!

No, I'll be in bed,

That just isn't right.

I close down my 'puter,

Leave it a while,

I'll have a look later,

This is becoming a trial!

Oh, look there's a slot,

For tomorrow, it seems,

I smile and I click,

As food fills my dreams!

No longer available?

No, that can't be right!

Where did it go,

I cry with such fright!

It shouldn't be hard,

To order online,

Before this darn virus,

I did it just fine!

I stop and I think.

What more can I do?

I sit and I sigh,

I'm feeling so blue!

An hour has passed,

I'll try one more time,

Eureka, there's one!

It's gonna be mine.

I click and I hope,

Oh yes it is booked!

If it hadn't have been,

I couldn't have cooked!

With pleasure I click,

On this and then that,

Oh my, be careful,

Or I'll end up quite fat!

Now I'm relaxed,

I know we won't starve,

Come lunch time on Sunday,

There'll be a chicken to carve.

I'm happy you see,

Don't feel so bleak.

Until, that is,

I try shopping next week!

Isolation!

Fiona opened her eyes and looked up at the clear blue sky. She tilted up her chin, feeling the sun's warmth caressing her face.

A half smile formed on her lips. This was the life. She had felt so lucky to be able to book this perfect getaway. A real family holiday!

The idyllic, fairytale cottage sat within a small wood, just a stones throw from the white sands of the beach.

It was so tranquil. The trees whispered softly to each other in the breeze, the gulls called, soaring above her. The gentle waves lapped the shore – perfect!

She reached out her hand and scooped up a handful of sand, letting it fall back to the beach lazily through her fingers.

Fiona turned to look at her husband, who was fast asleep. He deserved this break. He had been working so hard lately. They all deserved this break!

She dozed into a light slumber, happy and content.

A child's laughter woke her. She turned her head towards the sound and opened her eyes, smiling.

Her two daughters were paddling at the edge of the sea, shrieking and laughing as the cold water tickled their toes.

She got up and ran across the beach to them, laughing. 'Come on girls, let's go for a swim!'

The three of them waded out into the cool water, and were soon swimming, enjoying the cool silkiness of the sea against their hot skin.

Ah, sweet isolation, sweet, sweet isolation. No cars, no trains, no TV. She could get used to this.

Her vision faded, lost like smoke into the Summer's clear air, silence fell, darkness pressed against her.

* * * *

The sound of a siren broke the silence.

Fiona opened her eyes groggily, looking at the clock on the bedroom wall. 7 AM!

Time to get up and at 'em, I suppose, she thought.

She rolled over painfully, and got out of bed, straightening up slowly and carefully.

Looks like another sunny day, she though, pulling the curtains open.

She hobbled to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea and carried it into the sitting room, walking across to the window of her tiny flat.

The park looked so nice down there. She was so high up that the few dog walkers and runners that were out at this early hour looked like ants.

She smiled. She loved that park. Each day she would take a slow and gently stroll around it, if her knees would let her, that is.

But everything had changed on that fateful day four weeks ago! That letter. It changed everything! Nothing would ever be the same again.

The Government letter had made it very clear. She was to stay inside, not go out for 12 weeks!

Coronavirus! An invisible and indiscriminate killer had invaded the Earth

Her world had shrunk to the size of her tiny, one bedroom flat.

She was on her own. Her husband had passed away years ago, and her children had grown up, moved away and had families of their own now.

She longed for conversation, to speak to the dog walkers, the other elderly people that also took walks in the park.

She longed to visit the shops, the hairdresser. But it was not going to happen any time soon.

Once a week, a crumpled piece of paper was pushed through her letter box – A government food parcel had been left outside.

Once a month the local pharmacy did the same with her medication.

She was lonely, unhappy, vulnerable. The darkness of her life closed around her, enveloping her in its icy grip.

She thought back to her dream of the night before, the bliss, the sweet isolation of being with her family once more on that holiday, so many years ago.

This isolation felt like a jail sentence! When would it end? Three months, maybe more? She yearned for the feeling of fresh air upon her face, the sights and sounds of normality.

She had lost track of the days, they seemed to merge, coalesce into one long nothingness.

Just hour upon hour, waiting, hoping that it would soon be over, that she could once more step outside.

Food hoarders – shame on you!

You know who you are,

You empty the shelves,

Only caring about yourself

How do you feel?

Are you happy?

How do you feel when you see a Mother comforting her crying baby?

Because there's no formula on the shelf to feed it,

There's no nappies to change it.

But you have more than you need.

Shame on you!

How about that man?

The one on Chemo,

He's been told to stay at home.

But he can't book an online shop!

Because you have booked them all.

Shame on you!

That lady there?

She has a lung condition,

She shouldn't be out either,

But she needs milk and bread.

But there is none,

Because you have taken it all.

Shame on you!

You have even been seen taking food out of the food bank.

Food for the starving, those who have no money.

They won't eat today,

But you have enough for months.

Shame on you!

That young man there.

He has Crohn's disease.

He needs some toilet paper,

For his frequent bowel movements,

But he can't get it,

Because you have stockpiled it.

Shame on you.

See that young girl?

She has diabetes.

She needs some sweets to treat her sugar when it goes too low.

But there is none,

You have piles of them.

Shame on you.

That boy, the one that you think is being naughty?

He is autistic.

He will only eat a certain shape of pasta.

But he can't get it, so he won't eat.

But you have lots that you don't need.

Shame on you!

That young couple?

They have both lost their jobs due to this virus.

They can't afford to hoard.

They can barely afford the basics,

But they can't get them,

Because you bought them all.

Shame on you!

The list of people that are suffering because of you goes on and on.

Are you ill, do you need these things?

Will most of your hoard get thrown away months later because it has spoilt?

How do you feel?

Is your conscience pricking?

The answer is probably no,

Because you have no conscience.

You are selfish,

Thinking only of yourself,

Not of others that are less fortunate.

SHAME ON YOU!

I hate odd socks!

I look and I sigh,

Laying right there,

Is a little white sock,

Without it's white pair!

The basket is empty,

I've ironed all the stuff.

But the sock is still mocking,

I'm just one, so tough!

It has to be somewhere!

I look high and then low.

If I were a sock,

Where would I go?

Down the back of the basket?

In the machine?

Walked off alone?

Now that would be mean!

On the floor in the bathroom?

No, there isn't a sign!

It's so frustrating,

Where are you! I whine.

Time's getting on,

It still isn't found,

I've hunted up high,

And down on the ground!

Time for a cuppa,

I'm feeling quite beat!

Without a pair,

Of socks for me feet.

It's now time for bed,

And the curtains are drawn,

Up the steps,

I go with a yawn.

Three steps up, I look down,

Down on the stair,

A little white sock,

Is sitting, right there!

I'm sure that the sock,

Is laughing and mocks,

I really, really,

Hate those odd socks!!

The Grandbaby has arrived!

The Grandbaby has arrived!

I'm happy to say,

Even though she wasn't expected,

For a month and a day!

Mum had it rough,

Now ain't that the truth!

So baby made her debut,

Through the sun roof!

She was rushed quickly away,

To check all was well!

Into an incubator,

Only time now, would tell.

Mum was so ill,

She feared for her life,

Her poor husband,

Worried for his wife.

It was a tough few days,

We all worried so,

Would Mother and baby,

Get better, oh woe!

But things improved,

They both got much stronger,

Perhaps they'll be home,

Not in hospital much longer!

After a week long of rest,

Mum, home, she could go,

Gathering strength,

Taking it slow.

Baby is feeding,

Getting stronger each day,

She will soon be home,

And Grandma can play.

It's been a rough time,

For everyone, at best,

But with a beautiful baby,

We all have been blessed.

T'was a bit of shock,

When she arrived oh so soon,

She's little but perfect,

We're over the moon.

Oh Alexa!

I've got a smart speaker,

Alexa's the name!

But getting her to work,

Is sometimes a game!

Maybe its my accent,

I'm often misheard,

It happens so often,

Its becoming absurd!

Turn on the lights!

I'm sorry, I can't!

The hub's not responding,

Alexa does chant!

I walk to the light,

Flip on, off the switch,

Now she is working.

Maybe a glitch?

Play me some music,

Stuff that I like,

Eek, that's disgusting,

Are they eating the mike?

And then there's the light,

The red ring of doom,

Alexa's intelligence,

Has just left the room!

She's lost her connection,

To the world and the net!

I'll have to unplug her,

Again I can bet!

We love our Alexa,

Even when she's quite dim!

Not always intelligent,

She goes out on a limb!

You ask her a question,

And wait for a reply,

That doesn't make sense!

I tell her and sigh!

Artificial she is,

Of her we are fond,

If she were a person,

I'm sure she'd be blonde.

What a waste!

Today, my shopping was delivered and the young lad said 'Your potatoes are on their date today, do you want me to take them back?'

I looked at the spuds. They were dry, clean, weren't sprouting or mouldy, so I said 'They'll be fine for weeks yet.'

He gave me an odd look and said 'Well OK, if you are alright with eating them after their date.'

I asked him if he would eat them and he said no, he wouldn't because they would be past their date, he would throw them out.

It got me thinking about how much perfectly good food gets thrown away just because of a date printed on the packet.

I was born before best before dates and use by dates were printed on products.

We used our common sense back then. If the bread wasn't mouldy, if the milk smelled OK, then it was fine to use.

Dad grew fruit and veg, and after it was harvested, it was stored in the shed and was used throughout the Winter and into the next year – no best before dates there, either. If it was firm and not mouldy, it got eaten.

These days we are urged to do more to lessen food waste. So why are people still throwing away food that is perfectly good to eat?

Maybe it is time that producers took best before dates off of their food, so that people go back to using their eyes and nose to see if things are still good, rather than relying on a date.

So before you throw away that fruit, veg or bread that is past its best before date, check it, feel it, sniff it. If it looks good, smells good, feels good, then go ahead and eat it, rather than throwing it away.

Make a difference today, both to the planet and your purse.

What can I eat?

Its mid day already,

And time for my lunch.

I want something tasty,

Something to munch.

I go to the kitchen,

Open a door,

I look at the contents,

They seem rather poor.

Maybe some tuna,

I search and I peek.

Oh darn, I remember,

I ate it last week!

A sandwich perhaps,

I pull out the bread!

Oh, its gone all green.

That won't get me fed.

I sigh and I moan,

Thinking of food,

My tummy is rumbling,

I'm in a bad mood.

Potatoes, now there's an idea.

I grab one and scrub,

I'll bake in its jacket,

It'll be nice tasty grub.

In the microwave,

For a minute or two,

Beep, beep it is done,

Fully cooked through.

What shall I add?

To make it taste great,

Some cheese and tomato,

I throw on the plate.

Yum, now that's very tasty,

Not a bad meal,

I eat every scrap,

Even the peel.

My tummy is happy,

Couldn't eat another bite.

Back to work now,

I've poems to write.

The Cube

'Ah, this is the life', said Zack, stretching his arm across Carly's shoulder as they sat on the sofa.

Never in their wildest dreams did they expect to be living the high life – literally. Zack had landed a high powered job and the penthouse flat in the skyscraper in the city had seemed the perfect place for them. The stunning views of the city and the sea beyond through the large window, were just to die for!

'Fancy a cuppa?' Asked Zack, standing up and stretching. He turned towards the kitchen, glancing through the window at the view. 'What the hell,' he cried 'Is that!!!'

Carly turned, looking at Zack quizzically. He was staring, pointing out of the window. Her gaze switched to the window and her eyes opened wide in fear and amazement!

Together they walked to the window and looked out at the city. There, suspended in the air was a glittering black cube. Huge, and ominous. They stared. 'What is it?' Whispered Carly, terrified of what she was seeing. 'I have no idea', replied Zack, shaking his head in confusion.

'You don't think it could be, like, aliens, do you?' Said Carly quietly. Zack turned to her and laughed. 'Don't be silly. If it was an alien invasion, the army would be out there, shooting them down. It's probably some publicity stunt or something.'

'I've got to get this on film', said Zack running through to the bedroom to find his camcorder. He came back, camcorder in one hand, tripod in the other. 'I want to watch this', he said, so I'm going to set the camera going on the tripod, then I won't get distracted.'

He set up the camcorder peering through the viewfinder to get just the right angle. Yes, yes, that's right. I can see the cube in the sky, above the city and I can see us watching it. Perfect shot.

He ran back to Carly, and they stood, watching the mysterious cube. Zack shivered. 'Are you cold?' asked Carly. 'No, I don't know, I just felt a bit weird there.' 'I know what you mean', she replied, I feel a little weird myself.' She smiled weakly at Zack and held his hand tightly.

They stood, unmoving, losing track of time, as the cube continued to hover, sparkling as the sun glinted off of its surface.

Without warning, the cube blinked out of existence. Zack and Carly, startled, turned to look at each other. 'Well that was a bit weird', said Zack. How could it just wink out like that? It doesn't make sense!'

'I'm going to go and put the kettle on and make something to eat', Said Carly. I feel really hungry and thirsty for some reason!

She headed towards the kitchen, shaking her head, trying to shake the odd muzziness from it. 'Zack! The clock! This can't be right, it says its three o'clock. How can that be so? We started watching the cube at eleven! Maybe the batteries are gone. We were only watching it for about half an hour, surely?'

Zack looked at his watch. 'Carly', he said slowly, my watch says its three as well!'

They looked at each other, scared and confused, not understanding what had happened, why they had lost nearly four hours of the day.

'Let's see what the camera says' Said Zack, crossing the room and flipping out the screen. 'Yep, it has been recording for four hours! This is just so bizarre.

They plugged the camcorder into the TV and sat down to watch the footage. For a while, it was just them, the cube and the view. Nothing more. Zack fast forwarded the film, watching for the moment that the cube disappeared, hoping he could catch the exact frame.

Suddenly Carly screamed! There on the screen something had winked into existence inside the room – two somethings!

Two beings, grey, with strangely large heads, angled forward on their skinny bodies. Long, spindly arms reached out, one towards Carly, one towards Zack. Why hadn't the seen them, why hadn't they felt them. This just couldn't be happening.

The creatures talked with each other, in a series of clicks, their heads tilting as they did. They touched the couple, measuring and observing. On the screen, Zack and Carly stood motionless, in some sort of stupor, totally unaware of what was happening.

The creatures injected the couple in their necks, took some blood, watched them, looking into ears, eyes and mouth. Talking to each other, as though they were comparing notes.

One of them stopped! Its head snapped around, it had heard something! It turned and spoke to the other. Both turned and looked at the camera, a look of absolute anger on their reptilian faces. And disappeared!

On the screen, Carly and Zack moved sluggishly, as though they were sleepwalkers. Slowly they turned to look at each other, and then out of the window again. The cube had gone! They appeared to snap awake suddenly.

'Well that was a bit weird', said Zack. How could it just wink out like that? It doesn't make sense!'

Carly and Zack sat on the sofa in silence, watching, not believing what they had just seen. Zack rubbed his neck, thinking that it must have all been a dream, that it could not just have happened.

'Zack, your neck!' exclaimed Carly. There, just where he had been idly rubbing, was a small, red puncture mark! He glanced at Carly's neck. Yes, she had one too, just where the creatures on the screen had injected them.

They looked at each other in horror as the truth of what had just happened became clear!

Get knitting!

I'm going to be a Grandma,

Yes its true!

Shall I knit pink?

Or maybe with blue.

I haven't knitted,

For many a year,

But I'll give it a go,

For clothes are so dear.

I pick up the needles,

Get out the book,

What shall I knit?

I'll give it a look.

Ah that one looks simple,

I knit my first row,

But soon I've gone wrong!

Confound it, oh blow!

I unravel the wool,

Try it once more.

Oh no, not again,

This is becoming a bore!

I will persevere,

I'll soon get it right,

I'll try oh so hard,

With all of my might.

Hooray, It's gone right!

I'm now going good,

Maybe after the cardy,

I'll knit it a hood.

A few weeks have gone by,

And I've re-learned the craft.

I've a pile of clothing,

It was worth all the graft.

When the baby is born,

It will have lots of nice bits,

And I'll be a Granny,

A Granny who knits!

The Changeling - Chapter one

The Changeling

A short story in instalments

By Serendipity Says

Chapter one

John sighed as he fell onto the sofa. Never in his life had he felt so drained! He reached for his cup of tea and idly flicked through the photo album that he had found in the cupboard.

He smiled as he looked at himself playing on the beach, aged around 4. His Mother holding his hand as he jumped over the little waves.

Ah, he used to love those holidays. Being an only child had its advantages – no siblings to vie for Mum's attention!

It had been a tough few months. His beloved Mum had passed away around ten years ago, her body ravaged by the cancer which had taken her life.

And then, his Dad! Suddenly and without warning he had passed away from a massive heart attack!

John looked around at the home in which he had spent his childhood.

And a strange childhood it had been in many ways. Mum and Dad had never encouraged him to make friends, never liked him to go out and play.

They had home schooled him, so apart from routine medical appointments, he didn't really spend much time away from the house until he had started work.

Now his parents were gone! It felt bitter sweet. He missed them so much, after all, they had been his life! But he also felt free. He could live his own life now, do what he wanted. Make friends, maybe even meet a nice girl and settle down.

Between looking after Mum and working, he had never felt the need to settle down. But now, in his early 50's maybe it was time to change that at last.

This won't do, he thought, I still have this rambling old house to deal with!

With no family, it had fallen to John to pick through the house, looking for anything important, sifting through the 'stuff' that had accumulated through the years.

He hauled himself out of the sofa. What next! He thought. There's the attic. He had looked through most of the house, but had left the attic. He hadn't been up there for years. Goodness knows what rubbish he would find up there!

He climbed the ladder and flicked on the torch and looked around in surprise. It was clear! There was hardly anything there! He stepped out onto the floor and scanned around. Nothing. Nothing at all! He had expected clutter everywhere.

He flashed his torch this way and that. The light fell onto a small box, tucked right under the eaves at the front. John picked his way across, treading carefully, as the flooring looked rotten.

Finally he reached the box. It was tied with a blue ribbon, dusty with age. What could be inside? Old photos or documents?

He untied the bow and took off the lid. A pile of newspaper clippings fell out. He shone the torch on them, looking at the headlines.

Toddler missing, screamed one, abduction, kidnapping! One after one he read the clippings. As he got further into the box, the clippings got shorter. The half pages became paragraphs, the paragraphs became a few sentences. It was as though the newspapers had given up, lost interest.

Who was this toddler, had he ever been found? Why had his parents kept the clippings?

At the bottom of the box, he found a grainy photograph of a young boy. He shone the torch on it, trying to see the photo more clearly in the darkness of the attic.

The child looked familiar somehow, as though he had seen him before. Then realisation dawned and he dropped the box!

This photo was going to change his life for ever! His life as he knew it tumbled, like the newspapers tumbling from the box on his lap, his mind reeled. What did this mean? Could it be true?

The Changeling - Chapter Two

The Changeling

Chapter two

John gathered up the clippings and the photo, putting them back into the box and made his way shakily down the ladder, into the brightness of the house.

He went downstairs, clutching the box tightly and put it down carefully on the kitchen table.

He sat and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. He could hardly believe what he had seen. Surely, he had been mistaken, it just couldn't be true. It didn't make any sense!

He looked again at the box and thought about the contents. No, no, this just isn't right, he said to himself, rising and pacing back and forth across the tiled kitchen floor.

With a sudden movement, he grabbed the box, bolted for the back door, and ran into the garden.

'Fresh air, yes, that's what I need. Got to clear my head, can't think straight', he murmured to himself.

He walked across the overgrown garden to the bench under the apple tree. It was always Mum's favourite spot. He had lost count of the times that she had read to him on that bench over the years.

The tree had been planted when he had been small. It had grown strong and tall over the years. The bench had been Mum's idea. 'I just like to be here', she had said. 'It's my special place, this tree holds so many memories.'

When she had been ill, she had asked for her ashes to be scattered around its base. 'I want to be a part of it for ever.' She had said.

He sat down and gazed up through the spreading branches. The fruit was just starting to set, little miniature fruits, promising a bumper crop to come. This tree had always done well. Each year the apples swelled, ripe and juicy, filling its branches.

John looked down at the box, almost frightened to open it again, to see if what he had seen was true. He knew that it was impossible, but he had been so sure! The jolt had been enough to make the world spin!

With trembling hands, he once more opened the lid and gazed at the contents. He shuffled through the clippings, looking for the photo.

Yes there it was, he looked at it again. Yes, yes, he had been right!

He looked at the grainy photo of the missing child. And his own eyes looked straight back at him!

The Changeling - Chapter Three

The Changeling

Chapter Three

John stared at the photo. But how could this be? Maybe this little boy just looked like him. But then, why would his parents have kept the clippings, why did they hide the box away for all of these years?

His mind ran through infinite possibilities, each more far fetched than the last. There has to be an simple explanation, there just has to be!

He looked closer at the face gazing back at him from the photo. Then he gasped! Through the graininess of the photo, he had spotted something that proved without a doubt that the boy in the photo was him!

The boy's face was tilted upwards, the eyes and mouth smiling. He looked so happy. And there, just on the jawline, faint but there, was the birthmark!

John idly rubbed his chin, as he stared at the boy, feeling the slight roughness of the mark on his own skin

He put down the picture and began to look at the clippings, reading each in turn.

'Henry Maxwell, aged 3, disappeared from a local park this morning'

'There are still no clues as to the whereabouts of Henry Maxwell, aged 3, who disappeared last week from a local park'

'Local lad, Henry Maxwell, aged 3, thought to have been kidnapped'

'Henry Maxwell, aged 3, now believed dead!'

The clippings spanned around a year before they stopped. Henry had never been found, he had just disappeared, with no clues, no leads, no sightings.

John felt sick! But he couldn't be Henry Maxwell! There were photos of him as a baby, giggling in his parents arms. His earliest memories were here, in this house, with his parents!

He put the box down and stumbled back to the house. 'I'll find the photos of me as a baby, I am NOT Henry Maxwell! I am John Thompson!

He opened the sideboard in the lounge and pulled out the old album and flicked through the pages, his mouth dry and his heart pounding.

He looked: Him smiling up at his parents from his pushchair, him running in the garden, him on the beach. Picture after picture of him! A picture of him aged around 2, cuddling a teddy with a ribbon tied around its neck.

But then he stopped. His hand resting on the page. He looked closely, hardly believing his own eyes. No, this can't be right! The baby in the pictures, there's something missing, something not quite right!

Picture after picture was the same. He flicked through the album. Desperately seeking out the truth.

This child had no birthmark!!!

This child was not him!!

What was happening? The world that he had known began to crash around him. Who was he? Was he John Thompson, or was he Henry Maxwell?

The Changeling - Chapter Four

The Changeling

Chapter Four

John reached for the phone and hesitantly rang the number.

'Hello, police, I think I have some information on the missing boy called Henry Maxwell!'

He listened to the tapping of the officer as he typed the information into his computer.

'Sir,' The officer finally said in a bored voice. 'He went missing 50 years ago! This case has been closed for many years. What new information do you think you can have?'

John swallowed nervously. 'I think,' He said, his voice trembling, 'That I may be Henry Maxwell!'

There was silence from the other end of the line. Then a puzzled voice said 'Sir, can you hold just a minute, I need to speak to one of my colleagues.'

John waited, nervously drumming his fingers on the table. Minutes went by, still there was no sound from the other end of the telephone.

Ten minutes went by! Then an official sounding voice asked 'Sir, why do you think that you are Henry Maxwell?'

John nervously told the man what he had found, and what he suspected.

'Sir, I think that I need to come and speak to you!' The man said curtly.

John put down the phone. 'What have I got myself into,' He muttered, sitting down heavily, feeling as though his legs would no longer hold him.

Presently, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the drive. Falteringly, he got up and answered the door to a large, burly man carrying a briefcase. The man held out his hand. 'I'm Detective Inspector Manning, from the missing persons department. I believe that you have some important information about the case of little Henry Maxwell.'

John nodded and invited the man into the house. 'Would you like a cup of tea, while we talk, John asked nervously.

'Yes please Sir, that would be very nice!'

John went through to the kitchen and presently brought back two steaming cups, handing one to the Inspector and hugging the other in his own hands, as though its warmth could somehow make him feel better.

He sat down opposite the man, pointing to the box and the photo album on the table.

'You see', said John, the missing boy has the same birthmark as me! The baby in the earlier pictures doesn't, and then when I reach around 3, the birthmark appears in the photos. I just can't explain it! Am I really Henry Maxwell?'

The Inspector looked at the photos and the newspaper clippings, taking his time to check them thoroughly, occasionally glancing up at John with a surprised look.

Finally, he put down the documents and turned to look at John, he shook his head, puzzled!

It would appear that you are indeed Henry Maxwell', He agreed. 'But, if you are Henry Maxwell, then who is the boy in the early photos?'

'I think we are going to have to go through this house with a fine tooth comb to try to try find the truth of the matter.'

'But we will find out the truth Sir, you mark my words!

The Changeling - Chapter Five

The changeling

Chapter 5

John cringed as the sound of protesting wood filled the house.

A team of men wearing white coveralls had arrived early that morning, along with Detective Inspector Manning.

'What are you looking for, exactly,' asked John, feeling as though both him and his home where being violated. 'Why are your men pulling up floorboards?'

'Well Sir,' Replied Manning, 'It is our belief that we are looking for the remains of a child!'

'Surely you can't be accusing my parents of murder! They were the kindest, most loving people that you could imagine. There is no way that they would murder a child. It just doesn't make sense!' Exclaimed John.

'There have been some developments.' Replied the Detective Inspector. 'We have reason to believe that the child, named John Thompson, died at the hands of another.'

'Why would you even think that!' Shouted John. 'They protected me, they would never have harmed me! I don't believe you!'

'Sir,' the Inspector said gently. 'There was a report made to the police back then, John Thompson had been admitted to hospital on numerous occasions with unexplained injuries. It was suspected at the time that his parents were responsible. An investigation was ongoing, but the injuries stopped, and the child seemed well, so the investigation was halted.'

'We now have reason to believe that the child died at the hands of his parents and that you were abducted and raised in his place!'

'Why, why would they murder their own child! Why would they take me? It makes no sense at all!'

'We don't quite understand either Sir, which is why we need to do such a thorough investigation of the property now.'

John walked across to the window and gazed out at the garden. The garden that his Mother had loved so much.

More white coveralled men were scouring the flowerbeds and lawns. One was dragging a device across the garden, peering at a screen.

'What's that machine for?' Asked John.

'That is a ground penetrating radar, it looks for anomalies under the ground' replied the Inspector.

'Anomalies? What do you mean? Bodies? You think there's a body out there?' John asked in a surprised voice.

'As I said, we're just being thorough' replied the Inspector.

John sat down, wishing that he had never made the phone call, wishing that he had never found the box, wishing that his world could go back to the way it was just a few days ago.

'We've found something!' called one of the men from the garden. 'There's something under this apple tree! We're going to have to dig it up – its entangled in the roots of the tree!'

'NO!!' John screamed frantically. 'No, you are not digging up my Mother's tree! I don't care what it is that you think that you've found!'

Gentle arms held him back as he tried to stop the men. 'Now then Sir, this has to be done. Calm yourself.'

'My mother planted that tree when I was little, it grew with me, you can't destroy it, you just can't!'

But at that moment, the sound of a chain saw rent the air. Within minutes, the job was done and the tree lay in a tangled, broken heap on the lawn.

Men swarmed into the area, gently teasing and clearing the roots from the ground, digging down to find their 'anomaly'.

'Sir, we've found something!' The Inspector hurriedly made his way into the garden and across to where the apple tree had so recently stood proud and strong.

He looked down into the hole that the men had so carefully dug. Peeking out of the soil was a skull! A human skull. A skull the size of a 3 year old child!

The Changeling - Chapter Six

The Changeling

Chapter Six

After the bones had been taken away for analysis, the house became strangely silent.

There had been a few days of frenzied activity, checking the house and gardens for more evidence.

An item had been found with the bones – a metal box. The forensics team had said that it was almost as though the child had been holding it in its arms. John didn't know what the box had contained. He guessed that he would find out one day.

Like he guessed he would find out who he really was!

Blood had been taken for genetic analysis, to find out if he truly was Henry or not. He still couldn't get his head around what had happened. Still didn't know who he really was.

His childhood had been a little strange, but still, his parents loved him. Wrapped him up in cotton wool almost. They just didn't have it within them to kill their own child.

But even if they did, why would they take another Mother's son?

There were so many unanswered questions, so many uncertainties.

The newspapers had been full of the story of the skeleton in the garden, guessing as to its identity and what had caused the child's death. After a while, the newspapers lost interest in the story and stopped reporting on it.

The weeks passed and John began to feel calmer and stronger. He went back to work. To start with, his colleagues wanted to know all of the gory details, but as they only knew as much as John, they soon became bored and stopped asking.

**********

One month on, the phone rang. 'Hello, John Thompson speaking'

'Hello Sir, Chief Inspector Manning here, I have some news. May I come to see you?'

John and the Inspector sat in the lounge drinking tea. 'Well, Mr Thompson, we have some results to share with you. But maybe I should call you Mr Maxwell now, as the genetic testing has confirmed that is who you are.

I am pleased to say that your parents are still alive and would love to see you. Your Mother has always said that she believed you to be alive and well and she has finally been proved right!'

'The bones have been examined and they do appear to be those of John Thompson. The bones show numerous fractures, which coincide with John's hospital records'

'But how did he die?'

'I'm afraid that he met a violent end. His skull was badly fractured, and there is no doubt that that is how he died. As so much time has passed, there is really no way of knowing what caused the injury, but we suspect foul play. The coroner still has more tests to carry out, which will hopefully shed more light on the matter.'

'There is one more thing that I would like to share with you Sir,'

The inspector pulled the small metal box out of his bag. 'We found this buried alongside the body, and wondered if you knew anything about it.

He handed John the box. It was a small tin, the sort that used to contain biscuits. He opened it, and nestled carefully within it was a teddy bear. John looked at it in surprise.

'I've seen this bear somewhere before,' He said, trying to place where.

He got up and walked to the sideboard, taking out the photo album and flicking through the pages.

'Yes, here it is, he said – there's a picture of me, I mean him, holding the bear, but in the picture it has a ribbon around its neck. But the ribbon is missing now.

He looked at the bear, puzzled. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. The ribbon! Yes! The ribbon!

'Inspector, I know where that ribbon is! It was tied around the box with the newspaper clippings in!'

Sadly he realised that this small fact showed with certainty that his parents really did have something to do with this child's death, that they did bury him, along with his beloved teddy.

Why, why did his parents steal him, and why did John die. He would probably never know the truth now!