The Dragon in the Theatre Ch 6 + 7

6

Selection Day



         Elliott and Lucien’s happiness at school was short lived. For a day they were the story everyone was talking about, how the two boys considered the strangest in school had caused the school’s largest and most feared boy Pollux to run back to school screaming. However it had not taken long for some of the boys to start asking questions about what had happened, and neither Elliott or Lucien was willing to discuss it.

         Pollux had retreated to the safety of his dorm room for a day, but he had now recovered from his ordeal and was starting to talk about what had happened. None of it was true of course, but he made sure that all of his friends believed him, whether they wanted to or not and that they told everyone what the freak Hunter had done. Soon all was back to normal and Pollux and his friends had started to behave in their normal manner, pushing around the younger children and walking round as if they were in charge of the academy.

Today was the day of the Assessment.   

         At breakfast Elliott and Lucien kept their distance from Pollux, who had started the day in a foul mood that had gotten progressively worse. They went out of their way to keep track of him and avoid wherever he went.

         They stayed in their dorm room at break time, hiding away from the other children. Parents had started to arrive and congregate outside the main building, waiting for the gates to be opened to allow them in to he grounds of the Academy. Most were dressed in their finest clothing, out to impress one another as well as to make a good impression on Poyle, just in case it sway his decision. Neither Lucien nor Elliott could see their parents from the window of their dormitory.   

         ‘My father wont arrive until the last minute. He wont want to spend any more time with these people than he has too.’ Elliott moved away from the window and sat down on his bed. Lucien stood on tiptoes still trying to catch sight of his family.

         ‘Lucien, have I ever told you about the Theatre?’

         Lucien turned around, and stared at his friend shocked, that he was finally going to talk. ‘No,’ he replied, ‘you’ve never told me anything about your life before you started here.’

         ‘You’ve been into town haven’t you?’

         ‘Plenty of times yes,’ Lucien answered, nodding his head.

         ‘Then you’ve seen the Theatre, down at the junction of the three main roads, just before you get down to the docks.’

         ‘Yeah, that place has been deserted for years. Are you saying that’s where your Grandfather lived?’ Lucien was astonished but he never disbelieved his friend for a second.

         ‘That’s where he lives. I didn’t know for sure myself until the other night. That’s where I ran. It’s the only place I have ever truly felt safe. There is something different in that building, and it’s all because of my Grandfather. You see he’s a Magician.’

         Lucien laughed, but not unkindly. He knew that Elliott had an imagination. ‘What’s a Magician? I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

         Elliott looked around and then crouched down low on the floor. ‘Many years ago when we first came to Prosperity, my Grandfather opened the Theatre with the intention of running it as a working Theatre.’

         ‘What do you mean Elliott?’ Lucien was now completely confused. ‘What is a working Theatre?’ Lucien was smiling, but was finding all this rather hard to take in.

         Elliott jumped up on his bed, swirling his arms in a great circle. ‘Why it’s the most wonderful place in the world my friend.’ Lucien noticed that Elliott’s eyes had turned green whilst he spoke. ‘My grandfather was not only a Magician but an Actor also. Do you know what one of those is either my friend?’

         Elliott was speaking incredibly quickly and it was making Lucien laugh even more. ‘You know I don’t Elliott, what are you talking about?’

         ‘Well I’ll tell you shall I, then perhaps things will become clearer for you.’ Elliott’s voice started to sound different. Lucien believed he sounded older, much older in fact, but only for a few moments. He voice reached a depth it had never done before, and he pronounced every vowel and consonant with a clarity Lucien ha never experienced before from a nearly thirteen-year-old boy.

         ‘An Actor speaks the lines which have been written for him by the Playwright.’ Elliott pretended to take off a hat that was not on his head, and wave it at Lucien. ‘He must convince the audience of the truth of every action and emotion, so that the audience believes completely in the story that they are being presented with. My Grandfather is also a Magician, and the Magician creates illusion, not trickery. It is his task to make the impossible seem real, so that the audience has no question that what they have seen is real, but they have no idea how it has been accomplished. Grandfather has toured all over this world you know, playing to packed Theatre’s everywhere he went. He did a one-man show that was part dramatic performance, part magic act. He used to show me the tricks when I was young. ’

         Lucien was captivated by his friend’s performance.

         ‘An Actor however only truly comes alive when he is part of a company. The feeling of being on a stage, before an audience, playing out a story for them is quite wonderful.’

         Lucien was laughing, ‘What do you sound like – Your voice!’

         ‘What do you mean my friend?’ Elliott returned.

         ‘It’s completely different Elliott, your voice, it’s changed.’

         Both boys were now laughing with exuberance.

         ‘What are you talking about?’ But Elliott could barely get the words out for laughing. Lucien however had stopped. ‘I’m serious Elliott, cant you tell.’

         Elliott stopped laughing as well. ‘Tell what? Nothing is different.’

         ‘Yes it is Elliott; your voice is completely different. Cant you hear it?’

         Elliot froze standing on his bed transfixed. He had not noticed and for just the briefest of seconds he felt again as if a different person was standing in place of his own body, taking over his form. He felt an odd sensation as his vision drifted and he felt dizzy and slightly nauseous as if shifting back into the real world for just a second.     

         ‘It happened again didn’t it?’ Lucien asked, whilst Eliot stepped down off he bed.

         ‘Yeah, just like before, but it was like I wanted it to happen.’

         Elliott’s voice returned to normal, dropping a pitch in seconds as he spoke.                             ‘What was it like the first time?’

Lucien had not spoken to Elliott about what had happened in the quarry, but Elliott could see that it was playing on his mind. He could almost hear his thoughts, asking Elliott to explain, but then pulling back.

         ‘I know you want to know what happened Lucien. I wish I could tell you. I wish I knew myself. But what happened…’

         Lucien sat patiently, waiting for his friend to make his decision.

         ‘It’s like I vanished for just a few moments, and someone else took over. I have no idea what that person did or how they scared Pollux off. I know what I felt just before though.’

         ‘What was it?’

         ‘Anger. Anger at everything, anger at the world and everybody and the whole universe. But it wasn’t my anger, it didn’t come from me, but it came from somewhere deep inside. It was almost as if something else stepped inside of me. I’ve dreamed about it, but reality was so different I was scared.’       

         ‘I don’t understand Elliott, you’re saying you didn’t fight off Pollux, but something else used you to fight Pollux?’

         ‘I think that’s exactly what I’m saying Lucien. I can see what happened in my head, but as if I was standing off on the side, watching.’ Behind them a creak of a door opening disturbed the flow of Elliott’s story. They turned and looked to see what had caused the sound.

         It was their worst fears.

         ‘Stop lying Hunter,’ Pollux was standing in the doorway of the dormitory. Elliot could not held but wonder what he had heard.

         Pollux ran forwards crossing the distance from the doorway to the bed faster than Elliott or Lucien could think. Pollux raised his right arm ready to strike. Elliott lunged forward simultaneously pushing Lucien out of the way whilst taking the punch from Pollux. Elliott fell to the ground, the punch having taken the wind out of him. His eyes glowed ice blue instantly and he felt the energy surge within him. He knew he could not fight back. If he did he would not be able to control himself. The energy would kill Pollux. Pollux punched him once more in the back. Elliott crawled away.

         Pollux kicked him in the back, just as Lucien jumped on Pollux’s back. Lucien smacked his head, but was just too small to have any impact, and Pollux easy shook him off. It had though Elliott the time he needed to gain some distance from Pollux. He had managed to get halfway to the doorway. He stretched out his fingers and a blue light, the same colour as had come from his eyes, crept out and along the old floor boards. Elliott felt the release of the power that was growing inside. He knew he needed to let it out safely. The light spread out into the floorboards and crept across the floor of the room giving it an unreal glow.

         Pollux had thrown Lucien to the floor, then turned to Pollux, when he saw the light. 

         Pollux screamed.

         ‘What are you Hunter?’

         Pollux ran jumping over the web of blue light that was now covering the floor of the dorm room. A group of boys had gathered at the door drawn by the glow they could se through the doorway. Elliott looked up from the floor as the last of the light left his fingertips and his eyes returned to normal. All the light was now gone. His eyes stayed alert just long enough for him to see one of the Instructors walk in. 



‘Your son should be in an Institution,’ Instructor Loctus scowled. ‘Yet again we have disruption and yet again he is at the centre of it. I have quite simply had enough.’

John sat opposite her. She had always scowled at him, even when he was a boy attending the academy himself. Instructor Loctus must have been here for at least a hundred years he imagined. He had noticed many years ago that her eyebrows crinkled more and more the angrier she got, and he had never before seen them quite as crinkled as they were right now. In one hand she held a ruler and she was slapping it up and down in her other hand in a way that must have been causing her pain, but if this was the case she was not showing it.

‘Please could you tell me what happened,’ John asked politely.

‘The boy is trouble,’ she responded, but John interrupted her before she could continue.

‘Look, I know my son and how he is. I’d prefer it if you would tell me exactly what has happened. And please just tell me the facts.’ More than a little irritation has slipped into his tone.

‘Very well,’ Loctus said as she reasserted herself in her chair, ‘A group of boys were apparently playing a game. Your son was one of them. Apparently the game seems not to have gone his way and he lashed out at one of the others. He then ran and hid, thus proving his guilt..’

‘And you saw all this of course?’

‘No.’ she shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.

‘Then how do you know this to be true?’

‘One of the boys in the group reported it to me immediately. What reason would they have for fabricating such a thing?’

John sat silent for a few seconds his irritation now reaching its climax. He rose to his feet and walked forwards, finally stopping and sitting on Loctus’s desk corner. He looked at her eye to eye.

‘Tell me, what does Elliott normally do at break? Is it normal for him to be over playing with a group of boys?’

Loctus hesitated, and then answered.

‘Well no,’ she started to realise her error, ‘He would normally sit alone. He tends not to want to be with the other children.’

‘Would you like to possibly think about what might have happened Mrs Loctus?’ John’s voice was now calm. He had made his point.

Loctus sighed. She realised that the story of course sounded wrong. Very wrong. She had obviously been misled, and had fallen for it. She was certain that Mr Hunter could see her embarrassment.

‘I’m sorry Mr Hunter; I think perhaps I have been played for fool here.’

‘It’s Ok. Elliott has his evaluation this he is probably already nervous. I just hope this does not make him even worse.

‘Would you like to talk to him. He is waiting in my assistant’s office’

‘Yes please.’

Loctus showed John to the door and escorted him to her assistant’s office. Elliott was sitting inside huddled. He was rocking gently by himself. He looked sad but he cheered up as soon as he saw his father. John put his arm around him and squeezed. Elliott however didn’t return his father’s affection, despite being pleased to see him.

‘What are you doing here?’ Elliott asked, with some trepidation.

‘Mrs Loctus invited me in,’ John replied.

‘I didn’t do anything they…’ John raised a finger and put it to Elliott’s mouth as if to tell him that he did not need to use words. He could see that Elliott was still anxious from whatever had happened and John did not want his son to go through any more now.

‘Your evaluation is this afternoon. How do you feel about that are you ready?’

Elliott pondered for a moment. He bit his lip, and his eyes flashed green then blue for a brief second. The rocking had stopped.

‘Yeah dad, I’m okay. I can do it’

Elliott stood up and walked out of the room. He did not even look back at his father as he left.



Evaluation always took place in the courtyard. The boys and girls who turned thirteen in the following month were lined up in the centre with the entire school seated in the stands in front on the main school building. The Evaluated faced the rest of the school. They had to stand whilst the rest of the school and all of their instructors were allowed to sit.  No parents were allowed to be present. Everything had to be in place for exactly midday. Evaluation had a tradition that dated back many, many years. It had started when it was only possible to educate a small number of the children born in the town. It had been proposed that the only fair way to decide which children should receive tuition was to give all an education to thirteen, and then at that age decide on the potential of every child and then from that point on train them accordingly. At first this had worked well and every child was given was felt was best. But as the riches in Prosperity grew, so did the aspirations of those parents who did not wish to see their children receive an education that was inappropriate. Nowadays only one individual made the decision of which role each child was to fulfil. A decision made by the council of Prosperity to ensure absolute fairness. Of course that man was Gracias Poyle. 

The children were all gathered in the courtyard, their parents seated in stands on the far side. Elliott found Lucien amongst the crowd of boys, standing alone as always. Everyone else stood around talking in groups, but Lucien standing alone.

‘What happened? What did Loctus do?’ Lucien asked.

‘My dad arrived. Made her realise she’d been fooled.’

‘Did anyone ask about…’

‘The Light,’ he interrupted, ‘no, I think they are all too scared.’

The Chief instructor called the boys to attention with a whistle     

‘Children of The Prosperity Academy. Today is the day of your selection; please stand according to your designated position. It is now Midday. Five minutes until the arrival of Mr Poyle.

Each year on the final Wednesday of the autumn term at five past twelve Lucius Poyle would arrive, driven to the school by Iratus in his personal vehicle. He would greet the Chief Instructor and would then proceed to personally test each child.  This year however five past twelve came and went.

At twelve thirty when no one had arrived the Chief Instructor, who had already started to sweat profusely whilst the children lined up and fidgeted in their positions, finally decided that he needed to do something. It was unprecedented. Mr Poyle had never been so much as a minute late, let alone a full twenty-five. The Children standing in the full glaze of the day’s sun were starting to look decidedly unwell already. Some had sat down, despite the Instructors objections, and he was concerned that shortly there would be unrest if something were not done. The Instructor decided to contact the central office and sent one of the junior instructors into the schools main buildings to make the communication.

When the junior came out a few minutes later he told the Chief Instructor that Mr Poyle had been unavoidably detained and that he was leaving his office now. He would be at the school in about ten minutes.

When Poyle did arrive The Chief Instructor could not contain his shock. Instead of the normally perfectly presented man he expected, Poyle appeared to have just woken from a deep sleep. His hair was a mess and he had great bags under his eyes.  He felt that he had to ask Poyle if everything was well. He had never asked Poyle any kind of question before, and he felt his stomach empty ever so slightly.

‘Pardon me for asking Mr Poyle, but are you well enough to…’

Poyle did not give him the opportunity to finish the sentence. He took a scroll from the Instructor, glanced at it then handed it back to him. Poyle’s eyes were bloodshot, but there was no whiteness left, almost as if they had turned grey.

‘I am more than well, fool. I am superior. How dare you question me.’

Poyle practically spat the words at the Chief inspector, who reeled away in response.

‘Now lets see what we have today shall we.’

The Chief Instructor seemed to be trying to shepherd Poyle in a particular direction, but Poyle was having none of it.

He stood in front of the first Boy a tall solid lad with thick dark hair. Poyle eyed him up and down.

‘Tell me boy can you fight?’

The boy hesitated before answering. He glanced over at the Chief Instructor, who himself seemed totally uneasy with the situation. He could not give the boy any advice, so he just nodded. 

‘Yes sir, but I’m hoping to be a..’

Poyle cut him off, raising his hand to the boys face.

‘Iratus, send this one straight to my Army. I need muscle like him.‘

The Chief Inspector face fell such was his surprise.

‘Um, Mr Poyle sir this is highly irregular, I ..’

‘SHUT UP’ Poyle commanded. The Inspector shrunk back into himself like a turtle.

And so Poyle continued. All the young boys were sent to Poyle’s previously unheard of army and the girls were sent to Poyle’s newly created factory for manufacturing weapons. . When he reached Elliott, Poyle looked down on the boy, much smaller in comparison to all the other boys his own age. Elliott felt small, and in that moment felt completely overwhelmed by whatever power was coursing within Poyle’s veins. Elliott could feel his own body reacting against it, making him want to run away. Poyle looked the boy up and down, and then with a self-satisfied smile, turned to the Chief Instructor. Poyle knew that in this moment he was about to become stronger, and one step closer to his ultimate victory.

‘And quite frankly I don’t want you at all. You’re expelled’





Elliott ran as fast as he could from the school field. He did not look back. The whole school was still stood on the field lined up where they had been. Poyle’s words still echoed in his head, but it was the look in his eyes that had scared Elliott the most. All he could see in Poyle was hatred and disgust. Elliott was terrified. Terrified of Poyle. Terrified of what his father would his say. Terrified of what Poyle might do next.

Elliott reached the dirt track that joined the Academy ground and the main road to town. He stopped running and fell to the ground and a single tear ran down his cheek. He wiped it away with his sleeve then stood himself back up. He looked down at his hands now covered in mud. He looked behind him and saw that he had run almost halfway back to Prosperity. Without realising it he had run almost a mile, but he wasn’t out of breath at all. Elliott had always been good at running. It had felt to him like only seconds since Poyle had spoken to him. He wondered how he had travelled so far, when he was sure it had only been seconds. Had in fact he lost that time? Had someone else taken over again, as they had done in the quarry when he needed him or her too?

Elliott was overcome suddenly by the urge to rest as if the exertion of the day was now catching up with him. He walked off to the side of the road, sat down behind a tree and his eyes closed.

When he woke up the sun had almost gone down and red light filled the evening air. Elliott felt fresh and was calm. He looked up and saw a neighbour that he recognised, but whose name he did not remember. He pulled himself up and started walking back down towards the town with the man, neither speaking. He walked though covered in dust and grime that had stuck to his own sweat. He had no idea of the time, or how long it had been, and had only just given any thought to either his father or Lucien, who he realised, had no doubt been looking for him. But he felt no concern for them, because he knew he would see them again soon. He reached the outskirts of town in no time, and headed towards his home. As he reached the main street he saw his father was standing outside their building. Elliott raised his hand and waved.

John was surrounded by a small group of neighbours. When he saw Elliott he ran full speed towards him. Elliott stood frozen to the spot. John reached him quickly and grabbed him hard wrapping his arms round him.

‘Where have you been? We’ve all been looking for you for hours.’

Elliott’s face betrayed no emotion.

‘I was tired. I ran but I needed a rest, so I had a sleep, but I’m ok now.’

John was crying, his worst fear had become real, but as always the real impact had not yet hit.

John’s face twisted with anger. He stood and held his son’s hand.

‘Come on son lets go home.’

They walked back towards home.

‘We’ll fix this son, don’t worry we’ll fix this.’

‘I’m not worried dad. Can we go and tell Granddad?’

John stopped and looked down at Elliott.

‘Not tonight,’ as he wiped away the sweat from his brow and the tears from his eyes, ’but I promise tomorrow.  You wont be going to school again. I’ll ask Granddad If you can go to him while I go to work. That will make you both happy.’ But, he thought to himself, it would terrify me.

‘Ok’ Elliott smiled in response. It was after all the only pleasant thing that had happened to him all day

Elliott’s face was frozen with the same expression neither excited nor scared, but not quite happy. He knew though that he would be going back to the Theatre soon. 









































7

Night journey



Elliott walked alone through a field of golden corn that reached almost to his chin. He could not see far ahead of him, so he looked down at his bare feet and the stalks of the corn as he stepped carefully, worried about upsetting too much of the valuable crop. It was a summer’s day and whilst the bright light of the afternoon sun would normally have been something he found extremely difficult to bear, here it was pleasant and comforting. He felt as if he could continue walking forever, until he fell off the end of the world.

He was carrying his favourite backpack with him, and in it he had everything he would ever need; His card games, his book of star charts, some of the pictures from his old bedroom. He thought about that room and al the time he had spent in it. It felt to him like the room was thousands of years in his past, as though he had lived too long, walking far away from the life he had known. He didn’t know if this was what he had wanted, or if he had found himself here by accident. The more he thought about his life he realised that he had no memory of anything since that day at the school. He knew this was something other than a dream, but it was not quite real also.

He stretched his arms out and carried on walking through the corn with his arms wide. He could feel the energy that he felt that first time he stood n the stage on the Theatre. He could feel the energy coming to him from somewhere else, somewhere deep inside himself. He felt a breeze sweep over him followed by a darkening of the sun.  He saw something pass overhead, but it was gone as soon as he had realised that it was there and the brightness of the sun blinded him once its rays were no longer blocked.             

He heard a roar again, low humming in the distance. It was the same noise he had heard at the bottom of the stairwell. It was getting quieter, as if whatever was making it was getting further away. He heard it echo far away and tried to see where it was coming from. Then it started get louder, rising in the distance. It reminded Elliott now of a bird of prey.

He could see far away a shape moving high in the sky. It looked as if it circling around something far ahead. Elliott felt drawn towards that place. He could tell, even in the grand open space in which he stood, flat for miles and miles, that he sound he could hear was coming from that place also. He started walking towards it, slowly at first, but with a renewed energy that gave him more strength than he had had before. The object in the sky became clearer, despite the bright sun making it hard for Elliott to look at it. Elliott thought it was an eagle, or some similar bird of prey. He wished Lucien were with him, Lucien who always knew the name of every creature they saw in the forest. He realised how much he missed his friend and he hoped he was safe and missing him in return. He could see that the Creature’s head was pointed with what appeared to be a crest on each side. Unlike an eagle though it had a long tail, and two small arms beneath the wings. Elliott saw the creature suddenly soar skywards. The noise he had been listening for stopped.  He kept his eyes on the sky expecting it to return.

It did not.

He continued walking towards the spot where the creature had been circling, but the creature had not returned.  Elliott walked into a clearing where the corn had been trampled down. There was still no sign of the animal in the skies. Elliott reasoned that it had taken him at least an hour to reach the clearing. An hour of walking through cornfields in the blazing sun had taken its toll on Elliott. He sat down at first, looking round at the size of the clearing, and wondering to himself what could have possibly made the clearing this large. His eyes felt heavy. He took a sip from his water flask, then lay down on his back and looked up at the blue sky and closed his eyes.

When he woke the first thing he realised was that the noise, the low humming sound, had returned. He could feel the sunshine burning through his eyelids, but there was something else too, something closer, he could smell it.

Then he remembered the creature.

He opened his eyes slowly. He felt a gust of warm air suddenly hit his head. It felt warm and wet, and he instantly knew that the creature, whatever it was, was standing over him. He rolled his eyes upwards, in the direction the warm air had come from. Nothing prepared him for what he saw.

It was ice white with tinges of the most brilliant blue painted into its scales, but these colours changed as the creature breathed in an out, as if it was the blood flowing around its body that created the colour. He saw the nostrils next, each at least an inch wide and below them the mouth, closed. The head itself seemed to be larger than his whole body and he realised that the creature simply landing and sitting down must have made the clearing. He was still looking at it upside down, and his eyes travelled upwards and met the creature’s eyes. They were the deepest green, each as large as Elliott’s head. Their pupils focused down on Elliott.

And then it spoke.

‘Hello Elliott, I’ve been waiting for you.’                             

Elliott woke immediately. He realised he was at home in his own bed, in his own room. His heart was pounding and he could feel the sweat pouring off him. For a few brief seconds all he could see were the creatures’ eyes and then the image faded and all he could hear were voices, the voices coming from everywhere like whispers.  He felt exhausted, his eyes as heavy as they had been in the cornfield and he fell backwards into the world of darkness, 



The moon was full and the night calm. Elliott had woken and now lay awake in his room staring through the open window at the stars. He had tried to sleep and had managed a little, but all he could hear in his head were the voices. They were always there but today every voice from Poyle to the whole of his school class and everyone in Prosperity was louder and sharper piercing his brain. He looked at the clock his father had made him. It was just after three o’clock, which meant he had probably managed to sleep for just over two hours. Elliott thought to himself that that wasn’t bad given the nap he had had the afternoon before. He tried to think of other things but He could not block out any of the noises that he had heard that day. They still reverberated back and forth trapped within his mind. Elliott rolled over and covered his head with his pillow and closed his eyes tight but it made no difference.  He tried to force them to leave his head but he just became more and more irritated. He could feel the anger building inside him.

He got up out of bed and walked into the main living space. His father was fast asleep on the sofa. The apartment was cold and Elliott could see his father’s breath freezing as it left his mouth. It had been a hot day and the main window had been left open, but the cold night had now drawn in and father had forgotten to close the window. Elliott walked over and pulled it shut. It clicked shut, as the sound of the locking mechanism adjusted, the sound of metal on metal, and it stirred something in his mind. It was then that a single image appeared in his head. He saw the doorway in the Theatre, the one he had found whilst playing with his Grandfather that had subsequently disappeared. It was precise in its detail, every dent and scratch. The image was so vivid he wanted to reach out and touch the grain to feel it under his fingertips. The Frame painted white, the door itself a rich dark red stain, at once at home with yet slightly out of place in the ornate theatre it was a part of. Elliott knew at once what this meant. The door was there right now at this moment. It had been there once before, then it had disappeared, but now it had returned.

Somehow now he understood. It was the same as the quarry and the dorm room. Something inside him was making this happen. The room was only there because of him. And he knew that he had brought it back again, right now, and it was waiting for him.  The dream had told him that.

All he needed to do was to get out of the apartment and get to the Theatre. Tomorrow may be too late. That meant sneaking out of the apartment in the middle of the night in the dead of winter crossing town and breaking into his Grandfathers Theatre. For a second he considered waking his Father and explaining, but then thought it may be better to show him the door rather than tell him after about it. Father always seemed to doubt him when he explained the things he could see but if it was right in front of him he could not refute it. Elliott could see that the passkey for the front door was on the table. The answer therefore was right in front of him. Elliott would take the passkey and leave Father a note, so that when he woke up at least he would not be worried. Elliott could feel his innards twisting at the thought of running from home, but he knew he had to go. He considered waking his father, but he knew he would just try and talk him out of it. Despite how awful it felt he decided he do it.

Elliott quickly went back to his room and scribbled in his best handwriting a message for Father. It read quite simply, ’Three O’clock Gone to Granddad’s. Meet me there. Elliott.’ He saw his father’s alarm clock and set it for seven. At least then he thought to himself I know he will only be a few hours behind.

He reached down slowly and lifted the passkey, put it into his pyjama pocket, put the note down where the passkey had once been and walked over to the front door. He slipped on his boots that were sitting beside the door, swiped the passkey and opened the door as quietly as he could. He was worried about the boots, as they could be very noisy, but decided they were worth the risk.

Outside it was cold and quiet, and normally the cold would have bothered him, but tonight things were different. All he could see in his head was the door, floating in his mind almost solid before his eyes.. The image was clear but most of all it felt warm carrying the same glow of comfort that the Theatre had always given him. It made the cold night bearable. The Theatre always felt safe and comfortable to Elliott but something about this door told Elliott that it was especially safe and good. The door itself with its wood stain radiated a healthy glow and the orange light of the theatre made him instantly ignore the biting cold air as he walked out into the cold bitter night. Elliott knew the streets of prosperity could be a dangerous place. He walked along the outer ring of the building and then down the stairs always looking round for anyone who may be lurking. The metal stair rail was bitter to the touch. A light frost had already formed and his boots left a light trail behind him that was soon visible to anyone who cared to see it. Elliott did not want to be seen on his night journey. He had heard plenty of stories of people who had disappeared, never to be heard of again. There were plenty of rumours about where these people went too. Elliott’s favourite was that they all ended up in one of the mines that Mr Poyle had opened in the mountains to the north of the town, deep down in the darkness of the where no light ever reached. Just like the forest the boys had made up stories at school to frighten one another with about the creatures that lived down those mines. Of course those stories were all meant to scare people into staying in at night so Elliott had never paid them any heed.

Elliott walked briskly as his toes were starting now to feel slightly numb with the cold and he soon reached the borders of the town. The Theatre was on the far side. Elliott realised that he had never seen the town this empty and quiet before. Most of the buildings were silent and the lights were off. All accept one that is. Poyle’s Headquarters was still illuminated. It was an impressive building all made of curved metal and glass, but Elliott always felt it was out of character with the rest of the town. 

The Observation level of Poyle’s building was alight and it seemed obvious to Elliott that someone was still working up there. He looked up at the building but could not see anyone looking back down at him. He had no reason to fear anyone from Poyle’s building seeing him, but after Poyle’s treatment of him at the school he had every to mistrust Poyle himself. Elliott snuck along the front wall of the main building as quietly as he could. He looked for any obvious traps or triggers but did not see any and managed to pass the building without and obvious alarms being raised.

Once past Poyle’s building Elliott ran. The Theatre was now in sight and he reached it quickly. Once there the feeling of safety that he had longed for that had been missing for so long started to return. The noises and the fear he had felt since the school incident started to disappear and he felt stronger. He looked for the key that used to be hidden for him that Grandfather had said he would now have moved. Grandfather had been true to his word. All he had to do now was find a way in.

Elliott walked around the back of the Theatre. He thought there was a small window that led to the backstage area that was only locked from within with a latch. He found the window but discovered it was stuck. He looked and saw a small ledge above which there was a drainpipe that led to the roof. Then he realised the perfect entrance. The Skylight. It had a latch that could be opened from the outside. All he had to do was get up on the roof.

He climbed onto the small ledge and then grabbed on to the drainpipe with both hands and pulled himself up. His feet clasped to the pipe from below and he pushed himself upwards then pulled with his hands. Before long he was halfway up the building. One of the bolts holding the Pipe to the wall started to crack, and a section of pick came loose. Elliott kept pushing. He pulled with both hands again and was now three quarters of the way up as the bolt sheared and the bracket holding the pipe detached from the way. The pipe slid along the wall of the Theatre. Elliott lost the grip with his feet and pulled even harder with his hands, reaching the next section of secure pipe just as the loose piece fell down to the ground. Elliott only had one small piece of pipe to climb, and then he was on the roof.  He pulled himself up on the roof, with all his muster then lay down flat taking a deep breath. He felt exhausted, the cold air making his chest heavy.

He crawled over to the skylight, looked down through it and could just make out through the darkness the main stage that he had been standing on just days before. He unclipped the latch and opened up the skylight to its full height, which was just enough for him to crawl through. Once he had half his body through he looked around for the safest place to land, and saw that the upper balcony was only twenty feet below him. He slipped throw the hatch and swung himself so that he would be in best position.

He hesitated, and then gave himself a short countdown, and jumped, crashing down into a row of seats.

Elliott picked himself up and brushed himself off. The Door was on the floor below him, he could feel it calling out to him, almost long a song that was playing only for him.. He saw the staircase and ran downstairs as fast as he could. He stopped at the bottom, staring at the door, exactly as he had expected it, lit only by the moonlight coming through the open skylight. Elliott looked for a lantern switch. He found one on the way at the top of the staircase, flipped it on and the light slowly filled the room with the orange glow Elliott remembered. He found what he hoped desperately to find, two doors instead of just one.

One that led to a storage cupboard and one that was magic. His magic and led who knows where. Elliott decided now was the time to find out.

He pushed the door open and stood again at the top of the spiral staircase. The walls covered in the same elaborate carvings and stories. This time though Elliott had only one purpose, he wanted to know where the staircase led. He started walking down, slowly at first then faster and it seemed as if the steps went on forever. He soon left the walls of wood and wallpaper and they became stone and rock. The walls became darker until the stone was almost black and damp, but still he carried on. Elliott kept going but he began to loose hope. He started to become concerned that there was no bottom. What if the staircase went on forever? How long could he go on for?

He decided to keep going to just a while longer and looked down the centre of the spiral to see if he could see a bottom. It was only then that he noticed that there was in fact something that he could see deep down below. He started to speed up and as he did so the object started to get larger, and larger until almost before he realised it Elliott had reached the end of the staircase.

It was not quite as he expected it.

It was as if the room had grown in the time since his last visit, expanded, become more than it was and everything it could be.

There was a pattern on the floor, black and white square tiles, which he found very re-assuring. The room was much bigger and it had walls in every direction, but it wasn’t square or any kind of normal shape, the walls seemed to be twisted leading in this direction and than. Then he looked closer and realised that each wall was decorated in a different way, some extravagant and ornate, others plain and modest. But they all had one thing in common. Everyone had a door.

And there sitting on the floor in the middle of a room of dozens upon dozens of doors was a single oval shaped object. It was green with a speckled pink and orange spots stuck over thick veins weaved across its skin. Elliott reached down and tried to pick it up, and much to his surprise it had almost no weight and was easy for him to lift. It was just small enough that he could wrap it in his dressing gown and carry it. He stood for a few moments and looked at the many doors that were in this room, doors of so many different colours and materials that Elliott could barely even begin to describe them all. He tried to take it all in and then realised that all the noises in his head were gone. Here in this room everything was silent. He felt safe. He knew the Theatre was somewhere magical, but he now understood that there was something more than that. He needed to talk to Grandfather. He needed to know what this place was and what it was doing to him. He turned to run back up the spiral staircase to the real horrible painful world and found that someone was waiting for him.

‘It’s alright Elliott, you deserve to know the truth.’

Grandfather was there, standing before him. Elliott was a little stunned.

‘But how did you know that’s what I was thinking?’

‘Because Of this place, and because of what we are. Come on, your father is on his way. I think it’s time you both learned the truth about the Theatre.’