Those great folks at Starship Sofa have done an audio version of my story ‘Once There Was a Way’. You can find it wherever you get your podcasts, or on the Starship Sofa site. While you’re there, be sure to subscribe – they do some great stories.
The story first appeared last year, in the first anthology from Filles Vertes Publishing (who also published my novel, Fifty-One). The book – which features numerous other great stories – was called ‘Flicker: Stories of Inner Flame’, and you can check it out at Filles Vertes Publishing.
The story is one of three first published last year in the ‘Way’ series. It features a young man called Siggy, who meets a woman called Ellie. They fall in love, and she shares with him a fantastic secret: she has stumbled upon a mechanism for traveling between different versions of reality, between worlds that are subtly or dramatically different from our own, depending on how far you go along a mysterious path called the Way.
Siggy has a wanderlust, and showing him the Way is like giving him the keys to the sweetshop. He can’t resist using it without Ellie, only to get lost in parallel worlds, forever searching for the version of reality he left behind, the one with his lover in it.
It’s always nice to hear a story interpreted by someone else, and Andrew Leman does a fine job with the narration (including some suitably English dropped aitches!).
Here’s a taster of the story. For more, check out the podcast or buy ‘Flicker’ (and support a super independent publisher).
Once There Was A Way
I had known Ellie a month. We were at a party near the coast. It was after midnight when we kissed in the dark under the trees at the bottom of the garden.
Ellie said, “There’s something I want to show you.”
“Will I like it?” I assumed we were talking about sex, which was fine with me.
“I’ve never shown anyone else. I think you’re ready.”
She took my hand and led me through a gate, into a cliff-top meadow overlooking the Atlantic. A full moon stood sentinel over the sea, laying a shimmering trail across the water.
“Do you want me to show you something amazing?”
“Right here?” I admit, I was still thinking about sex.
“It only works at full moon.” She stepped closer and kissed me again. “Close your eyes and relax.” Her hands were on my shoulders. She eased me backwards, a step at a time. “Tell me what you feel under your feet,” she whispered. “Each step.”
“Grass, of course. Grass again. Wait -.” A change in the texture of the ground, some kind of artificial surface.
“Open your eyes.”
I had one foot on a layer of mist, which was not there a few seconds before. It glowed faintly in the moonlight, making a ghostly path that snaked away from us, rippling along the cliff top. I thought at first it was some trick of the moonlight and a trace of sea mist, abetted by the wine we had drunk. But, however impossible it seemed, there was no denying that I stood on a thin strip of light a couple of inches above the grass.
“What is it?”
“It’s called the Way.”
“But what is it?”
“You can find out by trying it,” Ellie said. “You’re always keen to travel. But you have to do exactly as I say. Don’t go far, just a few minutes and then come back. Count the number of steps you take and make them even. You have to take the exact same number on the way back. And also, take this.” She reached up and unclasped the silver necklace she wore. “When you come back, give it to me before you do anything else.”
“Why?” The chain had a tiny silver dolphin on it.
“I’ll explain later. Now go, but hurry back.”
***
Is this two hundred trips, or maybe more? I’ve lost count. This time, her house isn’t even there. Instead, a brutalist 1970s apartment block squats on a patch of grass. Two teenage boys sit on the roof of a wrecked car. They watch me as I approach. I keep walking.
Once out of sight, I take the turning that should lead to the pub. But that isn’t there either. There is a row of narrow houses, some with boarded windows.
No house, no pub. No way of knowing if Ellie ever lived here or ever will. I should be used to this. I should have learned by now not to hope. But every time it’s a punch in the gut.
The full moon remains high and I walk back to where I left the Way. I step on it without a backward glance, and the buildings around me fade away.
I move on.
After a long and winding road to publication, my time travel romance novel came out in 2018, from small press with a big heart, 
We were hosted by Blackheath Bookshop, who do a fantastic job promoting local authors and books with local connections. The venue was apt because (as those of you who have read it know) a large part of Fifty-One takes place in Blackheath and neighbouring parts of south London, both in the 1940s, when London was at war, and in the 2040s, from whence my time travelling protagonist comes.
Thanks to the generosity of the Blackheath Bookshop – who are hosting – we’ll be launching the book right where a lot of the story is set, in Blackheath Village.