“Is there?” Conor mumbled, suddenly unable to keep his eyes open.
The monster changed the shape of its hands even further, making the nest of leaves Conor was lying on even more comfortable.
“I need to see my mum,” he protested. “You will,” the monster said. “I promise.”
Conor opened his eyes. “Will you be there?” “Yes,” the monster said. “It will be the final steps of my walking.”
Conor felt himself drifting off, the tide of sleep pulling against him so hard he couldn’t resist it.
But before he went, he could feel one last question bubbling up.
“Why do you always come at 12.07?” he asked. He was asleep before the monster could answer.
SOMETHING IN COMMON
“Oh, thank God!” The words filtered in before Conor was even properly awake.
“Conor!” he heard, and then stronger. “Conor!” His grandma’s voice.
He opened his eyes, sitting up slowly. Night had fallen. How long had he been asleep?
He looked around. He was still on the hill behind his house, nestled in the roots of the yew tree towering over him.
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