Message No.1

Chapter 1

"Kate! Where'd you put my phone?" I continued my frantic search around the house, throwing everything here and there.

"It was ringing too loudly," she shouted back with a mouthful of crisps "so I put it somewhere!"

"Where!" I stopped.

"I don't know, where would you put a ringing phone? It was early!"

"Didn't you check why it was ringing?" I began my search again, this time looking under the sofa and in the fridge.

"Yeah I'm not that dumb. It was your alarm."

"My alarm? So that's why I'm half an hour late!"

I sat down on the sofa for a moment and gasped. Where would someone put a phone that is ringing early in the morning?

Desperately I asked "Where do you remember seeing it last?"

"Maybe...in the garden?" She seemed unconcerned by what she had just said, oblivious to the fact that my expensive phone was probably outside in the cold.

"Kate, no... you didn't!" I got up and flung open the back door! "Kate!" I saw it - my phone,  lying in the middle of the grass dripping wet. "It's been raining!"

I picked it up and carefully looked over the amount of damage that had happened to it. I pressed the power button while holding my breath, hoping that some supernatural power would save my phone for me. It worked! I breathed out.

Suddenly realising that I had gone outside in my slippers, I ran back to the house and shook them off onto the floor creating a puddle of water.

"Next time you hear my alarm going off, could you please put my phone somewhere sensible like a cupboard, or you know, you could always just turn it off!" I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bag of rice and a bowl. I had heard somewhere that if you put a phone n rice it somehow sucks out the water.

I heard a faint mumble from behind her door and took that as her acknowledging what I just said. Sighing, I walked into my room and quickly grabbed my stuff ready for work. I looked back at my clock and saw that I was now nearing being 40 minutes late.

5 minutes later, after an intense power walk, down the street with quite a few strange looks from the neighbours, I found myself in the bookstore, with an enormous pile of books in my arms and a back ache that I knew was soon to come. I hadn't seen my boss Heather. I had know her since I was probably about 3. 

When I was younger, I used to go to school with my mum to pick up my brother James. On our way home, we used to walk past the bookstore which I used to find the most fascinating place in the world. One day, when my brother was in a mood and had run over the road to try and kick the neighbours cat, I managed to break free from my mum's grip and burst through the door, an intense smile on my small face. I walked over to the desk and stood there smiling at Heather. She tried so hard not to laugh. Ever since, the bookstore, Heather and I have been practically inseparable.

She was an amazing woman. Being almost 60, she still seemed to be as quick and as sharp as ever. She told me stories of when she was younger, how different her world was and how everything was written down instead of typed on these 'computer machines' as she liked to call them.

"Oi! You over there! Are you slacking?" She walked out from the back carrying some of the new shipment that we had received that morning.

We both started laughing and I went over to give her a hug, making her drop the books on the counter.

"Morning!"

"Winters definitely on its way. It'll be snowing before we know it."

I looked out of the window, half expecting to see some white even though it was only November. In our town of Grange Hill, we rarely ever saw any snow. In summer it was vaguely warm and in winter it was just wet. During the coldest months, most of the town shut up and it became extremely tranquil. 

It was an exceptionally quiet day. Only a few customers came in and about half actually bought anything. At around 5 o'clock, we closed up. I went around and cleaned up the shelves, moving back some of the books that were out of place. 

Behind me, I heard Heather walk over to her desk and sit down. She took a deep breath, making me turn around to face her.

"There was someone in here yesterday.."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, he seemed to be quite interested in the works that you had written." When I was at school I loved to write, still do. I wrote a lot, mostly awful stuff. I had only written two vaguely good ones. I won a competition at the end of college which got one of my books published by a small publisher and the other I published myself.

 I looked over to the shelf where my works lay. There was about ten of each; only very rarely did anyone buy one.  I noticed a small piece of paper sticking out of one of them, 'Make a wish.' I wrote that one when I was 17. Confused, I picked up the book and turned to the page with the paper in. It was folded into quarters. I pulled it out and started unfolding it.

"Heather, who was interested in these?"

She looked up from the record books that she was studying. "Oh, I don't know. He must've been from out of town. I've never seen him before."

I turned back and continued to unfold. I read what was written on it aloud.

"Nice to meet you! Message no.1."