Forgetting the Ponds

Prologue

Dedicated to all the people who think I'm writing about them - I am!

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It was a late September evening in a small village in Lincolnshire when a smaller newsagent had just turned off their lights. The front door swung open and out stepped a young, blonde woman dressed for autumn into the chilly evening air. The street was empty, the woman's only comfort was that the street lamps were on and lit it up perfectly. She instinctively began to rub her hands together as she felt an odd tingling sensation in her fingers before locking the front door. Her name was Lola Jenkins.

Lola was currently fighting herself mentally, a hopeless conversation she seemed to be having with herself more often lately as Lola Jenkins was nothing special or so she thought. Tonight, the negativity was particularly stronger as Lola still held in her pocket a-worse-than-she-had-expected-grade on her most recent journalism assessment, 'interesting or unexpected news in your area'. Interesting or unexpected! She almost laughed when she had first received that assessment title. Nothing remotely like that happened in the village and even if it did, Lola would never be the first one at the scene. By the time any intriguing information even reached her, its time had passed and everyone already knew.    

Attempting to think about something else, the tingling sensation slowly intensified up her hands, Lola reminding herself that she needed to buy a hat and some thicker gloves before winter came. That thought quickly became sour as she soon remembered who would be returning in December. She shook her head, she knew deep down that her thoughts were not true but that she was simply tired, fed up and feeling negative. The tingling sensation now began to creep up her arms, Lola instead noticing that this was an unusual temperature for a September evening. She began to rub her arms for warmth before that too became useless and she simply focused on getting home and into a warm bath.

When the Cedar Cottages sign came into view, Lola perked up. She could see her own front door from where she stood, deciding to pick up her pace to be able to get in as soon as possible. Yet with every step she took, the more peculiar she felt. Noticing that the tingling, fizzing sensation had rapidly spread all over her skin, she started to worry. She attempted to quicken her pace, her thoughts racing about the symptoms' multiple meanings, but stumbled halfway and had to lean on her fence as she was beginning to feel disorientated. Before instantly it felt as if her whole body was being tugged into multiple directions, Lola accidentally dropping her bag and bending down half way to pick it up, before suddenly being blinded by big, bright lights. As she struggled to put her hand in front of her eyes, she made no sound.

Once again, the street was empty. Lola Jenkins was gone.