Time and Time Again

Chapter 1

Simon opened his eyes and took a deep breath. It felt like he'd been underwater, unable to breathe for an hour. His heart was pounding faster than he'd ever felt it. His body was shaking uncontrollably and it took a few minutes before the pins and needles in his arms and legs had subsided sufficiently for him to move them. The room was a light blur. His eyesight returned slowly, enabling him to discern familiar objects such as his writing desk, wardrobe, television and office chair. He knew he was in his bedroom, lying on his bed, dazed and confused with no memory of how he'd got there.

Alan. His first thought was the word Alan. He didn't know an Alan. He didn't know anyone.

He couldn't remember falling asleep. He couldn't remember anything useful. 'This is my room', he thought, 'that's my chair'. Beyond the basic familiarity with objects he owned, his brain seemed not to want to communicate in ways other than, Alan. 'I must have a mother', he thought. In his mother, he could connect with something familiar, acquaint himself with what day it was; what time of day it was. He tugged open the bedroom door and exited to the landing. He glanced in the mirror at the top of the stairs and recoiled at the pasty ghoul-like features staring back at him. His eyes were bloodshot, his lips were swollen and his ears were bright red. 'Mum?', he shouted. Silence followed and further loud calls yielded nothing in reply.

Alan.

A memory started to swirl and take form in his mind. The only solid thought he'd had since he'd woken up; it was a person. A boy. It had been so clear when he'd first opened his eyes but had faded to nothing. Now, he could remember that flash but not Alan. He closed his eyes in the hope that it would return, however important or otherwise it had been. Minutes passed and nothing happened in Simon's head. Then. Alan. He knew an Alan but he wasn't sure the name that had appeared in his head was necessarily the Alan that he knew. It seemed as good a thought as any to have at that moment so he descended the staircase carefully, pushed his feet into a pair of tatty trainers and stuffed his arms into a dark blue duffel coat. Simon ran off down the road, sprinting until his throat burned. An instinct had taken over; Simon never ran anywhere. As he listened to his feet pounding on the paving stones, he could think of nothing other than the fact he wasn't a runner and running was too tiring. He never wanted to do anything tiring. Unable to stop, he reached a street with a row of houses on one side and his primary school on the other. 'Alan', he screamed, using a voice he couldn't believe was his own. Ahead, between two cars which were parked at the side of the road, he could see a boy with a mop of black curly hair. As Simon had yelled, the boy was passing between the parked cars and out onto the road but had now stopped and turned to investigate the voice calling his name. A yellow car tore past, causing Alan to step back a little; it was inches from where he stood between the parked cars. The boy looked back in Simon's direction to see him running, more slowly than before, in his direction.

'Alan', Simon gasped as he reached the black-haired boy, falling forwards with his hands on his thighs, reaching for breath.

'Simon?,' Alan said curiously, 'I thought you said you were playing football tonight?' Simon tried to reply but instead, put a hand out to indicate that he'd heard the question but was currently unable to answer it. 'Come on,' Alan continued, 'sit here; catch your breath.' Alan led Simon to a low wall made of orange and grey bricks. They both sat facing the school, Simon still trying to recover enough to speak, Alan waiting patiently to find out why his friend had ran to see him.

'I had this weird – thing', Simon said through deep breaths when he'd recovered sufficiently to start talking.

'Yeah, we all saw it in P.E.', Alan chuckled.

'No, in my bedroom,' Simon spat, clearly not in the mood for jokes, 'I passed out or something. I woke up and didn't know who I was. Where I was even. Then I just kept thinking 'Alan' but I didn't know who you were until – well, until I remembered. It was – weird.'