Ashlark

1; monster under the stones

It always seemed to be raining in Ashlark. Flis had done all she could to wipe the town from her mind, but that one fact had remained – it always rained in Ashlark. When it wasn't raining, a thin mist would roll in off the coast, so wherever you went, whenever it was, it was always slightly damp. It was one of the many, many things Flis hated about Ashlark.

Another thing, one she'd never had cause to notice when she lived there as a child but had become rapidly familiar with over the course of an incredibly frustrating five minutes, was the ridiculous chain of roundabouts outside town.

She could tell she was getting close when the tarmac gave out and her car started to rumble down a dirt track. Inside town there were cobbles that would jolt and shake whatever you were riding in as you rolled along – many a child in Ashlark had fallen foul of an uneven cobblestone while on their bikes. The roads seemed to be alive, shifting and undulating from day to day. When Flis was a child she'd thought that something lived under the streets of Ashlark, in the sewers; she'd have nightmares about it, something long and green and scaly slithering up through the cobbles and snaking through the streets. Her mother had scoffed, would tell her she had an overactive imagination. Charlie would tease her: once he'd dressed up as "Flis' silly sewer monster" on Halloween and frightened the life out of her.

The sign outside town read ASHLARK: POPULATION 5854.

It was Somebody's job to keep that sign updated. That night, Somebody would slip out of town and update it, add a number – one for her, maybe another for a birth, or one away for a death. When she'd left Ashlark six years ago there were a thousand more. Ashlark was dying. Its people were leaving.

The cobbles hit. The streets were deserted – everyone was at work, at school, or sheltering from the rain. The sky was grey, greyer somehow than it had been on the road into town.

You have an overactive imagination.

A flash of colour – Maddie, out of nowhere, running along the pavement towards her, wearing a blue striped dress and clutching an umbrella with matching trim.

"Flis! Flis, here!"

One of the few things Flis could never understand about Maddie was why she was always smiling. Even in the rain – god, she must be freezing in that dress – she was beaming, jumping up and down so that water splashed around her feet. Flis was barely out of the car before Maddie leapt on her, flinging her arms around her and hugging her tightly.

"Oh my god, Flis. Oh my god, you're home, I've missed you so much!"

Maddie had a trace of an American accent that came out most when she was excited, which was often, or angry, which was virtually never. When they were children Flis had assumed it was a Texas accent – what other American accents were there, anyway? – until Maddie had taken offence when they were about twelve and told her that she was from New Jersey, obviously, and how could you possibly think those accents were the same thing?

Flis disentangled herself from Maddie's arms – an easy feat, given that Maddie was nearly a foot shorter than her. Maddie grabbed her hand instead and squeezed it, smiling at her sadly.

"Oh, Flis, don't despair. There are so many wonderful things about this town. You know that, really."

"Do I?" Flis asked grimly.

"Come on. Ryan's at the pub, he'll love to see you. You have to tell us all about Manchester, of course, and what you've been doing there. All your awesome university friends. Anyone you've been seeing." She ended that last with a conspiratorial wink.