GLIDE – to movesmoothlyandcontinuouslyalong, as if withouteffort or resistance. 

Although these snails came gliding through my letterbox, I am by no means implying that they came as easy as the word glide suggests.

The journey of each snail is one of significance.  I am not sure this completely makes sense but hopefully the snails will help explain –  They are effortlessly easy on the eye but they each have a story to tell.

Thank you from the bottom of my shell for sending a snail in the mail. – I hope that each snail continues to act as a puzzle piece and can spread sillyness, thoughtfullness and a way to help us glide!

Here they are!…..

This chap came from Berlin via Devon and is by the super talented illustrator Jayde Perkin. Eine Schnecke looks like he has a lot of character, just like the people that…

I turn in a slow circle, keeping an eye out for the others getting too close.

“I’m scared,” Conor says. I give his slight frame a squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “We will be fine.”

“Where’s Max gone?”

“We have friends who are meant to be getting a helicopter ready.”

“Where are they?” Conor asks.

I nod toward the hangar. So far none of the others have noticed me or Conor but I know they will. I’m just glad that it isn’t a windy night. It is very still and that is helping us, stopping Conor’s almost human scent to spread. The problem is that no sooner have I thought it than an other turns and looks in my direction.

It lets out the mewling of a kitten and I wonder if there is a sort of language. I’m answered when five others turn and look in our direction.

“Shit,”…

I stand beside Conor and look out onto the street. In truth there isn’t much I can see, due to a hedge, but the figures moving around are visible.

“How long have they been there?” I ask.

“Since the sun started to go down,” Max says.

“We need to get out of here,” I say. Max meets my eyes and nods. The house isn’t secure and I want to get Conor out of the place. He doesn’t need to be here, with his parents dead upstairs.

“You didn’t change,” Max says.

Conor doesn’t look at me, but I glance down. Up to now I just haven’t. My jeans are covered in blood. Mel’s blood.

“Shit.”

I move at super-fast speed and go upstairs. I don’t look at Mel, I just reach her wardrobe and take a pair of trousers and a long sleeved top. I step over Philip and start…

Conor slumps back towards me as Max walks in. I turn the small body in my arms so I can see his face. His eyes are half closed.

“What’s the bite look like?” Max asks.

I look at his arm. Before there was no sign of infection but now I can see red threads expanding out from it. They are raised and the whole arm looks swollen.

“We need to hurry,” Max says. He hands me a glass that is filled with a red liquid. I can smell blood. I look at him.

“I have no serum left,” he says. “So we are going to have to go traditional.”

Slowly I start to tip the liquid into Conor. It only takes a minute and then the kid takes the glass and is guzzling it down. He finishes and smiles. I know he is still the little boy I knew but…

Max steps forward but I stop him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back.

“Conor?” I call.

The form moves and unfolds. Two brilliant blue eyes stare at me.

“Bitsy?” he asks. It is Conor who started calling me Bitsy, and the name just stuck. Now as the kid looks at me I nod. In seconds he is out of the wardrobe and in my arms. The odd thing is that he ignores Max.

Keeping his head cradled against my chest I move fast, past his mum and dad. He doesn’t need to see them, I just hope he hasn’t seen too much. As I run I notice that he is very warm.

Reaching the living room I pop him on the sofa.

“Are you okay?” I ask, checking his head and neck. His clothes are crumpled but clean and he seems okay.

He’s watching me with too big eyes…

“Come on,” he says as he breaks into a run. I love to run. I mean, before the change it was like pure hell, but now it is the best thing ever; the fact that I can move fast and my body responds without soreness or pain. If anything it is like the inhibitions that had kept me held back from using my body to its full extent are gone.

At some point Max drops my hand and we run side by side, arms pumping and legs working. I wonder what my time for a marathon would be, but then I would probably be disqualified for being non-human. Still, this has got to be my favourite thing. I glance at Max. So far.

We must have been running for about twenty minutes when Max slows. Before us is the high street of Sudbury on Thames. I start to walk.

“Which…