Chapter 7

Written by: Ray Stone

I moved on after thanking the young man for his information and kept the newspaper. Outside the small shop the excited crowd milled around a couple of tables where the artefacts were on display. In the middle of one the Lunula took pride of place, gleaming in the sun. I glanced at an article about it in the newspaper with interest; an account about a Doctor Morris’ assistant dying mysteriously at the dig.

My eyes missed nothing but my mind was elsewhere. How on earth did I move back to 1947? Nothing made any sense and yet here I was mingling and talking to people from that year, most of whom would be dead in the era I had travelled from. I could only assume that some sort of period transformation happened inside the rath, perhaps triggered by Professor Florence Grace.  

Excitement at this new experience and all that it implied ebbed and flowed, mixed with bouts of fear. Looking through a living window at the past was breath-taking. The prospect of not being able to return home frightened me.  

The sound of a horn startled me as a black car, the lower bodywork covered in splashed mud, maneuvered around the crowd. I recognised it as a Ford Anglia, a model my father owned when I was a boy. It came to a halt outside the small shop and two men alighted, one tall with blonde hair wearing a black suit and a hiking staff. The other looked more of a county man dressed in riding jodhpurs, a worn tweed jacket and trilby. Both wore muddy boots.

A small boy, hands waving in the air, broke from the crowd and ran forward shouting loudly. The crowd surged toward the car as one of the men pulled a large cardboard box from the rear seat.

“Doctor Morris, have you found out why your assistant died?” cried one of the reporters.

The crowd hushed as Morris held up a hand. “It is my belief that while excavating, we accidently blocked a fairy path.”

There were gasps from the crowd.

“We believe this path runs in a straight line between the rath here and another rath some distance away. If I am right, the rath we are working acts as a gateway into a realm of supernatural beings – fairies, and my assistant working into the small hours somehow blocked the procession route they travel each night.”

I listened with mounting apprehension. If Morris was right, Florence Grace could be in danger, particularly if she had stopped somewhere to rest. I had to get back to the rath to find her before it was too late. At the back of the crowd I spotted the young man who had spoken to me and approached him, asking if he could give me a lift to the excavation.

“I’d be glad to give you a lift,” he said, shaking hands. “I’m Thomas – Thomas Grace. ”


Raymond Stone (MT)






Nice one Raymond! I love the direction you have taken the story; the appearance of another Grace, the apparent acceptance of the townsfolk of supernatural phenomenon, the continued mystery around Florence. This is an exciting prospect for the last few authors to now wrap up and draw some conclusions. Cant wait to read the full serial when its done!