Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #16 July 2015 | Page 11

“For the purposes of the tape, could you state
your name please?” Detective Inspector Thomas
paused for an answer.

papers were full of panic-mongers, suggesting an
international paedophile ring was behind it all. It all
meant more and more pressure for answers.

“Please note that the interviewee has declined
to give his name.” He looked up to the clock on the
wall. “It’s three thirty p.m. on the 4th February 1988.”

And then, this man had walked into the
station. He’d demanded to talk to Thomas and no
one else. He had information about the abductions.
The police were so desperate they spoke to all the
crackpots confessing to it. They had to. They had no
lines of enquiry, no leads – nothing.

Opposite D.I. Thomas, in the police interview
room, sat a small figure of a man. His face was badly
pitted. His nose, cheeks and chin, all red and shiny,
seemed too large for his face. His permanent toothy
grin did little to improve his features. Thomas looked
him up and down. He didn’t have far to look, as the
man was impossibly short. Most would assume it
was dwarfism. D.I. Thomas never assumed a thing.

“So, Sir, you have information for us
regarding the abduction of numerous children over
the last few months. Is that correct?”
The grinning man bobbed his head in a nod.
“Do you think you could elaborate for me?
Perhaps start at the beginning?”

He’d been put onto the case about abducted
children for a specific reason. He was the most
thorough officer the force had. His colleagues called
him ‘Doubting Thomas’. He never believed or
assumed anything, until he could categorically prove
it. The Crown Prosecution Service loved him. Every
case was presented to them gift wrapped.

Again, he bobbed his head. He took in a long
breath, and when he spoke his voice danced over the
words. “The beginning you say? Ooh that’s a long
way back.”
He might as well have said ‘Tra-la-lah-la-lah’,
because when he spoke, that’s how it sounded.

In this case, children had been taken from
various places. Mostly from their homes, and always
returned within twenty four hours. Many returned
ecstatically happy, some trembling and traumatised.
They were toddlers, barely able to speak, let alone
explain what had happened. There were no clues as
to how, who, or even why.

Thomas composed himself. “Sir, I have no
problem with your anonymity, but what I must insist
on, are facts. Can you give me any, at all?”
Still grinning he replied, “Why, of course.
The beginning you say. Well, we fairy folk... ”

After months of abductions, parents in
uproar, and MP’s questioning the ability of the
police, D.I. Gareth Thomas had been called in. He’d
already been the one to link numerous cases, to see
the thread, the similarities. The more publicity, the
more parents came forward to say it had happened to
them – they thought. Few were positive, given how
quickly the children returned. Some reports had to be
dismissed as parents covering up for leaving the kids
alone.

“Don’t waste my time with this bullshit!
Either tell me the truth or piss off!” Thomas had seen
three crack-pots already today and his patience was
wearing thin.
The grin never faltered, the man simply
said, “Claire 1