Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #16 July 2015 | Page 15

Exhausted, physically and emotionally,
Thomas whispered, “What do you want?”

attempted to take in every sight outside the car
window.

“That’s my boy. Well, firstly, look over there.”

“And the other idea is?”

Through the window at the front of the house
Thomas saw his wife embracing their daughter, both
of them crying and smiling.

“It’s a very good one in my opinion. Third
house on the right is yours I believe.”
“The idea?”
“That recording you have in your pocket. It
won’t work by the way. Our chat is a private one.”
He winked at Thomas.

“See, I told you she would be fine. Now, as
to what I want? For this to never ever happen to your
family again? It’s simple really, Detective Inspector
‘Doubting’ Thomas.”

Pulling the tape from his pocket, he pushed it
into the cassette player in his car. Silence, and then a
voice, giggling. He recognised it immediately. It was
Bethany. Tears rolled over his cheeks.

He fixed him with an intense stare. Another
click of the fingers, a burst of bright blue light and he
vanished.
Thomas sagged. Sweat beaded on his
forehead. He reached for the door handle but it would
still not open. He flopped back on the rear seat.

“How about we give you back your little one,
at least for now?”
Thomas’s heart leapt, he undid his seat belt
and pulled the door handle. A click of the man’s
stubby fingers, a flash of blue light and the door
would not open. He pulled hard at the handle. He
rammed his shoulder into it. He tried the window. He
climbed into the back of the car and tried both rear
doors without success.

Breathing heavily, his mind whirred. The
light disappeared from within the car, sucked away,
leaving only pitch black. His eyes could not penetrate
the void. Within the dark vacuum his ears only heard
the thudding of his heart.
Without warning, two stumpy hands reached
from behind him, grabbing hold of his neck. He was
unable to move, frozen in position. Close to his ear,
the man’s voice whispered, “Believe. That’s all you
have to do. Believe.”

Eyes red with tears, he begged, “Let me see
her, please!”
“Gareth, my boy, calm yourself.” His voice
was cold. The grin remained but a serious tone
settled on each of his words. “You, a man of logic, a
man of facts, do believe that I can take your daughter
from you, whenever I so choose?”
Thomas, now on the back seat, threw himself
toward the man. He pushed and punched the air but
was unable to move.
“Hmmm, yes, I can feel that you do. Well,
this is nice. I cannot describe the feeling to you. It
just makes the air fizzle. I want you to hold onto
what you are feeling right now. I want you to know
that, I can and will, take young Bethany anytime I
feel like it. Maybe she could dress up as ‘Tinkerbell’
for my visits?”

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