Exhausted, I flopped down onto the sofa in my living room. It was a Monday, and I'd just walked in the front door, slung my schoolbag over the nearest chair and collapsed at the earliest opportunity. My mum came into the room, wearing her green gardening gloves and carrying a plant pot.

''How was school?''

I sighed. ''Just about bearable, as usual.''

''How are your friends?''

''Happy, as usual.''

''How about your grades?''

''Mixed, as usual.'' I knew I sounded like a sulky, petulant child. I just didn't care.

Mum set down the plant pot on the mantelpiece with a solid thud and turned to face me. ''I'm getting sick of your attitude, Willow. All you ever do is complain about your life, or act as though nothing matters. You've got a good home, great friends and a family that loves you… what more do you want?''

I closed my eyes and leant my head in my hand. ''We've been over this. It's not you, it's me. You can't understand because you just don't feel the same way I do – you have such a positive attitude. Your glass is half full. Mine's half empty… in fact, I don't think there's much in it at all.''

Sadness, frustration and annoyance battled over my mum's features. ''I want to help, but all you ever do is push me away. Your friends are coming over this weekend, aren't they? Why don't you talk about it with them? Whether you do or not, I don't want any more of this negative attitude in my living room. If you're going to sulk, then do it in your own room; not near everyone else.''

''Can do'' I muttered, a hint of venom in my tone. Why do people always wind me up? I pushed myself up and off the sofa in one fluid motion, turned away from my mum and stalked out the room. Once upstairs I switched on my laptop, sank into my desk chair and picked up a book. Any old one, just the first in reach. I always do that whenever I'm bored or trying to stop my mind running away from me, so I have a huge pile of books on the shelf under my desk. I sort them all out every couple of weeks, but they'll be messy again within a day.

''But what stuck in my mind was this – he said that cruelty was the devil's own trade mark, and if we saw any one who took pleasure in cruelty, we might know to whom he belonged, for the devil was a murderer from the beginning and a tormentor to the end. On the other hand, when we saw people who loved their neighbours and were kind to man and beast, we might know that was God's mark, for 'God is Love.'''

''Your master never taught you a truer thing,'' said John; ''there is no religion without love. People may talk as much as they like about their religion, but if it does not teach them to be good and kind to man and beast, it is all a sham – all a sham, James; and it won't stand when things come to be turned inside out and put down for what they are.''

By this time my laptop had turned itself on, so I immediately went onto YouTube. When the going gets tough, the tough watch Trek. It always cheers me up considerably, and a good binge was just what I needed.

About seven hours later I was sat at my desk, attempting to write a Literature essay due in the next day. Why do I put myself through this? It's a destructive cycle – I'm depressed and overworked, so I don't do my homework. Then I have to cram it all in, often staying up late at night, to get it finished in time. That makes me more stressed and tired, so I do less work… It's my own paradox, Schoolgirl Edition.

My mind wandered, going from me meeting my favourite band to a daydream of me being on stage in London to a vision of me rescuing the Enterprise once again, and being promoted to full Lieutenant. All my dreams seem to feature me interacting with my favourite characters or people. Realising that an hour had passed without me writing a word, I picked up my pen. One example of Othello being virtuous is when he invites his new wife Desdemona to tell her side of the story when in the Venetian court, as women speaking in this setting was unusual unless they were being questioned. Allowing…

My 'g' curved right around and streaked up my essay as I jumped. Seconds before, only the scratching of my pen broke the stifling silence that hung over the village like a descending fog. But a solid, undeniable thud had just shattered it.

Standing, I rushed to my window, peering down through the darkness. I couldn't see anything amiss in the hazy gloom, but I was sure I heard something. Just like two nights ago, the intellectual side of me came up with a whole host of reasonable explanations. But once again I had the consuming desire to go and investigate, and it was even stronger than before. It could just be a coincidence…

Making my decision, I crept out of my room and across the landing. Holding my breath and carefully stepping on the sturdiest part of each stair, I made my way downstairs to the front door. I carefully extracted my coat from its place on the coat hanger, pausing to make sure nobody else had heard either me or the mysterious noise. Everything was still, so after grabbing my keys and a torch and unlocking the front door I slipped out into the night.

Shining my torch ahead of me, I searched around the perimeter of the garden. After finding nothing strange near my tree I shone the narrow beam of light on the culprit – one of the fence panels between our garden and next doors' had fallen down. They weren't very sturdy, and often toppled when it was stormy. I sighed, both with disappointment and relief.

Until I realised there was no wind.

Sucking my finger, I stuck it in the air and concentrated my senses on the digit. Aside from the cold, I couldn't feel anything, not even a light breeze.

My heart pounding, I searched all around the panel with the torchlight. There was a large crack right in the centre, as though a heavy object had struck it. Lying innocently next to it was a large stone sculpture.

I crouched down on the grass, and tilted the stone so it rested on its flat edge. I recognised it immediately as the priceless artefact gifted to Captain Picard by his old friend, before he asked him to go on a long-term archaeological trip around the galaxy. How the hell did it get here?

Suspicious, I ran my hands over the object. Definitely stone, and it looks the same. Maybe the resemblance is a mere coincidence? My fingernails found a rim, just like on the show's original, and I knew this was either the real thing or an expensive collector's item modelled on it. Considering my neighbour was a dull old lady unlikely to be a super fan of anything, I found that highly improbable.

Lifting the top off and gingerly setting it down, I directed the torch inside the object. The strange little figures and shapes inside had been removed, with no traces remaining. But I was sure they had been there in the episode. But the far more interesting discrepancy was a small black box, the type that held small pieces of jewellery.

Excitement pumped through my veins, making my hands shake as I lifted the hinged lid. White light turned green as it shone through a very expensive-looking emerald ring, before bouncing off the angular cut in all directions. The metal appeared to be silver, or perhaps white gold.

My ankles were aching from crouching, so I stood up to study the ring further. I was convinced that this was significant – someone had sent that artefact and the ring. Maybe they were trying to send me a message? Or perhaps nobody had sent it, and some kind of space-time distortion caused it to land here.

Noticing the ring looked about my size, I had a reckless urge. I slipped it onto my right index finger.

That's when the world morphed before my eyes and my life changed for ever.

Author's Note: the extract Willow reads is from Black Beauty by Anna Sewell. It's wonderful, and I strongly recommend it to anyone, especially those that love horses. It was written in the Victorian era (approximately 1830 to 1900, when we were ruled by Queen Victoria) and follows the rollercoaster ride life of a beautiful horse in a time when their lives were much harder than they are today. There aren't many religious references - mainly ones to being a good person. I just chose that extract because it's an example of the moral code the good characters live by, and the bad ones don't.