All the nightmares came today
And it looks as though they're here to stay
Oh, You Pretty Things - David Bowie, 1971

Transcript from the Cassette Recordings of Sharon Granger
Dated 04/09/74, 11:54 PM

-Beginning of recording-

I don't know what's goin' on anymore.

Everythin' used to make sense, a long time ago, back when I was a teenager. And even that was confusin', I mean, they said it would all be clear and easier when I'm an adult. But it isn't, it's only more confusin' now. More so than before, especially now the dreams 'ave started. Snapshots of a different life come to me every night, twisting themselves into my brain.

I try and 'old sleep off now, I'm so scared of what will come when it finally comes.

I thought it would calm down once I started work but it ain't. It's just been gettin' worse and I-I don't know what to do.

There's a girl, in one of my classes. She looks so similar to the man I see in my dreams. She's even got the same surname as 'im. 'er name's Emma. There's something strange about 'er, I don't know what it is but it's there. Every time I look at 'er, it's like she's staring into me like she can see who I am deep inside. All the secrets and fears I keep 'idden.

[pauses]

She's connected to these dreams some'ow. I'm sure of it.

[sigh]

I don't know what's wrong with me. And I don't think I'll be getting answers any time soon some'ow.

I should go to bed.

-End of recording-

Laughter. Girlish laughter, surrounding me as I spin round and round in darkness.

I don't know 'ow I've got in 'ere but I don't care, I need to get out. I rush around the darkened room looking for a wall to bang on to make some noise, for someone to 'ear me and 'elp, but the walls are spread far apart and whenever I bang on them it sounds muffled and underwater.

"Let me out!" I yell for no one to 'ear.

The laughter continues, louder. It almost reminds me of 'ow Mary and Frank acted back in the early days of their relationship, in the year leading up to Chris' death.

A light snaps on and I throw my 'ands over my face, blinking through ever-reaching white before the room settles and I realise that what's blinding me is a spotlight over two people laughing and giving each other light kisses like they're 12. It's the people involved which makes me want to shudder and scream at the same time.

It's Miss Granger and Chris.

I want to run away and forget that any of this has happened.

I back away from the spotlight but in my haste I trip over my own feet, landing on my back and letting out an involuntary loud burst of air. The room falls silent and I feel myself tense up. I try to focus on the ceiling, speckled with stars just like Miss Granger's eyes. A swirling cosmos stretching as far as the eye can see.

"Emma?"

I sit up just in time to see my brother fade into dust and swirl around the room. I want to run forward and catch them to bring 'im back but I'm stuck. My body feels 'eavy and I can barely stand without wanting to collapse.

Miss clutches 'er arms to 'er chest, steps back and that's when I notice something. She's wearing things that are strange but almost recognisable, a thinly-striped long sleeved top and denim jeans which go straight down unlike most of the jeans nowadays. 'er 'air's different as well, shoulder length and a little curly at the ends. She glances over at me, in my flared jeans, shirt and plain light-blue jumper. 'er eyes are wide open and terrified.

"You can't be 'ere, it ain't safe!" She yells as a tear falls from 'er eye.

Thunder rumbles all around us, shaking the room and dislodging my feet as I fall forward. My 'ead smacks the floor and for a split-second I witness a record spinning round and round on our old rickety turntable, on an infinite loop. I 'ear the opening lines and then it's gone, leaving me staring into darkness in shock.

Someone begins laughing , booming across the huge expanse. I scramble to my feet and stumble towards Miss Granger, head still aching and not working properly.

"Who are you?" Miss calls around the space, towards the voice like she knows it.

It keeps on laughing, chilling me to my bone.

"Shaz Granger meets Emma Skelton." It says. "A match made in heaven."

I stop in my tracks and turn around looking for the source. Miss Granger doesn't do the same, just looks over at me and mouths "skelton" to 'erself.

"How are you enjoying your life, Emma?"

It may be because my 'ead aches like mad but I don't understand what 'e's saying at all.

"Who are you? Where am I?"

I can 'ear 'im smirk. Miss Granger and I meet each other's eyes, the same emotions mirrored in both of us. Fear and confusion. At least she seems to 'ave more of an idea of what's going on than me.

"I'm no one you need to be concerned with, Emma. You are right where you need to be."

Miss looks up at the swirling cosmos of a ceiling, 'er voice dark and dire.

"What 'ave you been doin'?" She whispers.

The silence echoing across the room is loud and widespread. It only takes a moment it to answer.

"Something that should 'ave been done a long time ago."

The ground begins to crack, like what I've seen in the news about earthquakes in faraway places. Deep ridges begin and spread across the floor, growing in size until they've completely separated me and Miss Granger.

The ground begins to shake, making the cracks appear faster and grow larger. I lose my footing and fall on my back, letting out a small yelp as all the air is knocked out of me. I manage to raise myself up on my elbows to see that Miss Granger 'as better balance than I 'ave, though she's beginning to fail.

I move myself onto my stomach just as she finally gives in and falls over, reaching out my 'and over the deep cracks.

"Take my 'and!" I yell over the cacophony.

She looks sceptical and looks around for anyway else out. I shut my eyes and feel a freezing cold 'and meet my own after a couple of moments. I can't 'elp but give a small smile.

The ground beneath my body buckles and I feel my body freed from it. Our 'ands slip for a moment before 'er own support crumbles and she begins falling, down into a void of stars, spreading into infinity as we fall together.

Into the void, unable to turn, unable to escape the cosmos surrounding us and haunting us for a millennia and a second.

"Emma, can you pass me the black paint?"

"What are you doing this time? White dog in the snow?"

"Shut your cakehole, Skelton."

I smirk to myself as I dab my stained paintbrush into the slick black paint and paint the very tips of my pencilled rose. It took me the entire double lesson last week to sketch out, as well as some finishing touches at 'ome. It looks rather good if I say so myself. I just need to get the colours right and then it'll be good for framing on my bedside table.

For my 10th birthday Aunt Sophia gave me a small book of flowers and their meanings. I think she thought it would cheer me up, give me something to do outside when I spent most of my time inside isolating myself, though my voice 'ad returned quietly a couple of months before. I would whisper the latin names of the flower species, Rosa, Syringa, Brunnera, whilst wandering around green spaces looking for specimens to draw and label in the sketchbook she also gave me. No one ever went to find me, if they ever realised I was gone, and when spring rolled around I was out there almost every night until after the sun set.

Black Rose (Rosa): Death, despair, sorrow, hatred.

I've only ever found one black rose, when I was 14 on the 6th anniversary of my brother's death. It stood alone in a hedgerow, shades of deepest maroon and touches of black. I plucked it from its stem and took it 'ome to find that Dad 'ad disappeared and my sisters were out looking for 'im with the police. When they finally found 'im near the lake I threw the rose with all my strength into the back garden and slammed the door.

Black Roses mean the end of my world. That's been a given for a for a long time.

Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to them.

Susan, clad in a spotless apron and with a malicious intent in 'er eyes, pushes past the table and person in front of me and 'er elbow catches the open bottle of black paint that Olivia had put back there after she'd finished with it. Like a car crash in slow motion, it tips over and spills the gloopy black liquid all over my 'ard work. It splashes up as well, splattering my face as I take a few steps backwards away from the desk.

"Susan!"

"Oops."

Miss Bell pushes 'er way through the crowd of people already beginning to laugh at my state. I want to cry but I don't, as that would just make it worse. I breathe through the smell of chemicals and try to calm myself down.

"Susan, find something to clear this mess up." She turns 'er attention to me, eyes sympathetic. "Emma, you'd better go to the toilets and get yourself sorted." She narrows 'er eyes at my face. "Maybe 'ave a look at that bruise as well."

"Huh?"

I raise my 'and to my cheek. She rolls 'er eyes.

"Just go, Emma."

I nod and begin trudging towards the door, feeling everyone's eyes on me and faint sniggers from behind. As soon as the door closes behind me I look round and tear down the corridor, ignoring the open windows of other room as I try to fight back tears.

The mirrors in front of the sinks are grubby, covered in dirt and things I don't even want to think about. I scrub my hands so hard they turn red but I can see in my mind that they're still covered in muck. My tears mingle with the piping hot water from the tap as I try and hold my tears in. The water trickles from the basin onto the floor and creates a puddle.

I meet my eyes in the mirror. Dark circles surround them underneath the red and wet, the colours spilling over with each tear and making the difference even more noticeable. My 'air is covered in the black paint and I unstick it from my face to tilt from side to side. When the light catches it at a certain angle you can see that the beginning of a large bruise is beginning to form, right where I smacked my head against the floor in my "dream" last night.

Cold, creeping fear jolts through me. What if it wasn't a dream, what if the voice I heard was real? My eyes go wide and I think I might vomit into the china basin.

With a sense of urgency, I wipe off the last of the black paint from my face even though it makes my cheek sting and run out the door of the toilets. I don't pay attention to anyone else or my surroundings, not until I trip over a loose tile in the floor and stumble forward. I open my mouth to yelp but a hand grabs my own, stopping me from falling flat and injuring myself even more than I already am.

"You alright?"

I look up to find Miss Granger with a bunch of books hanging over one of her arms. Her eyes widen once she that it's me and I look down awkwardly to brush imaginary dirt off my skirt.

"I'm fine, thanks." I mutter.

She looks around in case anyone hears us, before she puts her mouth to my ear.

"Is that bruise from- "

"I think so, yes." I interrupt 'er.

The flash of fear on 'er face is unmistakeable. She turns 'er face away from me, but I can tell that her breathing has increased.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She flashes me a smile but it doesn't mask her internal emotions. I continue to stare at 'er until long after she walks away.

When I enter my classroom again I notice my hard work in the bin. The paint has taken the outline of where my pencil pressed and mixed with the red that I had streaked across the base of the flower it looks like the black rose has leached its colour and meaning into its surroundings. I discretely retrieve it from the bin and shove it in my bag as I rather like the effect.

That night I dream of black ribbons pouring out of my hands and face to wrap tightly around my body, and the night sky screaming to be let out inside my heart.

On Sunday the weather turns to be all sunshine, blue sky and clouds. I drag Chris from where 'e's been hiding in the wardrobe with most of his old bookshelf and force him to get some sunlight. Not that it would make much difference, we spent all summer outside roaming the streets of Manchester and 'e's never once changed from pale, slightly transparent white.

The grass is warm and light, the last dredges of summer still high in the sky. Chris lies next to me using 'is arms as a pillow. 'is suit jacket and tank top are discarded beside 'im, 'air slicked back to reveal the entirety of 'is face. My arms are by my jeans and 'air clipped back beside my ears, sleeves rolled up to absorb as much sun as possible before it disappears for 6 months.

"I never thought summer were so pretty when I were young." Chris remarks. "All I can remember is that it were bloody 'ot!"

A flicker of a smile crosses my face.

"I've always preferred winter, to be honest." I mention and turn my 'ead to look at 'im.

'e looks at me with a straight face.

"You alright, Emmy?" 'e asks. "You've seemed different these past few days."

I sigh deeply and bring my 'ands to my chest.

"I don't know, I just feel a little strange. Like there's something wrong with the world." I whisper. "There's been dreams as well. Ones that are too real to be dreams but I know they are."

'e looks at me quizzically.

"Do you think yer should tell anyone?"

I shake my 'ead. "No one would believe me, and the only person who might is absolutely bloody terrified of me."

'e reaches out a 'and to touch mine.

"You can always talk ter me about it, alright." 'e gives me a dopey smile which I don't return.

I don't think I can tell 'im everything, and 'e can't even tell anyone else.

"Of course." I lie.

I'm so bloody scared, and I don't know what on earth to do.