ThisTown

A Town In Circles

A TOWN IN CIRCLES

Somewhere beyond the rain, the wind and the stars, and as far from Earth as it ‘s possible to be, there was a town so old that no-one can remember how or when it began. It was called Thistown, the town where time stood still. There are some who believe that it was the very first town ever. But whenever it started, there is one thing for certain, it hadn’t changed at all since that time. It seemed to every Thistonian that their town had always been exactly as it was; the same houses, the same avenues, the same Green, and the same Town hall, all stretching back in time forever. And of course all the same people too, the twenty-three thousand Thistonians, who knew each other for as long as memory can be.

Thistown was called Thistown because no-one had ever been outside it, pointed back and said, ‘That town.’ It is very important to remember that. No-one had ever left Thistown. No-one, ever. They’d never left because the town was surrounded by the cornfields that stretched as far as the eye could see, and if you went into them you disappeared. Or bits of you would disappear, and you ended up like Ron Rasper from Avenue A who put one foot into the corn and spent the rest of his days stomping around on an iron leg. So if there was a world on the other side of the corn the Thistonians didn’t know about it, and couldn’t even imagine it. The corn made sure they stayed where they were.

Thistown was built in circles. The inner circle was called the Green and on it were hundreds of oak trees with dark broad trunks and great blue-black swarms of bluebirds fluttering around them. They were friendly birds, but lately they’d begun to peck and shriek. It’s because of what Belle fell over and made Thistown change forever.

The rest of the town was like a giant catherine wheel with each circle being surrounded by another circle. Around the Green was the First Circle. All along this were the stores, the police station, the stables, and on the top end, the Town Hall, all facing onto the Green. Outside the First Circle came, logically enough, the second circle, and along this were the workshops and factories of Workshop Way, with great dray donkeys dragging heavy loads from one huge building to the next. Outside Workshop Way were forty-eight other circles, each bigger than the last. A long way out from the Green, between Circles Thirty-five and Forty-five there were mainly fields of cereals and vegetables, or woods, or pretty orchards. And here were also the ancient silver and gold mines which were boarded up now as everyone already had all the jewellery they needed. The last, or outermost circle of all was the Fiftieth, also know as the Edge which is where the town stopped and the cornfields began.

Running from the Green in the middle of Thistown to the Edge on the outside were twenty-five Avenues. They ran straight like the spokes of a wheel and each was named after a letter, from A to Y. So apart from a few pokey alleys and crooked lanes, it was very easy to get around Thistown. All you said was something like Avenue X on the Twenty-second Circle and everyone knew immediately where you were.

Alice Bright came out of her house on on the Seventh Circle, turned left on Avenue W and walked towards the Town Hall on the Green. Like everyone else Alice had been the same age for as long as anyone could remember. No-one had ever grown older and no-one had ever been younger in Thistown. (And nobody had ever died either. In fact the very words die, or dead, were unknown at this time in Thistown - although this happy state wasn’t to last for much longer.)

Alice was twelve years old, had always been twelve and always would be. She was a tall, thin girl who walked with her feet stuck out. She had a round, smiley face, with bright red lips, short blond straight hair, and sparkling blue eyes. You never knew quite where you were with Alice, one minute she was up and laughing and joking with her eyes sparkling and the next minute she was down and scowling and fed up with everybody. Her name should have been Alice Updown.

As she walked down Avenue W she looked back at her tiny house. Everyone had a house of their own, consisting of a bedroom, a kitchen, a living room and a bathroom, which suited everybody fine because nobody lived with anybody else and so they only needed one of everything. And that’s what Alice had, which was just fine for her too, thank you.

She sang to herself as she walked along Avenue W towards the Town Hall. She was going to take her place on the Town Assembly. She’d been elected to sit on it only two months before and was still very proud of herself. (Although sometimes a bit unsure of herself too.) Little did she know that her happiness wasn’t even going to last until the end of the day.

She was expecting to meet her best friend, Sam. He’d also just been elected to the Assembly and usually walked this way from his house on Avenue R on the Fifth Circle. Today he was a bit late so she sat on a wall, and as she waited she looked away from the Green all the way back along Avenue W to the cornfields on the the Edge. Like everyone else she often wondered about the waving, bright yellow corn. No-one knew how the corn made you disappear, or made bits of you disappear. It was frightening and had always been a mystery. It was, of course, absolutely forbidden to everybody. There were huge signs all round the Edge, reading:

“BEWARE HUNGRY CORN”

“FORBIDDEN ON PAIN OF IMMEDIATE DISAPPEARANCE”

“PUT IN A TOE, LOSE A TOE”

“NO-ONE HAS EVER RETURNED FROM THE CORN”

“Alice! Hurry up, we’ll be late.” It was Sam striding along the Fifth Circle wearing a huge brown coat. He walked straight past her without stopping.

“You telling me?” said Alice leaping off the wall, “I’ve been waiting for you!”

But Sam was already five yards ahead of her. Samson Stead, or Steady Sam, or Big Sam - take your pick - was taller than everybody else who was twelve and had always been twelve etc. In fact some parts of him were so big, his legs for example, that it was never entirely clear if he had full control of all the bits, and so he tended to occasionally fall over his knees or crack his ankles together. Clumsy Sam might have been the best name for him. His hair stuck up around his head and he wore thick round glasses which made his eyes seem as big as the reast of his body. The main point to remember about Sam is that he was sensible. In fact Sensible Sam would have been the best name of all. You could always rely on old Sam.

He turned back as Alice caught him up, “There’s an investigation,” he said.

“What?” Alice tried to keep up.

“In the Assembly. Something’s happened.”

“What’s happened?”

“It’s important.”

“What is?”

“Belle fell over.”

“What’s so important about that?” Alice was having to run to keep up with him. “She’s always falling over.”

“Not over something like this.”

“Something like what?”

“Keep up, Alice.”

“I’m trying, Sam. Can you slow down?”

“Nope. We’ll be late.”

“What did she fall over?” It was no good, Sam was striding away on his huge legs. “Sam!”

She hurried after him. As they passed the Third Circle, she looked over at their old school standing crumbling and empty and just for a second felt nostalgic.

“You remember?”

“Yes, Alice I remember.”

“Oh, I forgot, you remember everything, don’t you, big brain?”

“I remember the school because you talk about it every time we go past it.”

“Well I liked it.”

“We haven’t been for over a hundred and fifty years.”

It was true and also true that Alice could hardly remember going anyway. She could vaguely recollect lessons, but slowly they’d all stopped attending, and their teachers hadn’t minded at all. Everyone agreed that they all knew everything they needed to know, so what was the point of going to school forever?

“I still miss it though,” she said. “We used to see everybody every day.”

“There’s Fortuna,” said Sam.

By this time they’d come to the Green and coming through the Oaks was Fortuna Mink, the third and last young person who’d been elected to the Assembly. She had a pale yellow skin, a triangular shaped face, and black almond eyes that were as dark as her thick hair which was cut in a square fringe across her forehead. She was dressed in her usual black with a red string bow in her hair. She looked like a cat and mostly sounded like one too with a kind of high, light voice which sometimes fot lost in the wind.

If Alice was honest with herself she would have to admit she didn’t like Fortuna too much - she was just too smooth and let’s face it, cat like. She would have also liked to talk to Sam about it, but Sam as usual didn’t make any judgement on people. (Too sensible for that) If you’d asked him what he thought about Fortuna, he’d have said, “Well, she’s ah? She’s Fortuna.” Thank you, Sam, thought Alice, do you ever notice anything?

“Hi, Sam,” said Fortuna, “Alice.” Her silky,low voice made it sound like Aliss.

Sam smiled. For some reason when Fortuna spoke everybody listened and seemed to appreciate her, which was probably another reason that Alice didn’t like her too much.

“At least there’s something worth talking about on the Assembly today,” Fortuna said, making assembly sound like assimbly.

“What’s worth talking about?” Alice was still hoping to find out what was going on.

“The Sleeping Man, Alice”

“What Sleeping Man?”

But Fortuna had already followed Sam up the great steps (which he took two at a time) and through the huge wooden doors into the Town Hall, leaving Alice following behind and beginning to feel depressed. Why wouldn’t anyone talk to her? And what could be so important, or even interesting, about a sleeping man? Everyone slept didn’t they?