“What was it this time?” asked Phil.
“Gravity disturbance” said Preston, “you remember that house on Wearside road? Like that, but a different direction in every room.”
Phil nodded, he remembered Wearside Road very well indeed. The entire house had been turned upside down – literally, but only on the inside. The occupants, a family of five, had returned from a day out to find all their furniture on the ceiling, much of it smashed to pieces by the abrupt fall from what had previously been the floor. Those pieces that had survived were finished off when the gravity went back to normal just after midnight that night. No one would have believed it, except the eldest child had taken lots of footage on her phone, including running taps with the water flowing up onto the ceiling, and posted videos on youtube. Of course, most people still regarded it as an elaborate hoax, a feat of special effects. But Phil and Preston knew better, and had investigated. They were certain; it was an incursion.

Since Wearside Road there had been over a hundred such incidents, each with it’s own mark on the map on the table in front of them. Most of them weren’t gravity related. There’d been the pub where the water on the premises had all started boiling at room temperature. The garden shed where all the constituent gases in the air had separated out into layers like oil and water. Invisible to the naked eye, of course, and the owner had collapsed three times in there before finally crawling out on his hands and knees and calling the council. Turned out Oxygen was at ground level in there, but at his head height it was all nitrogen.
There had been several incidents where the speeds of light or sound had fluctuated drastically.
There had been at least thirty separate instances of electricity simply ceasing to function within a localised area, usually reverting to normal before they were able to work out the reason.

They were happening more and more, and they had started to cluster. Preston had become sure that he could predict where and when the next one would happen, and the last three times, he’d been right.
“So where’s the next one going to be?” asked Phil. Preston pointed to a spot on the map, and turned to Phil, an excited look in his eyes. “Here, at four o’clock today. Are you ready?”
Preston was convinced that these incidents were the result of extra dimensional beings trying to visit our universe. He said they came from a different reality, with different laws of physics, and that these were bleeding over into ours. He was certain that if they could be there, ready and waiting, when an incursion occurred, they could communicate with these visitors.
“Can you believe it?” Preston whispered, awestruck. “We’re finally going to meet them.”
“I can’t wait” said Phil, who was excited for his own reasons. He’d been waiting a long time for this, for someone like Preston, who could see the patterns. Who could get him to the right place at the right moment. He’d been waiting a very long time indeed.
But now, after three hundred and forty seven years in our reality, he was finally going to be able to go home.

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David Wynne

David Wynne is a cartoonist from south east London now living in Hove. He likes loud music and probably drinks more than he should. He tries to be nice. He really does try.

Latest posts by David Wynne (see all)

• Thank You and Goodbye - 30/07/16
• A Walk In The Park - 28/01/16
• 06/12/2015 Image – “Quiet Neighbours” by David Wynne - 06/12/15
• SMILE - 21/11/15
• In the Forest of the High Stones - 31/10/15