Being twelve is a scary time of vampires, zombies, werewolves and other evil creatures.
Bob moved in next door around three weeks ago, but no matter how long I waited by my window I still hadn’t seen him.
Mum said that he’s a hippy, in need of a good haircut. She thinks that he will reduce the value of our house, not sure how, but she says it all the same.
A shed has appeared in his back garden. I wonder what he keeps in there, hostages, treasure, those immigrants that the papers always write about.
It’s Sunday night, I wake hearing a noise from his garden. I creep down the stairs, slide my feet into my cold, damp wellies and walk out into the night.
There’s a bright blue light and smoke leaking from around the door of the shed, and an odd sweet smell – I knew it! Aliens!