Free Wail of the Banshee by Tommy Donbavand

Chapter One

    “AAAYYYOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWW!”
    I woke with a start, my eyes snapping open. The noise was a cross between a scream and the siren of an ambulance – and it made my bones sting.
    I lay still for a moment, blinking. My eyes itched, as though I’d been trying to win a staring contest. I had a headache, too. It was light outside, but I was lying on my bed, fully clothed. I must have fallen asleep doing my homework or someth—
    I froze. This wasn’t my room. I was lying on my own bed, with my own duvet cover and pillows – but this wasn’t my room! Where was I?
    My bedroom – my real bedroom – was small. The smallest room in the house, in fact. That’s why Mum always insisted I kept it tidy, as I only needed to leave a handful of games and a pair of trainers lying around and it was a mess. But this room was anything but small. Pale, flecked wallpaper covered walls that stretched up towards a distant ceiling – and there was enough room for my whole family to have moved their beds in here. It might help cover up the disgusting orange carpet, if they did.
    I sat up and spotted what looked like a suit bag hanging over the end of the bed. It was purple, and had the initials G.H.O.U.L. printed on the back. I realized I was wearing a wristband in the same colour and with the same letters on it. What had happened to me? Had I been in some sort of accident? Was this a hospital?
    No – don’t be stupid, I told myself. I know they keep saying on the news that hospitals are short of beds, but they don’t move your own bed with you to give you somewhere to sleep. And, even if they did, they wouldn’t have brought all my books and CDs as well. Plus, my pet iguana, Steve, was curled up asleep in his glass tank on my desk. They wouldn’t allow pets in a hospital, no matter how ill you were.
    I was about to shout for my mum when it occurred to me that, wherever I was, she might not necessarily be here with me. Neither might my dad, or my sister, Susie. In fact, I had no idea what was waiting for me outside this unfamiliar room. Thankfully, I had a way of finding out without physically going out there.
    I climbed out of bed and crossed over to the door. Then I closed my eyes and allowed the inner me to take another step forward. It felt like I was stepping out of a warm shower and into the cold air. I glanced back and saw my body standing rigid behind me – and there was the silver rope that connected me to it. Good – I was able to Walk in this strange place, just like normal.
    With my next step I melted through the door. My dad once asked me what it feels like to pass through solid objects. I suppose it’s a bit like running against a strong wind for a split second – only the wind is made of wood or bricks.
    I found myself on a long landing with several other doors leading off it, all of them covered in the same peeling paint as the one I had just Walked through. The carpet out here was no improvement on the orange disaster in my room: this place must have been decorated when green swirls were all the rage.
    And there, along the wall, were the pictures my dad had painted of sailing ships – just like they would be on our own landing at home. Was this some kind of joke? I half expected a wacky TV presenter to jump out and say this was all a hidden-camera prank.
    Wary of what I might find on the other side, I Walked through the next door along, making sure I only went as far as the rope would let me. It varies from Walk to Walk. Sometimes the rope stretches for as long as I want but, on other occasions, it stays short and I can’t move further than a few metres. Today, I was pleased to discover I had plenty of room to manoeuvre.
    I found my parents lying on their bed, asleep. At least, I hoped they were asleep. “Mum! Dad!” I raced over and tried to wake them. But they were out cold. I almost pressed my hand to my dad’s chest to check if his heart was still beating – but quickly reminded myself how