Peter Challenge - Time Surfer

By John Priest

Peter Challenge is an ordinary, everyday, young boy. He can think of nothing worse than going to a boring shop to buy boring wallpaper for his boring bedroom.

The spooky lady in the shop calls Peter by his name, but how does she know him? She hands Peter a roll of wallpaper and he feels compelled to take it.

At home, weird inexplicable things start happening.

Peter's bedroom is finally completed.

Lying in bed, he wonders who the two unhappy figures on the wallpaper might be.

He drifts off to sleep only to be woken by a soft voice calling his name...

• Language: English
• Publisher: johnapriest
• Release date: Oct 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781516319695

Book preview

The wallpaper

PETER CHALLENGE JUMPED into bed and pulled the quilt over his shoulders.

Goodnight and God bless, Mum, he shouted.

Goodnight and God bless you too, Peter. See you in the morning, she answered, running her hand through his blond curly hair.

Okay Mum, Peter grinned, see you in the morning, when you're yawning!

Mrs Challenge looked at him once more and shook her head. He was always making up silly rhymes, she thought, as she closed the bedroom door.

Peter waited for his mother to go downstairs before throwing off his quilt. Sitting on the edge of his bed, his eyes scanned the decorated walls. The smell of wallpaper paste still lingered in the air.

His father had finished papering the room, and now everything seemed so different. It had been a weird experience for Peter, first the wallpaper shop itself, then the strange old lady.

None of it made much sense. And now as he looked at the wallpaper, with one solitary picture on it, he wondered why he'd told his Dad to get it.

Why was there a strange-looking purple castle on top of a funny yellow hill?

How come there was no pattern when wallpaper usually has all sorts of colours and pictures?

And why did the two people standing on the castle battlements look so sad?

One of the unhappy figures was a young girl, about his age. She had plaited, long brown hair with golden ribbons intertwined in it. On her head sat a sparkling silver crown that matched her long silver dress. Peter felt a sadness for her because he could see tears in her large, green eyes. An old man stood beside her, hugging and comforting her. He must be very old, Peter thought, because his white beard was so long it almost touched the ground. In fact, he looked almost like one of those wizards Peter saw every day on television.

Peter yawned and lay back down on his pillow, ready for sleep. None of it seemed to make any sense, not even in the beginning, when he'd gone with his Dad to choose the wallpaper...

PETER SAT IN THE PASSENGER seat of his Dad’s old Ford Consul. It was a scorcher of a day and the inside of the car was like an oven. He couldn’t believe that his Dad still owned such an old car. His Dad insisted it was a ‘Classic’ and would be worth a lot of money one day. He’d even threatened to hand it over to Peter when he was old enough to drive. Peter winced at the thought and then wound the window down to let in some fresh air. The silver winder came off in his hand. With a bit of luck, Peter grinned, the entire car will have dropped apart by the time he started to drive.

As the grey Ford turned into the High Street, the sky darkened. Peter’s Dad turned on the car headlights. There was a blinding flash of lightening, followed by thunder and lashings of rain. It seemed as if someone had turned on a hosepipe and was aiming it at the windscreen. He heard his Dad mutter something under his breath as he turned on the windscreen wipers.

The wipers made a groaning noise as they crossed over each other in the middle of the windscreen. With a puff of blue smoke and smell of burning rubber, the wiper blades shot off like a couple of rockets. One knocked a woman's glasses off, the other went through the spokes of a bike, tipping the young man into a bush.

Peter covered his face, What do we do now Dad?

I can hardly see out of this windscreen Peter, his Dad said. We’re going to have to turn into that little street over there.

The rain made clanging noises as it bounced off the metal of the car.

His Dad steered the vehicle into the street but he could hardly see. I’ll have to stop here Peter, it’s too dangerous to carry on.

Do you know where we are Dad? I can’t remember seeing this street before.

Neither can I son. The wallpaper shop I was taking you to is at the bottom of the High Street, so it’s going to be a good walk from here. We could come back another time, when the weather is better.

Oh, Peter answered, a little upset. I was looking forward to getting the wallpaper today. He shrugged his shoulders and cast a sideward glance towards his father. A smile appeared on his face as he realised the noise outside had abated. Look Dad, it’s stopped raining.

Freaky, his Dad replied, I’ve never seen anything like this. One minute it’s sunny and the next it’s pouring with rain.

And now it’s sunny again, Peter beamed, and then pointed to a shop that was right next to his Dad’s car door. And look, there’s a wallpaper shop right there!

Huh? his Dad said, a puzzled look on his face. I’ve lived here all my life and I never knew this street existed, never mind this wallpaper shop. It’s our lucky day. Let’s get in before it starts raining again. 

ONCE INSIDE THE SHOP, it took a few seconds for Peter’s eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness. The shop was tiny with a strong damp, musty smell. Rolls and rolls of wallpaper heaped into piles all over the floor, most of them covered in a thick, grey dust.

Peter couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to visit this place to buy anything. It looked like a building that needed demolishing years ago.

Don't stand there in a daze. his Dad said, Start looking around!

I’m trying, Peter answered, picking up a roll of wallpaper and waving it in the air, but all I can see is thick dust.

As they continued their search, they heard a moaning noise.

It’s coming from over there, Peter pointed, by that old oak counter.

Crumbs! his Dad shouted.

AT THE FAR END OF THE room stood an old counter made of solid oak. On top of the counter sat an old black, metal till, waiting to clock-up a sale. An old woman's head appeared behind the counter. A head with an ashen face and long, silver hair. It seemed to float along the counter surface. Peter's heart pounded and he realised he was holding his breath. He gulped in