Those Among Us

By John Parsons

Harry Trent didn't know that he was an alien.

He thought he was as normal as the next man, That was until that fateful day, when his best friend lay dying in his arms as the rain poured down upon them both. Nothing from that day was 'normal'.

He finds that there are a group of friends from his old school, and they are preparing to go back to the planet they came from, and want Harry to go with them!

But there is a problem, the ruler of the planets kingdom knows they are coming, and fully intends to stop them returning.

After all, one of them has a legal right to the crown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Parsons
• Release date: Nov 9, 2018
• ISBN: 9781999684822

John Parsons

My education was secondary modern, not very highly thought of by most people; however, I went through the system and seemed to come out the other side with a reasonable education. I went to the West of England College of Art and studied Commercial designing. I did this for several years but found I was not getting enough from it, to satisfy myself. I became interested in the printing process, and went on to become a press operator. I moved up the chain and ended up as works manager. When the business closed, I took exams to sell insurance with the Cooperative Insurance Society, until I retired. I often told stories to my grandchildren, and when I was asked to write one down, I thought, Why not? The result is this book. I now have six books, and I am writing the seventh. I am 77 years of age. OTHER BOOKS WRITTEN BY THE AUTHOR: Children's books TEN QUESTS TEN KINGDOMS TEN ELEMENTS GRANDAD'S EXTRAORDINARY CAMPER VAN Adult books THOSE AMONG US THOSE AMONG US RETURN

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

IT BEGINS

My life started to fall apart on that fateful evening, just after my friend’s twenty-fifth birthday.

A group of old school friends had gathered to celebrate my friend, Oliver’s birthday. This would give us all a chance to renew old friendships, and to see how life had treated us all since we had finished school and branched out into the big wide world.

We had said we would all get together again when we became eighteen, but like so many plans, they became words said, rather than deeds done.

Some had gone to University, others to College. A few, like myself, had gone to work in an industry, and some had even joined the armed forces.

I had gone into the printing industry. I trained under an apprenticeship scheme as a graphic designer.

My parents couldn’t afford to pay for my fees at art school, but we had managed to get a sponsorship from the company I now worked for in Bristol. With them paying my fees, I seemed to progress through the different aspects of design taught at the West of England College of Art.

I was able to come up with a few ideas of my own that confounded the tutors, who seemed to think my thinking was advanced for my age.

Once I graduated from the art school, I was granted a job with Dolphin Press, my company sponsors, and soon, under the watchful eye of Mr Baron Archer (Department Head), I started to make my way in the world of work.

Jobs for specific clients came in, and this was then farmed out to the selected top designers in the company. I, being the lowest member, took the small jobs that might be considered too lowly for the top three designers.

Not that I minded, I was working on something that I enjoyed doing.

Then, one day, a client came in asking for a link design with a photo shoot. The idea was to design a ‘give away’ pamphlet when they did the clothes exhibition.

All of the three designers above me were all working on a top-notch job, so it was passed to me to do, with little expectation of a big order coming from it.

I was given the details of the venue and times of the photo shoot for a company that was just starting out in the rag trade.

My remit was to observe the clothes designs, link with the client, assess the way the client was thinking, draw out some on-the-spot designs and report back.

No problem, this was to be my first outside venture with a client from the start, and I was definitely up for the job.

Sketchpad in my case, and a variety of pencils, I had jumped into my old run around, cut up Jacob Wells Road avoiding the centre of Bristol, from Hot Wells Road where my company was based.

I worked my way up White Ladies Road, and almost at the Downs, a famous green space in Bristol, turned into Worrall Road. I found a parking space, and after locking the car door, I ran along the road looking for the number I needed.

Having found it, I went up a set of steps to the front door and rang the bell.

This was an old Georgian type house taken over by a company: as were many along this street.

The door opened and after a brief question and answer, having established who I was, I was escorted upstairs to a room where I was introduced to my client.

I didn’t recognise her at all, but she clocked me.

Harry Trent, well I never, she said, I wasn’t expecting you.

Nor was I expecting to see you I said, a little puzzled.

So, are you the designer we are expecting? She asked.

Yes, I have been told to come here and link up with a new client, to take notes, and try to do some rough drawings to gauge the client’s reactions. Do you know who the client is at all?

Oh yes, she said, and she is a hard woman to work for.

Who is it? I asked, looking at the people milling around.

The company is ‘She’ as you know, and the owner is me.

I turned and looked at her again. My mind started to panic as I realised that I could still not remember her name; a good start to the proposed contract.

Look, I started my apology with, you may as well know that although you know me, regrettably, I cannot remember your name at all. And whilst I am being honest, I can’t remember you from our school days, you must have changed quite a lot. I hope by admitting this, you are going to give me a chance to show what I can do, and not cancel this first session.

Harry Trent, how cute you are when you are embarrassed. Relax, you haven’t put your foot in your mouth yet. I am Amelia Watson, that awkward girl that was never good at sports. I was always on the outskirts of the group and joined up with some of them as we grew. At the end of our school year, at the last class dance, I was with Mark Harper and you were with Pat Dale. We talked in general groups, moving from one to another, but I never got a glance from you. It was a good last class dance.

Sorry Amelia, I must have been blind that evening, but I can not remember seeing you, goodness me, but you are really beautiful, I wonder how I could have missed you?

I guess we all grew up over the years, and time changes everyone. These things for a start, tend to make a statement, as most men’s eyes drop down to that level when we meet.

She had cupped her breasts as she had said this, and try as I could, having been guided to look, I struggled to find the ‘stop starring button’ in my brain.

Ok Harry, you can lift your eyes up now, she said with a laugh.

Oh bloody hell, sorry Amelia, I don’t know what came over me.

I did, of course, I had always been a ‘boob’ man!

Don’t worry Harry, I understand. Now it looks as if the cameraman is ready, so I am going to leave you and make sure the girls are ready for the session.

And with that, she walked away towards the back of the screen, where behind it girls were putting on her created dresses.

She looked just as good from behind, and just before she disappeared behind the screen, she stopped, looked back, and grinned as she caught me ogling her perfectly shaped bum!

My client was gorgeous, she remembered me, she had caught me ogling her attributes, and I had failed to recall anything about her. What was wrong with me?

The first girl came out from behind the screen and posed for the photographer.

I quickly sketched the flowing dress and caught the swirling fabric in my rough drawing. As each girl came out from behind the screen, so my hand seemed to come to life and draw across the paper, catching the look, and as I drew, so many ideas flashed into my mind for the advertising posters we were to design.

The girls were lovely, the dresses looked stunning, and this was turning out to be a dream job.

Soon, all too soon, the shoot ended, and as the girls changed, Amelia came out and came over to me.

Well, what do you think?

The dresses look wonderful, I said, and I do have a few ideas for your advertising campaign.

Good, she said, as she watched the girls walking away, now dressed in their own clothes. She called out to them, thanking them for their cooperation, and then turned to me.

Stay here a little longer, I need to look at the photos and then Charles can go back to his studio and run prints for me.

I watched her walk away and couldn’t help letting my eyes drop to her round quivering buttocks. What was going on with me?

She leaned over Charles and looked at his photos as he discussed the shots, adding comments about the shoot, and asking various questions about close up shots, deleting this and that. Finally, she shook his hand and he started to pack up his stands, lights and cameras.

Two other men came in to help him after he had rung them on his mobile, and they dismantled the screen and the rest of the equipment, and took it outside to the vehicle they had presumably come in.

While this was going on, Amelia was looking at my quick sketches.

She placed them back on the table and turned to me and said, You are quite good, aren’t you?

I don’t know about that, but I like what I do, and that’s what comes through in my sketching I think.

We need to talk about my promotion and the pre-advertising. Will you come with me to a nice little bistro I often go to, and we can run over a few ideas I have, and also yours.

I had better check in with my boss first; I wouldn’t like him to think I was not working.

I took out my mobile and rung the firm and asked for Mr Baron Archer.

Once he was online, and I had updated him by explaining my day so far, and the request for a lunch conference. He then asked to speak to the prospective client.

After a few moments of talking to him, Amelia held her hand up in a stop signal to me, walked away and went into another room, shutting the door.

Wow, this woman was something else. She had, with only a single lift of her hand, got me to stay, like a good dog, and I didn’t seem to mind a bit!

After a short while she came out, passed me the phone and said, You are mine for as long as I need you.

I just looked at her, like the puppy dog I had become and said nothing. My mind was in overdrive, as the innuendo replayed in my mind over and over.

Amelia had been watching me and smiled as she said: Down boy, the option is work, not play. Now bring your sketches and come with me. I will lead in my car and you follow me in yours, then you can park in the garage at my place, and we will then go in my car.

She was all action, authoritative, and left me in no doubt that she was in charge, and this puppy was a happy one!

We picked up our bits and pieces and went downstairs. She locked the door and came down the steps to the curb side, where I stood waiting.

Where is your car? she asked.

Mines just up the road, I had a job finding a parking space.

Mine will be here in a moment, just come down to here; once my car arrives I will wait for you, and she pulled out her mobile phone and called someone as I walked away.

I reached my car and was just unlocking it when a BMW passed me by, and pulled up near her, double parking. A chauffeur jumped out of the car, opened the door and she stepped into the back seat.

I drove down the road, and as I neared the car, the BMW started on its way.

I followed the car over Clifton Suspension Bridge into Lee Woods. The car had just crossed the gorge, then turned up a road, and after a short drive, turned into a driveway.

In front of me was a huge house with a driveway in and out of the place. This was mega money!

Amelia got out of her car and came down to me.

Just park it up somewhere over there, she said with a wave of her hand, and then as she turned and went back to her car, Amelia then called out, and don’t forget to bring your work with you, will you!

Trying to concentrate on parking roughly in the direction she had indicated, and less on that rear of hers, I managed to do as I was told. What the hell was going on?

I ran my fingers through my hair; I put my bag with the sketches over my shoulder and locked the car door. Taking a deep breath, trying to look calm and sure of myself, I walked back to the car where she was waiting.

The rear door was open, held by the chauffeur, I ducked down and slid in, as the door was closed behind me.

I found the seat belt and buckled up, noticing that the strap of Amelia’s seat belt was between her breasts, making them even more prominent.

I felt myself redden, as the thought came and went; this was not how a professional person should be thinking.

My, my, Harry, you are having a problem aren’t you? she said.

I guess I’m a little out of my league here, I can’t keep my professional mind away from my masculine thoughts about you. You are a delight to look at, and I apologise for my continued rudeness in starring.

Oh Harry, you poor dear; I love to look at you also, as you go that lovely pink colour when I catch you looking. It’s so cute!

She then went on in a more serious voice, Now, to business. I want some of the photos taken today, arranged in a giveaway pamphlet, and with each dress described, plus costs per item marked below. Your sketches will be part of the background as you designed in your rough sketch and include the cover, with one of the sketches. The one you drew with the dress flaring out I think. It will be eight pages in total. Order sheets must be inserted into the booklet, I can give you a previous print done for my last collection, something along the lines of that will be fine.

She then pressed the partition button between the back seats and the driver, and up came a dark brown glass divide between us and the driver.

Enough work, she said, let’s get personal.

I couldn’t help it; I just went bright red as my mind once again went into overdrive.

Amelia laughed and said, I can’t help it, I love to see that virginal pink as your hormones go ape. Quite an active mind you have Harry.

I just looked at her for a moment and then remembered to close my mouth.

How old are you Harry? was the next unexpected question.

I, um, I’m twenty-four, soon to be twenty-five.

How soon? She asked.

September 29th, I said, look, what’s this all about? Do you think that I am too young to hold your account?

No Harry, I said personal, and I mean just that. All of our school classmates are coming up to their magical twenty-fifth birthday. I had mine a few months ago. Oliver Mountains birthday as you know, being his best friend, is in a few days time, its time we all got together again, so why not on his birthday.

How do you know about that? I, and as far as I know, Oliver, have had no contact with most of our class over the past years.

Let’s just say that events after my birthday made me think that we need to reacquaint our old class with one another.

Whilst it’s a good idea, there is still the unanswered question, why?

Let me ask you another question. Don’t think I am mad, or weird, but have you noticed anything happening that could be construed as strange to you, as you near your birthday?

Weird as in meeting you, with no recollection of you, you mean! I have no idea what you are on about.

I seem to have gained an unusual power, trait, call it what you will, but I have changed since my twenty-fifth birthday. I have more drive, awareness of fashionable society if you like, but I also had a visitor come to see me.

Maybe I am dumb or something, but I am not following this at all.

Ok Harry, let’s leave it for the moment, what about a reunion for Oliver’s birthday party.

How many people could we find on this short notice, I wonder?

All that are still alive, she said, and I know how to contact them!

How the hell do you know that? I questioned.

I just do, and that’s all you need to know, she replied.

Well, I guess we could go with it if you are sure that they will come. Where can I get that is available at this short notice?

Try my place, she said. I can lay on a group or a DJ, food is no problem, I can sort that out. Just tell Oliver that you have a surprise for him, leave the rest to me.

Are you sure about this, it seems a lot to ask you to do, for someone you haven’t seen or heard of since our last day at school.

Money is not a problem for me; I made my first million by the age of eighteen. I don’t know what I am worth now, millions I guess.

Millions!

Yes, millions. I started in America with a company called ‘So Chic’, and the younger folk purchased my designs by the thousands. It seemed that no matter what I created, they wanted it. I came over here and started ‘She’, a company making clothes for thirty to fifty-year-olds. Once again, it’s selling as soon as it’s made and advertised.

"Well there’s