THE DELPHI ATONUS
Potterdown school lies at the end of the valley, and on the very
outskirts of the town. The road goes no further; there is no further for
it to go. Looming up on three sides around the school the steep chalk
hills, some broken away like cliffs, protect the establishment from the
world beyond. But it was here, in 1982, that something very strange
happened.
  It
was on the Friday afternoon, just before the summer holidays, and on the
day of the infant’s school Sports Afternoon that it occurred. An
afternoon of events that, when it came to the infants, weren’t so much
to do with sport as with having a fun time. The sack races, three-legged
races, egg and spoon races, tug o’ war and the suchlike, with the
parents often taking part too, were merely to encourage the youngsters
to be competitive, and to promote a healthy team spirit.
The events had nearly come to an end, it was after three-thirty, when
with a loud whistling sound a ball of fire shot across the sky above the
sports field and with an enormous explosion buried itself high up into
the hill behind the school. The general consensus amongst the learned
there was that it was probably a very small meteorite, no larger than a
marble at the most, and that they were fortunate its trajectory had not
brought it down in their midst.
Three of the fathers present, the only ones out of the few men who were
able to attend fit enough for the steep climbing involved, went off to
explore the landing. There was a sizeable crater where it had hit, but
nothing more to be seen when they arrived there. It seemed whatever it
was had either evaporated on impact, or was so small as to be
insignificant, and unlikely to be found. Nevertheless by next morning
most of the junior school kids, and even some of the infants, had
ventured up there to see for themselves — and what they found was a long
way from being insignificant!
#
David Wallis, and his best friend, John ‘Chalky’ White, were there by
six o’clock that Friday evening, and were amongst the first to peer into
the crater. The two eight-year-olds were pleased about that — they were
able to choose. They both chose blue ones, and hugging them ran around
tormenting the dozen or so lads from the senior school who had ventured
up there in the hope of finding something of value. Strangely, it
appeared the older boys couldn’t see their new friends, and so they
thought the kids were just playing around and being stupid. They, seeing
nothing at all of interest in the crater soon made their way back down
the steep slope.
Within hours all the youngsters in the town had heard of the find, and
more than a hundred children scrambled up the steep chalk cliff that
night to claim their friendly fluffy, and to take others home for their
younger brothers and sisters. By morning every schoolchild from around
ten-years-old downwards had one.
Over the next few days the children learned a great deal about their new
friends. They were the Delphi atonus, the children of Delphi, a place
which apparently existed in the seventh dimension of the fifteen known
dimensions that broke away immediately after the universe was created —
wherever that was! — and they needed a lot of loving or they would die.
The strange fluffy beings were able to communicate excellently, and they
seemed very intelligent too, answering all the children’s questions with
ease. They explained to the children that because they were from another
dimension, an incredible concept to humans who insisted they knew
everything, they could usually only be seen by children or people with
minds that hadn’t fully developed; minds able to accept the supposedly
impossible with ease, because it wasn’t yet impossible in their minds.
It was over the course of the next few weeks that the children’s parents
and the schoolteachers discovered the anomaly. Whereas for the whole of
the country the percentage of children who had a secret or invisible
friend was quite small, only a few percent, in Potterdown for the infant
school it couldn’t be higher — it was one hundred percent. Incredibly it
was alarmingly high in the junior school too: a full hundred percent in
the lower classes, easing off to eighty-eight percent in the top class;
the final year of junior school. And nobody could understand that.
Another strange fact, impossible for them to understand, was that all
the children’s invisible friends were identical, apart from in their
colour. There were no invisible giant rabbits, teddy bears, pirates, or
similarly aged boys and girls that might have been expected. No, every
one of those children had a similar friendly invisible fluffy ‘monster’;
one of bright colours and with features that only appeared when they
were needed — that is to say the mouth was only there when it spoke, the
eyes when it needed to see, and the limbs when it needed to use them. It
was not only strange, it was worrying.
But the children didn’t worry. They couldn’t have been happier. The
Delphi atonus were amazing friends, far better than any puppy dog. What
puppy could help you with the homework, and tell you the answers in
school tests, yet not have to be walked, fed, groomed or cleaned up
after? All the creatures required of them was love, and they got plenty
of that!
During the course of the next three years the children’s standard of
education rose notably. Every boy and girl in every class was achieving
full marks in every test, and it wasn’t through cheating in the end,
they were actually learning at an incredible rate. By now both teachers
and parents alike had lost any qualms they may have had about the
strangeness of the children with their invisible friends. They were
better behaved, and with the speed that they were learning they were all
going to go on to achieve great things. So what if they had this strange
hang-up? Everybody was happy, until . . .
It was August again, the summer holidays, and David had just turned
eleven. He woke up, still cuddling Chuckles — that was the name he had
given to his invisible friend — and he noticed a difference. His
friend’s bright blue colour had faded considerably overnight, and the
look he was getting wasn’t the usual cheerful morning one.
“I shall always love you, David,” Chuckles said. “But I know you won’t
love me after today, and I shall wither away and die in this strange
place.”
“What you on about?” asked David, sitting up rubbing his eyes and
becoming fully awake in an instant.
“Today, David, is the day the Delphi atonus harvest. We came here
because we are a dying breed, we don’t reproduce fast enough. You do
know what gay means, don’t you?”
“Er . . . Yes.” David gulped and went red.
“Over many time periods, like you might call centuries, the number of us
who have grown up to be gay has for some unknown reason increased
remarkably until today ninety-four percent of our population is gay — we
hardly reproduce at all.
“We have deceived you. The Delphi atonus only came here in order to bond
with Earth children, and to absorb them and all their youthful healthy
and vibrant hormones so that we might continue our species. All the
children we have loved and have been loved by over the past few years
are now either in, just past, or fast approaching puberty. They are all
ripe to be harvested, and today is the day.”
“You’re going to kill me?” David now turned white.
“No-one will be killed. They will simply be absorbed. It won’t hurt
them; there will be no physical pain, I promise you. Once that is done
the atonus will return home to breed. But you David will be spared.
“Of all the many children who have embraced us, we knew there were
always going to be some that would turn out to be unsuitable for us —
those who are growing up to be gay themselves. From this community, only
one of many we have bonded with around your world, one hundred and
eighty-three will be absorbed today, and nineteen will not. You and, I
know you will be pleased to hear, your chum Chalky are amongst those who
will stay behind.”
“Oh, my God!”
“I’m sorry, David. I’m so sorry . . .” Chuckles looked genuinely sad,
and started to fade away.
“Where are you going?” David screamed at him.
“Without love we can’t survive in your environment,” Chuckles explained.
“We die within hours. You could never love me now.”
“But I do love you!” David shrieked. “I will always love you, no matter
what!”
Chuckles’ colour brightened again, and he cuddled up to David, who
stroked him.
Just then the bedroom door burst open and a bright and early, but
breathless visitor, Chalky, rushed in gasping, “You’ll never guess
what!”
David was so pleased to see he was still hugging his friend too.
#
On the 17th August 1985, a Saturday, a total of 27,432 children in
groups of around 200 mysteriously disappeared from our planet. The
product of 130 separate communities spread around the globe, all of the
children were about the age of puberty. None of them were ever heard of
again. Whether or not this harvesting saved the dying population on
Delphi is unknown, but so far they have not been back for more.
However, a cautionary note: unless Delphi is a remarkably small place,
27,432 children are not likely to have had much of an impact on their
population problem. Maybe the inhabitants of Delphi are only waiting for
the dimensions to line up in a certain way again, for the conditions to
be right, for them to be able to return. So parents treasure your
children, especially if they should suddenly acquire an invisible friend
— a fluffy one. They may not be here forever.
And a word of advice for any child naughtily reading this adult story:
if your invisible friend is brightly coloured, fluffy, and requires a
lot of loving, then start carrying a photograph of your parents around
with you at all times — you wouldn’t want to forget them, would you?
Copyright ©Michael Knell 2006.
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