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The alarm went off, sounding strangely distant. As he had done every Monday since he’d started school, Charlie Thompson sat up in his bed with his eyes shut, desperately delaying that moment when he had to admit to himself that he was awake and had to embrace the day ahead.
Only, this morning, things were a little different. Instead of sitting up and blinking in the morning light, Charlie’s head came into contact with something hard and cold.
“Ow!” he muttered, dropping back into the pillows and clutching his face. After taking a second to check that he was OK, Charlie opened his eyes. And blinked.
All he could see was the bedroom ceiling – which is nothing unusual in itself. However, this morning, the bedroom ceiling was no more than six inches away from his nose. Pulling the pillows aside, Charlie looked over to where his bedside desk should be – only to see the top of his wardrobe. Squirming under the covers, he looked over his right shoulder.
Charlie Thompson, with pillows and sheets, was floating two metres above his bed.
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