Darren slotted the bejewelled key into the wardrobe’s brass key. It turned in the slot with a sharp schnick. The door swung easily, though the hinges were old and rusted.
‘Those hinges are old and rusted,’ said Darren.
‘Yes,’ agreed Liam. ‘And yet the door swung easily.’
They stepped inside the wooden box and weren’t altogether surprised to find that it was not a box at all but a doorway to another dimension.
Darren scratched his head. ‘This is a bit like that book. You know the one with the wardrobe and the lion.’
‘Born Free?’ said Liam.
‘No. The other one.
‘The Lion King?’ said Liam, who would never win a Nobel Prize for anything.
‘Yep, that’s the one,’ said Darren, who was a kind boy really.
They passed through the wardrobe doorway and emerged several minutes later in the snow covered outskirts of an industrial town. The skyline was lined with burnt-out skyscrapers, their collapsed rooftops belching smoke into a grey sky.
‘Oh no,’ whispered Liam. ‘We’re in Scotland.’
‘No. No, look there,’ said Darren, pointing.
Liam followed his friend’s gesture to a line of huge.........
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