In Which We Meet Mike, and Mike Meets Arthur

I'd picked up the sideboard second hand at one of the charity shops in town - a piece of furniture that would be OK for the short term but probably get ditched in a few years. The way I see it second hand's no more expensive than Ikea, probably better made and buys some smugness points for reuse/recover/recycle and you can't go too far wrong with plain wood. Well, they dropped it off at lunchtime and were kind enough to get it roughly in position in the living room. Looking forward to an afternoon of unpacking a few boxes I decided to give it a bit of a clean an polish first and to address the sticking bottom drawer. I left that to last and filled the air with the smell of furniture polish. Pulling the bottom drawer out was a bit of a struggle - it wasn't just stiff but there was something caught underneath it that resisted until I worked a thin metal ruler under the drawer to force it down. The drawer came out and the problem was revealed as four letters held together with a faded green ribbon. Now, I'm probably no more curious than average but these seemed odd - I realised that each was a single sheet of paper that had been folded and sealed with sealing wax, rather than using an envelope. A bit old fashioned, and the paper didn't feel like most paper does. So, curiosity got the better of me and I read on: a curious tale emerged that seemed to be a modern fairy tale of sorts.   The first one had "Jun 2001" written in pencil beside the address.  

Dear mother,
in 1995 it must have seemed as though I had disappeared of the face of the earth. If you have been thinking of me as dead, I can understand this; if you have been organising global searches and campaigning then I'm proud of your efforts though they have not achieved their aim. I have thought long and hard about whether I should even try to send this letter but given the effort that missing persons enquiries can involve it seemed best not to leave you in the dark more than I could avoid. I write this letter in what should be 1999 so that it can be sent when the opportunity arises for such are few and far between.
Firstly I dare say that I will need to convince you that this is not some hoax - my writing may be recognisable but even if it is, more than that is needed so a few circumstantial details from my childhood that should not be known outside the immediate family. What will do? Teddy bears perhaps - I had your old one, named Boris, which you had replaced the cloth on the paws and which at some point lost it's left eye and got a bald nose; my sister's was called Erasmus, was pink and she rejected it after you put it through the washing machine. I'm sure that you remember the problem of the ants in the kitchen and the before dawn starts to our summer holidays to beat the rush hour through London - cold sausages for breakfast was always a key part of the adventure. My favourite toy was the working model windmill that dad made for me when I was about 6. Hopefully that gives you some confidence.
So what happened to me? I don't really know but I seem to have travelled to another version of the world after a lightning stroke almost hit me. It's much less populated, much less industrial and at times feels a bit like the open day at a living history museum but despite arriving unprepared I have got myself sorted thanks to my obsession with windmills - for there is little in the way of streams here and windmills were unknown until I built mine. This was necessary as I could find no way back: the top of Cissbury Hill has a reputation for curious comings and goings and having lived here for some time now that turns out to be true. There is some sort of portal between worlds there; others can use it but it doesn't work for me. After a second failure to return with an experienced traveller I have decided to try no more and to send this letter with the next one passing through, though it could be some time before that opportunity presents.
  As well as being a bit quieter and less technological, this world also has a lot of what I'd always seen as fairy tales - but for real. It was much to my benefit that I met one of them the night that I arrived here and most of them seem harmless to useful - as long as you keep the doors locked at full moon. A couple of other examples may entertain you: there was some sort of dragon a few miles west of us in the last century - the stuffed head in the inn is pretty convincing and the story is well attested in the local history and we get the treacle for puddings and the like from a mine a couple of hours walk away, at Sompting.
Know that my thoughts are with you and that I am fine, though completely stuck. Love and best wishes
Art
ps a couple of lines added now that I have the chance to send this - the milling business is thriving, I married last year and Jessie is pregnant and due in 2 months.

The second, similarly marked "May 2004" came with an update on the family but no other details of the world.  

Dear Mother,
With apologies for this being short - Hubert, who delivered the letter almost 3 years ago was passing through again today and let me know he had delivered it to you. His current trip gives a chance to update you but only briefly for want of time. You are now a grandmother twice over - shortly after I last wrote Emily was born and at the end of last year was joined by David. Both are doing well under Jessie's care and attention, though Emily is starting to show the stubbornness that caused you so much hassle with me. I'm hoping that that has had a bit of dilution!
I have given up hope of returning, but with the burgeoning family this was not so hard to do. I trust that you understand this reasoning for it is increasingly clear that this portal is not much used and that even the chance to send a brief note is rare.
With love and best wishes,
Art  

The last, marked "Sep 2007" was in the same vein .

Dear mother,
another opportunity comes from a brief note to give you an update. The mill is still grinding along and I've started to build another a few miles away - why they never came up with the idea of windmills is beyond me - they have watermills, but round here there isn't much in the way of streams. Anyway, more important things - the family are well, there are no new additions but there is something which may be a problem with an impact on you.
A few weeks ago, Emily was out playing and we're pretty sure that she stepped into your world. Just for a few moments but the way she described what she saw makes it very likely - if this were to happen again it could be a real problem, especially if she can't get back. It was a bit of a nasty shock for her and I don't think that she'll do it again on purpose but you never know with kids. She's got your address now which may help a bit but will still leave a bundle of problems if she can't be got back pretty quickly - I don't know how things have changed in the 12 years I've been gone but I don't suppose an unaccompanied 6 year old is going to have much chance of getting far in an area she doesn't know without attracting attention.
Hopefully this is a precaution that won't be needed. Would love to write more but paper and time are against me at the moment, so wishing you all the best.
Your loving son
Art

  I don't know how you'd read it but I was in two minds - possibly a school project in "creative writing" possibly with a few extra craft bits on the side or possibly a joke left by the previous owner before sending the sideboard to charity. That seemed a bit unlikely but you never know - a housemate of mine at university would have loved that sort of joke and had pulled a couple of April fools along similar line, but where's the fun of a hoax when you don't see it being taken?   Well, I had the address that they'd been sent to so out of curiosity I went round there that evening. The house had been sold a couple of years before and the new occupants didn't know who the previous owner had been; the previous owner had died and it was sold by a solicitor who was sorting out the estate. Checking at the library on the way at the weekend I found that it had indeed belonged to a Joyce Morgan and I also found an obituary that noted her funeral and asked for donations to the charity Missing People in memory of her son Arthur. Now that piqued my interest - I doubt she'd have kept the letters if she thought them a hoax.   It was a sunny day, for a change, so I took a walk up to Cissbury Ring to see the place where the letters indicated Arthur disappeared. Nice views and pretty quiet. Now I wasn't expecting to see something out of the ordinary - why would you at a place so close to a large town? But heading east from the top I caught sight of a windmill I hadn't previously noticed. This was through the gap in the bank - when I got up to the bank itself and climbed to the top of it to see the view in that direction there was no mill. Hmm... could the letters really be taken at face value? sight of a mill that comes and goes where the letters indicated that Arthur had his mill. That would be amazing. It was tempting to go through the gap towards the mill but the lesson of Arthur's experience weighed heavily. He'd gone through and got stuck there and although there seemed to be others who could come and go more easily this was a bit more than I wanted to get myself into. So, leaving by a different route I went home.   The next day my curiosity took me back up there and again I could see the mill. OK, I thought to myself, it seems to be open for me still. From this side at least. Would it be open for me coming back? Only one way to find out I thought to myself and walked through. Yes, it was different - apart from the mill, the barbed wire fences were gone, the tree line had moved but no weird tingly feelings or anything else. I turned round and looked back into the ring - were the trees different or not? I wouldn't tell. Walking back into the ring seemed to change nothing - I was carefully watching the trees this time, but when I turned round the view through the gap showed no mill. Curioser and curioser I thought. A fitting thought as this was definitely a bit Alice in Wonderland, though perhaps a bit closer on second thoughts to Alice through the looking glass. But climbing the bank the mill was still there to be seen. So it looked like walking back through the gap had not taken me back, but had allowed me to see back through. So it seemed that the portal was open to me from this side too. Back through the gap I walked and the mill was gone, wire fences had returned as has a couple of dog walkers walking down the hill with their backs towards me.   Wow.   What next? Well, it's not the sort of thing you'd feel any confidence in telling people about. Hell, if I'd been told about it yesterday morning (even having previously read the letters) I wouldn't have believed it and a week earlier I'd have laughed it off as a tall story. Well, I had my mobile with me so at the very least a few photos could be taken (not that these would do for proof as even I could probably add a convincing windmill with Photoshop). So, a photo through the gap of the mill: interesting - no mill in the photo but I could see it. Walk through the gap and take another: this time the mill shows. So the camera doesn't see through, but it sees once it is through. Interesting. I also noticed that now I wasn't getting a signal and opening the map app it couldn't get a GPS fix on me. This is looking like it's real, or I'm still in bed asleep and dreaming. I walked towards the mill and surrounding buildings. Time to see if I could meet Arthur.   The mill was flanked by a house and some single story outbuildings - sheds of one form or another, one of which I took to be a granary from its being supported on steddle stones (you know, the sort of "stone mushrooms" used to give an "olde worlde" feel to cottage gardens). The whole surrounded by a waist high fence. A boy of around 10 was making a valiant, but unsuccessful attempt at getting a dog to sit and come when called.   "Um... Hello there, I'm looking for Arthur Morgan"
"What do you want my dad for?" replied the boy, followed as he switched his focus from the do to me by "Are you from the Other place". Something about the way he said it gave a capital letter to the Other.
"Maybe... Where Arthur came from." The boy turned and ran to the house shouting
"Daddy, daddy - there's a Stepper come!"
  A few moments later a man emerged from the house and came to meet me at the fence - late forties, just starting to go grey and dressed in corduroy trousers and a sweater. He introduced himself as Arthur Morgan and asked what brought me here. I mentioned the letters that I'd found and my surprise at being able to find the place as I'd never heard of this sort of thing outside fantasy fiction and fairy tales.
"Well, you'd best come in if you've got the time for some tea and a bit of a chinwag." he said, opening the gate for me, closing it behind me and leading me in to the house. This was a wood framed house with some brickwork filling in the gaps between the timbers near the ground, small glazed windows and furnished simply with little decoration and no sign of modern technology. "How do you take your tea?" he asked, reaching for the teapot on the table.
  "White, no sugar, a good dose of explanation of what I've just walked into - if you have any of that." I replied, surprised that tea was apparently a feature of both worlds.
"White I can do, no sugar I can do, and I'll go as far as I can with the explanation but I don't think I've got anything like enough explanation." said Arthur as he passed Mike a mug of tea and topped his up. "As far as I understand it there are two worlds connected at Cissbury Ring and a few people can move between them. You already know that I managed it once but could not get back; you seem to be able to manage it much more easily and I've built the acquaintance of four who used the portal once in a while - none from the immediate area. The letters you found were carried by them; they brought a couple of letters back from my mother and one bought news of her death to me last year when he came through a year after taking the letter. Whether they journey between the worlds rarely because they can only do it rarely, or only do it for some specific purpose I don't know. My daughter, Emily, can do it - she did it once when she was 8 and thank God she came back to us that same day. We've kept her and young Davey away from it since and don't know what we'd do if it happened again."
"What's this world like?"
"Pretty much like the other, but fewer people, less technology - when I was first here it felt like one of those living history museums. I was thankful that they speak English and that there are so many similarities but why is another of those mysteries. Round here we're pretty agricultural but I reckon overall you'd think of the country as mid nineteenth century for technology, early twentieth for dress and style and a bit more recent for the social. But most of all is that a lot of what you'll think of as folk lore for children is real here - fairies and the like."   We talked about whether it would be a good idea for his children to have my address in case they stepped and got stuck and Arthur was unsure on this; Emily would probably be OK as her step had given her quite a fright, but Davey would probably see it as a licence to try it for himself. He'd need to discuss this with his wife when she got back from Broadwater. I noted it down for him and our talk moved on to some of the things that had changed in my world since he'd left it. He seemed to have no desire to return now but curious to know as the steppers who had passed through had little inclination to talk of such things despite knowing that Arthur came from there - they seemed to want to limit information flow though, again, Arthur had no knowledge of why.   I decided to head back and digest what I'd learnt. I thanked Arthur for the tea and asked if there was anything I might usefully bring with me the next time I came. Nothing for him as he felt this might cause problems in some way but if I wanted an unobtrusive way to get a little of the local money then paper was always in short supply and costly in these parts but well enough known that it wouldn't be seen as unusual if in limited quantities. And home I came, avoiding surprising anyone out for a walk on the hilltop by luck rather than judgement. Well, if that would be the biggest problem that this gave me I'd be glad! In the mean time I noted down this record of the events and wondered what, if any, impact it would make on anyone who found it in the future.