Meet Georgie, a teen with an unusual talent! It’s 1960s London, and Welsh-born Georgie has the power of telepathy! The secret he shares with Morgan, the Kid from the Future, will lead him to grow and reveal his true self to the world, without fear or shame!
My writings, my letters? At last!
To you. Just for you. Wow! I can’t believe it! You have it!
My message in a bottle? What? That’s weird. Why am I thinking that!
Me, a teenage boy, hoping to connect to someone … someone in my distant future.
Are you in my future?
I did wonder … And here you are. This is so different. So exciting!
What year are you in …? You can’t answer that, can you.
It could be really exciting … connecting to someone in the past – not from the past – but actually living in and from the past. And not a ghost! (I’m not a ghost, by the way)
I’m thinking, my message … ‘in a bottle?’ Washed up by old Father Thames? Ha-ha! Don’t think so.
Stranger things have happened, I suppose.
I wish, I really wish, I could have had that chance. A living conversation, with a living person … from their time, back in time, from way back. So spooky!!! So exciting!!!
I’d have soo many questions.
Now, connecting with someone out there, way out there, out there in the future. So, Sci-Fi.
So, Sci-Fi. Mm. How brilliant is that! Now we’re cooking with gas. That’s such a stupid expression. Now we’re communicating. That’s better.
‘Contacting the future … Contacting the future … Come in please … ‘
‘There’s something coming in, … vibrating on such a high frequency … can hardly pick it up … I’ll re-adjust the dials.’
Now, that is way-out! Now that’s more like it.
An ‘electronic bottle’ washed up as a picture, on a screen, on a … as a … new … electronic-radio-wave, visual? (that’s a mouthful!) How bizarre? A fantastic, freaky-wave frequency. Like Dan Dare might have!
Who’s Dan Dare? I hear you ask.
Science fiction. British. A comic book hero. He’ll know how to get into the future. He’s from the future. Maybe your future? He’s absolutely amazing!
What’s that, you say?
Signal’s breaking up, … adjust the dials … got it …
James Bond? No …
James Bond’s a secret agent … not a comic book hero. Ok, he’s British … I know. I’ve read loads of James Bond books. They’re great! Love them … by Ian Fleming. So exciting! Do you like them?
Hey, just a moment. How did I know what you were thinking?
My imagination? … Probably a guess? I guess.
Who are you, by the way? Hopefully, you are of a similar age to me, a teen? Anyway, if things fit with you, it’s Ok by me.
Oh, yes, hi, my name is George.
Look, I don’t know your name. So, I need to give you a name. Let me think …?
Can I call you … Morgan? I like that name. For me, it conjures up images of Ancient Celtic magic! Oo! Mysterious! Wish it was my name. (It’s Welsh) We all need a little bit of magic in our lives, don’t we? Could have called you Merlin or Myrddin. That would be going too far. Morgan, it is.
Hi Morgan. I could call you Morgana, if you like. Let me know. I don’t mind. I don’t mind if you’re different. That’s Ok with me. We’re all different in some ways, aren’t we?
But there’s being different and being different. Mm. That’s when things can be get a bit tricky.
I’d like to know more about you, not that I’d be able to though.
I’ll tell you how I’m different.
But first … a bit about …? No … I’ll skip the intro … I’ll fill in the gaps as we go along.
By the way, I’m 15, the year, 1965.
Chapter 2 - I’ll give you a bloody nose!
‘I’ll give you a bloody nose, alright, so bloody-well push off!’ … ‘I’ll punch your face in!’
No, not you Morgan. Don’t go … It’s not a brainstorm! Kids so aggressive … other kids. Fist fights, arguments, angry words, gangs. Them and Us. All too often, Them and Us.
A world-war so fresh in everyone’s mind. Hardly surprising. Lives thrown into confusion. So much bitterness, resentment! … In most London schools. We’re talking the 1950s. Not always like that, of course. But all too often.
This was my background, growing up as a young kid. Everyone with something to prove. So much to prove.
If you’re different, you stick out like a sore thumb.
But, by sticking together, you get through.
You don’t want to be different. The jackals, the hyenas stalk their prey. These bullies hunt in a pack.
My eldest brother Elfed (pronounced, Elved) was different.
He did make friends, some good ones too. When they were together, things were fine.
But Elfed was different to the other London kids.
Our family moved up from Wales, see. My father, to teach in a London school.
Elfed’s Welsh accent … boots on his feet, not shoes, mind. Dressed differently to the other boys.
Daps in his PE bag, not plimsolls. Well, they were but different names for everyday things … he was a target for the jackals.
Am I talking to myself? … Probably.
That’s the 1950s for you. I was only a little kid, but we had to survive.
Then there’s being different … and being different.
I was beginning to have strange, confusing thoughts. Even back then. It’s just that boys are … I just see them differently. Oh, never mind. Not now. I’ll get there.
I’m getting strange, odd thoughts … as if I’m actually talking to you, right now? I think I may have lost it, Morgan …
‘Hey, kid, go see a shrink!’ That’s how I imagine it would be said in a Hollywood movie. Yes, movies … a film … oh never mind. Arguing with myself, now.
I have lost it! See you at the ‘Shrinks!’ Ha!
Tomorrow, then. Hopefully …? Mm …
Yfory. … Yes … Yfory. Tomorrow! Means tomorrow … it’s Welsh for tomorrow … why am I explaining it to myself? Definitely see you at the ‘Shrinks!’
Yfory, pronounced ‘Ervory’ … Stop it!! Stop talking to myself.
I must go and lie down on the shrink’s couch!!! Ha-ha-ha! I really have lost it!
Chapter 3 - HATRED!
What the …! a dark electric-shock-word! HATRED. That made me really jump. Splash-back! My cornflakes and milk, all over me! I’ll have to change my shirt now. Where did that come from?
Strange? I’m in my own world. Thinking about you, Morgan. Reading my notes at the breakfast table. Wondering what you’re like. Then, out the blue, FLASH! I get this word screaming at me, ‘HATRED!’
That’s some wake-up call. Why hatred? You don’t hate me, do you? A strong, powerful word. Feels dark, heavy, you know. Strange. I think I can … sort-of … feel your presence? No, I didn’t get spilt milk on my notes … hey, where did that come from?
Have you just picked up my writing? my diary? … my notes? You have, haven’t you? How odd. How did you find it … no never-mind, go on …!
No? … you don’t hate me. Thank goodness. I feel much lighter now. The heaviness has gone. It’s wars you hate? Got you. So, do I. My imagination goes into overdrive when I think too much about anything. Especially wars. Perhaps, my imagination goes into overdrive thinking I’m talking to you?
‘Hatred,’ is a real force. An ever present undercurrent. Years after. The war that is. As I say, not surprisingly, really. The residue of hate.
Especially for those who have been badly hurt. Soldiers and civilians alike. Seeing their friends killed. Seeing the dying … in pain as they gasp for their last breath. Others mistreated cruelly … in Japanese or German internment camps, or as prisoners-of-war. Suffered badly. Beaten and starved.
Their anger spills over when something triggers a memory. We’ve heard their stories.
Be cool … deep breath … and relax … Hey, no, wait a minute … this is amazing? I’ve just had the strangest sensation! No, really … A sort of quickening, rippling feeling. A vibration? Here, inside me. That’s crazy! Where’s it coming from?
Morgan! It’s linked to you, with you. It is you! Wow! No, can’t be? I sense your presence. I really do!
I think I can feel how you feel … you … feel my emotions, too …? Somehow, I know you’re saying that. How bizarre! Now, in my head, like before, but stronger … I’m picking up a thought … as I read a copy of my notes to you … I’m actually sensing your thoughts … or I think I do.
Now that is weird. Crazy weird.
A telepathic link? Mm? No (I laugh to myself) … can’t be? Surely not. But, I’ve read about telepathy.
It’s a way of communicating. By thought. By feeling. Near or far. Distance no problem. Even through time? Could be … why not? It’s pure thought and pure energy? Sounds weird, doesn’t it?
Thoughts. From one person’s mind to another person’s mind – just by thinking it – just by feeling it?
It’s sort-of … in my head. Creates a picture.
Or a feeling … within my body. Is that how it is … for you?
Is it real? … I feel we both are asking this. I think so. Hey, how do you think I’m communicating with you, silly? It’s got to be! A vibrating energy? Mm?
Somehow, we have managed to make a telepathic link. Wow! It seems pretty strong between us.
Suppose like anything, with practice you get better at it. I’m getting all excited again!
Yes, Morgan … I think you’re right … people can have the link and not know it … like thinking about someone, then … your phone rings, and it’s them! Like, thinking about someone … and there … on the doormat is a letter, or a postcard from that very person!
What’s that, Morgan? … ‘an ee-male?’ … on your computer? … Yes Morgan. Got you. That’s right …
What? … hang on. What are you talking about? … ‘My computer?’ Oh, come on. They’re massive. Fills a room. Really big and really expensive! The US army have them. MI5 & MI6, too. Lots probably, but I don’t. How could I?
You’re laughing, Morgan? I can tell … Why are you laughing? You can’t hide it … I can feel it …
What’s an ‘ee-male?’ Do you mean ‘He-male?’ A strong man …? stop it … Now you’re taking the piss! Stop laughing!
Oh, let me guess … expect you’ve also got a blooming-big field telephone you lug around with you! Just for your own personal use, of course! Come on, be real!
Stop it …! Now, you’re laughing even more … I can feel it! … Bloody hysterics!! … Why you … you … blooming big piss-taker!!!
Never mind. I shall take the higher ground … take a deep breath in … be calm … hold it … be sensible … breath out … and relax. There. I shall continue … I’m thinking … the link between strong emotions and telepathy. What about this then? You won’t get stronger emotions than this …
A soldier dying
A sad, painful end. The final tragic thoughts, so desperate. Thinking of his mother back home. She knows. Just knows something terrible has happened to her son. Long before the official telegram arrives. Or a sudden pain, or an uncomfortable feeling. Warning of disaster. Of danger!
Telegram? … by computer? … Cloud based? Ha! What are you talking about? Your head is in the clouds. No. It’s a short, printed message … delivered by hand, though the postal service.
Then, there are newspaper reports, and more than one! A frightened passenger. A sudden impulse not to board an air flight. Or to board a cruise ship. Only, to hear, later, it has crashed! Sunk! Killing most of the passengers. Is that telepathy? If so, who sent the message? Mm. A good question. Just think Titanic. Mm …
Chapter 4 - GIRLS!
I am a teenager, of course. I know I get busy doing other things. School work, reading for pleasure, I love reading, by the way. Then my other hobbies. But we’ve got other things to interest us. GIRLS!
Yes, ‘GIRLS’ were now on the scene. Big Time! What did you expect? Well, it is for most teenage boys, isn’t it? Is it for you? Not quite yet for me, though. There’s being different and being different, after all.
I’m not ready to talk about it, either. Don’t push me. I will, in good time. Getting close. Yes, it might be a good one to test our telepathic link … but not now. I’m not ready. No Morgan!
Deep breath … and … change the subject.
Do you have a bicycle, Morgan? Roller skates? Ice-skates? Of course, you must do. I’ve got a story to tell about ice-skating. Mm. Keep that back for the moment. Tell you later.
Skateboards? … Did you say? Never heard of them … Oh, a sort of roller skate fixed onto a plank of wood? You make me laugh. Well? probably in the grand ole’ US of A, maybe. They always seem to be the first get things, like Yo-yos.
We have bicycles, of course. Girls’ bikes. Boys’ bikes. Mountain bikes. Racing bikes … with drop handlebars. ‘Butchers’ bikes, with baskets. I’m on a roll, Morgan … Kiddies bikes with stabilisers and a bell.
Straight handlebars. Curved handlebars. Cow-horn handlebars … that stick up like long-horn cattle. I have this sort on my bike. There’s roller skates, too. But they’re not on my bike, silly!
Then there’s …
Extra money to be earnt. Newspapers to be delivered. Bread rounds. Milk rounds. Grocery deliveries, all needing teenage kids to help. For cash, of course. Don’t remember girls doing many of these things? Did they have the chance? (I shrug my shoulders) Don’t think so?’
I sold newspapers outside the local railway station. Bloody cold in the winter. There’s me, looking up at a huge advertising hording … of a family snuggled around a warm, cosy fire. All drinking mugs of hot chocolate! And there’s me. My fingers, freezing icicles. My feet, blocks of ice!
I sold newspapers before setting off to school every morning. Monday to Friday. Good money too.
I was wondering if you, Morgan, or your friends do anything like this to get extra cash? Maybe you do something very different? Something I can’t imagine, I suppose.
Sometimes. I’m lowering my voice, Morgan, so no one else can hear. I don’t like to admit this. I will tell you, Morgan. I think can trust you. This is a big one for me. Sh, a little secret. Just between the two of us.
I haven’t told anyone else. Here goes …
Me selling newspapers … no, that’s not it! Sh … There, staring at me. This huge poster. Advertising a sunny, summer’s holiday – for all the family to enjoy. Picture it.
A lady, sunning herself, big red hat, reading a book – stretched on a floral green lounger. A mum, plastering sun lotion on her children’s backs. A dad buying ice-cream. But I was fascinated by a couple of … I’m embarrassed to say this … handsome young guys! There, in their brief swimming trunks, about to go for a swim in the pool! I was transfixed! (I like that word, and the picture! Ha!) Certainly, something there for all the family! Mm …
There’s definitely being different and being really different! Please don’t say anything, though.
You’re upset with me, aren’t you? I can tell … You don’t like it, do you? You’re making me feel … nervous.
Are we still Ok? … to communicate? I feel this strongly. A heaviness in my chest, in my head, too.