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Jamie looked glumly at the drizzle. Rachel was bustling around, putting things in rucksacks, brewing coffee and chuntering happily to herself.

“Sure you wouldn’t rather go when it’s dryer?” He asked, hopefully.

“Best chance to see the dusk finch tonight. Plus the whole gang’s coming - they’re looking forward to meeting you.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

Rachel pecked him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, they’re not as intimidating as they seem at first. Got your wellies?”

Jamie smiled. “I’m hardly worried about being intimidated by birdwatchers. And I’m not wearing wellies.”

Rachel shrugged, pulling her Hunters on. Jamie slipped into his pristine white trainers.

He clocked his reflection on the way out. Not bad. The gym hours had definitely paid off and he was looking forward to the contrast he’d make against Rachel’s new, geeky friends.

At the meet point it was exactly as Jamie had feared. Woollen hats, beards and anoraks everywhere.

“So this is Jamie? Nice to meet you, man,” one of the beards said. “It might get a bit chilly - d’you want to grab a jumper before we set off?”

“You’re alright mate. I can stand a bit of cold.” Jamie stood closer to him, so Rachel could see how much taller and broader he was.

A woman in a beanie the colour of a fish finger led everyone into the trees, the group chattering in excited whispers. It was fully dark now; Jamie had to stay close to Rachel because he didn’t have his own torch. Within five minutes he’d trodden in a puddle of something unspeakable, foot freezing, trainers ruined.

The walk was longer than Jamie had expected. By the time they reached the hide he was worn out, though the birders were still going strong. Out came the sandwiches, the long lensed cameras. The hide soon smelled of strong coffee and the group fell silent, fixated on the woodland outside.

Jamie went to pull out his phone, but fish-fingers stopped him. “The light scares the birds,” she whispered.

“So we just sit here, in the cold, doing nothing?”

The group hushed him angrily

“We’re looking out for the dusk finch, ”said Rachel. “It’ll be really exciting if it shows up, you’ll see.”

“Babe, I don’t think this is for me. I’ll wait for you back at the car ok?”

Rachel nodded resignedly. The beard offered Jamie his torch.

Jamie chuckled and patted his shoulder. “I think I’ll be alright, mate. It’s not exactly far.”

As the door swung shut Jamie swore he saw the beard sit very close to Rachel. She didn’t move away.

He stomped purposefully back towards the car. What did Rachel get out of sitting in a dark, freezing hut with a bunch of soft hippy types? He bet not one of them could run a 10k or benchpress anything over 20kg. He snorted.

Hold on, they hadn’t passed a stream on the way here, but to his left he could hear running water. Surely he should be nearly at the car by now?

He turned around. He’d retrace his steps. Get back to the hide and try again from there. If fish-fingers could do it, how hard could it be?

Shivering, Jamie turned and strode confidently in completely the wrong direction back into the darkest part of the woods.

I lit the candle that set the city on fire.

Casualties in the thousands, the news report said later. 342 on the plane. Those on the ground were estimates. It would take days to sort it all out and get the facts straight.

I lit the candle because that’s what I’d been told to do. I live on the flight path, you see. Just at the point where the planes drop low enough to identify, before they disappear over the towers towards the airport. I’d say I chose this flat for that reason, but I didn’t. I chose it because it’s all I can afford. Getting involved in the flight geek forums came after. A way to talk to people after the kids had gone to bed.

I’m not naive. I didn’t expect I was initiating something good, something legal. If they just wanted to set up the perfect photograph, I could have phoned them, or sent a message. I guess it’s harder to link a candle in a window with a distant telescope than a pair of phones or laptops pinging each other through the ether. Though I’m not police, obviously.

When the plane burst into flames and ploughed into the ground, my heart followed it.

They’d contacted me through the forums at first. I’d given away too much about where I lived. It was nice to have somebody who wanted something I could give. Something other than fish finger sandwiches and permission to watch YouTube after 7pm. They asked for coffee one morning, after the school run. I daydreamed it might be a date. They didn’t show. At least, nobody matching their description walked in and sat opposite me. I found a note in my pocket later, asking if I wanted to make some money by doing a small favour. I threw it away.

It should have ended there, but they knew what I looked like now, and apparently, the route I walked to school and back. They were persistent. I was never threatened, but knowing they had access to me – and my family – was enough to chip away at my resolve. When they offered money again a month later, I accepted. It wasn’t a lot, not to most people, but it was enough to pay the deposit on a rental with… not quite a garden, but somewhere I could grow herbs in a proper pot, rather than a wellington boot dangling from my kitchen window.

Nobody spoke to me about it afterwards. No one has ever knocked on my door. My devices have never been seized. I haven’t assisted anyone’s enquiries. The city burned. The people died. The flame went out. And that was that.

I lit the candle that set the city on fire, and my life carried on as normal.

No money ever came. I don’t know how to chase it.

I just keep grilling fish fingers and arguing about screen time.

“It comes. Hush now”. Rose’s voice was thick, sharp, strong. His tall frame rocked gently in the wind.

“Bow to the creator.” Bluebell’s voice was light, and multiplied and echoed across the earth. The others dipped their heads in awe.

The tremor of steps shook them to their roots. A fast thud, thud, thud that seemed to clash against the slow stretching sound of growth.

Clematis creeped over the edge looking down at a dull brown space, waiting for the new one to arrive. Why should she worry, about the new ones, scrambling for light down there in the dirt. She climbed ever higher, stretching for the glint of sun. First to the heat.

The thuds grew louder, bolder and then the hard crushing sole descended. Insects scrambled for cover, those too slow were crushed. Another offering to the earth to feed the roots.

The earth was ripped apart. Carved anew. And then gloved fingers came down and a delicate young thing was thrust crying into the hole followed by a sudden avalanche of water. The sound of the youngling choking and spluttering was clear to all. Helpless they watched. Greedily the nearest reached out quiet roots to absorb. And then the creak of bones and the fading thud of footsteps followed by silence.

The youngling lay battered and wilted, head weighed down by water, exhausted. But alive. Petunia.

“Stand back” Rose commanded as bluebells and Pansies rushed in to look. “It’s ok, it’s over now.”

Petunia raised his head to look around. “Am I here? Am I really here?” His quick delicate voice was excited, a touch of fear but resilient too. He looked up in awe at those around him.

“Oh, you’re ok for now.” Came the lofty voice of clematis. “But that was just the start. Just you wait until tonight.” Cruel and mocking, she turned away back to the last light.

“Beware,” Bluebell echoed, and the word was picked up and passed nodding from one to the next, a wave wrapping up and engulfing the young flower.

“Enough” Rose bellowed. “Leave him be”.

Petunia sunk down, Terror gripping his trembling stem. What on earth was tonight?

“Ah don”t mind them.” Came a cheerful voice. Petunia looked up to see a candle shaped shadow waving. Lupin was taller than him, but still small, a long way to grow yet.

Petunia muttered. “What do they mean?”

“Ah don’t worry. It’s fine. Can’t be worse than my first night.” A shadow flicked across his face and then was gone. “I barely notice it anymore.”

“What, what’s going to happen?”

“Honestly, I tell you it’s ok, it’s been quite dry. It’s after the rain that’s the worst. So you’ll be fine.”

Petunia looked down at the pool of water he sat in. And the fading sunlight.

“What is going to happen?.”

“They call it the initiation. One night. And if you make it through, you will be sorted. The fresh stalks are always more…well tender.” Lupin saw the growing terror in Petunia.

“Sorry pal. But you’re tough, you’ll be fine. Just keep your leaf up. That’s critical, keep them up as high as you can.” Lupin looked at the little water heavy leaves dragging on the ground and sighed.

“Like I said. You’ll be fine.”

With an effort Petunia stretched up as far as he could as the last light of day streamed away. He waited reaching high. Would they come? What would happen. Quiet fell. The peace of resting. Rejuvenating growth against the busy days.

Silence.

Petunia darted awake. What was that? His leaves dragged on the dirt. Dew and water sodden. Silence. And then. Something. A slow sludge, a wet scraping, oozing sound. He heard a whimper. Then a thick, scrunching. Then a stifled yell as if someone was trying not to shout in pain.

He could see nothing. He stretched as high as he could. The sounds grew all around him. Closer and closer. He tried to be brave. He tried not to look. But the sounds, the smell, the… he saw them then. Giant, black thick. Their long creeping tendrils swaying and scanning before them. The cold cruel mouth smiling. The pulsing slime glistening in the dim starlight. He screamed. Primordial. Guttural terror. He shook and his leaves wilted. The creatures all turned to him. They saw his firesh thin, delicate leaves and on they came.

Panick flooded him. What could he do. He wasn’t tall enough. He couldn’t reach up. He couldn’t grow. They came closer, he could smell their foul odour like dead fish. Fingers of slime drooped from their bodies. The very face of death.

And then a shape lurched down. Thick dark and deadly. Spikes crashing into their bodies sending them sprawling. Leaking and oozing. Rose struck again, and again. Against the wave. With cries of anger and pain they turned and crept their way back into the darkness.

“Th, thank you” stammered Petunia.

“You are one of us now young one. And once we were all fresh leafed like you.”

“Still you didn’t have to.”

“Rest now. They won’t be back tonight.”

Well that was some initiation Petunia thought. And with that the exhausted flower slept.

Sally, Suze and Lou had to decide. They liked the new kid, but was that enough to admit her to the circle?

Suze had heard about initiation from an early stage. Her dad was a mason. Whatever that was. He was in charge of initiation. She had asked her dad, casually, what initiation was.

Somebody had to do something that they wouldn’t normally do to prove that they were loyal. It also sounded as though it had to be something that embarrassed them, just a bit anyway.

Suze told the others and this is what they decided to do: the new kid would get invited over and they would do the initiation thing in Sally’s dad’s broken-down old shed. They each had to think of something to be part of the initiation.

Lou came up with the best: a candle. Just a bit dangerous and it would give a great atmosphere to the whole thing. Really spooky light reflecting off the cobwebs.

Suze brought a rope. Even their ten year-old minds found that a bit sinister. Hanging had been abolished that summer. Which felt like a good thing, but lots of kids liked to dwell on the details. Suze used to talk about the pit of lime she had heard about that the bodies were supposed to fall into. When she told her dad about this, he said that was in the olden days.

Sally’s was a bit lame. Something that was in the shed already. An old Wellington boot. In the end though this turned out well as it was full of spiders.

The new kid turned up at 12 on Saturday as commanded. She was smiling when she turned up. Pleased to be asked along. But when they got in the shed and Lou lit the candle she began to look worried. All three of them explained what was going to happen, nervously talking over each other so that the new kid struggled to make sense of it. The most important thing though was that if she stuck it out she would become one of them.

Suze tied her to the old camping chair while Sally brought over the boot and removed the new kid’s sock and shoe. It took a while but eventually she plunged her foot inside the boot. No screaming, that was the condition. And she had to keep it in there for five minutes.

‘Fish fingers are ready,” shouted Sally’s mum.

‘Ok, we’ll be back in five, maybe ten minutes Suze said to the new kid, and they all dashed out leaving her tied to the chair.

‘What’s that smell?’ asked Sally’s dad, as they gulped down their lunch more quickly than usual.

‘The shed’s on fire!’ shouted Sally’s mum looking out of the window.

Everyone said afterwards that Sally’s dad was a hero. He spent the night in hospital but he was ok. Eventually, so was the little girl, but she had to have a skin graft. Whatever that was. They said she could be in the group, but she didn’t want to after all that. In a way it was her fault. The boot had knocked over the candle when she kicked it off. Who knew the can of paraffin in the corner had been leaking all that time?

Alfred's footfalls clanged with every step as he ascended the rusty stairs to the lighthouse. His damn knees shot to hell, muscles struggling to even move his legs. Fatigue riddled and signalled the end he knew had to come. This was never the end he intended. It had just… happened. On the walkway, he took in the view for one final time, the ocean's vast emptiness extending in every direction. Deep purple crested with white crashed against the cliffs, spraying saltwater into the air that rusted every surface not made of stone. His life had mostly been maintenance; then again wasn't that the same as everyone else's?

A Wellington boot on one leg, a pegleg instead of the other, he made his way inside the lensroom, where burning oil stung his nostrils and he felt a deep sadness. This would be the last time he got to endure it. It made him think of all other experiences he would never have again, not the arthritis wrecking his body, or the taste of burnt roast, nor the relief of taking a piss. He chuckled, another experience he hadn't expected. But how could he have had expectations; there was no frame of reference for being alive, for being human, not in the void.

On an altar sat a candle, which he lit, signalling the start of the ritual. The beginning of the end. An offering of three fishfingers sat arranged into a triangle. The shape didn't matter, only the intent mattered. He contemplated the empty space in the centre of the altar, and wondered if it would hurt, if he would remember anything. Would he die? Would his essence go on, but not his memories, the beautiful pains he suffered? Was that not death by other means?

Inside something tugged, like an impatient child fed up with waiting, and my turn reverberated through his mind. Alfred smoothed over his suit, straightened, and looked up to the sky smiling. "It was worth it."

Then he retrieved a small card from his pocket, and he touched his boot on the altar. "I'm ready."

Ozone suffused the air and instantly all his aches and pains displaced, set aside by a searing golden light. Nerves screamed, he screamed, the glass screamed, as everything Alfred was, would be and ever could have been was torn out in a gush of smoke, his remains disintegrating. Inside something new grew, filling in his ragged shirt and pants and boot, displacing the pegleg which fell aside clattering.

Fresh smooth skin, hairless and unblemished, came forth in a blink, new eyes opening to see what this new world was all about. Jim, that was the name he had chosen, felt the card between his fingers and brought it up to see it.

Take your time. Be present. Don't step on nails.

Confused, Alfred's brand new brain raced to understand, and he took a step back without looking. He screamed, his foot impaled on a rusty nail and promptly fell out of the lighthouse door.

Somewhere in the void, Aldred chuckled.

Shift change complete.