1 – The Stone Circle

‘One’, Katie counted as she went around the stone circle. ‘Two… Threeee.’ She had given each of the stones a number, and as she passed them on the outside, she slapped the matching stone and spoke its number aloud.
Katie was quite good at counting. She knew how to count to a thousand. Even ten thousand, probably. Mrs Walton had said she was very clever! Just thinking about it made her glow with pride.
The stones did not need ten thousand numbers, though. ‘Eight’, said Katie as she neared the last stone, ‘and nine!’ That was it. A third turn around the standing stones. Three times nine was… Well, she hadn’t got that far just yet. She was, after all, only five years old.

The sun was starting to set, and Katie’s mum had told her to be back well before dark. Still, she decided to round the circle one last time before setting off for home. The girl started her count again.
‘One… two… five?’
This wasn’t right. Why was Five standing in Three’s spot? ‘Naughty stone’, Katie scolded the monolith (Mrs Walton had taught her that word) and started over.
‘One, two, three.’ Better! ‘Four, one, seven, two.’
No, no, no no NO. This was not at all right. Why were the stones misbehaving all of a sudden? They were usually so still and quiet and proper. Katie had to sit down in the grass to ponder and decide what to do about this very un-stone-like behaviour.

Then the stones began to talk. No – they began to sing, in a faint but unmistakably taunting voice:
‘Ring-a ring-a stonesies…’
‘What?’ responded Katie. The stones grew a little louder, a little shriller and definitely more mocking.
‘Ring-a ring-a stonesies, a girlie plays alonesies’, they chanted in unison. ‘Do you come to play? Then you come to stay–’
‘STOP IT!’ shouted Katie with as much authority as she could muster. She started to suspect the voices did not come from the stones at all, but from beyond them, inside the circle. But it was growing dark and dim and difficult to see in there.
The voices had melted into one now, and despite Katie’s repeated protests, it kept singing with heart’s delight. ‘Ring-a ring-a stonesies, we’ll crush your little bonesies, a wickedly fae has tricked you today, the wispies will whisper and whisk you away!’
Katie started running away as fast as her five-year-old legs could carry her, but the stones were still standing right next to her. She started slapping them as she rushed past, drawing ragged breaths to speak their numbers: ‘One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen…’