A final chink of light disappears behind me. The five steps up a narrow staircase lead me to a tiny, sacred space where showbiz magic is made.

Dolan’s first weeks as a correspondent hit him hard. Not the work, but the weirdness of it all. He kept thinking it was scripted somehow as if Vietnam in ’72 was written for him as a parade of absurdities Rod Serling would love..

While I was indulging in the ritual hand blowing that characterised my Christmas travels around the graveyard, I noticed a man who was by a grave which was two rows forward and three plots along from where I was.

Meg went to the door and ran a finger over its surface and hinges coated in layers of thick paint, applied one over another for decades. The knob held firm. The lock stuck fast. This door hasn’t opened for years.

By the time I was old enough to watch my first Michael Myers movie, Halloween III, I already knew firsthand that infamous Haddonfield, Illinois, was not the only place where nightmares come true for ordinary kids!

“I know.” He gently brushed the hair from her face. “It’s a nice dream, but it’s not me.”

You could tell by the way she got off the helicopter that she wasn’t having any funny business. Perhaps she’d heard about the chap who’d been sent over to get their chakras realigned. He was effing and blinding by the time he left.

Ever since he had dropped out of college, ended up in a seedy area of the city, and found a part-time job at a bar, he had no desire to play it or write songs.

He crouched down on both knees to look under the vehicle. When he said, “Oh God!” it wasn’t in his adult voice, but in a child’s voice, like the time he had accidentally run over his little brother’s leg with his dirt bike.

Walking into the room for the first time, my eyes were drawn to the grand, wooden table covered in a red checkered tablecloth piled with steaming plates of basted turkey, creamy mashed potatoes, and wobbly cranberry sauce.

Fifteen minutes to the deadline. Fifteen minutes to write the words that would end the career of a man who had once saved his life...

And the last time he’d feel his heart thumping, which it was doing in spades. From dread? Excitement? Both, he supposed. Like a bungee jumper. Yes, the ultimate jump. Down, down, down, then up forever. A phoenix from the ashes.

The Victorian Mansion, as its previous owners often referred to it, sat a half-mile from the quiet road. Rows of massive oaks lead along the dusty driveway, all the way to the front door, and dense woods framed the home like a knotted head of hair.

For the first time, Becca truly realised that grown-ups couldn’t see magic. Magic that nevertheless was very real, very powerful, and very frightening.

If I can just keep walking, I can burn off some of this nervous energy. I need to walk until I’m exhausted, until I can convince myself that this rapid, stuttering heartbeat of mine is the result of exercise.