He was in the car coming back from somewhere, when he felt it.
It was a tingling feeling up his arms. The boy just scratched himself at first, but when it got worse he pulled his sleeves up. There seemed to be lots of pimples on both arms. He’d probably rubbed up against some plant. He knew that they could do that. He’d tell his mum about it when they got home. He didn’t want to talk about it now, after they had such a nice day out. It was funny that he couldn’t remember where they’d been. There were almost home when the itching grew worse. When he checked again he could see tiny bits of fluff growing along each arm. It must be some kind of medical condition that he’d never heard of, he thought. He would sit down and show them both when they got in.
As they went in doors, he remembered that they’d been to the botanical gardens. He remembers watching the ducks take off and fly to the other side of the pond, where they skimmed to a stop when they landed. It was all coming back to him, how he’d been given a coin to toss into the wishing well and told to make a wish. In the living room he sat on the settee and pulled off his top. As he did, two great wings fanned out! His mother just stood and screamed.
It was the scream that woke him.
Frantic now, in the pitch black of his bedroom, he clicked his nightlight on and checked his arms…