For LiveRead 2011 Cyran Dorman wrote a three-part story. At the end of each installment, readers were invited to vote on what happens next.
ON the first day it took ten of the iron men from Crosby beach. Nobody saw, it happened before the low tide but early morning dog walkers and photographers noticed their absence. It was all over the Breakfast news along with speculation as to who'd taken them. In Liverpool we knew it wasn't us. There was art all over and people didn't take it, they had their picture taken with it.
The next morning it took one of the Liver Birds and the whole country knew it wasn't us. Crowds gathered almost immediately at the Pier Head to see the forever changed skyline. Helicopters circled but the priority for the people was to make sure that it didn't happen again and a congregation also formed in the gardens of St Nicholas. We found out later just how many had come armed for a fight.
It was those of us on the ferry who were the first to see it in the flesh. I saw it first. With thousands of pairs of eyes trained on the Liver Buildings I was looking into the river hypnotised by the spray from the ferry when a large, dark patch drew my attention. It was moving fast and appeared to be changing shape as it went.
Within seconds it had overtaken the ferry and doubled back so that it lay alongside us and I could see that it was almost as big as us. I tried to call out to someone, but fear and a little embarrassment stopped me. I knew that schools of fish could form great masses, was that all it was? My question was answered immediately as it rose out of the water.
It was dark and sleek, or rather slick and it pulled it's body up to form an umbrella over the boat and stayed there. From behind me someone screamed and as I looked up at the creature I thought I could make out an eye in its mass. It was the split second of emotion that gave it away and with a fright it fell. The ferry plunged. It didn't tip or sway but plunged and the water soon followed. I was pushed against a railing by the wave having only time to think, "This is it. This is it."
When I came to I was in the back of an ambulance at the Pier Head. I coughed up what seemed to be lung upon lung of the brackish water and felt my throat and lungs burn. A mask was placed over my face and like a warm blanket I felt the oxygen warm my blood. I could hear it pumping heavily in my head above the crowd which had gathered.
I looked around to see face upon face, concern spread across every one. Panic overtook me as I remembered. I tried to sit up but an arm pushed me down and the voice of a paramedic told me that I was going to be all right. Oddly it wasn't me I was concerned about.
"We'll get you to the hospital as soon as we can get through the crowds," he told me. He must have caught a look on my face. I wasn't going anywhere with him. My fear of hospitals was possibly greater than my fear of an unknown oil slick monster. I needed to get away but how? My mind was bombarded with questions. Not just this one but what had happened, what was the thing that had taken the ferry down and where was it now? I tried to pull the oxygen mask from my face while the paramedic tried to keep it in place.
"I'm fine," I lied.
"That's the oxygen talking."
"No, really." I sat up to show him how fine I was but he pushed me down more firmly this time. I was utterly relieved when a scream filled the air around me and from somewhere a voice called out for help.
