Chapter 1
“It’s clapped out alright” my father sighed, pulling his cap off his head and scratching his balding head; I swear all that scratching was the reason his hair was moving outwards.
I kicked the wood and winced as like all men I realised too late that it would hurt my foot back “It’s good enough to last another year at least.”
My statement might have stood up better if it hadn’t been for the fact the wood had caved in slightly from where I’d kicked it. If it hadn’t been for the recent swarm of termites then yes it probably would have lasted me a good few years; now the wooden slats were exploding in a shower of splinters and bug droppings which wasn’t the most pleasant of mixtures.

“It’s no use James” I hated that name; that was the name of horribly slaughtered Kings but my parents called me it anyway “You’ll have to get a new bed.”
I groaned loudly and scratched my head; then I stopped myself because I didn’t want to pick up any of my father’s bad habits. I had the worst luck with furniture, I hadn’t had a bed that lasted me for more than a year; they all went to pieces somehow. Hordes of termites, extremely hot weather melting thin metal bars and somehow a small localised fire contained only under my bed had wrecked my beds in the last two years.
“You’re costing us a fortune” I heard every time we found the mangled remains of my previous sleeping space “I’m only glad we can afford it and we don’t have to force you to sleep in the shed. I bet you’d love that though; you’ve always had a thing for creepy dark places.” They were right there; I loved old castles and abandoned factories. I was skinny and pale; my almost bleach blond hair and tendency to wear black clothes had earned me the nickname “Ghost” at school.

That’s how we ended up driving out to the nearest car boot sale; my father had told me that they couldn’t spring for a real bed at the moment so I had to deal with the cheapest they could get until they could spare the cash. I hated the bargain beds I had to get sometimes, they were always less comfortable than the store ones and the worst ones smelled horrible from their old owners. Sometimes the old owners were the reasons why I lost a bed; once the bed was dragged off by the police with connection to a drug bust.
“We’re here” my father said, snapping me from my sleepy daze.
The market was less than spectacular; there were ugly porcelain dogs staring dough eyed at me through the windows as they stood beside half misplaced jigsaw puzzles. Probably priceless antiques buried themselves in the tundra of useless junk; the car boot sale was truly the height of Communism where a Ming could be placed next to Aunty Ethel’s first attempt at making an ash tray.

By this time we had a system, each of us set off in separate directions and we called each other if we found something useful out of our price range. I dragged my feet along the floor as I looked around at the stalls; nothing that resembled a bed in any way.
“Looking for something dear?” a wizened old voice called out from a table protected by carpets on all sides.
I’d never actually known a voice to sound wizened; they got older but I’d never heard one quite so crackly and gruff yet so intelligent and malicious. There was something in the voice that told you that she held things that you weren’t old enough to know about even if you lived to a hundred. I wandered in under the mass of carpets; the air turned surprisingly warm the moment I stepped inside the dusty folds.

“What are you looking for dear?” what turned out to be a woman asked; she was wrapped in shawls so thickly that I wasn’t sure how big she actually was but her face was large and red.
“I don’t suppose you have a bed on you? I know it’s a stupid thing to ask but I’ve got to try somewhere.”
“As a matter of fact...” the woman mumbled, stroking her chin which was thankfully free of beard “I’ve got something here that would be of use. A family heirloom really, though they say that’s only because if anyone tries to get rid of it they find it waiting on the steps the next day.”
My first thoughts should have been about how creepy that sounded but by now I was so used to the luck I had with my beds I only thought about how I was getting the first boomerang bed.
“Fine, how much is it” I sighed, digging my hand into my pocket for the money I had on me.
“Take it” the woman cackled “If it’s not back at my place by morning it’ll be a blessing.”
She shuffled off into the back of the unseen shadowy back of the stall; she was gone for a surprising amount of time compared to the size of the carpet coated store. She cussed loudly as a loud twang came from somewhere deep inside the stall, finally emerging with a thin wire frame slung over her back and breathing heavily.

I picked the frame up carefully, I wasn’t strong but the bed was surprisingly light because it was so thin. I was already finding faults with it; I could see my even slight weight bending the metal like a lead weight in jelly. I dropped the bed beside the car and dug inside a pocket to dig out my phone; it wasn’t exactly new. The money spent on various furniture burned quickly through my allowance so I didn’t get the newest technology until it was ancient enough to be found at car boot sales.
“Mam?” I blinked; she’d always been my mum or mother why was I calling her mam? “I’ve got a bed you can come back now.”

BOAMM chapter 2