The dogs were barking again. Matt sighed and put his pen down for the third time that morning. He had written exactly one sentence of his new book.

It was only ten in the morning, but already three unusual things had happened.

It was a good sentence, but still, it was only one. And he had woken so excited to begin. Bloody dogs.

"Pipe down!" he shouted into the next room.

The barking continued. He wondered what it was this time.

His second cup of coffee stood empty on the desk. He figured he should take it into the kitchen and see what all the barking was about.

He knew that distractions like this were how books didn't get written. But he didn't think it would be the case with this book. The idea had come to him one night five years ago: two gangs of children presided over by a master criminal who used their enmity to achieve his own ends. This had remained in the back of his head all that time. It was like one of those magic pictures, hidden behind a net of wavy lines, which suddenly appears if you only look at it a certain way. He had only to let it germinate in his subconscious. The story would come.

And finally it did. Last night, in the dream.

The dream had been so vivid: the boy on the island, the lighthouse. There. That was where the story began. He woke knowing exactly how to start.

But now.

"Shut. Up!" he yelled as he opened the door into the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks. Somebody was there. A boy.

The dogs raced across the kitchen to Matt and turned to face the intruder, barking madly. They were not being protective, for they didn't perceive that the boy was a threat. It was just a game for them. Any excuse to carry on like wild things.

The boy was clearly frightened of the dogs though. Or of Matt. Or both.

Matt stared at him. The boy from his dream.

"It's okay," he said. "They're friendly." His voice seemed to be coming from far away.

The boy glanced at the back door of the house.

"Don't run away," Matt said.

The dogs had stopped barking at least. Jac crept over to the boy, staying low to the floor. Axel trotted over and licked his hand. They became interested in something the boy had in his pocket, food perhaps – the boy pushed their searching noses away. The dogs sniffed at his bare feet instead. Matt grew lightheaded when he saw the red mark on the boy's heel. That too had been in the dream.

Curiouser and curiouser.