tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52036205891926442902024-02-08T05:53:29.473-08:00Short StoriesJames Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-70527975160932380592017-02-13T14:00:00.000-08:002017-02-13T14:00:40.896-08:00Mist My mummy was standing by the sink doing the washing up. I always wondered what the point of washing things were, when they were just going to get dirty again. Clutching Rufus by his paw, I walked over to her and pulled the bottom of her dress to get her attention. <br />
<br />
“Mummy, I can't find Mist anywhere.”<br />
<br />
Without looking down she said, “Milicent June Walker, you've got a million toys. Go and play with one of those.”<br />
<br />
I looked down sadly and squeezed Rufus' paw. He barked loudly and I giggled when I saw mummy jump.<br />
<br />
“Milly, mummy's busy now. Go talk to daddy.”<br />
<br />
With Rufus bouncing along behind me, I ran over to daddy who was reading a big, big, big newspaper in the garden.<br />
<br />
“Hey, Milly. What you up to today?” Daddy said, as he brushed a hand through my hair.<br />
<br />
“Me and Rufus are looking for Mist. We lost her.”<br />
<br />
Daddy rubbed his prickly chin. “You have a million toys. Which one's Mist?” <br />
<br />
“Mist! She's my alby line. Rufus' best friend.”<br />
<br />
“Alby line? Oh albino lion. I haven't seen Mist. Why don't you and Rufus go and find her?”<br />
<br />
Squeezing Rufus' soft paw, I ran to our spaceships.<br />
****<br />
I had parked our spaceship at the edge of the jungle that me, Rufus and Mist had finished exploring. This was where we had lost Mist. We were in the Valley of Thorns, when she had disappeared. After I had briefed Rufus on this, I strapped him into his spaceship and climbed into mine. Our spaceship was called the Build a Bear workshop. I put my headset on and started speaking to Rufus.<br />
<br />
“Captain Rufus, this is Major Milly and we need to find Captain Mist. Set coordinates for 0,6, North West, over by that tree.”<br />
<br />
Rufus barked a yes.<br />
<br />
“Engage your engines and we're taking off! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” I cheered, as our spaceships whizzed past burning suns and multicoloured planets. We flew faster than comets and shooting stars. I had to steer sharply to avoid a big big big floating spaceman, but then the spaceman reached into my spaceship. <br />
<br />
“Milly! Why did you take my colander? You know I need that for the pasta tonight!”<br />
<br />
“But, mummy, it's my headset.”<br />
<br />
“You're 5. You're too old for this.” Mum walked away sighing and I returned to my mission. My mum was wrong. I'm 5 and ¾, not 5.<br />
<br />
“We're landing now!” I yelled out, taken back by the power of the twin fire engines. As soon as we had touched down, I leapt out of my ship like a little frog, grabbed Rufus and ran into the jungle.<br />
****<br />
To reach Mist and the Valley of Thorns, me and Rufus had to reach the middle of the jungle.<br />
<br />
“Don't be scared, Rufus. I've got my Dark Sword to protect us.” Holding Rufus' paw in one hand and my weapon in the other, I pressed forward. It was very quiet in the jungle, there was just the funny sound of the crickets chirping. Rufus barked behind me.<br />
<br />
“What is it boy?” I couldn't see anything, just hanging vines and a wobbly old rope bridge. Rufus barked again and I gasped what I saw. In front of us, stood a big, big, big spider with huge teeth and a funny liquid dripping from its mouth. The spider launched forward with one leg, which I blocked with a quick swipe from my sword. The spider screeched, as its leg was eaten by the dark magic. With seven working legs, it limped around me and without warning, knocked me onto my back. The spider scuttled up to me and as it stabbed down with its stinging bit, I stabbed up with my sword. The spider screamed and reared up. I took more swipes at its legs, causing it to crawl back into the undergrowth. I picked up Rufus who had been hiding behind a tree.<br />
<br />
“Come on, boy. Let's find Mist.”<br />
<br />
We carried on walking through the jungle fighting off spiders, hiding from black eagles and dodging traps set by the natives. We finally reached a rickety old rope bridge set over a very angry river. I felt Rufus clutch my hand tightly.<br />
<br />
“Do we have to go over that?” He whined softly and then there was a very scared roar.<br />
<br />
“That's Mist roaring, Rufus. She's scared and she needs us. Be brave for her. That's a good boy.”<br />
<br />
Slowly, I stepped onto the bridge and flinched, as it shook violently. Rufus whimpered and I picked him up and held him in my arms. I continued across the bridge, ignoring the river below me that was shouting like my mummy when she was mad. I kept breathing and continued walking. My left hand was gripping the rope tightly, while Rufus buried his head in my chest. Steadily, we made it to the other side.<br />
<br />
“You're a very brave dog, Rufus.” I said, just as I heard another terrified roar. I knew that Mist was close. Letting Rufus walk along side me, we slowly approached the Valley of Thorns and that was when we saw Mist. Her white fur easily stood out from the green thorns and there were spots of red in her fur. What were they, I wondered? When she saw me, she started excitedly mewing.<br />
<br />
“Mist, I'm so sorry we left you behind, but we're going home now.” Using my Dark Sword, I cut away the thorns that Mist had gotten tangled in. When she was free, Rufus started licking the red spots on her fur. I wasn't sure why.<br />
<br />
“Come on. Let's go home.”<br />
****<br />
The three of us walked out of the Valley of Thorns and back over the wobbly old rope bridge. Rufus was still too scared to walk over it, so he rode on Mist's back. She was weak, but strong enough to walk. As we reached the spot where I fought the big, big, big spider, we heard a loud rumbling behind us.<br />
<br />
“Is that an animal?” I asked. I took out my Dark Sword and both Rufus and Mist started roaring. As I saw the whole jungle running, I knew this wasn't an animal. I told my two friends to hide somewhere safe and turned back to the rumbling.<br />
<br />
“What's she doing?” Rufus asked, worriedly. <br />
<br />
Mist smiled toothily. “Being Milly.”<br />
<br />
I knew what the rumbling was. I always heard it when I was in the jungle. The giant boulder came crashing towards me, squashing trees as if they were ants. As I held up my Dark Sword, I saw the boulder chase everything out of the jungle and then it came for me. But, it never got that far. As soon as the boulder touched the sword, it ka-boomed into a million, zillion pieces. I walked back to Rufus and Mist.<br />
<br />
“Let's go home.”<br />
<br />
As soon as I landed the spaceship, I saw my mummy march up to me. She did not look happy. I could only imagine Rufus and Mist hiding behind me.<br />
<br />
“Millicent Walker! Where have you been? Why do you have my wooden spoon?”<br />
<br />
“It's my Dark Sword.” Without wanting to, I gave it back.<br />
<br />
I heard my mummy's voice turn nicer. “You're all muddy and there are leaves and twigs in your hair. Where have you been?”<br />
<br />
“Over the plank at the river, where the woods are.”<br />
<br />
“Milly, you know I've told you it's not safe for you down there at the bottom of the garden. Why don't you listen to me?”<br />
<br />
I shrugged and smiled innocently. “I had to find what I lost."<br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
So this is a story I wrote for the Newcastle University Creative Writing Society competition based on the theme of 'Lost and Found.' Writing something like this was very new to me, as I've never written a story from the perspective of a child, which is something I really enjoyed. This is also the third thing that I have had published: https://issuu.com/scrittura_mag/docs/scrittura_magazine_issue_3_spring_2/1James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-20632138757098608422017-02-06T14:59:00.000-08:002017-02-06T14:59:35.601-08:00For a DriveHe couldn't stop looking at her. Her blonde curls tossed across the pillow. Her eyelids flickering. Her chest rising and falling. Her hand lying over the side of the bed. The tube up her nose to stop her from going hungry. She had been lying like this for two days in room 1136 and Michael could see that she was still beautiful. Even with needles stuck in her veins and traces of dried blood underneath her fingernails. He took her hand.<br />
<br />
"Fight it, Lyds. Fight it with everything you got."<br />
****<br />
Whilst Lydia had been in her initial surgery, Michael had waited outside of the operating theatre. He hadn't been able to keep still. He had fidgeted on his chair, tapped his fingers, jumped at every loud noise, mindlessly fondled a little black box. He had been briefly questioned by two police officers who had asked him to explain his relationship to Lydia and to give the full details of the incident. They had promised they would do everything they could to help. <br />
****<br />
The door closing had broken Michael’s dreams of blood splattering and glaring lights. For a third night in a row, he had slept with his head on Lydia's chest. Listening to her heartbeat. At least her heart hadn't been affected. A middle-aged woman with bags under her eyes, a silver watch and a look of permanent scorn on her face approached him. <br />
<br />
"Are you Mr. Reilly?"<br />
<br />
Michael, taken aback by her accusing tone, stood up defensively. "Who are you?"<br />
<br />
The woman picked up the clipboard at the end of Lydia's bed and took a cursory glance of it. She had already been briefed about the serious details of her patient's case. <br />
"I’m Tabitha and I’m to assist Doctor Lightfoot and Nurse Wilson in Miss Fletcher's treatment. I’m the day nurse and Nurse Wilson will help in the nights. And yourself?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I’m Mr. Reilly. I'm Lydia's fi...boyfriend! Doctor Lightfoot said it was fine if I stay with Lydia."<br />
<br />
"Very well. But, I need to change her IV drips and I would appreciate it, if you didn't get in my way." Tabitha had the sort of voice, where everything she said had a hint of cynical sarcasm.<br />
<br />
"I'm Lydia's fi...boyfriend! I will help her in any damn way I can!" In Michael's hand, he felt a slight shiver and realised that he had scared his girlfriend, with his sudden outburst. Forgetting about the scorn-faced nurse for a second, he knelt by Lydia's side and was about to breathe out an apology, before realising how hollow it would sound, in light of the reason why Lydia was really here.<br />
<br />
Tabitha realised that she had been overly harsh with Michael. "I'm sorry, Mr Reilly. You're perfectly entitled to stay with Miss Fletcher, but I am afraid I will have to ask you to leave, whilst I change Miss Fletcher's IV drip. You can come straight back in, when I'm finished."<br />
<br />
Michael stood up and looked into the full-length mirror besides Lydia’s bed. He saw his brown eyes that were discoloured with too many tinges of red. His dirty blond curly hair was decorated with what looked like freshly-fallen snow and his facial hair had grown rough and bushy.<br />
<br />
Tabitha walked to the sink and picked up a disinfectant wipe. "You should go to one of our waiting rooms and get some sleep."<br />
<br />
Michael could see that Lydia was now awake and he wondered how much she had just witnessed. He sighed and left room 1136.<br />
****<br />
Doctor Lightfoot saw Michael standing outside of room 1136. "Mr Reilly, can I talk to you?"<br />
<br />
"Oh, Doctor Lightfoot, I didn't hear you coming."<br />
<br />
"Can we speak in my office?"<br />
<br />
Michael followed the balding senior doctor with a million wrinkles on his forehead, along the corridors lit with flickering halogen lights. Doctor Lightfoot's office was nothing spectacular. Two plastic chairs sat in front of a cold, steel desk, with pens and pencils that were all perfectly in line. There was a grey filing cabinet looming ominously in one corner of the room and on one wall was a gargantuan poster showing a pretty landscape with an "inspirational" quotation that had absolutely nothing to do with the picture. The doctor walked over to the filing cabinet and pulled out a ring-binder, from the F-J section. He sat down at his desk and opened the file, whilst Michael sat down opposite him.<br />
<br />
“As you're fully aware Miss Fletcher's whiplash was extremely severe and it is highly possible that she will remain paralysed below the neck for the rest of her life," Michael didn't react. He already knew this from Doctor Lightfoot's initial prognosis,<br />
<br />
"however, this is not what I wanted to speak to you about. Our latest X-ray scans have shown that Miss Fletcher has Traumatic Aortic Disruption. This means that an area of her heart, the area which pumps blood into the arteries has been partially torn away. Our TEE and CAT scans have confirmed this for us. We have to perform surgery on Miss Fletcher within the next few days. We've already told her about this. Mr Reilly? Mr Reilly?"<br />
<br />
Michael was staring at the fuzzy carpet beneath him. When he did look up, his vision glazed past the doctor's head and through the window, into the overcast London evening that lay beyond. “What do you want me to do?”<br />
<br />
“I want you to go home and get some sleep. Miss Fletcher has listed her sister, Jennifer Fletcher, as her second emergency contact, after you of course. She will be brought in to discuss the technicalities of the surgery.” <br />
<br />
Michael ran a hand through his hair causing it to snow onto the carpet. "Can I leave now?"<br />
<br />
"Of course."<br />
<br />
Without another word, Michael left Doctor Lightfoot's office and walked back down the corridor to room 1136.<br />
****<br />
Tabitha was waiting outside of Lydia's room.<br />
<br />
"Ah, Mr Reilly, Miss Fletcher's IV drip has been changed and I was hoping that I could teach you how to communicate with her."<br />
<br />
"Communicate?" He repeated.<br />
<br />
"As you know, during the accident, Miss Fletcher suffered smoke inhalation, which damaged her lungs. However, we have an alphabet chart that we can use to help her talk to us." Tabitha led Michael into the room and directed him to a chair. Tabitha was now standing to Michael's side, holding a pen, a pad of paper and an alphabet chart.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“This alphabet chart is very simple to use,” Tabitha said, holding up a transparent 6x6 board, “as you can see on this chart, there are six rows and six columns. The first column consists entirely of vowels, whereas all of the rows contain consonants and numbers. I shall start by reading the first column aloud and if Miss Fletcher wishes to use a consonant on a particular row, she needs to blink, when I read out the corresponding vowel. I’ll begin reading the vowels now. A, E, I-“<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“She blinked!” Michael exclaimed.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“Row I. Now I’ll read out the letters on row I. I-”<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“She blinked again.”<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“First letter I. I’ll just jot this down, so I won’t forget. Time to start again. A, E, I, O-row O. P, Q, R, S, T. Second letter T. And back to the beginning.”<br />
<br />
Slowly, Michael began to understand what Lydia was trying to say and he stopped Tabitha, as she was halfway through the message. “Can we have some privacy please? I understand how to do this now.”<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“I’ll be right outside if you need me.” The nurse handed the board, the pen and the paper to Michael, before leaving the room.<br />
<br />
"We don’t need to continue, Lyds. I know what you're going to say, but don't bother. It was my fault."<br />
<br />
Lydia rolled her eyes. It was just typical of Michael to blame himself for everything, but she decided to change the subject. She nodded her head ever so slightly towards the board to signal she had something else to say. Michael picked up the board and began reading out the first column. As Lydia blinked accordingly, her boyfriend started writing down her message. Once she had finished, he read her words aloud.<br />
<br />
"Tabitha said you've barely left my side,” Michael looked between the message and Lydia, “I can't just leave you like this!" He protested, but quickly took up the alphabet chart as his girlfriend began blinking again. Again, Michael read out her words, as she finished blinking.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"How much sleep have you gotten,” he asked the question aloud and then answered it, as if he were having a conversation with himself, “I’ve gotten enough.” He turned back to the board, as Lydia started blinking again. Michael smiled as he read the words on the paper aloud:<br />
<br />
"Get some sleep. Jenny will be here. I don’t want to see you before my surgery. If I do, I’m going to knock you out.”<br />
<br />
He knew it wasn't a threat, but a promise. Lydia had started blinking again, but this time it was out of pain. She could feel her face contorting, her eyelids flickering, a fire lighting itself in her nose. A Mexican standoff in her brain with all guns blazing. Lydia inwardly groaned, as her cheeks became moist. She swore she'd never cry at this again, like she did every single time. Lydia screwed her eyes shut, as if that would block out the pain. It felt like a million wasps had flown up her nose and had impaled their stingers on the most sensitive areas of her brain. She forced herself to open her eyes and saw that Michael was standing over her with Tabitha. The pain had been so intense that she hadn't heard the nurse re-enter the room. As Lydia looked upwards, she could see Michael and Tabitha were talking about her. <br />
<br />
"Miss Fletcher has started eating," the nurse explained, "that tube up her nose goes down her throat and into her stomach."<br />
<br />
"She was in a lot of pain." Michael commented. Lydia blinked and could feel two tear drops running down her cheeks that were quickly dried by her boyfriend.<br />
<br />
"She would have been. People gauge the pain in different ways. Miss Fletcher compares it to an army of insects invading her brain, whilst others have said it feels like their whole head is on fire."<br />
<br />
"Surely those drugs must help?" Michael pointed towards the IV drip.<br />
<br />
"They do, but they don't get rid of the pain. I feel so sorry for the poor souls, but that's the only way we can feed them."<br />
<br />
"I should go now. Lyds told me that I should get some sleep and if I don't listen to her, she'll tan my arse." Michael leant over and kissed his girlfriend's cheek. <br />
****<br />
The night was an empty black without a single star. Michael pushed open his front door and flicked the light switch. He had barely been at his apartment for the last few days and everything was much the same as how he left it. The same cereal bowls sitting in the sink, waiting to be washed up. The same photos of him and Lyds around their apartment. The same fridge that was virtually empty. The entire flat felt empty. Void of everything but possessions and memories and emotions. Michael walked into the kitchen and emptied his pockets onto the counter: his keys, his phone, a little black box. Then he walked into the bedroom. He smiled at how all of Lydia's make-up had been left lying around, because she hadn't had time to put them away. All over the floor were skirts and dresses, as Lydia had frantically tried to find something to wear for that night. Michael laid down on his side of the bed and grabbed onto Lydia's pyjama shirt that had sneaked under his pillow. He pulled it to his face and took comfort in its familiar smell. Clutching onto Lydia's shirt, Michael fell into a troubled sleep of blood, oil and a glittering topaz imprisoned in a little black box.<br />
****<br />
"Wake up, lazy bones."<br />
<br />
Michael rubbed his eyes and stared up at the face looking down at him.<br />
<br />
"Lydia!" He cried out.<br />
<br />
"Nope, I'm Jenny, remember?" The woman straightened up and let Michael clamber off of the bed.<br />
<br />
"Sorry Jenny, I don't know why I called you that."<br />
<br />
She chuckled affectionately. "Don't worry about it. Have you done anything these past few days? You look like you haven't left your bed.”<br />
<br />
“I haven't really. Lydia told me that I should just stay at home for a few days and get some rest.”<br />
<br />
“She told me she’d knock you out if you didn't.” Jenny laughed.<br />
<br />
“You've been speaking to her?" Michael's eyes lit up with excitement.<br />
<br />
"Well, I've been using that alphabet chart thing, but she does appreciate what you've done for her. Do you want some breakfast? I've found some bacon and bread in your virtually empty fridge.”<br />
<br />
Michael followed Jenny to the kitchen and he noticed that the little black box was still on the counter. As Jenny opened a pack of bacon and put it on to cook, Michael wondered how he could have confused her with Lydia. The two might have been sisters, but they didn't look anything alike. Where Lydia had blonde curls, Jenny's hair was straight and brunette, where Lydia's eyes were sky blue, Jenny's were chocolate brown.<br />
<br />
"Why are you here?"<br />
<br />
"To check how you are. If it was my girlfriend in hospital, then I think I would be pretty messed up.”<br />
<br />
Michael decided to change the conversation by signalling to the cooker. "Looks like the bacon's done." He and Jenny worked together to turn the bacon rashers into bacon sandwiches. <br />
<br />
"How have you been?" Michael asked, as he was squirting a generous helping of ketchup onto his bacon.<br />
<br />
"You mean other than worrying about my baby sister? Yeah, I've been fine. Stop hogging the ketchup!"<br />
<br />
Michael passed the bottle over and then the pair were surrounded by silence. Jenny looked downwards at the little black box on the counter.<br />
<br />
"You were going to propose, weren't you?"<br />
<br />
Michael's silence spoke for him.<br />
<br />
"It's a beautiful ring," Jenny broke off suddenly, "are you still going to do it?"<br />
<br />
"I can't. I just can't." Michael pushed away his half-eaten sandwich.<br />
<br />
"Why not?"<br />
<br />
"For one thing, Lydia may never leave that hospital bed. Doctor Lightfoot told me that even if the surgery is successful, Lydia may be paralysed below the neck indefinitely and it's all my FAULT!" Michael slammed his fist onto the counter, making the plate tremble in terror. <br />
<br />
"Don't be silly. Of course it wasn't your fault."<br />
<br />
"Yes, it was," Michael snapped, "I was the one driving the car, I was the one who wasn't looking, when that dickhead cut me off!"<br />
<br />
"Have they caught him? She asked, after pausing a little at Michael's sudden hostility.<br />
<br />
"No. The police told me that the car was stolen, but they haven't found who stole it."<br />
<br />
This left another silence, as Jenny embraced Michael.<br />
<br />
"She would say yes, you know."<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
Jenny broke free of the hug and looked her sister's boyfriend in the face. "If you asked her, she would say yes. You can still ask her."<br />
<br />
Michael looked downwards. "I can't."<br />
<br />
Jenny breathed out heavily. "Why not?"<br />
<br />
"I just can't."<br />
<br />
“Go and ask her.”<br />
<br />
“I told you. I can’t!<br />
<br />
Jenny groaned and slapped Michael across the face. “Would you stop being such a bloody coward?! If Lydia was here, she'd've whacked you for being so soppy. Now, go back to the hospital and ask her! She's going into surgery this evening and you had better ask her when she comes out of it!”<br />
****<br />
Mr Lightfoot, who was dressed in a surgical gown, approached his anaesthetised patient. He took a scalpel and drew a ruler-straight 3 inch line down Lydia's chest.<br />
<br />
"Make a note. Open heart surgery on Miss Lydia Fletcher has begun at 20:00 hours. Primary incision has just been made."<br />
****<br />
Mr Lightfoot had been carefully working around the tubing of the Cardiac Bypass machine that had been plugged into Lydia’s heart to keep the blood flowing around the body. If it were not for the machine, it would have been almost impossible to have completed the surgery. Yet this didn't stop, Lydia's blood pressure from slowly rising and still continuing to rise now, threatening to fully tear away her ruptured aorta. Her conscious mind was not aware of this, but her body certainly was. Due to her blood pressure rising, her heart was pumping blood furiously. Mr Lightfoot knew that she was losing too much blood and if she survived the surgery, she would need a transfusion.<br />
<br />
"Calm her down!" Mr Lightfoot ordered. <br />
<br />
He was becoming nervous now and it was starting to show. One of the nurses had to keep dabbing at his forehead with a wet sponge. He continued with the surgery. Once he had found the aortal wall laceration beyond the blood, he asked the nurse for an interpositional graft.<br />
<br />
"Wait! She's haemorraging."<br />
<br />
Thinking quickly, he instead asked for a needle and thread and looked for the root of the haemorrhage.<br />
<br />
“We need to stop the haemorrhage. We can’t let her blood clot!”<br />
<br />
Mr Lightfoot kept a firm eye on the bypass machine. He couldn't let any blood clots that did form travel to Lydia's brain.<br />
<br />
"Blood pressure?"<br />
<br />
"160/110. 170/115. 180/120..."<br />
<br />
Next to Lydia stood a heart monitor that was beeping rapidly. <br />
<br />
“We're losing her!"<br />
<br />
"Her blood pressure is too high!"<br />
<br />
"190/125! 200/130!"<br />
<br />
“A clot has formed. It's moving!”<br />
<br />
"The bleeding won't stop!"<br />
<br />
And then the beeping lessened. There was one beep. Another beep. And then silence.<br />
<br />
“Contact Mr. Reilly.”<br />
****<br />
For Jenny and Michael, the traffic was moving painfully slowly. They had left in good time to reach Lydia after her surgery, but they had been caught in a traffic jam, ironically caused by an accident on a major road. Michael was sitting in the passenger seat and he visibly jumped, when his phone went off. He took out of his pocket and held it to his ear. A guttural roar rose in his throat, which unleashed itself in the small confines of the car. The dashboard bore the impact of a furious set of punches. Jenny witnessed all of this in silence. She knew that only one thing could have caused this outburst. She wanted to apologise to Michael, but was trying to stop herself from screaming as well.<br />
****<br />
Michael and Jenny were staring through the glass at Lydia's body who had been placed in the morgue after the failed surgery. For sanitary reasons, they couldn't enter it. They had originally gone to the operating theatre, but Tabitha had directed them to here. The scorn-faced nurse had returned to room 1136 to pick up the alphabet chart upon Michael’s request. Jenny was sobbing into Michael's shoulder, who was barely aware of this action. He couldn't believe how pale Lydia's skin was. He kept thinking her eyelids were flickering, that her chest was rising and falling, but everything about her was so still. His right hand was holding onto Jenny's shoulder, whereas his left was fondling the little black box in his pocket. Would she have said yes? At this moment Tabitha rejoined the pair and handed the alphabet chart to Michael who tucked it underneath his left arm. Sighing he let his right arm drop and turned away from Jenny. Without looking back, he started to walk towards the hospital's exit.<br />
<br />
“Michael! Where are you going?” Jenny called out.<br />
<br />
“For a drive.”<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*author's Notes*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I wrote this for my creative writing module during my first year of university. I received a high 2:1 for this and I think it's one of my best stories. It's an idea which I've been wanting to write about for ages, which I have finally done. My dad gave me the idea when he told me about people he's known who have become paralysed as a result of strokes and the resulting helpless that they feel. </div>
James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-17360312406444488012017-01-30T12:45:00.000-08:002017-01-30T12:45:55.255-08:00Fast CarBright lights blurred past the car speeding along the country road. Bill Marshall had one arm wrapped around Lizzie's shoulders, the wind sprinting through his hair and he felt alive. The moonlight guided them along the road, contrasting with the electric streetlights. The roaring engine of his Lamborghini brought a comforting hum in the darkness, as it carried them through the night. Bill had grown up in this area and knew where to avoid the police. They wouldn't be spoiling his fun.<br />
****<br />
Bill woke up from the same dream that he had been having for the last ten years. The last time he felt like he had belonged. He turned on his side and watched Lizzie sleep, her golden hair slowly turning grey. Bill had also lost most of his hair, except for a few tufts around his ears. When did they both get so old? A beeping broke the darkness and Lizzie thumped the alarm clock silent. <br />
<br />
"I guess you're working late today, as well?" Bill sighed out.<br />
<br />
"You know I have to." Lizzie sat up and as Bill stared into her face, he could still see a spark in her electric blue eyes that had made so attractive all those years ago.<br />
<br />
"You've been working late since we were twenty-five. When are you going to take some time off?"<br />
<br />
"When we can pay our rent without starving." Lizzie threw the duvet back and swung her legs over the side.<br />
<br />
"Do you remember that night in the lambo? That was a great time."<br />
<br />
"Yeah...yeah it was." Lizzie agreed, before standing up and walking to the shower.<br />
<br />
"I dreamt about it last night. I miss those times."<br />
<br />
"Bill, I need the car for work today. Make sure you leave enough time to get the bus for Jimmy's go-kart lessons. It's his qualifying race for the club league today. You can't be late for that." Lizzie looked briefly back at her husband, before closing the bathroom door.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
Bill watched Jimmy zoom out ahead of him kicking up the smell of wet dust. Bill struggled to keep up with his son who was tearing towards the bus stop. He was a go-kart in himself.<br />
<br />
"Keep up dad!" Jimmy called back.<br />
<br />
Bill hobbled towards his son was running around the bus shelter, much to the amusement of the elderly woman and man in a suit who were also waiting for the bus.<br />
<br />
"Is that your son?" The elderly woman asked.<br />
<br />
"Yeah...that's him." Bill spluttered out. A moist stain was growing on his back and under his arms; he regretted taking out his heavy raincoat. <br />
<br />
"I wished I had as much energy as him when I was his age." The elderly woman laughed out.<br />
<br />
"Don't we all?" Bill agreed, watching Jimmy drive around the bus-shelter, weaving in and out of the other commuters, stepping on the brakes, flooring the gas. The bus pulled in just as Jimmy was gearing up for his final lap. He sped onto the bus and ran back forth in the corridor. Bill scanned his oyster card and sat down next to his son who was still running back and forth.<br />
<br />
"Calm down, Jimmy. We'll be there soon."<br />
<br />
"But dad...I want to be there now."<br />
<br />
Bill smiled in response and leaned his head against the window. The remnants of the morning's rainshower trickled down the glass. He felt the engine's vibrations grow, as the bus inched into the lunchtime traffic. Bill sighed, as he saw all of the cars and vans caught up in the spider's web of the traffic.<br />
<br />
"Dad, can't you make the bus go any faster?"<br />
<br />
"I wish I could, son, but looks like we're stuck here for the moment."<br />
<br />
Jimmy sighed and carried on twitching in his seat. Bill turned his attention back to the window and stared out at the adjacent lane where cars were speeding past the traffic jam.<br />
****<br />
Bill and Jimmy rushed to the reception of the race track where Bill blamed the bus's slowness for their impunctuality. Said that his wife was using the car. Bill wished Lizzie was here. Not only was the go-karting club a chance for children to socialise, but also their parents. Lizzie would anyway. Bill never felt comfortable. He just wanted the last minute checks to the karts to take place. And then they were off. Within seconds, the calm silence had been obliterated by the growls of engines, the spray of the surface water, the sizzling of rubber. Images of bright lights and empty roads crept into Bill's vision. He shook his head and the images were overpowered by the screams and cheers of the parents next to him. Bill smiled at the intensity of this noise. He chuckled at the ridiculousness of the parents taking the races so seriously, when they were just casual races designed to instil some friendly competition into children. Bill shook his head and stood up and left. He could fit in some driving before Jimmy's race was finished.<br />
****<br />
Bill caught the bus to the BMW showroom. He stepped onto the polished marble floor and looked at the German manufactured cars showing off their shiny new coats. In one corner lay a few toy cars and colouring pencils for bored children, whilst sitting behind desks were sales assistants pitching their latest deals and offers to interested customers. Bill saw an ageing man with a receding hairline and friendly blue eyes and approached him. <br />
<br />
"Ah, Mr. Marshall. Will you be buying this week or just sampling?"<br />
<br />
"Here we go again, Arthur. Do you really have to call me that?"<br />
<br />
"I'm just being professional. You might be my brother-in-law, but I still have to address you formally."<br />
<br />
"If you insist. Well, like I tell you every week, Arthur, Lizzie wants me to make an informal decision. She wants me to try as many cars as I can, before we decide."<br />
<br />
"Does she want that or do you?"<br />
<br />
"Arthur..."<br />
<br />
"Mr Marshall, I could be serving customers that are looking to buy a car today."<br />
<br />
"Well, if I could drive one that might help us make up our minds."<br />
<br />
"You know I can't allow that."<br />
<br />
"Let's see the cars anyway. Who knows? Today might be your lucky day." Bill watched Arthur sigh and lead him into the showroom. Bill knew that he would never turn away a customer. Arthur stood next to a sleek, black BMW that dominates the room and saw low, but mighty. Bill's focus accelerated past Arthur explaining the technical details and instead he started smelling petrol. The engine's growls were filling his head. The wind was sprinting through his hair, the quietness of the road enveloped him. The streetlamps began to blur and Bill turned to the blonde sitting next to him. With her arms raised high and ecstasy on her face. The wind snatched away her laughter.<br />
<br />
"Mr Marshall?"<br />
<br />
Bill shook his head, as Arthur's voice overpowered the engine's roars.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, sorry, what did you say?"<br />
<br />
"I asked, whether you would you want to accompany me in the BMW? We'll go for a drive around the block."<br />
<br />
Bill's eyes widened. "I need to get Jimmy. I completely forgot. I need to go."<br />
<br />
Arthur threw his hands into the air. "You left your son at the races again? How long is this going to continue? I’m not covering for you again.<br />
<br />
Bill turned back to his brother-in-law. "I screwed up okay! Just cover for me one more time. Please. I need to get the bus."<br />
****<br />
Jimmy didn't say a single word on the bus ride home. When Bill unlocked the door, he manouevered around Lizzie and motored up the stairs.<br />
“Oh, hi Lizzie, what are you doing back so early?”<br />
“I got one of the girls to cover the rest of my shift and I’ll do one of hers next week. But, that’s not important, what's wrong with Jimmy?"<br />
Bill shook his head. "He won't talk to me."<br />
<br />
Lizzie sighed. "I'll go see what's wrong."<br />
<br />
"I'll make lunch, although I'm not sure whether he'll be any more talkative with you." Bill pushed hot air out of his mouth and headed down into the kitchen, whilst his wife headed up to Jimmy's room.<br />
<br />
Once there, he gripped onto a chair, as he fought to keep the tears at bay. Sweat began to moistening his brow.<br />
****<br />
Each creak of the stairs made Bill's heart beat faster. He slapped himself around the face and stood out of the chair.<br />
<br />
"Come on, man. Pull yourself together."<br />
<br />
He got down on his hands and knees and opened a cupboard to take out some frying pans that were wedged together at the back. He reached out and scrambled for the handle and pulled. Bill bit his lip, as the frying pan didn't move. He tugged again, but the pan refused to shift. He grabbed the handle with his other hand and gave it a ferocious yank. Bill fell onto his backside as the pan came free, along with countless other cooking utensils that skittered across the floor. <br />
<br />
"You know, it'd've been much easier if you had taken everything out first and then gotten the frying pan?"<br />
<br />
Bill sighed and stood up. He put the pan on the cooker and turned towards Lizzie. "Yeah that'd've made sense." He mumbled.<br />
<br />
"Jimmy told me what happened. Where were you?"<br />
<br />
"I'm going to fry some eggs and bacon for lunch." Bill walked towards the fridge.<br />
<br />
"Bill, where were you?"<br />
<br />
"Actually, I should clean this mess up first." Bill dropped to his haunches and started picking up the cooking pots and baking trays.<br />
<br />
"William, where were you?"<br />
<br />
"You only call me William when you're angry."<br />
<br />
"Angry? I'm furious. Your son won his qualifier today, he's going to have his first league race next week, but he came home in tears. Now tell me, where the hell were you?"<br />
<br />
Bill shrugged his shoulders. "I...I just had some errands, some stuff to do."<br />
<br />
"Stuff? What stuff is more important than your son?"<br />
<br />
Bill watched his wife's eyes turn an icy blue, as they stood in silence. Outside it had started raining again and a cold wind forced its way inside.<br />
<br />
"William? Where did you go?"<br />
<br />
"I messed up, okay. When I sat down to watch the races, I realised that I didn't have my phone or wallet on me. I figured they must have slipped out, whilst we were on the bus, so I went down to the station to see whether they'd been handed in."<br />
<br />
"Jimmy said you haven't been there at least five other times. Did your phone and wallet slip out of your pocket all those times too?"<br />
<br />
"Lizzie, he's in a go-kart. Do you know how fast they go? The audience are just a blur for him."<br />
<br />
"So first you lie to me and then you say Jimmy was lying. What the hell’s wrong with you?"<br />
<br />
Bill scuttled back to the cupboard and replaced some of the cooking pots.<br />
<br />
"William, were you at the BMW showroom?"<br />
<br />
"We already have a car. Why would we need another one?"<br />
<br />
Lizzie shook her head and picked up a wooden spoon that was lying on the floor. "You know what? Jimmy and I are going to go out for lunch. We'll give you some time to get your facts straight. Actually, why don't you take the car somewhere? Go meet up with Arthur and just go fishing or something for the weekend."<br />
****<br />
A line swung through the air and landed on the water leaving an orange float bobbing on top. Small ripples spread across the surface of the water. Bill set the rod down on a stand and flopped into his deck chair. He watched as a swan slowed itself midflight in preparation for landing on the lake below. Its wings beat back and forth, as it skipped across the water, before settling to a. At the far side of the lake, browning trees shivered in the wind. Bill took out a bottle of beer from the cooler and flicked it open. He stretched out and stared at the lake. He was looking forward to spending the weekend here.<br />
<br />
"Think we'll catch much today?" He asked over his shoulder.<br />
<br />
Arthur sighed and set his own rod in the stand. "Bill. Now that we're away from Lizzie and Jimmy and just by ourselves. We need to talk."<br />
<br />
"Okay."<br />
<br />
"Well, for starters, what did you think would happen? Did you really think you would get away with it?"<br />
<br />
Bill stood the bottle on the ground and turned to his friend. "Do you know what Lizzie asked me? She asked me whether I had been at the BMW showroom. Where would that idea even come from?"<br />
<br />
"She asked me and I told her." Arthur turned away from Bill and started pacing around the campsite. <br />
<br />
"I understand...you did what you thought was right. I can't blame you for that." Bill knew this to be true. There was no use getting angry over it.<br />
<br />
"Lizzie told me she knew nothing about getting another car, so why were you there, Bill?"<br />
<br />
Bill saw his float jerk and went to grab the fishing rod.<br />
<br />
"Leave the rod and answer the question."<br />
<br />
"But I'm going to lose it..."<br />
<br />
"Let it go."<br />
<br />
"But..."<br />
<br />
"Now!"<br />
<br />
Bill backed away from the vibrating rod and stared at the dying splashes and ripples. "For Chrissakes Arthur, we came here to fish."<br />
<br />
"No. You came here to fish! I came here to get some answers for my sister. Now, stop avoiding the issue!"<br />
<br />
"Do you want to know why I did it? Why I continued doing it? I'm scared, Arthur. I'm tired...I want to get out...I want to escape. I want life like it was."<br />
<br />
"Bill..."<br />
<br />
"Arthur, I lost everything...the business, the car, our way of moving on and through. I remember when Lizzie and I were first dating...all those long nights in the Lambo, I've never felt happier, more alive and now, everything's different. Now...Lizzie's got her car and her job and I'm stuck taking the bus." Bill ripped a leaf of a tree and pulled it apart in his hands.<br />
<br />
"Is this what this is about? You being a house-husband? You think my sister's emasculating you?"<br />
<br />
"No! Of course not...it's just, just we had freedom and now, now we're stuck." Bill shook his head and walked towards the car park.<br />
<br />
"Where are you going?"<br />
<br />
"I need to clear my head. I'll be back in a few hours."<br />
****<br />
Bill slammed the door and beat the driving wheel. He exhaled, as he relaxed into the seat. He wrenched the key in the ignition and yanked the car into gear. Bill looked over his shoulder and reversed onto the road before slowly putting his foot down.<br />
****<br />
Bill had forgotten how much he loved driving. Of course, Lizzie's Vauxhall Corsa was nothing like his old Lamborghini, but at least it was something. At least he could feel the engine's strength, as it slowly climbed to its full capacity. Granted, it wasn't a convertible, but at least there was a sunroof. Bill looked at the wing-mirror and merged into the adjacent lane. He glanced up at the sky and sighed at the overcast light. It was such a contrast from the clear nights all those years ago. Back when they had the roads all to themselves, where they weren't surrounded by flashes of red. Back when they could slice through the silent night and didn't have to hear angry honks and four-letter words. Back when Lizzie was blonde and Bill still had all of his hair. He sighed, as he approached a roundabout and eased on the brake. He shifted the car down a gear and put on his right-turn signal.<br />
****<br />
"I didn't expect to see you back here."<br />
<br />
"You were right. I was just looking for a way out. I was being a stupid kid. I'm...I'm sorry."<br />
<br />
Arthur smiled. "I'm happy to hear you say that. Lizzie will be happy."<br />
<br />
"Do you think she's still mad at me?"<br />
<br />
"Of course she is, don't you know my sister? but you can make it up to her. Take Jimmy to his first round race on Friday and be there to see him win. Bill, you will be there, won't you?"<br />
<br />
"Wild Lamborghinis couldn't drag me away," the two men stood in silence, before Bill nodded towards the fishing rods, "they been biting?"<br />
<br />
"They haven't stopped."<br />
<br />
Bill's float jerked back and forth and he rushed towards the rod and started wrestling with his catch. Arthur stood there watching him.<br />
****<br />
At the end of the weekend, Bill and Arthur drove back to Bill's house, where Lizzie and Jimmy were waiting for them. As Bill opened the door, his wife shot him a glance. The two men joined their family on the sofa. As usual, Jimmy was twitching, whilst Lizzie just looked on. Bill tried to guess what she was thinking, but couldn't.<br />
<br />
Arthur cleared his throat. "I guess I'll start. Bill and I had a good chat over the weekend and we think we've come to a decision.<br />
<br />
"I'm listening." Lizzie was still refusing to make eye contact with Bill.<br />
<br />
"I realise that what I did was wrong. I lied to you and I wasn't there for Jimmy, but that's not going to happen again. I'll take Jimmy to his first race and I'll be there to see you win, little man."<br />
<br />
A small smile crept onto Lizzie's face. "Thanks, Bill."<br />
<br />
"Are we okay?"<br />
<br />
"I...yeah...yeah we are. I'll take the bus to work on Friday, so you can drive Jimmy to the racetrack."<br />
<br />
Bill noticed that Lizzie had barely looked at him, whilst she was speaking. "Are you sure we're okay?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah...yeah," Lizzie's lip started quivering, her voice began breaking, "if you...you c-can do this, then we might be."<br />
<br />
Bill nodded. There was nothing left to say.<br />
****<br />
Bill trudged through the rest of the week and on Friday he was watching Jimmy fidget in the seat next to him. Bill smiled at this and pressed down on the gas. They had left in plenty of time and were making good progress to the race course. Bill sighed in contentment and looked up at the sky. The overcast sky shone a diffused light downwards onto the tarmac below making everything bright but dull. Bill returned his attention to the road and took a brief glance at his internal mirror. <br />
<br />
"How are you feeling, Jimmy?"<br />
<br />
"Good."<br />
<br />
"You nervous about the race?"<br />
<br />
"A little. What you said to mum...you will be there, won't you? You won't leave?"<br />
<br />
Bill looked downwards at his son. "Of course I will. I told your mum and I'm telling you, I'm going to watch you win that race."<br />
****<br />
And they were off. Bill watched his son accelerate up the first straight and turn around the corner. Around him all of the parents were still screaming and cheering, deafening out the engines of the go-karts. Bill shook his head at these people. He wanted his son to win, but he didn't have to scream to the heavens about it. He looked back out at the race track and watched his son disappear into a tunnel. Further down one competitor sharply cut off another one causing a furious torrent of abuse from one of the dads in the crowd. Jimmy emerged from the tunnel weaving in and out of the other drivers and coming up on first place, whilst the parents were yelling for their children to go faster and faster. Bill rubbed his face. He shook his head again and started feeling in his pocket for his keys. He stood up and started moving towards the exit.<br />
****<br />
Bill slammed the door shut and collapsed into the seat. There was no way he could stay there. He had to get out. All of those parents were like spectators in a colosseum shouting for the losing gladiator to be executed. He couldn't be part of that. Bill stuck his keys into the ignition and the car jolted into life. He manoeuvred out of the car park and onto the main road. He glanced at his side mirror and pressed down on the accelerator. Bill looked in his internal mirror and thought about Jimmy. He needed someone better. Bill bit his lip and brought himself up to the speed limit. He needed to drive. He returned his gaze to the road and locked his eyes on the horizon.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*Author's Notes*</div>
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<div>
It took me way too long to write this. So, I started writing this for a contest which required you to write a story based on a song. The song I chose to write about was Tracy Chapman's 'Fast Car,' which I've recently fallen in love with. I originally started writing this when I was bored in a creative writing lecture, but unfortunately didn't finish it until long after the contest had closed. When writing this, I moved away from the theme of generational poverty that's present within 'Fast Car' and more towards the car being a symbol of freedom and escape. Bill is very much a character who likes to live in the fast lane and keep busy and isn't suited to a suburban, stay-at-home life. </div>
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As far as the ending goes, I always wanted to have it with Bill running away. It is evident that he is a bad father who's driven by his own insecurities and I just felt it would be too unrealistic for a character like that to change in such a radical way. In terms of acknowledgements, where would I be without my own little editor Jazmin who gave this a great beta-read and plenty of things to think about and also my friend Louis who gave me lots of helpful knowledge about fishing, even if I didn't really use your information. I still appreciate your help Louster!</div>
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James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-2136541941213153322017-01-16T14:09:00.000-08:002017-01-16T14:09:56.342-08:00Gulliver's Travels Pastiche- A Voyage to Masiplacti with Critical Commentary<i>Important, read the author's notes first</i><br />
<br />
Chapter 1<br />
<br />
<i>The author sets out on another voyage and is shipwrecked on the island of Masiplacti. The author giveth an account of Masiplacti and the Masiplactians.</i><br />
<br />
I remained with my family, until on the 28th of April 1710, Captain Septimus Girwood invited me to serve as surgeon on the <em>Intrepid</em>. We set sail on the 30th of April and I will not trouble the reader of the uninteresting details of the voyage, sufficed to say that I was cast from the <em>Intrepid</em> in a storm. I recollected waking up later on a six metre long bed, I observed a woman who was of a similar build to myself, yet her face was different with her eyes being the colour of gold and having an intense shine to them. She informed me that I was on the island of Masiplacti, in their capital city of Fropit and that she was of two and twenty years and named Cepne.<br />
<br />
Chapter 2<br />
<br />
<i>Cepne guides the author around the financial heart of Masiplacti.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Cepne tooketh me around Fropit and explained that she was a nurse assigned to look after me by the ruling class of Masiplacti, the Nuigea, and Cepne explained that Masiplacti had been founded on the rules of making profit. Cepne then guided me to Brick Lane, which was where the Masiplactian Exchange lieth, here I witnessed many Masiplactians writing notes at great speed, checking them against chalk tablets that had numbers and either a plus or a negative sign attached to them, as well as chalkboards of twenty metres in length and ten feet in height, before running to give them to riders who departed in great haste. The scene was of such noise and chaos so beyond any measurable scale that I found it difficult to comprehend and relate to the reader. Cepne explained to me that the Nuigea used the Masiplactian Exchange to trade in high value items, with weapons having the highest value; Cepne further explained that the Nuigea were the directors of the Lubble Company who owned the trading rights within the Masiplactian Sea, which thus attracted investors from neighbouring lands to buy as many shares as possible in the Lubble Company, that led to the decoupling of stock prices.<br />
<br />
Chapter 3<br />
<br />
<i>An account of the Director of Masiplacti</i><br />
<br />
Upon Cepne guiding me around the great Masiplactian exchange, she tooketh me to the Houses of Negotiation, where the Nuigea engaged in the grandest and most fanciful of trades, Cepne introduced me to Director Rownc who had eyes shinier than any Masiplactian that I had seen, and he said I would act as an advisor and consultant to the Masiplactians, within their forthcoming negotiations with Costeraria. I do not wish to trouble the reader with the particulars of Rownc's proposal, but sufficed to say the Masiplactians were intending to sell weapons to the Costerarians who wished to destroy their enemies: the Britalli.<br />
<br />
Chapter 4<br />
<br />
<i>The author observes the negotiations between the Masiplactians and the Costerarians.</i><br />
<br />
The full negotiations between the Masiplactians and the Costerarians tooketh close to two hours and I will not bore the reader with the intricacies of the negotiation, so I shall summarise. Firstly, I was alone within the Currency Hall, which was at least sixty feet tall, as Cepne, due to being a woman, was not granted access. The Costerarians requested a positive arsenal from the Nuigea; of which I approximated the cumulative cost and I was abhorred when the Nuigea set a price much higher than I had estimated, the Costerarians attempted to negotiate the price down, but the Nuigea refused to agree; I observed that Director Rownc and the Nuigea had all but intimidated the Costerarians into accepting the offer. This troubled me greatly, as I was uncertain whether I should protest the extortionate price or assist the Nuigea, however, throughout the whole negotiation my opinion was not asked upon once.<br />
<br />
Chapter 5<br />
<br />
<i>An account of the author leaving Masiplacti</i><br />
<br />
After the transactions had ceased, Director Rownc informed me that I was free to leave Masiplacti, as my services were no longer required. When I questioned Cepne about Director Rownc’s sudden dismissal, which both relieved and surprised me, she explained that the Nuigea are so proud of their skills at negotiation, that they like to exhibit these tactics to outsiders and once they have done, the outsiders no longer serve a purpose to them. As Cepne guided me down to the Ports of Fropit, we walked through what Cepne explained were the Penny Markets that the Nuigea had created for the Lower Masiplactians to attend and facilitate, for they were denied access to the Masiplactian Exchange; at the Ports of Fropit, Cepne gave me the money to buy travel, which slightly withered my opinion of the Masiplactians. Of my journey home, there is nothing to report to the reader, except that I returned to my family who were much the same as I left them.<br />
<br />
Critical Commentary<br />
<br />
Within ‘A Voyage to Masiplacti,’ I aimed to satirise the growing consumerism of the 18th century, by drawing upon the values, ideals and dangers of modern capitalism. I parodied the South Sea Bubble and the South Sea Company through creating the Masiplactian Lubble Company that dominated trade through the control of the Masiplactian Sea. The notion of this was to embody both modern and eighteenth century capitalist concepts within the island of Masiplacti.<br />
<br />
Upon reading ‘Gulliver’s Travels,’ I noticed characteristics of Swift’s writing, which I emulated in the pastiche. Firstly, Swift uses a long sentence structure:<br />
<br />
he added that his suspicions were much increased by some very absurd speeches I had delivered at first to the sailors and afterwards to himself in the relation to my closet or chest, as well as by my odd looks and behaviour while I was at supper.<br />
<br />
Swift also factually tells the reader everything that Gulliver sees, rather than using elaborate description to show the reader: "in our passage from thence to the East-Indies, we were driven by a violent storm." <i>(GT, p. 12) </i>Instead, of describing the horrors of the storm, Swift simply states that it was violent. Furthermore, Swift writes Gulliver’s observations as quantitative, statistical data: "this body consisted of three thousand foot, and a thousand horse." (<i>GT, p. 29</i>) I emulated these characteristics by having lengthy, run-on sentences that quantitatively reported facts. I also omitted the development of the secondary characters to correspond with Swift’s characteristic of having superficial, two-dimensional characters.<br />
<br />
I drew upon John M. Bullit’s work, who wrote "the satirist must allow himself neither to relax into an uncritical and laughing amusement nor to lose his temper." I intended to balance both the comedic and the critical attitudes of the satire. Instead of solely using anagrams instead of proper nouns, I chose certain words that directly alluded to Capitalism, such as how ‘Brick Lane’ is paralleled with Wall Street. I felt that by exclusively using anagrams, I would exhaust the effectiveness of the device and undermine the critical nature of the satire, by over-emphasising the humour within it. Similarly, I did not want my narrative to be an angry, nonsensical rant. I felt that if Gulliver expressed his disgust at the Nuigea’s intimidation tactics, the satire’s effect would suffer, as it would devolve into an unintelligent attack on capitalism. I also made use of 'diminution,' which Bullit defines as "the use of any ""ugly or homely images"" which are intended to diminish the dignity of an object." I wanted to undermine the pride that the Nuigea attach to their negotiation-cum-intimidation tactics by having them ostentatiously display these tactics to Gulliver. Bullit further describes Gulliver's Travels, as the "greatest example […] [of] the works of Juvenal ""tragical satire."" Its aim is deeply didactic in its almost overwhelming attempt to shock and disgust men out of one vice which Swift believed was still corrigible: pride." I aimed to resemble the scornful abrasiveness of Juvenalian Satire by having the Nuigea so preoccupied with receiving the highest possible profit for their weapons, that they are uninterested in how the weapons will be used.<br />
<br />
The pastiche is aimed towards the higher classes who profited the most from travels abroad, Colin Mooers argues that the growth of agrarian capitalism served to shape the colonial and industrial trade of commerce at the time, of which sourced the income of much of the peerage who were engaged in colonial and industrial enterprises. I paralleled this with the Nuigea being the only social class who have access to the most profitable of transactions: arms dealing. Furthermore, it is only the men who have access to these negotiations. Cepne is denied access to the Currency Hall, because she is a woman.<br />
<br />
‘A Voyage to Masiplacti’ explicitly confronts the dangers of capitalism and how the promise of a high profit has lead the Nuigea to become morally blind to how their actions would lead to the destruction of the Britalli. I intended for the Nuigea to foreshadow of what the human race of the 18th century could become, if they let their greed corrupt them. This is comparable to how having an excess of wealth in modern society can lead to spiritual deadness. Lastly, I wanted Gulliver’s misanthropy to amplify, as he realises that through humanity’s pursuit of ever greater riches and wealth, they are consigning themselves to becoming a species dominated by their own decadence, just like the Nuigea.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
*Author's Notes*</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<div>
This is my latest assignment for my university course. For the assignment, we were required to write a pastiche followed by a critical analysis of a text that we're studying. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
The text I chose was Gulliver's Travels. This text was written in the early 18th century and I have thus tried to replicate this writing style and the writing style of Jonathan Swift. From reading this book, I have noticed that Swift writes in very long sentences, he tells the reader information rather than showing it and he doesn't flesh out any of the secondary characters. These are characteristics that I have tried to emulate. Furthermore, the pastiche and the critical analysis of it both had to add up to 1650 words, so I was also under a tight word limit for this, as a result of this I had to quite ruthlessly cut out a lot of things I would have rather kept in. Brownie points if you can understand all of the things I'm satirising. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This is my bibliography:</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Bullitt, M. John, Jonathan Swift and the Anatomy of Satire: A study of Satiric Technique, (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1953)</div>
<div>
Mooers, Colin, The Making of Bourgeois Europe: Absolutionism, Revolution, and the Rise of Capitalism in England, France and Germany, (London:Verso, 1991)</div>
<div>
Swift, Jonathan, Gulliver’s Travels (Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Editions Ltd, 1992</div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-15623379248778829722017-01-02T14:38:00.000-08:002017-01-02T14:38:32.800-08:00Lines, Creases and Wrinkles It isn't junk!" Albert snapped.<br />
<br />
"I never said it was, Mr Wetherby." The nurse held his hands up in innocence.<br />
<br />
"But you were thinking that, in that face of yours! And how many times have I told you to call me granddad?" Albert slowly sunk to the floor, teardrops balanced precariously on the edge of his sunken eyesockets, ready to tumble down over his creased and cracked face.<br />
<br />
The nurse sat down next to Albert. "I'm sorry, Mr Wetherby. It's just for professionalism's sake and I didn't mean any offence."<br />
<br />
Albert took out his spotted handkerchief and smiled gratefully, as his nurse took it and dabbed away his tears. Albert sighed, as he looked upwards into his nurse's face. The skin that was as smooth as marble unlike his own lined with creases and wrinkles, the brown eyes that glistened with life, unlike his own hollow, watery blue ones. The rich brown hair fashioned into one of those new-fangled hairstyles, which contrasted with Albert's own scraggly grey locks.<br />
<br />
"It isn't your fault, Ben. I'm sorry. You're a good lad and I'm not just saying that because you're my grandson in law."<br />
<br />
Ben smiled at the compliment, showing a full set of dazzling white teeth. "Thank you, Mr Wetherby. If you'd like, I can come back in a few days and help you pack everything up then?"<br />
<br />
Albert nodded. "Thanks Ben."<br />
<br />
"I'm afraid we can't put it off much longer. We'll have to move you on Saturday."<br />
<br />
Albert swallowed and his skinny Adam's apple bounced up and down.<br />
<br />
"I understand, Ben. You can go now. I'll see you on Thursday."<br />
<br />
"Goodbye, Mr Wetherby."<br />
<br />
Albert watched Ben pack up his kit and run past the chair-lift and down the stairs. He smiled longingly at his nurse's agility and energy. He was like that once. Albert would have hit a wall in frustration, if he was a younger man, but now, he couldn't afford to damage his fragile body. Instead, he sighed over his few remaining original teeth. Using his cane, he limped into his bedroom to get changed, out of his pyjamas. He knew that he should call Ben, who was always at his beck and call, to help him, but Albert hated having to rely on other people. For the first 64 years of his life, he had been entirely self-reliant, but for the last 20 years, his body had slowly started disintegrating. Albert shrugged off his dressing gown and reached into his wardrobe for a neatly folded shirt and grey formal trousers, all washed, dried and pressed by Ben. Albert took off his t-shirt and striped trousers, revealing white hair and pale skin. Inch by inch, he slipped on his salmon pink shirt and sitting on the bed, he pulled on his slate grey trousers and picked a black tie to fit his formal look. He wanted to look smart for Annie. He set down at his desk and looked into the old-fashioned make-up mirror that Valerie used. He pulled it closer to him and tried to bring some order to his chaotic hair. Albert picked up his comb and Brill cream that were lying next to his and Val's sepia wedding picture. Albert sighed again. She was so beautiful. The old man stood up and stumbled over to the chairlift. Using a far too skinny finger, he pressed a button and it slowly began to descend.<br />
<br />
<i>Albert could still hear the bellowing of the bells. They were deafening over the chatter of the excited guests, the rumbling of the bellies of the little boys in their tailor-made suits. The Western doors swung open and Valerie stepped through, her arm interlocked with her father's, dressed in a blinding white dress with a netted veil. Her father walked her down the aisle and Albert was glad to see that he wasn't the only one that was crying. Valerie took her place opposite her fiancé and they stared at each other, as the Vicar's words were lost in a blissful happiness</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Do you, Albert Wetherby, promise to take his woman, Valerie Belle, as your lawfully wedded wife in sickness and in health, til death, do you part?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I do."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"And do you, Valerie Belle promise to take this man, Albert Wetherby, as your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?"</i><br />
<br />
Albert jolted awake at the third bellowing of the doorbell. He had fallen asleep in the chairlift again. He stood up and edged towards the door. He opened it and Annie was standing on the other side of it.<br />
<br />
“Hey granddad!” She said, as she hugged him.<br />
<br />
“How's my beautiful granddaughter?”<br />
<br />
Annie blushed. “You say that every week, but I keep telling you I'm not.”<br />
<br />
“Nonsense! You could even give Val a run for her money.”<br />
<br />
“You know I could never be as beautiful as her.”<br />
<br />
Albert smiled and knelt down. “And who's this pretty little girl?”<br />
<br />
The little girl blushed and giggled. “Me.” She replied.<br />
<br />
Albert chucked. “Gilly certainly isn't as modest as her mother, is she?”<br />
<br />
Annie smiled her agreement and helped her granddad to his feet.<br />
<br />
“Come in and sit down. I've got a present for you, Gilly.”<br />
<br />
Annie and Gilly sat down on the old-fashioned sofa, whilst Albert rummaged around in a box on his hands and knees. <br />
<br />
“Where is it...it should be in here...I know it is.” He muttered.<br />
<br />
“Are you alright, granddad?” Annie asked.<br />
<br />
“I'm fine thanks.” Albert said and continued rummaging.<br />
<br />
“Do you want any help?”<br />
<br />
“Don't worry about it.” Albert declined politely.<br />
<br />
“It's no bother. I'll come help you.”<br />
<br />
“Annie, I told you, I'm okay! I'm not a bloody child.” Albert snapped. <br />
<br />
“I never said you were.” Annie mumbled in response.<br />
<br />
“Ah, I've got it!” Slowly and unsteadily, Albert stood up and tottered over to Gilly. As the little girl unwrapped her present, Albert looked up at his granddaughter. She really did look like Val. The same rich brunette hair, the same eyes that shone with happiness, the same naturally pretty face that never required an ounce of makeup.<br />
<br />
“Oooh, a beanie baby,” Gilly exclaimed, “it's the Rooster!” Her heart-shaped face beamed with excitement.<br />
<br />
“I know you're collecting the Zodiac line. I hope this helps.”<br />
<br />
“Thanks, great-granddad.” Gilly hugged Albert tightly.<br />
<br />
“Easy, Gilly. I'm getting old.”<br />
<br />
“That's one reason I wanted to talk to you. Ben told me what had happened.”<br />
<br />
Albert's lip started to quiver and his eyes had become wet. He had become so overly-emotional in his old age. He hated that.<br />
<br />
“And I do wish you had let me invite him round today.”<br />
<br />
“Annie, you know I love Ben, if he were my own and I'm not just saying that because he's your husband, but he'd be fawning all over me and you know how I hate that.”<br />
<br />
Annie smiled sadly. “Gilly, why don't you play with your Rooster? I'll get your great-granddad a cup of tea.”<br />
<br />
“I can get my own tea!” Albert protested.<br />
<br />
“Go on then, granddad.”<br />
<br />
Albert struggled to his feet and limped over to the kitchen. He picked up the kettle and he tipped it towards a cup that he thought looked clean enough.<br />
<br />
“Granddad, is that water boiled?” Annie asked.<br />
<br />
“Silly me.” Albert put the kettle back on its stand and flicked a switch.<br />
<br />
“Granddad, are you sure there's actually any water in there?” Annie signalled to the water level indicator that barely registered anything.<br />
<br />
“I'm getting forgetful in my old age.” Albert picked up the cup and kettle and slowly moved towards the sink. And then the cup hit the ground. The impact obliterated it. Albert sighed and began to kneel down to collect the fragments. Halfway down, he collapsed and fell onto the floor. Annie knelt down and put her arm around the old man.<br />
<br />
“Thanks Annie,” Albert said, trying to keep the tears out of his wrinkles, “I'm just getting feeble.”<br />
<br />
“I know you don't want to hear it, but it's in your best interests to go to the Willow Tree.”<br />
<br />
“There you go again with your nursing home business.”<br />
<br />
“It's not a nursing home. It's a retirement community. You can socialise with people your own age.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, we can play bridge and shout BINGO,” Albert snapped, “sorry Annie, I didn't mean that.”<br />
<br />
“You did, but it doesn't matter. Look granddad, I'm not going to patronise you by saying that I know how you feel, because I don't, nor do I have any right telling you what to do, but-”<br />
<br />
“I know, I know, you think the Willow Tree is the best option for me.”<br />
<br />
“I do.”<br />
<br />
“Maybe you're right. Help your granddad to his feet.”<br />
<br />
“How about that cup of tea now?”<br />
****<br />
<br />
The teabags had decayed and discoloured, as the darkness had sneaked up on the day.<br />
<br />
“Wow granddad, it's almost 6. Gilly and I had best get going.”<br />
<br />
“Oh stay for dinner please.” Albert begged.<br />
<br />
“I guess we could get something delivered,” Annie suggested, “I can call Ben and I'm sure he can find something at home.”<br />
<br />
“No, I was thinking of making Corn Fritters. I know it isn't much, but Gilly likes it.”<br />
<br />
Annie agreed and called Ben quickly, whilst Albert made the food. After the two had finished their respective tasks, they all sat down at the dinner table.<br />
<br />
“Ben told me he's coming round here on Saturday.”<br />
<br />
“Yeah, he's going to help me pack everything up.”<br />
<br />
“Do you want me and Gilly to help you?”<br />
<br />
“Yeah Val, that would be great.”<br />
<br />
<i>“I don't understand how this infernal thing works!” Albert yelled in frustration.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Why are you playing with a shitting rubik's cube? Your bloody daughter is giving birth.” Valerie snapped.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“I always forget how angelic your language is.” Albert countered.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Don't try to sweet-talk me, mister,” Valerie warned, “not when Danielle is giving birth.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Faintly, the pair heard screams and grunts coming from the delivery room.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“How long do you think she'll be?” Albert asked, only slightly trying to disguise his anxiousness. He had arrived at the hospital in a 3 piece suit, that had been quickly reduced to an open-necked shirt and formal trousers, as the minutes had ticked by.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“You can't predict these things, Alb. You know how long I took giving birth to Danni.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Yeah I do.” Albert muttered. He sat back in his seat and stretched out his legs.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Is that why you brought the rubik's cube?” Valerie exclaimed.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“I've already done two sides of it.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Valerie sighed and hit Albert around the head.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Val, we've been married for twenty-five years and you haven't stopped hitting me for a single year of them.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“You haven't stopped acting like an idiot for one of them.” Valerie retorted, before bursting out laughing.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“What's so funny?” </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Danni is about to become a mother and here we are squabbling like we're children.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Albert's and Valerie's laughter echoed around the halls and it was only when a nurse came that the pair quietened down. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Danielle's ready to see you now.” Albert and Valerie followed the nurse into the delivery room. There they saw their daughter holding a minutes old baby in her arms.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Come in.” She beckoned weakly.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Aww, Danni,” Valerie beamed, “can I-”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Danielle transferred the baby into her mother's arms.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“It's a healthy and happy baby girl.” The doctor said.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“What are you going to call her?”</i><br />
<br />
“Is great-granddad asleep?” Gilly asked.<br />
<br />
“I don't know. Granddad? Granddad?” Annie prodded Albert who awoke with a great snort.<br />
<br />
“I wasn't sleeping.” Albert exclaimed.<br />
<br />
“Of course you weren't,” Annie agreed, “before you weren't sleeping, you called me Val. I'm Annie, remember?”<br />
<br />
Albert rubbed his eye. “Sorry Val, I didn't mean to call you that.”<br />
<br />
Annie sighed. “Right, we should get going now. It's almost Gilly's bedtime.”<br />
<br />
“I'm 8 years old. I don't need a bedtime.”<br />
<br />
“Gilly!” Annie snapped.<br />
<br />
“It's okay, Annie. It's almost my bedtime too. I'll take you to the door.”<br />
<br />
As one the family stood up and Annie and Gilly walked ahead, whilst Albert struggled to keep up.<br />
<br />
“We'll see you on Thursday with Ben and we'll help you pack everything up.”<br />
<br />
“I'll see you then.” Albert hugged Annie and watched the two walk away from his house. He closed the door and shook his head despairingly, as he felt his eyes begin to water. Albert blew his nose into his spotted handkerchief and let the tears roll down his face. Droplet by droplet took their turns to hide in the old man's creases and wrinkles. He sat down in his chairlift and let it carry him up to bed.<br />
****<br />
Albert woke up before his alarm clock went off. He always did. He didn't know why he still set it. Valerie had always slept like an elephant and could never wake up without an alarm clock. Maybe that was why he did it. Albert got out of bed and went through his morning routine. Half an hour later, he was leaving his house to do his weekly food shop. He knew he could have asked Ben to do this, but he had his reasons.<br />
****<br />
Twenty minutes later, Albert hobbled into his local supermarket. He took out his shopping list and looked at the first item: cream style sweetcorn. That was at the other end of the store. Albert sighed and started shuffling over there. Before he knew it, he was in front of the cosmetics stand. Valerie had passed away seven years ago, but Albert could still remember what lipstick, eyeliner and blusher she wore, not that she ever needed it. Maybe that was why Albert didn't want Ben to do the shopping for him. No matter how hard he tried, he could never stay away from the make-up section. He always called himself an old, sentimental fool who couldn't let things go, but that never stopped him from returning here.<br />
<br />
“Can I help you, sir?” A shop assistant asked.<br />
<br />
Albert looked at her and cursed silently, as he felt himself beginning to well up. “You're alright, love.” He croaked out, before limping away to buy cream style sweetcorn.<br />
<br />
After Albert had finished his shopping, he sat down on a bench.<br />
<br />
<i>Albert's phone started ringing furiously and he rummaged through his pockets to find it.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“How do you answer this damned thing?” He asked, before figuring out how.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Hey granddad. I've got a problem.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“What is it, Annie?” Albert could detect the concern in her voice.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Gilly's starting nursery tomorrow and she's supposed to bring a soft toy with her, but we can't find anything suitable and Gilly's really upset and I just feel terrible.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“We can't have that now, can we? Tell you what, I'll go out now and buy something and bring it you tomorrow. Tell you what, I'll go one further and take Gilly to the nursery myself.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“You're a lifesaver, granddad, thank you.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Don't mention it sweetheart. I'll see you tomorrow.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Early on the next morning, Albert stopped at his granddaughter's house and picked up Gilly. He could tell that she was excited, as she was leading him to nursery, rather than the other way round.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Slow down, Gilly. I'm just an old man.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“No, you're not. My great-granddad could never be old.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>A short while later, they reached the nursery and Albert took out the toy he had bought.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“This is Manes. He's a lion cub and he's part of a group of toys called Beanie Babies. He's only young, so I want you to look after him.”</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Aww, he's so fluffy.” Gilly gave her great-granddad a quick hug before running into the nursery.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Knock 'em dead little lady.” Albert called out, before blinking away a tear.</i><br />
<br />
“Hey mister, are you dead?”<br />
<br />
Albert jolted awake. “What did you say? He said, to a pair of curious eyes looking up at him.<br />
<br />
“I said, hey mister, are you dead?”<br />
<br />
“No, I'm not dead. Not yet at least.”<br />
<br />
“Chardonnay! Leave that old man alone.” A coarse voice scratched out and Chardonnay ran back to her mum.<br />
<br />
“I'm not old,” Albert retorted, “and who names their child after a type of wine?”<br />
****<br />
Thursday was a grey and drizzly day. Albert had been up for a couple of hours and was now sitting on the sofa to kill some time. The third bellow of the doorbell woke him up. Albert turned off the TV and hobbled to the door and found Ben, Annie and Gilly standing behind it, with the little girl clutching onto the Rooster Beanie Baby. He gave his grand and great-granddaughter quick hugs and was about to do the same to Ben, when he saw the young nurse stick his hand out.<br />
<br />
“Good to see you again, Mr Wetherby.” Ben said.<br />
<br />
“I'm not going to tell you about calling me granddad again, Ben.” Albert warned, before hugging his grandson in law.<br />
<br />
“You might have to, Mr. Wetherby.” Ben replied, after breaking free of the hug.<br />
<br />
“Come to the attic and we'll get started.” Albert rushed as fast he could to the chairlift and pushed the 'up' button. The rest of the family overtook him and waited at the top of the stairs.<br />
<br />
Albert tried his best to stand with apparent confidence and tried to keep himself steady, as he walked to the attic door. He pulled the draw string and climbed up the stairs that fell to the floor. His family followed him.<br />
<br />
“So, where should we start?” Annie asked.<br />
<br />
“I guess we create three piles? One, with everything Mr. Wetherby definitely wants to take with him, one where he isn't so sure and one with everything he doesn't want.”<br />
<br />
“Good plan, Ben. You're a smart lad. Let's get to work.”<br />
<br />
Over the next few hours, the family of four sorted through the random assortment of items that Albert kept in the attic. As the day hobbled into evening, three very definite piles began to emerge, which were slowly transformed into two.<br />
<br />
“I guess we're done.” Annie said.<br />
<br />
“Guess so.” Albert agreed.<br />
<br />
“I'm afraid we have to go now, Mr. Wetherby, but we'll take everything you want to the Willow Tree tomorrow and we'll come round on Saturday and take you there.”<br />
****<br />
Saturday morning arrived and, as usual, Albert was awake before his alarm clock went off and, as usual, he fell asleep in front of the TV whilst waiting for his family to arrive and as usual, he was woken by the bellowing of the doorbell. He opened the door and saw his family standing behind it. <br />
<br />
“Hey granddad,” Annie greeted him, “all of your things are already in the Willow Tree. Are you ready?”<br />
<br />
“Ready as I'll ever be!” Albert said and allowed his family to lead him to his grandson in law's car. Ben got into the front seat and drove off.<br />
****<br />
Ben stopped the car and rushed to the side of the car to help Albert out. For once, the old man decided not to complain about this. He also didn't complain when Ben and Annie helped him to the front door, with Gilly clutching onto one of his gnarled hands, the other holding her Rooster Beanie baby. Annie walked up to the reception desk.<br />
<br />
“I'm the granddaughter of Albert Wetherby. He'll be checking in today.” Annie told the receptionist.<br />
<br />
“Oh yes, right this way, Mr. Wetherby. I'll take you to your room.”<br />
<br />
Albert followed the receptionist down a corridor to a door, which had his name printed on it in a bronze, italicised, swirly writing. The receptionist opened the door and Albert took his first step inside.<br />
<br />
“I'll leave you to get settled.” The receptionist returned to his desk.<br />
<br />
“What do you think, Mr. Wetherby?” Ben asked, after a few moment's pause.<br />
<br />
Without a word, Albert struggled over to the bed and reached into the carrier bag, he had been carrying with him, since he had left the house. He took out three items and placed them in turn on the bedside table: Manes, a Rubik's cube and Valerie's wedding veil.<br />
<br />
“Do you like it granddad?”<br />
<br />
Albert sat down on the bed. A single tear rolled down his face and settled in one of his wrinkles.<br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
Uhhh inspiration for this story? Well, I got the main idea after listening to John Denver's cover of Paul McCartney's song 'Junk.' I started thinking of all of the things we leave behind and how we attach value to particular items. And, I also wanted to explore the device of flashbacks more.James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-8031154664058833802016-12-19T13:32:00.000-08:002016-12-19T13:32:15.738-08:00HThere was a scattering of broken glass across the bedroom floor. Aiden shivered, as a cruel Autumn wind howled through what was left of the window. He had been sleeping rough, until he had found this house and had decided to temporarily squat in it. Nobody knew he was here; Aidan had ran away from home without telling anyone. He had heard about this house from others in the street; since it had been abandoned, it had served a fair few of illegal tenants. Aiden could see everything they had left behind: bin liners with massive gashes in them, a fork with two prongs and a complete sense of isolation. A raucous cough descended from the sky, which was Aiden's cue to leave the chilly bedroom and find somewhere warmer. He picked up his pocketwatch that he had carefully wrapped in an odd newspaper page. Wrapping his thin jacket around him, he left the bedroom and walked down the hallway to the bathroom. He had squatted in this house for a few days and had a decent idea of its layout. It might have been his imagination, but Aiden felt the fierce wind grate against the back of his neck.<br />
****<br />
The house was outside of police territory and was a haven for vagrants and deviants. It was just by luck that Aiden had found it empty; he knew it would not stay like that for long. People typically stayed in places such as these for about a week. On the streets, it was safer to stay on the move. Aiden had started shivering, like there was an army of ants writhing through his bloodstream and crawling over his body. Droplets of salty water began to ooze out of his pores. He was staggering to the bathroom now; the sooner he reached it the better. How long had it been since he had had a fix? Aiden could feel the wind pushing him down the hallway. As he reached the doorway, he could have sworn that the wind shoved him into the bathroom. He disregarded the notion, as he walked towards the dirty medicine cabinet. The handle was hanging precariously from the cabinet, which meant that Aiden had to gently pull on the edge of the cabinet door, to open it. The teenager reached into it and pulled out a shoe box. He removed the lid and the tension floated out of his body. He reached into the box and pulled out a needle, before rolling up his sleeve and untying the shoelace, which marked where his previous scars were, that would grant the needle easier access.<br />
<br />
"Time to shoot. Bang bang!" Aiden joked, as the needle took its plunge.<br />
****<br />
Any notion of the storm outside had melted away, as Aiden felt himself drift into his own private void. A world without sound, without touch, without colour. A world full of warmth and comfort. Aiden called out, not to attract anyone's attention, but because he liked the sound of gravel in his voice. The teenager felt himself touch down onto the surface of his void, or was it the ceiling. He stretched his legs out and began to take his first steps. It was as if Aiden was weighed down by lead. Every step was heavy and wooden; there was a stomp, a stop, and then a shout. A stomp, a stop, and then a shout. A stomp, a stop, and then a shout. Aiden was getting heavier; something above him, or was it below was pushing down. He desperately tried to think back, but he couldn't remember how much heroin he had injected. He knew that he must have o'ded. Aiden could feel his body drooping downwards, or was it upwards? White tendrils were wrapping themselves around the junkie's legs and began to pull and tug.<br />
****<br />
Aiden had slept through the worst of the storm and now a grey, overcast light was shining through the grimy bathroom window. He sat up and rubbed his neck. Bizarrely a mirror was leaning on the skirting boards of the bathroom. Aiden stared into his reflection: into the pale, drained face, the brown eyes with too many tinges of red, the brown freckles mingled with dirt and God knows what else. Aiden yawned, without covering his mouth; what use were manners in these situations? He reached into the shoe box and took everything he had in the world: a little bit of money, a few spare needles, a smoking pipe, a lighter, some foil. The heroin was already safely tucked up in the pocket of his ragged jeans. Lastly, Aiden unwrapped his silver pocket watch and ran his fingers over the cracked screen. <br />
****<br />
According to the clock face it was midday, but it still looked like early morning to Aiden. The teenager ran his hand through his closely-cropped hair. His left arm was tightly clamped around the shoe box. The heroin had left him a little sleepy, but he carried on staggering along the pavement. Last night's storm left a damp mist lingering in the air, which gave Aiden trouble with walking. His mouth was as dry as sand, but the only water he had was to dissolve his heroin. Aiden knew where he was headed. Basset’s car park was near to where the squatting house was. The junkie was vaguely aware that the Needlepoint centre was close by to him, but he was so sleepy. He briefly leant against the hallway of a boarded up shop and closed his eyes and slid to the ground.<br />
****<br />
"Aiden, wake up! Come on! Come on! You've been asleep long enough." A 20 year old man slapped Aiden's cheek twice before twitching three times and jumping up and spinning around. Aiden opened his eyes and his dilated pupils adjusted to the evening light.<br />
<br />
"How late is it?"<br />
<br />
"It's late, man. You've been out for hours." The twenty year old vigorously shook his head back and fourth before sitting down. At the same time, Aiden sat up in shock and rooted for his shoe box. He ripped off the lid and was visibly relieved, when he found that the contents hadn't been disturbed. The 20 year old was now pushing his overgrown bush of brown curly hair to the side. He had a big, stocky figure and was wearing a very thin red hoodie and black jeans. He twitched twice, before speaking again.<br />
<br />
"You think I mugged ya, didn't ya? Come on, Aiden. I ain't like that."<br />
<br />
"Yeah...sorry, Jumper." Aiden replied, sheepishly. Just like Aiden, Jumper was also a junkie. He was known for his hyperactive behaviour, which was only amplified by the heroin. Jumper batted at his right ear, before snapping his head back to his friend.<br />
<br />
"Dude, you look like shit."<br />
<br />
Aiden smirked and spat out whatever saliva he had left. "Do you think I care how I look?"<br />
<br />
"S'pose not. What ya doing all the way out here anyway?"<br />
<br />
"I could ask you the same thing." Aiden countered.<br />
<br />
"I heard you was staying in the squatting house and I came to find ya. You weren't there, so I went looking for ya and here you are."<br />
<br />
"Why were you looking for me?"<br />
<br />
"To see whether you got any H for me."<br />
<br />
"No I don't. The only H I have is for me alone. You could have just mugged me. Why didn't you?" Aiden asked, in disbelief.<br />
<br />
"I told you dude. I aint like that." Jumper stood up and paced around.<br />
<br />
"If you want H, then you should go and see Strike."<br />
<br />
"No can do. I owe him money."<br />
<br />
Aiden stood up in shock. "You owe Strike money? How much?"<br />
<br />
"£200."<br />
<br />
"You owe him £200? How are you still alive?"<br />
<br />
"No idea, but if Strike catches me, I'm dead. So do you have any H for me?"<br />
<br />
"I told you, Jumper, the only H I have is for me alone."<br />
<br />
"Come on, Aiden You must have some money for me!"<br />
<br />
"It's my money!" Aiden snapped.<br />
<br />
"Let me look in your shoe box. You must have something. Come on, man. Come on." Jumper stamped his foot three times.<br />
<br />
"You're not getting shit, mate." Aiden was now standing up and clutching the shoe box. He had slowly edged his way to the entrance of the shop hallway.<br />
<br />
"Give me that fucking box!" Jumper snapped and made a desperate grasp for it.<br />
<br />
"Shit dude. It's Strike!" Aiden pointed behind his friend and as Jumper turned around, Aiden punched him with all of his strength. Without looking back, the eighteen year old began to run.<br />
****<br />
He could hear Jumper lumbering behind him; the punch had only briefly stunned him.The Needlepoint centre had been designed as a help point for any heroin addicts and this was where Aiden was running now. He knew he would be safe from Jumper there. As a precaution, he took his knife from out of the shoe box. Aiden relaxed, as he reached the centre. It had been a couple of hours, since he had last had a fix, but it had been much longer for Jumper and his withdrawal symptoms combined with his general unfitness, meant that he was now lying breathless at the entrance of the Needlepoint car park. He was shivering and a cold sweat was coming over him. A white van with big red letters reading Needlepoint drove past Jumper, to help other junkies in the city.<br />
<br />
"Who's he?" One of the Needlepoint employees asked Aiden.<br />
<br />
"He's my best mate." Aiden replied.<br />
<br />
"Then, why are you running from him?"<br />
<br />
Aiden looked at the female worker from head to toe; she was slight of build, with freckled skin, strawberry blonde hair and a nose carved out of stone. Aiden guessed she was in her thirties.<br />
<br />
"What do you care?"<br />
<br />
"Well, this area is rife with heroin addicts; I guess you're just another couple of junkies. I guess you stole some H from him or he's trying to steal some from you."<br />
<br />
"Guess all you want, I aint telling you shit."<br />
<br />
The woman didn't seem perturbed. "Can you at least tell me your name?"<br />
<br />
"It's Aiden, and you?"<br />
<br />
"I'm Anna."<br />
<br />
"Well, I'd best be taking off now."<br />
<br />
Anna signalled to Jumper whose twitches were becoming more serious. "What about your mate?"<br />
<br />
"He'll be fine, once he's had a fix."<br />
<br />
"I can't let you give him heroin." Anna protested.<br />
<br />
"So you're just gonna make him go cold turkey?"<br />
<br />
"We'll bring him in and look after him."<br />
<br />
Aiden stood between Anna and the door. "You bloody well won't. If we want your help, we'll ask for it." Without another word, the eighteen year old left the centre.<br />
<br />
"I just hope you don't leave it too late." Anna muttered.<br />
****<br />
As Aiden left the centre, he took out his pocket watch. It was 6:30 pm. Aiden walked towards his friend and as he approached him, he helped Jumper to his feet.<br />
<br />
"Come on, mate. Let's get out of here."<br />
<br />
"What's going on?" Jumper asked, before twitching 3 times and rubbing his eye.<br />
<br />
"You went ape shit, cos you aint had a fix in a while."<br />
<br />
"Where we going now?"<br />
<br />
"We can go down to Basset's." Next to Aiden, he suddenly heard a sobbing.<br />
<br />
"Are you crying, Jumper?"<br />
<br />
"Come on, dude. Let's just get to the car park."<br />
****<br />
Basset's was indeed a car park, but it no longer hosted any cars. It had once been attached to Basset's Arcade, which had long gone bust. Since then, the Council had long forgotten about the car park and it was now a haven for vagrants and junkies. Aiden and Jumper were sitting in a far corner, holding a lighter under a piece of foil, which had H sitting on top of it. As the two boys inhaled the fumes through tubes, they were slowly becoming more relaxed and their speech was becoming more slurred.<br />
<br />
"The fuck were you playing at before? Punching me and shit?" Jumper mumbled out.<br />
<br />
"You were majorly jacked up. You'd've hurt me in that state. I had to run."<br />
<br />
Jumper leaned forward to take another inhale and fell back coughing. "There's something up with this H. It's dodgy."<br />
<br />
"We got it from Strike. What'd you expect?"<br />
<br />
"Oh God, Strike. What the hell do I about him?"<br />
<br />
"Oh shut it....about....your..........debt. I just want.......to do," Aiden suddenly fell asleep, falling on top of his shoe box. In the distance, a police car was racing through the city, followed by a white van with big red letters on the side.<br />
****<br />
Aiden woke up a few hours later.<br />
<br />
"I'm glad you've been able to sleep." Jumper muttered. The effect of the H had worn off now and Jumper was no longer slurring his words.<br />
<br />
"You haven't slept?" Aiden asked.<br />
<br />
"How can I sleep, when Strike is after me?" As Jumper said this, Aiden instinctively reached for his shoe box and rummaged through its contents.<br />
<br />
"I haven't fucking mugged ya!"<br />
<br />
"You almost mugged me back at Needlepoint." Aiden countered.<br />
<br />
"I was jacked up then. People do crazy shit when they're jacked."<br />
<br />
Aiden was no longer listening. He took his pocket watch out of the shoe box and checked the time: it was 8:00 PM now.<br />
<br />
"Why do you still have that watch? We could sell it. I can pay off Strike. We can buy more H."<br />
<br />
"Have you lost it, mate? This watch was my grandfather's. I am not-" Aiden suddenly dropped off to sleep, leaving the pocket watch to fall out of his hand and onto the concrete ground. Jumper's first instinct was to steal it and run, but he decided against it. Instead, he walked out of Basset's to get some air. All natural light had escaped from the area and had been replaced with the evening darkness. Jumper shook his head a few times, before turning to his right. In a service road leading into Basset's, a white van with big red letters was parked. The letters read 'Needlepoint.' Jumper thought this to be odd, because Needlepoint vans didn't usually come out this far, but then he saw a man in his forties in a leather jacket leave the van.<br />
<br />
"Oh fuck!" The junkie shouted, as he turned around and started running.<br />
<br />
"Get back here Jumper!" An Australian voice shouted out.<br />
<br />
The effects of the H hadn't completely worn off and Jumper could feel his body slowing down. It wasn't long, before he had collapsed onto the cold ground and fell asleep. The Australian man and two of his cronies caught up with the sleeping junkie, picked him up and carried him back to the Needlepoint van. Once Jumper had been thrown in the back, the Australian man's two cronies got into the front seats.<br />
<br />
"That's the problem with junkies. They always sleep on the job." Strike joked, before slamming the doors shut.<br />
****<br />
Jumper woke up to find his hands tied behind him and two bald man pushing down on his shoulders. "Where am I?" To him, it looked like he was in some type of disused factory, but he wasn't sure.<br />
<br />
"We're in my headquarters."<br />
<br />
Jumper bent his head to the van with big red letters parked outside. "Why do you have a Needlepoint van?"<br />
<br />
Strike walked up to Jumper and crouched down. At this level, the junkie could see his very rough stubble and fading brown hair with a few tinges of grey. "You talk too much, but since you asked, we stole the van. It's much easier to drive round the city, without raising suspicion."<br />
<br />
"What do you want from me?"<br />
<br />
Strike growled and kicked Jumper in the knee "What did I say about talking too much? You owe me £200, now where is it?"<br />
<br />
"I aint got it. Your guys must know that. They must have searched me when I was asleep."<br />
<br />
Strike turned to Victor, one of his henchmen. "It's true, boss. We searched him from head to toe. He hasn't got anything on him."<br />
<br />
"Did you search <i>everywhere</i>?"<br />
<br />
"Trust me, boss. We searched <i>everywhere.</i><br />
<br />
Strike signalled to his henchmen. "Let him go."<br />
<br />
Before Jumper could speak, the Australian had picked him up and was pushing him against the wall. <br />
<br />
"Where's my MONEY?!"<br />
<br />
"I aint got it."<br />
<br />
"I gave you forty bags of H to sell and you smoked it all."<br />
<br />
"I swear I didn't. I never smoked nothing." Jumper protested.<br />
<br />
"ARE YOU FUCKING LYING TO ME," Strike roared, before ramming his fist into the junkie's stomach, "now where is my money?"<br />
<br />
"I'll...get....it....to you." Jumper had been winded by Strike's punch and could barely speak.<br />
<br />
"I gave you 3 days to get my money. Why shouldn't I just kill you now?" Strike was no longer shouting, but softly whispering.<br />
<br />
"I swear, Strike. I'll get...you the....money."<br />
<br />
Strike signalled to Victor, before rubbing his stubbled chin. "Get him to his feet and hold him."<br />
<br />
"Strike, come on, man-" Before Jumper could finish, the Australian man had punched him across the face.<br />
<br />
"Stop talking," Strike shouted, before punching Jumper again, "I want my fucking money!<br />
You got that?"<br />
<br />
Jumper nodded meekly.<br />
<br />
"I want £200, plus £200 interest. You understand?!"<br />
<br />
"I got it."<br />
<br />
"Just so you don't forget." Strike punched Jumper twice more around the face, before ordering Victor to let him go. The junkie staggered forwards, before falling forwards. The Australian shook his head, despairingly.<br />
<br />
"What a fucking lightweight. Victor, take him back to Basset's car park. If he hasn't paid us in a few days, he's dead," Strike knelt down and whispered into Jumper's ear, "you hear that, you filth? You're fucking dead, if you don't pay me."<br />
****<br />
Aiden woke up to see his pocket watch lying on the floor. It must have fallen out of his grasp and he wondered why Jumper hadn't stolen it. Aiden stood up and walked out of the car park, where he saw his friend lying on the ground with dried blood on his face. The eighteen year old walked up to him and tentatively prodded him with a foot.<br />
<br />
"The fuck happened to you?"<br />
<br />
"Strike happened. He wants £400 in the next few days, or I'm a dead man."<br />
<br />
"£400? I thought it was £200?"<br />
<br />
"Well, £200 interest...."<br />
<br />
"Why do you owe him that much anyway?"<br />
<br />
"I smoked £200 of his H..." Jumper explained, sheepishly.<br />
<br />
"Are you crazy? How can you be so fucking stupid?" Aiden exploded.<br />
<br />
"When he gave me the H to sell, I had just finished smoking the last of my stash. I was coming down with withdrawal symptoms and becoming all kinds of fucked up. I couldn't resist."<br />
<br />
"You stupid bastard....the fuck do we now? I have £15 on me....that's nowhere near enough and I doubt this watch will sell for much."<br />
<br />
"Nah man. We can't sell that. It's your grandfather's."<br />
<br />
"Do you think we can go to Needlepoint for help?" Aiden asked.<br />
<br />
"Do you think we can trust them?"<br />
<br />
"I don't know. They should be on our side. It is their jobs to make sure people like us stay alive. I reckon they should be able to help us."<br />
<br />
"No way, man. If we tell them, they'll have to tell the police. We could get done for possession. That's 7 years in jail."<br />
<br />
"7 years in jail would be better than whatever Strike will do to us."<br />
<br />
"Hold on, mate. I have to ask. Why are you helping me? This aint your fight."<br />
<br />
"When I'd fallen asleep earlier on, you had the perfect chance to steal my pocket watch, but you didn't. You've had so many chances to mug me, but you haven't. So, how much time do you think we have?"<br />
<br />
"4 days, at the max." Jumper guessed.<br />
<br />
"This is what we do, for the next three days, we do everything we can to get that £400. In case, Strike is watching us, we don't make contact again until we meet at 7 PM in 3 days time at Bell Park. Agreed?"<br />
<br />
"Agreed."<br />
****<br />
For the next three days, the two junkies did everything they could to scrounge together £400. They tried speaking to other distributors and dealers in the area, but everyone knew that Strike had put a hit on Jumper and they wanted to stay well clear of him. Both Jumper and Aiden had long cut ties with their former lives and could no longer turn to their families or their old friends. For a brief while, the two boys tried mugging any unfortunate people they came across, but they were in a dangerous area and people rarely carried round large amounts of cash.<br />
****<br />
When Bell Park had first opened, it had been a very popular attraction. Families had flocked to it, in their masses, but the initial euphoria had soon worn off and everybody had forgotten about the park, which meant it had become rampant to the deviant in society. Aiden had chosen to meet there, because it was only a few streets away from the Needlepoint centre. Once he saw Jumper enter the park, he walked up to him.<br />
<br />
"I didn't get nowhere near £400. I swear, Aiden, it was so hard not to spend this money<br />
on H. I've been fighting withdrawal symptoms for ages."<br />
<br />
"How much money did you get?"<br />
<br />
"£20."<br />
<br />
"I got £15. So that plus the money I have and your money, is only £50. Would that be<br />
enough?"<br />
<br />
"You know, Strike. He's gonna want all of it," Jumper scrunched up his hair in frustration, before batting his left ear, "we're gonna have to go to Needlepoint. We aint got no choice."<br />
<br />
"This is what we're gonna do. You wait at Basset's and I go to Needlepoint, alone. They<br />
might help us. They can send a van round to you, to pick you up."<br />
<br />
"Why can't I come with you?" Jumper protested.<br />
<br />
"If Strike is watching us, then we can't risk him following us. Now go wait at Basset's and don't leave for any reason. I'll be along soon.<br />
****<br />
Once Jumper had left Bell Park, Aiden started running to the Needlepoint centre. As he ran, he took out his pocket watch and could see that it was 7:30 pm. He just hoped he would be fast enough. As the junkie burst through the doors of the centre, he ran up to the counter where a woman with strawberry blonde hair and freckled skin was sitting behind.<br />
<br />
"Anna, I need your help." Aiden panted out.<br />
<br />
"Oh, so now you want my help?" Anna retorted.<br />
<br />
"Yeah. Look, do you know Strike?"<br />
<br />
Anna waved away the security guards that were coming to remove Aiden from the building. "Yeah, I've heard of everyone's favourite drug lord. What about him?"<br />
<br />
"My mate owes him £400 and Strike is gonna kill him for it."<br />
<br />
"Where's your mate, then? Why are you here and not him?"<br />
<br />
"We couldn't risk Strike following us here."<br />
<br />
"Alright, I'll pull some strings, call in a few favours."<br />
<br />
Aiden's eyes lit up with delight. "You're gonna help us?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, but only because I don't wanna see two more junkies dead, when I knew I could've saved them. You do realise I'm gonna have to tell the police about this?"<br />
<br />
Aiden reluctantly nodded. It was just the price that he and Jumper had to pay. "What are we gonna do?"<br />
<br />
"I might be able to take you and your mate into protective custody. Where's your mate staying?"<br />
<br />
"Basset's car park."<br />
<br />
"One of my boys should know it. Right, I want you to wait in the squatting house, yes I know about it, and I'll send a van to pick you and your mate up."<br />
<br />
"Why can't I wait here?" Aiden protested.<br />
<br />
"If Strike has followed you, then I can't risk putting everyone else here in danger. Go to the house. A van will be along soon."<br />
<br />
The eighteen year old nodded and turned around.<br />
<br />
"And, Aiden, be careful. I heard that Strike stole a Needlepoint van. Before you get in one of our vans, make sure it's one of us, driving it.<br />
****<br />
It took forty minutes for Aiden to reach the squatting house. Now he was inside, he was waiting by the front window, clutching onto his knife. It was half 8 now and a van hadn't arrived yet. <br />
<br />
<i>What the fuck was taking them so long?</i><br />
****<br />
At 8:40, two white vans with big red letters left the Needlepoint car park and took different routes to reach the rendezvous points. <br />
<br />
At the same time, an Australian man drove a Needlepoint van away from a disused factory, in order to collect his debt.<br />
****<br />
Jumper's twitches were now rising out of control. He was being overpowered by his withdrawal symptoms and had to keep pacing around the area. He kept rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. It had been well over an hour, since he had last spoken to Aiden.<br />
<br />
<i>What the fuck was taking him so long?</i><br />
<br />
At that exact point, a white van with big red letters drove into the service road, which led to Basset's car park. Jumper could see the van, but he couldn't see who was inside it. <br />
<br />
"Who is it?" He called out.<br />
<br />
A voice called back answering his question. Jumper sighed and left the car park. He walked up to the van and climbed into the front seat. There was nowhere else he could go. <br />
<br />
<i>It doesn't matter what happens now, it's over for me.</i> Jumper told himself, as the van drove away, followed by a blue light and the sound of sirens.<br />
<br />
****<br />
At the same time, as Jumper was being picked up, a van with big red letters drove into the courtyard of the squatting house. Aiden could see the van, but he couldn't see who was inside of it.<br />
<br />
"Who is it?" He called out.<br />
<br />
A voice called back, answering his question. Aiden sighed and put away his knife. He picked up his shoe box and left the house, before walking up to the van and climbing into the front seat. There was nowhere else he could go.<br />
<br />
<i>Whatever happens now it's game over. </i>Aiden told himself, as the van drove away, followed by a blue light and the sound of sirens.<br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
With thanks to my cousin Harry and my friend Zayd for helping me edit this. This is probably my darkest story since Barbed Wire. I originally started this in my writer's group, where we were exploring the theme of symbolism and I wrote this based on the emotion of loneliness. I use aterisks to signify paragraph breaks. The ending is a cliff-hangar. You can decide what happens to Jumper and Aiden. James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-51962827720208087482016-11-28T14:20:00.000-08:002016-11-28T14:20:40.074-08:00DroneChildren's laughter tinkled into Edward Bozleby's ear. He knew that up above him in the woodland canopy there were mechanical drones searching for him. That wasn't the only trouble he was in. Despite the low humming of the drones, something made Edward freeze in his tracks. Around him, the giggles of children were leaking out from the trees. Edward had heard of these things, but he had never seen one. These were fairies. Not the happy, dancing fairies, which replaced your lost teeth with one pound coins, but demonic twisted creatures who epitomised evil. Edward jumped, as he heard a beeping up above him. The drones, which were dripping with the government desire for omniscience, had caught up with him. He started running again. He was being chased by creatures, as old as the devil himself and technology, as modern as UAV spyplanes. How had Edward become trapped in between these two clashing worlds?<br />
****<br />
Until a few days ago, Edward was the wealthy CEO of Black Hole Enterprises, which had provided software for the military. That was before another weapons company Eclipse had hacked into it and had corrupted the software. This had bankrupted Edward's company and had turned him into an outcast. He knew that people loyal to him would be trying to clear his name, but for the moment, he was on his own. Whoever Eclipse were, they were good. Even though they had destroyed Edward's career in less than a week, they had made it look like a conspiracy, which had been going on for months. For reasons unknown, Eclipse had only revealed themselves to Edward and they had used a couple of middle managers to scapegoat for the company's bankruptcy. A thought flashed across Edward's mind: if he wasn't the one to blame for the downfall of his company, then why the hell was he the one on the run?<br />
****<br />
Edward decided to stop running and conserve his strength for a while, despite the penetrating cackle of the fairies in one ear and the repetitive beeping of the drones in the other. The irony was that his company had designed the very entities that were chasing him. The ministry of defence had commissioned his company to create these drones in order to collect surveillance upon any external threats. So, because of this, Edward knew the strengths and weaknesses of every single drone. He also knew that the spy-bots weren't in use yet. Only a handful of them had been constructed and they all had their weaknesses, which had yet to be smoothed out. The constant beeping was one of the biggest faults of the drones, especially when they were supposed to be creatures of stealth. Something cold ran down the back of Edward's neck and for the briefest moment a hand brushed across his shoulder. Edward resisted every urge to turn around and lash out at whatever he was touching him. Instead he took a deep breath and spoke slowly.<br />
<br />
"Who is that?"<br />
<br />
"My name is Stella Ingriss."<br />
<br />
Edward's relief was obvious. "I thought you were a fairy."<br />
<br />
Stella didn't look impressed. "Do you really believe in them?"<br />
<br />
Edward turned around and looked at the woman he was speaking to. She was blonde and in her 30's. Her face had retained a youthful vitality, but her eyes were watchful and cautious.<br />
<br />
"Stella Ingriss, I know that name, Stella, Stella." A staccato clicking of his fingers accompanied Edward's thought process.<br />
<br />
"I am...well I was a middle manager at Black Hole enterprises," Stella suddenly stamped her foot in frustration, "how have I only just realised? You're the CEO of Black Hole enterprises: Edward Bozleby."<br />
<br />
"I was the CEO of Black Hole enterprises; that was until Eclipse happened."<br />
"Who are Eclipse?" Stella asked.<br />
<br />
"They're the reasons we're running through this woodland."<br />
<br />
"You never said whether you believe in fairies or not."<br />
<br />
Edward ran a hand over his balding head. "I'm not sure what I believe any more...I mean just a week ago I was still the CEO of Black Hole. I still had a full head of hair 15 years ago and I didn't need glasses, neither did I have this great swollen belly."<br />
<br />
Stella could see the insecurity of the man and thought it would be best to change the subject. "We had best start moving."<br />
<br />
"Where are we supposed to go? We're trapped within this forest; if we leave then the drones will find us."<br />
<br />
"That's the point. If we stay within the forest, we can stay hidden. The drones won't be able to spot us." Without another word, Stella decisively marched forwards. Edward noticed that she was still dressed in formal clothing, but decided that now wasn't the time to discuss it. For a brief while, the two walked in silence. Edward was slightly intimidated by Stella's brisk manner.<br />
<br />
Without stopping, Stella abruptly asked, "earlier on, why did you think I was a fairy?"<br />
<br />
Edward shrugged, despite the fact that Stella wasn't looking. "I felt someone's hand on my shoulder and I presumed it was a fairy. I was relieved, when I found out that it was you."<br />
<br />
This caused Stella to stop and turn around. Confusion was etched across her face. "I never put my hand on your shoulder. I never touched you."<br />
<br />
Edward's eyes flashed from side to side. "Then, who did?"<br />
<br />
A child laughed and then another joined in and then another and then another and another and another. Not before long, there was a whole chorus of children giggling and smirking.<br />
<br />
"What the hell is that?" Edward demanded.<br />
<br />
"I'm not waiting to find out. Let's get out of here." Without another word, Stella charged forward and the former CEO had little choice but to follow.<br />
<br />
Behind them, a fluttering of wings sounded in conjunction to the laughing chorus. Stella had a good ten years upon Edward and now the fat man was struggling to keep up. Reluctantly, the blonde woman stopped behind a tree and waited for her former boss to catch up. She tried to ignore the laughter and the fluttering of wings. As Edward finally reached Stella, something flew past the two of them, slicing the air in half.<br />
<br />
"We have to leave this woodland." Edward said, decisively.<br />
<br />
"We can't. Your bloody drones are still out there searching for us." Stella snapped.<br />
<br />
"But if we stay in here, the fairies will catch us." Edward hissed.<br />
<br />
"There's no such thing as fairies! They're just made-up stories Edward!" Stella snarled.<br />
<br />
<i>Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.</i><br />
<br />
"What the hell do you call that then?"<br />
<br />
<i>Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.</i><br />
<br />
"Hold on, Stella. What the hell are you doing here?"<br />
<br />
"Now isn't the time Edward! We have to move!"<br />
<br />
"We can talk now. Why are you here?"<br />
<br />
"Your bloody drones chased me into here!" Stella snapped.<br />
<br />
"But, why this particular woodland? Why the same one as me?"<br />
<br />
Panic and frustrated flooded Stella's eyes. "We can talk about what happened after we have moved." The two humans started to run again. The fairies were beginning to surround them, although they were moving so quickly they weren't visible to the naked eye. All around them, the fluttering of wings, the laughter of children, the chanting of nursery rhymes were building up to deafening levels. There was the snarling of teeth, the sun reflecting of the wings of the fairy, the slightest sight of a claw and the never-ending chanting. <br />
<br />
<i>Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.</i><br />
<br />
The chanting of the fairies reminded Edward of the nursery rhymes he had heard when he was a young boy. When he was a child, his parents had told him stories about the fairies, about how children will be snatched away without a trace, about how adults were driven to insanity by the child-like laughter. Edward suddenly realised how ridiculous he was being, for thinking of such a trivial thing now. He had to put all of his energy into running. <br />
<br />
<i>Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out.</i><br />
<br />
Vaguely, Stella was aware that the fairies were now singing a new nursery rhyme. Did she believe in fairies now? Something snapped between her feet, but she carried on running. Something cut across Edward's cheek, but he carried on running. Something metallic flew up above the pair, but they carried on running.<br />
<br />
<i>Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out.</i><br />
<br />
The fairies were no longer chasing the pair, but flying alongside the both of them. The woodland was their territory and they easily slipped in and out of the trees. Leaves were afraid to settle on the tarnished floor. There was a massive crashing, as two drones broke through the woodland canopy, but the chanting of the fairies was so loud that neither human heard it. <br />
<br />
<i>Itsy bitsy spider climbed up the water spout. Down came the rain and washed the spider out.</i><br />
<br />
The two drones were still chasing their prey, but they were struggling to keep up with the speed of the fairies. The creatures were little more than blurs. Tinges of green and brown were smashing through yellow sunlight, whilst solid black floated menacingly on. More and more fairies joined the chase, vastly outnumbering the two spy bots. <br />
<br />
<i>Ringa ringa roses. A pocket full of posies.</i><br />
<br />
Edward was exhausted and he couldn't run any further. "Stella!" He called out, breathlessly.<br />
<br />
The blonde woman stopped and started to walk back to her former CEO. She was absolutely exhausted, as well. She could only speak in small pants.<br />
<br />
"We can’t...stop....now. We have....to...carry on...."<br />
<br />
Edward pointed all around him. "The fairies have stopped chasing us." He was right. The fairies had now formed in a circle around them.<br />
<br />
<i>Ringa ringa roses. A pocket full of posies.</i><br />
<br />
Stella was slowly getting her breath back. She could clearly see the fairies now and could no longer deny their existence. They were vicious looking creatures with teeth like jagged shards of glass and ill-looking skin with green and brown patches. They looked nothing like how they did in fairy-tales. They were skinny beasts with thin skin. Stella and Edward could see every single bone in their small bodies. Only their wings, with their own iridescent, shimmery quality, looked anything remotely like the stories, these creatures were associated with. <br />
<br />
<i>Ringa ringa roses. A pocket full of posies.</i><br />
<br />
"Why do they keep singing these nursery rhymes?" Stella demanded.<br />
<br />
"I heard that fairies were once children who had become tainted and twisted over time."<br />
<br />
"But why have they stopped chasing us? Why are they surrounding us?"<br />
<br />
"Maybe they were waiting for them." Edward pointed towards the two drones which had now caught up with their prey. The CEO and his former employee were standing back to back and the drones were hovering on either side of them. They were spherical machines, which were coloured an intense black with silver circuitry. There was a certain coldness about them, which was found in the majority of machines.<br />
<br />
"Can your drones hurt us?"<br />
<br />
"No. I never designed them to have weaponry. They're just for surveillance."<br />
<br />
There was a clunk and grinding of metal. On either drone, a hypodermic syringe appeared out of a hidden compartment.<br />
<br />
Edward loudly groaned. "I'm guessing Eclipse have made a few improvements."<br />
<br />
"Shutup Edward! Look at the fairies." Stella pointed to the creatures all around them. The fairies had started flying in a circle, surrounding the two humans and the drones. Loose mud was being drawn into the air, as the fairies continued to chant.<br />
<br />
<i>Ringa ringa roses. A pocket full of posies.</i><br />
<br />
The fairies were picking up speed and were almost a blur.<br />
<br />
"STELLA! GET OUT OF THE CIRCLE AND STICK TO THE GROUND!" Edward had to shout to be heard. The two humans ran in opposite directions and the fairies briefly parted to let them pass. The fairies were flying faster and faster and the drones were becoming confused. Little specks of dirt were invading their circuitry and clogging up their mechanics. Edward and Stella watched in amazement at the dust storm, which the fairies were whipping up. Particles of loose mud were being forced into a spiralling funnel, which shielded the drones from view. The chanting of fairies sang in correlation with the grinding of the mud on the metallic body of the spy bots. There was a sudden thump, as both drones crashed to the ground. The fairies stopped flying and all dispersed, except for one. Stella ran over to Edward and they waited for the fairy to approach them.<br />
<br />
"I suppose we ought to thank you, for what you did to those drones."<br />
<br />
"They were in our territory and they had to be dealt with." The fairy spoke in a childlike voice. It was also telepathic. As it spoke, its mouth refused to open.<br />
<br />
"We're in your territory?" Stella tentatively quavered. She knew she was taking a risk, by saying this, but it was one that had to be addressed.<br />
<br />
"The drones were a threat to us. You are not." The fairy was still hovering above the ground. Edward didn't think it had set foot on it for many millennia.<br />
<br />
Edward stepped forward this time and addressed the fairy. "You're right. We don't mean to hurt you. Eclipse chased us in here. We had nowhere else to go."<br />
<br />
"Eclipse?" The fairy questioned.<br />
<br />
"Have you heard of them?" Stella asked.<br />
<br />
"You have to leave our woodland now." The fairy evaded the question.<br />
<br />
"What? But Eclipse will still be chasing us. We're safe in here." Stella protested.<br />
<br />
"That is why you have to leave. We can't risk any harm coming to us."<br />
<br />
"Harm is exactly what's going to come to you. Eclipse is going send more drones and much worse through this woodland to find us."<br />
<br />
"We are in control of the four elements: water, the earth, the fire, the very air you breathe. We can look after ourselves, but you have to leave now."<br />
<br />
Edward smiled sadly. "They're right. We should go. They did protect us from the drones after all."<br />
<br />
Stella pointed to the mid-afternoon sun. "Can we at least rest here for a while? We've been running for hours."<br />
<br />
The fairy reluctantly nodded. "You can stay here until dark."<br />
****<br />
The two humans had stayed in the woodland, until the middle of the night, at the grudging acceptance of the fairies. Edward and Stella had wanted to make sure that nothing else was chasing them; during this time the sky had stayed free from any hostile invaders, but the pair knew that it was time to leave. The fairy that had talked to them earlier had appeared to the two humans and had led them to the edge of the woodland. It hadn't spoken to them for the entire trip.<br />
<br />
"How do you know so much about these fairies, Edward? I barely believed in them."<br />
<br />
"I remember, my parents telling me about them, when I was a boy. They told me about this mystical woodland that I should stay away from. Maybe Eclipse drove me into here on purpose."<br />
<br />
"Who are Eclipse?" Stella asked. <br />
<br />
Exasperatedly, Edward shook his head. "It's difficult to explain. My father had Black Hole before me and I knew that him and Eclipse had a strong rivalry. I'm guessing he must have wronged them badly and now they're taking revenge."<br />
<br />
"This is where we leave you now. Good luck."<br />
<br />
Behind the two humans, stood a line of fairies which began to quietly sing another nursery rhyme. However, the coldness had left their voices and they sounded like a chorus of jovial children. Edward and Stella walked out of the forest and into the starlit darkness. <br />
<br />
<i>Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are.</i><br />
<i>Twinkle, twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>*</i>Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
It's been a while since I've written a short story. And this isn't one of my best...This was something I originally wrote for my writer's group. It was more just a creative unleashing task, rather than anything else. I was given the name Edward Bozleby, the location of a mystical woodland and I was told write about government drones as well. The fairies are of my own creation, slightly influenced by folklore and the like. I use asterisks to signify paragraph breaks.James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-38402825776146321192016-11-21T13:51:00.000-08:002016-11-21T13:51:28.956-08:00Spring and SummerLily Summers groaned, as her alarm clock beeped into life. She tried to remain asleep for a few more seconds, but it was hopeless. She sighed, as she pulled back her cosy duvet and lazily rolled out of bed. Rubbing an eye, she stumbled over to the bathroom to have a quick shower. After she had stood under a jet of hot water for five minutes, she felt much more motivated to finish her early morning routine. <br />
****<br />
With a bit more life and energy, she walked back to her room and sat down by her Vanity desk, which was by no means neat and tidy. On one side of the silvery desk were Lily's hair brush, straighteners and all kinds of hair related products. On the other side was all of her make-up. It was 7:10 now, which meant that Lily could have stayed in bed, until at least half seven, but that would have meant going to school with the queen of cowlicks sticking out of her long fair hair. No. Lily picked up her hairbrush and started brushing her hair. She had always been told that her hair looked gorgeous and soft, so she put pride in maintaining that idea. After she had brushed her hair and added various products to it, it was time for make-up. Lily never wore a lot of it to sixth form; her friends had always said that she was a naturally pretty girl, so she didn't see the point in unnecessarily lathering herself in cosmetics. Some simple mascara and eye liner would do the trick. As Lily leaned into the mirror to apply the eye make-up, she noticed a slight spot on her cheek. This didn't particularly bother her, as she could easily cover it up with foundation, but she wasn't comfortable with anyone seeing her imperfections especially...Lily smiled and closed the bottle of mascara. It was time for clothes now and she wasn't in the mood for anything too flashy or flamboyant, so she pulled on a simple t-shirt and some skinny jeans. The whole process took roughly twenty minutes and now it was time to go eat.<br />
****<br />
At 8:00 am, Lily left to go to her sixth form. The school was a few streets away from her house, so it was only a twenty minute walk. It was a pleasant enough journey too. Even though the temperature had dropped a little since the summer, there was still a very warm breeze. Brown, green, yellow leaves started to fall down from the tallest of trees. Autumn had begun.<br />
****<br />
It was the first day of year 13 and as Lily walked into the sixth form, she headed straight to the common room and to the corner of the room, where her two best friends, Alex and Jess, were lounging on the leather sofas. The three girls were always talking with each other, either in person or on their phones, so they were soon immersed in conversation. Today, Alex and Jess were talking about whether there'll be any cute guys moving into year 12, from the year below. Lily laughed and agreed in all of the right places, but she rarely suggested anything. Her interests were vested in other people.<br />
****<br />
The electronic bell rang out and the students slowly trudged into their form rooms. No matter what year a pupil was in, they rarely looked forward to the first day of school. The three girls reluctantly left the common room and Jess said her goodbyes to her two best friends, as Alex and Lily were in a different form class to her. All of the tables had been pushed to the sides and the chairs had been arranged in a semicircle. The form tutor was sitting on her own in what should have been the straight edge of the semicircle. Once everyone had taken their seats, the teacher stood up. She was short and a little round. She had very short brown hair, which had been spiked up. When she spoke, she had a bass voice. She was wearing trousers, a formal shirt and a knitted grey jumper. <br />
<br />
"Hello, class. I am Miss Laxton. Before the rumours start, I just want to say that I am not a lesbian, not that there's anything wrong with it, of course."<br />
<br />
There was a ripple of nervous laughter. In a cheerful way, Miss Laxton had put a stop to people's stereotypical thoughts.<br />
<br />
"I have a wonderful fiancee and I'm comfortable with how I look. You don't need to have short hair and a deep voice to be a lesbian, you know." This caused a more open ripple of laughter, as some people looked downwards in embarrassment. Even though, it had only been a few minutes, Lily could tell that the class were warming to the form tutor. She thought that the class respected how Miss Laxton had openly, confidently and directly addressed her appearance. She wasn't embarrassed about it at all, nor should she be, Lily told herself.<br />
<br />
"Since, it's the first day of term, I think that we should go around the room and say our names, what year we're in and what we're studying. So I'll start. My name is Miss Laxton and I teach year 12 and year 13 Geography. Could you carry on, please?" She gestured towards Lily. <br />
<br />
The girl nervously picked at a nail. "Hi everyone, I'm Lily Summers. I'm a year 13 and I'm studying French, Philosophy and Ethics and Geography."<br />
<br />
"You'll probably have me then. Lucky you," Miss Laxton commented, "nice to meet you Lily. Next?"<br />
<br />
"I'm Alex Bailey and I'm also year 13. I'm studying French, Philosophy and Ethics and Art."<br />
<br />
Miss Laxton feigned a look of shocked sadness. "Why aren't you taking Geography? Do you not like my subject?" It was obvious, that the teacher was making a good-natured joke, but this did not stop Alex from turning red and pulling at her blonde curls.<br />
<br />
"Welll....I...uhh...well."<br />
<br />
"Sorry, Alex. I'm just teasing you."<br />
<br />
The schoolgirl was now turning red, as she giggled in embarrassment, along with her classmates. The next three students were also year 13's, but the fourth one was the first year 12 to speak. Lily had been watching the girl from the very start and thought that she looked very introverted. She had strawberry blonde hair tied up in a simple ponytail and there was a cute little dimple on her right cheek. Lily thought that something about her, made her look different to everyone else.<br />
<br />
"I'm Ellie Springs. I'm a year 12 and I'm studying history, English Literature, German and Geography."<br />
<br />
"Good to have you on board, Ellie. Next?"<br />
<br />
Once everyone had introduced themselves, people started to quietly talk amongst each other. Alex began speaking about her classes for the new year, but Lily was only paying half attention. The rest of her was concentrating on Ellie; Lily's thoughts were lost in wonder.<br />
****<br />
Lily didn't have any lessons in the afternoon and so she told herself that she only had to survive the morning. Her first two lessons were fairly uneventful and now it was break time. Lily would have usually gone to the common room with Alex and Jess, but she saw Ellie sitting alone in the reception area and decided to join her.<br />
<br />
"Hi. I'm Lily Summers. I'm in your form group."<br />
<br />
Ellie smiled her recognition. "Oh yeah. I remember. Can I help you with something?" When the girl talked, Lily noticed that she was wearing braces.<br />
<br />
"I just thought you'd like some company. Did you come from the lower school?" Ellie shook her head and Lily could see her ponytail swishing from side to side.<br />
<br />
"No. I came from a different school. I'm the only one from my school here."<br />
<br />
Lily bit her lip pensively. "Ah. Don't worry about it. Even though, I came from the lower school and I already had a few friends, I was worried they'd leave me for other people and I'd be left on my own, but that never happened. In fact, I made lots of new friends."<br />
<br />
"Thanks for that. I'll keep that in mind."<br />
<br />
"Right, well I'm going to find my friends now, but you're welcome to join us."<br />
<br />
"Thanks, but I'll just stay here for now."<br />
<br />
"Ok. If you ever need any help, then just come and find me. I guess, I'll see you around." As Lily left her new friend, she couldn't help but notice, that Ellie had a little bit of blue in her hazel eyes.<br />
****<br />
A month later and, for the most part, everyone had settled well into the sixth form. Ellie had made a few friends in year 12, but mostly she hung around with Lily and her friends. Ellie got on well with Jess and Alex, but she had strongly bonded with Lily. Lily thought that this was because Ellie was trying to repay her new friend, for how kind she had been at the start of term.<br />
****<br />
It was a rainy day and now drops of water were running down the windows in the common room, which Ellie was now leaning her head against. Her friends were there, as well. Lily was absent-mindedly tracing around Ellie's spread hand, which was resting on a table. She could vaguely hear Jess and Alex talking about boys...again. Did they ever talk about anything else? Lily thought boys were fine to have as friends, but they were useless, when it came to relationships. Maybe she was thinking too far into it. She took a quick glance at Ellie and was glad to see she was also taking little interest in Jess and Alex's conversation. Lily was hoping her interests lied in other people too.<br />
****<br />
It was now two months into the Christmas term and Autumn was coming to an end. The majority of the trees had been stripped to the core and their leafy clothes, brown and crinkly, now littered the ground. A vicious winter breeze was now cutting through the atmosphere and a icy frost had settled onto the ground every night. With the change in the weather, Jess and Alex could also see a considerable change in their best friend. When Jess was with Lily in Geography, she could see her friend was daydreaming a lot more, as well as idly twisting her hair. It wasn't as if Lily was the most committed student, but she knew when to concentrate and when not to and she rarely concentrated anymore. <br />
****<br />
Alex had never thought of Lily as the most feminine girl, but she did have a very feminine figure. She was skinny, with a moderate amount of fat. Similarly to other girls, at the sixth form, she alternated between wearing skinny jeans and leggings. However, recently, Lily had solely been wearing the tightest of tight jeans. It was if she was trying to show off her figure for someone. Was she trying to impress a boy?<br />
****<br />
It was a Saturday and outside it had been bitterly cold. For the past few days, the temperature had been well below zero. Every morning, a mystical fog almost shrouded the small town from outsiders. The three friends were sitting on Jess' bed. There were pictures of good looking men across the walls and a few clothes lay scattered across the floor. In one corner of the room, a small vanity desk stood with a polished mirror, where Jess could style her raven black hair. Lily had always thought it had looked so full and soft.<br />
<br />
"Have you guys seen Cody in the lower year? He's so cute." Jess confessed, in a dreamy tone.<br />
<br />
Lily didn't look very impressed. "You have talked to him, right?"<br />
<br />
Jess looked very defensive. "Of course I have. I've talked to him a few times."<br />
<br />
"Do you like him?" Alex queried.<br />
<br />
Jess pulled on the sleeve of her jacket. "Yeah, I think I do. I hope he asks me out."<br />
<br />
"You do know, you can ask him out. Girls can do that."<br />
<br />
"I can't do that. Anyway, Alex how's it going with you and Jake?"<br />
<br />
"It's going really well, but I want to talk about Lily. I think she might like someone." Alex teasingly poked her friend, who started to turn red.<br />
<br />
Lily looked downwards, as she picked at her nails. "What makes you say that?"<br />
<br />
"Just the way you've been dressing and you're wearing more makeup than usual. Jess told me that you're always daydreaming and I always see you fiddling with your hair. So, who is he?"<br />
<br />
Lily briefly hesitated. "Guys, I do like someone, but she isn't a boy. She's a girl."<br />
<br />
Jess' eyes widened. "So...you're a lesbian?"<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I guess I am."<br />
<br />
"But, I don't understand. You've been with boys before."<br />
<br />
Alex turned to Jess in annoyance. "That really isn't the issue right now-Lily, is the-"<br />
<br />
"But, I still don't get it. I mean...how long have you been gay? How did you know you were gay? You've been with-"<br />
<br />
"Jess, stop with the questions," Alex sighed, "Lily, is the person you like Ellie Springs?"<br />
<br />
"How...how do you know?" Lily asked in shock.<br />
<br />
"Thinking about it, it actually makes sense now. Whenever I see you two together, you're always twirling your hair and staring at her with a daft smile on your face."<br />
<br />
"You're always laughing at her jokes too, even if they're really bad." Jess added.<br />
<br />
Lily was becoming very embarrassed and desperately tried to backtrack. "Come on guys, that doesn't mean I like her."<br />
<br />
"Oh, I think it does," Alex disagreed, "I don't know how it works for girls, but those are sure-fire ways to let boys know you like them."<br />
<br />
"We've been friends for,like, ever. Why are you only telling us now?" Jess protested.<br />
<br />
"I was afraid to. Especially, in the lower school, boys always used "gay" as an insult. Eugh, you're such a gaylord, you're such a faggot. I know it isn't the same for girls, but it's still not great."<br />
<br />
Jess put one arm around her friend's shoulders. "I can see your point, but that was just banter. It's not as if the school was homophobic."<br />
<br />
"I know, but still..."<br />
<br />
Alex grasped her friend's hand. "I'm sorry. I should have realised and been there for you."<br />
<br />
Lily looked into her best friend's eyes and there was a moment of pure trust.<br />
<br />
"So, do you think Ellie likes you back? Do you think she's a lesbian too?" Jess asked.<br />
<br />
"I don't know. I really hope so, but she might not be. It's difficult..."<br />
<br />
"What you said before about me and Cody is right. You should say something. If you don't say something, then she might think you're not interested and find someone else." Jess encouraged.<br />
<br />
"I know, but it's just not that simple."<br />
<br />
There was brief silence amongst the three girls, which was broken by Alex's sudden laughter.<br />
<br />
"What?" Jess and Lily asked together.<br />
<br />
"Do you know Miss Laxton? Short hair, deep voice? She teaches Geography and she's mine and Lily's form tutor?" Alex asked Jess.<br />
<br />
"Oh, the lesbian?"<br />
<br />
"That's the funny thing. She isn't a lesbian. At the start of term, she made a big speech about how she isn't a lesbian and how we shouldn't be stereotyping her."<br />
<br />
"How is that funny?" Lily asked.<br />
<br />
"Well, it's funny, because even though Miss Laxton has short hair and a deep voice, she isn't gay and you have long hair and a high voice and you are gay."<br />
<br />
"I guess you can't judge a book by its cover." Jess commented.<br />
<br />
"Or a woman by her hair." Lily added.<br />
****<br />
The year slowly crawled into the month of December and Lily's town had virtually been drowned in a thick blanket of snow. Everyone was making a big deal out of it, simply because it was rare for it to snow that early in the month. Luckily, this gave Lily and her three best friends a three day weekend and so the four girls walked to the local playing fields. There was also a series of ski slopes there, which had long been abandoned to nature. If someone had seen the ski slopes from afar, then they might have described them as a miniature mountain range, with snow-capped peaks. Ellie and Jess had brought their toboggons in order to make the most of these snow days. The girls had made sure they left their houses, as early as possible, in order to get to the untouched snow first. The park had taken the brunt of the snowfall and the girls found it to be a spectacular sight. The snow covered field, as white as purity, stretched on past the horizon and the naked trees had donned white pyjamas. Every time the wind blew through them, a fresh scattering of snow drifted onto the ground. The four girls ran over to one of the intermediate slopes and started throwing snow balls at each other, but Alex and Jess soon left for one of the more advanced slopes, in order to leave Lily and Ellie alone. Once the other girls had left, Ellie dragged her toboggon to the the edge of the slope and told her friend to get in the back.<br />
<br />
"Are you ready?" Ellie asked.<br />
<br />
"I'm a little nervous..." Lily confessed.<br />
<br />
"Hold onto me. You'll be ok."<br />
<br />
Lily gratefully wrapped her arms around her friend's waist and wanted to leave them there forever. The two girls pushed the toboggon off and they started their swift descent down to the bottom of the slope. Ellie slightly lost control and fell backwards into her friend who was a little annoyed that this had happened. She had the person she loved in her arms and couldn't do a thing about it. Lily abruptly stood up and walked to the top of the slope. <br />
<br />
"I want to be more adventurous with this whole sliding thing. What should we try next?"<br />
<br />
"We could do it lying down or maybe standing." Ellie suggested.<br />
<br />
"You can do it standing, I'm definitely not."<br />
<br />
Ellie smiled at her friend. "Awww, are you scared?"<br />
<br />
<i>Yes, I am absolutely terrified to tell you, that I love you,</i> Lily thought in her mind, but instead she said, "well you do it first then. I bet you're as scared as I am."<br />
<br />
Ellie accepted the challenge and brought the toboggon to the lip of the slope. She put one foot on the front of it and the other foot at the back of it. Carefully, she shuffled it forward, before taking one look back at her friend and gesturing at Lily to give her a push.<br />
<br />
"See you on the other side," and with that, Lily gave the girl she loved a hearty shove down the ski slope. The journey seemed to be going well, but near the bottom, the front of the toboggon caught on a hidden object, which caused Ellie to somersault straight onto her back. Lily panicked and rushed down the slope.<br />
<br />
"Oh my god, Ellie. Are you ok? I pushed you too hard, I'm so sorry." When Lily reached her friend, she knelt down and leant over her.<br />
<br />
"Don't worry, I'm alright. I'm ok..." This was true. Ellie was a little shook up and breathing heavily, but she hadn't damaged anything.<br />
<br />
"Oh good, I just thought..." Lily lost her train of thought, as she stared into Ellie's eyes. For a moment, there was a tension between the two girls and Lily desperately wanted to lean in and kiss her friend, but she knew she couldn't, so, instead, she bit her lip and backed up a little. Ellie sat up and saw something was troubling her friend.<br />
<br />
"Is there something wrong?" Ellie asked.<br />
<br />
"I....I have to tell you something. Oh...I...I...uhhh..."<br />
<br />
"Maybe you should say it really quickly?" Ellie suggested.<br />
<br />
"Ireallylikeyoucanwegoutsometime?" Lily nervously blurted out. She had said it so quickly, that the sentence had lost all of its coherency. <br />
<br />
"Sorry, I didn't catch that."<br />
<br />
Lily took a few deep breaths, as she built up her courage. "I like you. I mean, I really like you...more than a friend."<br />
<br />
"What do you mean? Do you love me?" Ellie asked, confusedly.<br />
<br />
"I....ummm...oh...I suppose I do. Yeah I ...l...l...love you." Lily was still so scared and was hesitating before every word.<br />
<br />
"So, are you...?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, Ellie. I'm gay and I like you...and I really hoped you...l..l..liked me too." Lily bit her lip in anticipation. It was breaking point now. <br />
<br />
"Lily, I'm so sorry. I mean, I do like you, but only as a friend. I'm not a lesbian. I'm sorry..."<br />
<br />
Lily felt the world slip through her fingers. Her mind was falling through a void of darkness. She couldn't speak or hear or see, but she could feel though. She was overwhelmed by anger, by sadness, by despair. <br />
<br />
<i>How could I have been so stupid? Of course she doesn't like me.</i><br />
<br />
Lily stood up and started pacing around. Ellie was anxiously watching her, when Jess and Alex returned. They could see that this was not the happy ending they were hoping for.<br />
<br />
"What's happened?" Jess asked, although she already had a pretty good idea.<br />
<br />
Lily still couldn't speak. She fell into Alex's open arms and started sobbing into her shoulder.<br />
<br />
"I'm so sorry, guys. I think I should leave now," Ellie approached Lily and tentatively stroked her arm, "I'm really sorry, Lily. I hope we can still be friends. I'll see you guys in school." Ellie turned away from the girls and started to walk home. She was so sad for Lily and hated to see her in that state, but she knew it was best to leave her alone, for now.<br />
<br />
Through broken sobs, Lily cried..."she does...n't like me....I'm such an ...idiot."<br />
<br />
Jess took her friend by the arms and turned her around, so they were in eye contact.<br />
<br />
"Hey! Don't ever call yourself an idiot for liking someone who doesn't like you back."<br />
<br />
Alex nodded in agreement. "Jess is right. You'd be an idiot if you never told her how you felt, but you did. You took a risk and that does not make you idiotic."<br />
<br />
Lily smiled and lay her head on her Alex's shoulder. She was still very upset, but was glad that her friends were there to comfort her. Tears were still rolling down her face, but they were slowly coming to a stop. Jess gave her best friend a big hug. <br />
<br />
"Let's go back to mine and you can hear me going on and on about dreamy Cody is. It might cheer you up."<br />
<br />
Lily chucked. "Sounds good."<br />
<br />
With their arms interlocked with each other, the three girls walked across the snow covered field, which had long lost its purity. <br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
This story is supposed to be the counterpart of Lip Ring. I hope that people can draw parallels between the two stories. I had written about two gay boys, so I thought I'd write the complete opposite of it with a lesbian story. I hope this was realistic.James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-36625556908211909762016-11-14T14:24:00.000-08:002016-12-13T04:43:01.061-08:00Road UntravelledThe road stretched on endlessly, until the black tarmac eventually faded into the horizon. Alastair Ford was preparing himself for the long journey ahead. He was hoping to sneak away from Lucy, before the sun rose, but his second wife had caught up with him at the last minute.<br />
<br />
"What are you doing, Alastair? Why are you here?" She asked.<br />
<br />
"We've all lived long lives. I have done evil in mine. I need some time alone; just to think." Alastair replied, mysteriously.<br />
<br />
Lucy frowned. "I don't understand."<br />
<br />
"I don't expect you to. It's a long story."<br />
****<br />
<i>She was twenty five years old and she was beautiful. She had rich chocolate coated hair and mysterious, intense eyes. She walked with confidence and left many men in a lustful dream, but it was a twenty three year old Alastair that had caught her eye. Things had happened so quickly after that. They had flirted. They had courted. They had married. Alastair had been so young at the time, he had been completely oblivious to the evils of his first wife. In retrospect, he knew he had been a naive fool. His first wife had been a vicious Venus fly trap who was slowly baiting her jaws. Alastair had fallen for her every trick. He had become completely enamoured by her. This had proved to be his undoing.</i><br />
****<br />
"I still don't understand. Please come inside and let's talk about this." Lucy urged.<br />
<br />
Alastair and his wife lived in an English country house in the middle of nowhere. They had been living there for long over ten years. The pair walked into their home and into the kitchen. Lucy picked up two mugs and turned on the kettle.<br />
<br />
"Please explain to me why you have to do this. I need to understand."<br />
<br />
Alastair affectionately stroked his wife's hair. "It's complicated and messy."<br />
<br />
"Tell me about this first wife of yours. Why have I never heard of her?"<br />
<br />
"You never ask for anything Lucy; you're a complete giver and that's why I fell in love with you. Simone wasn't like that at all."<br />
<br />
"I understand, but why am I only hearing about this now?"<br />
<br />
"I'm not proud of what I did to her or of what she did to me. I've never wanted to talk about it before."<br />
****<br />
<i>Alastair had been with his first wife for two years, but it had already turned into a loveless marriage.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Simone, honey, could you take the car to be serviced?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"No, I have to do the paperwork." Simone had rarely used pet names and when she had, it was out of malice or manipulation, rather than affection.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Simone, sweetheart, I'm going to be late home from work, could you pick up some dinner?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"If you're coming home late, then you can pick it up yourself."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Even though Simone had never performed any favours for her husband, she had been never hesitant about asking them.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Alastair, can you pick up my dry cleaning?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Of course, honey." </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Can you buy some champagne for a work thing? I'll pay you back."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Certainly, sweetheart."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I'm sorry to ask you this, but I'm going to dinner with some friends. Can I have some money to pay for it?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Yeah sure."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Really? It's going to be very expensive." Even though, Simone was trying to sound very apologetic, she kept fluttering her long eye lashes and speaking in a sickening sweet tone. Alastair remembered looking straight into his first wife's eyes.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I'll do anything for you."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Aww, well, aren't just a complete sweetheart? So, I'm going to need about fifty pounds for dinner."</i><br />
****<br />
The sun was slowly rising over Alastair's home. Lucy was staring at her husband, slack-jawed.<br />
<br />
"Wow, you must have really loved her. She sounds like a manipulative...you've never been that flexible with me."<br />
<br />
"I know that it's important to show control and authority now."<br />
<br />
"Did you not know she was taking advantage of you?" Now that they were both awake, Lucy was toasting some bread in a subtle gesture to convince her husband to stay at home. As Alastair was considering his wife's question, he self-consciously rubbed the face of his analogue watch. "Love blinded me."<br />
<br />
Lucy was now furiously scraping some butter across a piece of toast. <br />
<br />
"What happened afterwards?"<br />
<br />
"It just deteriorated. Everything fell apart."<br />
****<br />
<i><i>As Alastair had been swinging his 5 iron, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. The movement distracted him and it was a poor shot. The ball stopped rolling a few feet short of the hole. Alastair's golfing buddy, Edward, frowned at his friend.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"You're off-form today. That should have gone straight in." </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Simone just texted me. She wants me to pick her up after work."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Are you?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Of course I am."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Simone has got you whipped." Edward remarked. The game of golf had been completely forgotten about.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"No she hasn't. We're married. We love each other."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I'm sorry to have to say this, but she is taking complete advantage of you. How much money has she "borrowed" from you? Has she paid any of it back?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"She will. I know she will." </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"How long have you been with Simone? Three years now? And in that time, she hasn't done any good for you."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Why are you telling me this now?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I've seen what Simone has become. I'm telling you this as a friend, just be careful with her." </i><br />
****<br />
Lucy smiled sadly. "I'm guessing you didn't listen to him."<br />
<br />
"Edward was my friend and I knew he was just looking out for me, but I couldn't believe him."<br />
<br />
The pair were alone in their house; they didn't have any pets or children. A crow cawing broke the early morning silence.<br />
<br />
"I still don't understand why you feel the need to leave home. What had Edward noticed in Simone that was so bad?"<br />
****<br />
<i>"Alastair, honey, I want to talk to you." Simone beckoned. She was sitting by the kitchen table.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Alastair had noticed the use of the pet name and knew that his wife wanted something, but he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. He walked over to Simone, but didn't sit down. He wanted to stay standing, to give the impression that he was in control. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"What is it?" He asked.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Alastair, sweetheart, I think instead of having two separate bank accounts, we should have a joint account."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Why? So you can steal more of my money?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Simone had feigned a look of pure innocence, but her eyes were darting around, searching for an escape route. "No! Of course not! I just think it'll be more convenient and we're married too. It's the right thing to do."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"No. You want to do it, so you can steal more of my money." </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Simone had suddenly shot out of her chair and was staring her husband straight in the face. She started speaking in an icy tone. "More? I have never stolen a penny of your money."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Really? What about the ridiculous amount of money you've "borrowed" from me, but never paid back?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Simone tried to subtly soften the tone of her voice. "I told you, I will pay you back. I would never steal from you. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Except steal all my money."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"I thought there was a time when you would do anything for me?" Simone had given up on trying to sound apologetic and had let the ice creep back into her voice.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"Just shut it, Simone. Shut up!" Before Alastair was aware of what happened, he had slapped his first wife, the woman he loved, around the face. Simone looked on in a shocked horror, before storming out of the house.</i><br />
****<br />
Lucy's hands had flown to her mouth. "You hit her? That's not like you at all. I can't believe it."<br />
<br />
Alastair sighed and sank lower in his chair. "I never meant to hit her. I was so angry, so mad."<br />
<br />
"I don't know what to say. I would like to think that you had a good reason for it, but I'm not really sure."<br />
<br />
"This is why I need to leave home. I've been dwelling on this for so long. Maybe I was in the wrong. Maybe I was in the right." Alastair stood up and walked to the door. Sunrise had just finished and a car roared past the country house on the black tarmac road.<br />
<br />
"Wait! There has to be more. That can't be everything. What happened between you and Simone?" Lucy urged.<br />
<br />
Alastair paused at the front door. "We only stayed together for a few more weeks. At one time, it seemed like she had forgiven me and we were going to be alright, but then I lost my job and that was when she left me."<br />
<br />
"Simone left you because you lost your job?" Lucy questioned in disbelief.<br />
<br />
"Well hitting her didn't help things either, but that wasn't everything. I don't know how, but she got into my bank account and stole a considerable amount of my savings."<br />
<br />
"Are you saying she's a gold digger?"<br />
<br />
"Yes. I think that was her plan all along. Me becoming redundant and slapping her were just catalysts."<br />
<br />
Lucy walked over and tightly clasped her husband. "Was she ever caught?"<br />
<br />
"No. She's still out there."<br />
<br />
"Wow. Maybe you were in the right."<br />
<br />
"Was I? Was I really?" Alastair reluctantly broke free of his wife's arms.<br />
<br />
"One more question. Do you still love her?"<br />
<br />
"Love..." Alastair began and then stopped. He took one last look at Lucy, before taking a deep breath and a first step onto the black tarmac road, which stretched endlessly onto the horizon.<br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
This was something else I wrote for my writer's group, when we were studying the device of flashbacks. I was given two prompt cards to serve as inspiration for this, a long winding road and a picture of a posh, fancy woman. I'm not sure how well I captured the flashbacks. I tried writing the flashbacks in past perfect tense, to differentiate them from the main story. I suppose this is more of a character drama than anything. You can decide for yourselves whether Alastair still loves Simone. James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-3735199023983433182016-11-07T14:18:00.000-08:002016-11-07T14:18:56.753-08:00Lip RingPeople who saw John Foster, described him as a punk. He had long brown hair down to his neck and had piercings, in his nose, eyebrows and lips. For college he had to remove the majority of them, which left a multitude of minute holes in his skin. On his right shoulder was a tattoo of a screaming skull. Outside of college, people thought he looked very aggressive and unapproachable. Similar to any teenager, he loved listening to music and whenever he got the opportunity, he would plug in his earphones and scream in melody, with one of his favourite hard rock or death metal bands. His obsession with this genre of music led to many people thinking he was very hostile and peculiar. However, he had a caring and supportive personality. He had a very small circle of friends, who he enjoyed socialising with, but not even they knew his darkest secret. <br />
****<br />
It was a Tuesday afternoon and John was in his history classes. He was finding it difficult to concentrate; not because he found the birth of Communism boring, but because he was distracted by Rudy O'Connor. John had only been going to college for two months, but he had always watched Rudy from afar. Perhaps he should try and approach him. John packed up his things and was about to walk over to the empty seat besides Rudy, but he hesitated and sat back down again. John sighed and nervously pulled on his lip ring-one of the few piercings he was allowed to wear. What was he so afraid of? Rudy was just a boy.<br />
****<br />
John had finished college and was with his two best friends, Abbie and Brian, in his bedroom. On the walls were posters of some of his favourite rock and metal bands, such as Asking Alexandria, Deep Purple and Avenged Sevenfold. Hanging in his wardrobe were band shirts, he had bought from all of the concerts and gigs, he had attended. John and his friends were sitting on his bed. Abbie was constantly dying her hair different colours and today it was bubblegum blue. As soon as he had gotten home, John had reinserted all of his piercings and now there were pieces of metal in various positions, across his face. It looked like a bizarre mixture of flesh and metal. He didn't want his parents to hear their conversation, so he reached to his Ipod station and played Bullet for my Valentine, one of his favourite heavy metal bands, at full blast.<br />
<br />
"I have something to tell you. Something I have been keeping secret for a long time."<br />
<br />
"Oh my god! You're pregnant?!" Brian joked. He was a closely shaven skinhead with a lot of spots.<br />
<br />
"No I'm not, but you're close."<br />
<br />
Brian suddenly looked very confused. "Ummm....you're going on an epic quest to find your long lost brother?" He pondered.<br />
<br />
Abbie rolled her eyes and slapped Brian across the head. "What is it, John?" She asked.<br />
<br />
"I'm gay." John nervously tugged on a small hoop in his ear.<br />
<br />
Upon revealing this secret, there was a reflective silence. <br />
<br />
Abbie scratched her head. "I kind of figured that," seeing her friend's perplexed faces, she decided to elaborate, "I'm a girl. I can tell when a guy is checking me or another girl out and I have never seen John look at a girl in that way before."<br />
<br />
"You can tell when a guy does that?" Brian asked, looking like a little kid who had just been caught stealing cookies.<br />
<br />
"Well you guys are never exactly subtle, when you do it."<br />
<br />
"Well aren't you the clever one?" Brian muttered.<br />
<br />
"Why do you sound surprised? I've always been clever." Abbie retorted.<br />
<br />
"Shut up guys! I like ...a boy."<br />
<br />
"John, I know, I'm gorgeous and brilliant, but we're friends; it wouldn't work out."<br />
<br />
Abbie groaned and slapped Brian again. "Who is it?" She asked.<br />
<br />
"It's Rudy O'Connor."<br />
<br />
"Oh, him. He's not what I would call classically good looking."<br />
<br />
"What do you mean by that?" John scratched his nose.<br />
<br />
"He's very scrawny and his hair in those awful dark, curls. And I've never liked his eyes; they're really hard, as if there's a layer of steel behind them."<br />
<br />
"That's not true," John protested, defensively, "his eyes aren't cold. They're deep. There's something behind them. In our history lessons, I try and to figure out what it is."<br />
<br />
"Good for you, man." Despite all of his jokes, Brian genuinely cared about his friend and respected all of his decisions.<br />
<br />
Abbie smiled at Brian's encouragement. "Ok John, you're in his history class, have you talked to him yet?"<br />
<br />
"I haven't. I'm so annoyed at myself. I need to."<br />
<br />
"Yes you do. You've got history tomorrow. Talk to him then and see what he's like. It's still early in the year."<br />
<br />
"Thanks guys. You really are both great friends."<br />
<br />
"Eugh, don't go all mushy on me. I might throw up."<br />
<br />
Abbie recognised the humour in his comment and went to playfully slap her friend, but she stopped her hand, just before it made contact, which made Brian jump.<br />
<br />
"Two for flinching."<br />
****<br />
It was Wednesday; the lesson before lunchtime and John was eagerly waiting for Rudy to sit down next to him. He was sitting in the chair next to Rudy, which had always remained empty. This had always puzzled John; even though Rudy seemed to be popular and well liked, by guys and girls, he was always on his own. Perhaps, he just preferred to be alone. Rudy walked into the room and nervously pulled on one of his curls. This made John grin like an idiot. The boy's crush frowned, as he saw a stranger in the seat next to him. He was intrigued though. Rudy walked over to John and sat down; he knew he should try and break the ice.<br />
<br />
"So...are you liking college so far?" Rudy was very interested, by this punk boy. <br />
<br />
"It's fun I suppose. The people are nice," John could see Rudy was on edge, which made him even cuter, "relax mate. Just because I look like this, doesn't mean I'm going to start moaning about my life or start screaming "death to the mainstream."<br />
<br />
Rudy chuckled. "It's not that. I'm just nervous around new people. Sorry...I haven't asked you your name yet."<br />
<br />
"John Foster at your service. I know you're Rudy O'Connor. I've heard about you."<br />
<br />
"Have you now? I haven't heard a thing about you."<br />
<br />
John's heart sank slightly, when he heard this, but he decided to stay strong. "We need to do something to change that. Why don't you come over to mine on Saturday? We can play some games and have some beers."<br />
<br />
"That sounds quite social. With how you look and everything, I would imagine you being the complete opposite."<br />
<br />
"That is a stereotype, my friend, and you shouldn't listen to those."<br />
<br />
There was a sudden slamming as the teacher brought a heavy text book, crashing down onto the table. "If you've finished talking, boys, then I would like to begin my lesson."<br />
****<br />
History had just finished and Rudy had already left for lunch, but not before exchanging numbers with John. The latter was now texting his friends. His heart was thrumming with excitement and his fingers were fluttering over the keypad. <br />
<br />
<i>OMG guys! This is so awesome. I've got Rudy's number and he's going to come to mine on Saturday. This is just great. We really hit it off. Oh wow!!!!</i><br />
****<br />
Saturday could not have come soon enough. John was trembling with a mixture of happiness and nervous anticipation. This was silly. He had only known Rudy for a couple of months. The doorbell rang and the sound echoed around in John's mind. He ran to open the door and when he saw what stood behind it, he almost died. Rudy was standing in a t-shirt and shorts, which left his beautifully tanned arms and legs exposed. There was a subtle watery quality about his eyes. <br />
<br />
"Can I come in?" He asked, awkwardly.<br />
<br />
John realised he had spent a few seconds staring at him and Rudy had seen every moment of it. The former nervously smiled and let his crush into his house. As Rudy climbed the stairs, he was thinking that he liked the look of John.<br />
****<br />
The rest of the day had been a complete blur. Rudy and John had laughed and drank. They had talked about trivia and bonded into the twilight hours. Then there was the kiss. John remembered every second of it. It was like a scene from a movie, which he played over and over again in slow motion. His stomach flipped upside down, every time he remembered their lips slowly dancing over each other, how on occasion, Rudy would trip over John's lip ring. Their tongues met, mingled, caressed, loved.<br />
<br />
"Dude, you sound like a teenage girl." Brian commented.<br />
<br />
"Shut up It's really sweet." Abbie retorted.<br />
<br />
"I'm just teasing. I'm happy for for you."<br />
<br />
"It's amazing. I just can't believe it. It's only been a day. Wow." John was rubbing his hands together and fiddling with his various piercings.<br />
<br />
"I can't believe it either. I didn't even think he knew who you were." Abbie remarked.<br />
<br />
"I guess we were both looking at each other from afar. When he said, he hadn't heard of me...he must have been lying. It doesn't matter how it happened...it just has."<br />
<br />
"How did you know he was gay, when you guys kissed?" Brian asked, whilst rubbing a spot.<br />
<br />
John shrugged. "I didn't...I just...the moment felt right and I decided to take a risk. Luckily it paid off...if it didn't, then I don't know what I'll do."<br />
<br />
"What are you going to do next?" Abbie asked. Today her hair was completely black with blonde highlights.<br />
<br />
"A date I suppose. Is it supposed to happen like this?" John scratched his ear and inclined his head to his girl friend.<br />
<br />
Abbie shrugged. "Love is confusing and unpredictable."<br />
<br />
Brian smiled slyly. "Aww, you're in love? That's so cute."<br />
****<br />
It was time for history and John was already in the lesson, waiting for Rudy, for his boyfriend? Were they boyfriends now?<br />
<br />
<i>No. Don't be silly John. We're not boyfriends yet.</i><br />
<br />
Rudy walked into the room and made eye contact with John. He smiled and approached his seat.<br />
<br />
<i>Oh my god! Here comes my boyfriend.</i> John was squirming with delight.<br />
<br />
"Oh Rudy. I can't stop thinking about last night."<br />
<br />
"Not so loud!" Rudy anxiously looked around.<br />
<br />
"Don't worry about it."<br />
<br />
Rudy relaxed. "It's been on my mind a lot too."<br />
<br />
"This is just crazy. I didn't even think you knew who I was."<br />
<br />
"I know quite a bit. I just was too scared to say anything."<br />
<br />
John smiled and breathed deeply. He was about to take another risk. "Now we're...you know. I was wondering whether you wanted to do something with me. Is this moving too fast? Oh...I don't know."<br />
<br />
Rudy chuckled affectionately. "It's fine, John. Don't worry about it. I'd love to. What were you thinking of?"<br />
<br />
"It's a surprise."<br />
<br />
"I'll tell you what's a surprise. John and Rudy are talking through my lesson again. Would you boys please be quiet?!" Their history teacher demanded.<br />
****<br />
"Am I allowed to see again?" Rudy had been blindfolded. He wasn't allowed to know where John was taking him.<br />
<br />
"Yes you are. I wanted it to be a surprise."<br />
<br />
Rudy untied the old school tie from his eyes and looked around. "Wow. This is just amazing. Wow." The college boy was standing in front of a most tranquil lake. It was completely peaceful and very quiet. The water reflected the dark silhouettes of the skeletal trees, which surrounded the lake banks. John took his boyfriend by the hand and started running off. "Come on. We haven't got much time. Twilight is coming in."<br />
<br />
The two boys started running down a dirt path, past fishermen who gave them strange looks before returning back to their quarries.<br />
<br />
"John...slow down." Rudy was breathing heavily and starting to slow down.<br />
<br />
"Come on. We're almost here."<br />
<br />
At the end of the dirt path was a little wooden boardwalk, which jutted out into the lake. It was used for fishing, but today it was empty.<br />
<br />
"John! Stop!"<br />
<br />
"We're here now." John walked over to the board walk and sat down, before being joined by Rudy.<br />
<br />
"I don't think I've run that fast since I was thirteen and I was running away from some homophobic dickheads. So what did you want to show me? What is this place?"<br />
<br />
John thought that Rudy had the softest pair of eyes, he had ever seen in any boy. Any enigma in them had melted away and had left behind two pools of caring, kind emotion.<br />
<br />
"Just wait and see. This is one of my favourite places to come and just wind down. This is where I come to be antisocial."<br />
<br />
"Again, I would never imagine this as being you. With how you look, I'd've thought you'd've brought me to a heavy metal gig or something."<br />
<br />
John chuckled and rubbed his tongue on his lip ring. "You really need to stop listening to those stereotypes. It's true that I enjoy all of that stuff. I mean, I do love the music and the image and what it stands for, but I'm not like that all the time. I just wanted to bring you here."<br />
<br />
"I'm glad you did. It's gorgeous out here."<br />
<br />
"And in the time, we've been talking, it's gotten even more so."<br />
<br />
John directed his boyfriend's attention to the lake and skyscape. Sunset had just started and an intense red light was reflecting of the wispy Cirrus clouds. It was more than that. The whole sky had caught fire. Yellows, oranges, ambers were dancing across the atmosphere. The whole spectacle was mirrored in the lake's indecisive surface. <br />
<br />
John grinned, when he saw Rudy's astounded face. "I was hoping that'd be your reaction."<br />
<br />
"This is beautiful and so romantic." The two boys made eye contact and there was a moment of pure clarity and understanding. The two lovers fell into a silence, as their lips talked for them. Their eyes closed. Their mouths opened. John became lost in his sanctuary. Rudy started to run a hand through his boyfriend's hair. The lip ring rubbed between their skin.<br />
<br />
*Author's notes*<br />
<br />
I know this is not what I usually write, but I wanted to get out of my comfort zone and a love story is about as far from my comfort zone as I can get. I hope you enjoy it. I did have a more comedic ending, but I decided to change it, as I thought this ending was more dramatic and more appropriate.James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-23196083485094541472016-10-31T15:46:00.000-07:002016-10-31T15:46:18.915-07:00Barbed Wire<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Carlos was flying through the water. His serrated skin was a metallic blue colour, with dark stripes running along his sides and back. His eyes were like periscopes; they could see every single colour in the deeply saturated sea, regardless of lighting conditions. His teeth were a work of art, which almost sparkled in the sapphire waters. Every single tooth looked like it had been carved out of the purest ivory and sharpened into something vicious. They had the power and speed of torpedoes. Carlos might as well have been an organic submarine. The tiniest scrap of meat fell out of the shark's jaw. It was quickly gobbled up by a pilot fish. Carlos was on the swim. <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The shark tracked the scent of blood to the shallow waters before a coastline. He was initially confused, when he saw the sea life, that had amassed there. However, it didn't take him long to understand. Humans were catching the marine animals for food and God knows what else. "Catching" was an understatement. The humans were over fishing. How they had managed to concentrate so much life in one place was beyond Carlos. The shark's spherical eyes rolled upwards in their sockets, as he saw a giant net falling over a school of fish, trapping them. By now the animals which were just out of reach of the woven cage, had taken notice of the shark and were now trying to escape from the ring of predators. Carlos ignored the swimming animals and latched onto the bottom of the net. It was only made of rope, which meant he could easily chew through it. The shark couldn't care less about helping the trapped fish; he was hungry and this was an easy dinner. Carlos began to smell blood, and as he turned his upper body, he saw a red liquid slowly rise from his tail-fins. The shark guessed that the humans must have thrown a harpoon, which had just grazed him. Carlos knew he had outstayed his welcome. Sensing electrical pulses in the water, the shark swam away He'd be back though. No human could keep him away from his prey.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Carlos was never given the chance to return. Whilst fishing, the humans had seen sharks, which must have been attracted by the smell of blood. If the animals were given the chance, then they would eat all of the fish available, which was why the hunters had to keep them away. There were men in boats on the outreaches of the shallow waters, on the lookout for predators. Carlos was unfortunate enough to swim right into them. He could see a shapeless grey object, he guessed it was a boat, sitting above the water and he knew that meant trouble. At first he thought it was a turtle or another shark, but then he realised they rarely swam in such shallow waters. Carlos growled in a confused anger, as something tore through his outer epidermis. The wound wasn't serious, but the shark knew that he was in danger and swam away. <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The shark felt a series of vibrations through the water and the shapeless, grey object started moving; Carlos knew that the humans were following him. They didn't want him near their food. The humans were moving quickly, but they were little match for the shark. More harpoons were launched into the water. A few drops of blood rose to the surface of the ocean. Red and blue danced together, before the two colours became one. Carlos was hurt, but he would carry on swimming. He was a tiger shark and they are hardy creatures.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Had the humans managed to trap him?<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Had he been netted like the brainless schools of Herring he had just been hunting?<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>No.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>He was smarter than that. He realised his silly mistake. Somehow the hunters had managed to overtake him and had laid a cargo net in wait. The net was only made of rope, which meant that Carlos could easily chew through it. His tail fin vigorously moved from side to side, which propelled him into the woven barrier. With one swift bite, he tore the net to pieces and carried on swimming. The shark looked forward and could just about see the shapeless grey object silently resting on the water's surface; it seemed to be just waiting there. For a mysterious reason, this instilled terror into Carlos. He was furious with himself. He shouldn't feel fear; he was the tiger of the sea. The humans were the true sharks; ferocious, relentless, merciless. Carlos was growing tired of this hunting game. He expected the boat to have returned back to shore, but it was still following him. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Why?<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Was this revenge?<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Was he just sport?<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>To avoid detection, Carlos swam down to the seabed. He was slowly approaching the boat, when something sent ripples through the water. Carlos thought he saw a shark, underneath the grey, shapeless object, but something was wrong. He wasn't detecting any electrical pulses and there was something more. The shark was slowly sinking, which was strange because sharks only sank when they were dead. As Carlos approached the pitiful creature, he noticed it was missing its dorsal fin. The humans must have cut it off and were now disposing of the evidence. Carlos knew he shouldn't waste food and latched onto the shark corpse before dragging it away. Something wrenched the beast back and shifting a four hundred kilo shark took some strength. Carlos growled, as a metal hook buried itself in his mouth. He desperately tried to escape, but the hook had embedded itself in the roof of his mouth. Carlos was disgusted with himself for falling for such a pathetic human trap. The dead shark must have been bait. He slowly felt himself rising, until he was only half submerged in the ocean. His gills were still underwater. The shark began to writhe in the crystal blue water, as above him, two humans began to admire their trophy.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>A bald headed man peered over the side of the boat and stared in awe. "Levi, look at this monster. We've caught a fully grown tiger shark."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Levi flicked the cigarette he had been smoking into the blue waters. "Quit your gawking, Terry. We need to think of a way of proving that we caught it."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Aren't we just going to kill it and take it back? That's what Mr. Craft told us to do. We can't anger him." Terry rubbed his eyebrow in confusion.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Don't be an idiot. Do you think I'm so stupid, as to anger a man like him. We just don't have the space on our boat for a fourteen foot long shark."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Below them, Carlos was thrashing in the ocean. "We could cut off its dorsal fin?" Terry suggested.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I don't want to dirty my hands with shark blood. That's disgusting. Remove three of its teeth." Levi ordered.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"You can't be serious. If I put my hands anywhere near its mouth, it'll bite my arm off."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Calm down. Its jaws are still locked into the shark we used as bait. It can't fully close its mouth. You can remove the teeth at the sides of its mouth. It can't bite you from there. I'm sure Mr. Craft will reward you greatly when he hears of your bravery. Try and find the loosest teeth. Sharks regularly shed their teeth. It shouldn't be too difficult."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I don't know Levi. I'm not sure."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Why are you just standing there? I gave you an order! Mr. Craft doesn't like waiting."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Terry hesitantly looked at the shark.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Are you scared? How do I explain to Mr. Craft that we couldn't get him a trophy, because you were too much of a pathetic, little coward?" Levi knew he was being very underhand, but he also knew that his colleague was extremely weak-minded.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Bring it within reach then. I'll get a knife." Terry hated being called a coward and was determined to prove his friend wrong.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Levi walked up to the boat's cabin and pressed a button. Slowly Carlos was cruelly dragged from his ocean habitat, into a toxic atmosphere, before being brought within reach of Terry who was lying in wait, holding a knife. Very carefully he reached into Carlos' mouth and rested the weapon at the base of a tooth. Terry nervously swallowed and began to lever away at it. This one fell away easily, unlike the next two which took some work. As Terry adjusted his stance, he lost his footing and sliced his arm. "I've got the three teeth. Let it go." Levi nodded and pressed a button, which sent Carlos plunging back into the ocean. Afterwards, he took out his mobile phone.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Hello, Mr Craft, sir. We did it. Terry removed three teeth from the tiger shark."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Good work. There'll be two cheques waiting for you when you return. They'll be delivered in white envelopes."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>With the hook still embedded in his mouth, Carlos swam away from the humans. The shark was aware that the hook would be stuck in his mouth for the rest of his life and it might affect his eating habits, but he was just grateful to escape. Even though sharks are usually solitary animals, Carlos couldn't avoid sparing a thought for the creatures, which had been mutilated by Man. All of them had been cruelly dissected until they had become nothing more than memories, drifting through the sky. <br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
I guess you could argue this is a continuation of my poem Harpoon and an extension of my environmental writings. Not the best thing I've written.James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-26148726939809573402016-10-24T14:40:00.000-07:002016-10-24T14:40:51.102-07:00Tears of SilenceHer tears were gentle rain. Whenever she slipped and scraped her knee, I remember her soft cries. She was never one to scream and shout. She never made a sound, when she was taken away. The telephone rang, which slowly dragged me out of my thoughts. I hoped, prayed, this was good news.<br />
<br />
"Have you found her?" I asked, desperately. I didn't even know who was on the other end. It could have been the gas company for all I knew. Fortunately, it was the police.<br />
<br />
"I am very sorry, Mr Stokes, but we're going to have to discontinue the investigation to find your daughter. We can't commit any more resources. I'm sorry."<br />
<br />
I stayed silent, as I swallowed all of my emotion.<br />
<br />
"Paul? Is anybody there?"<br />
<br />
I raised the receiver to my shivering lips. "Can I come into the station, Sergeant Damos? Maybe there's something we missed?" The questions were tripping over my teeth.<br />
<br />
There was a sigh on the other end of the line. "Yeah ok. I'm not sure what good it will do."<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
I was sitting opposite Mark Damos. He was part of a group of police who had been searching for my daughter. He was a portly and clean shaven man with curly brown hair. He was also my best friend. Mark had been the most dedicated to finding my daughter, but now the year long investigation was coming to an end.<br />
<br />
The policeman shifted uncomfortably, before standing up and walking over to a filing cabinet. "I don't know why you came here, Paul."<br />
<br />
I shrugged. "I was hoping I could convince you to change your mind. Maybe there's something you've missed. We could have another look over the evidence."<br />
<br />
Sergeant Damos sighed. "All of the evidence points toward Chloe being kidnapped and murdered."<br />
<br />
"She can't be dead. She can't be. There has to be something else. Chloe was taken in the middle of a busy supermarket. What about the CCTV?" I knew that I was clutching at straws, but I couldn't, can't, give up hope.<br />
<br />
"You saw the footage for yourself. It's too pixelated," the policeman groaned, as he saw Paul's eyes drop, "I can't even begin to imagine how difficult this is for you. I'm sorry, but she's gone. You're going to have to accept that."<br />
<br />
"Mark! How you can say that?You were there at the birth. You heard the promise I made to Julie."<br />
<br />
Sergeant Damos uncomfortably spread his hands. "I wasn't allowed in the delivery room."<br />
<br />
"Before Julie...I promised her that I would never let any harm come to Chloe. I can't let her down now. I can't give up on her. She's my daughter! There has to be something! Can you help me? You have to be able to do something!"<br />
<br />
"I'm so sorry mate, but it's out of my hands. Don't put yourself through this. Don't do this to yourself. You should go. I'll give you a lift home, if you want."<br />
<br />
I thumped the desk in frustration and felt guilty when I saw Mark jump. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault. It's ok. I'll walk home"<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
As I stepped out of the police station, it started to rain. Perhaps I should have accepted Mark's offer after all. <i>Too late now. I've lost my chance.</i> I sighed. That wasn't the only thing I lost. I couldn't go home. There were too many memories. It had been bright sunshine, before I left for the police station, which meant, of course, I had left my anorak at home. I could feel the raindrops worming through my shaggy coat of brown hair. I turned for the high street. I was hoping to become lost in the busy Saturday crowd.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
My toe crossed the border, separating the damp concrete of the high street with the floor of the supermarket. The supermarket where Chloe had been stolen. The supermarket where my life had been ravaged. The super-I stamped my foot down to bring myself out of this frustrated rant. Everybody ignored me. This had changed. A month ago, I had received a patronising amount of support and pity. It didn't take <i>them </i>long to move on or forget. Even the oversized poster of Chloe, which the supermarket had installed, had been replaced with an enlarged photo of a ginger teenage girl.<br />
<br />
<i>What am I doing here?</i> I asked myself. I knew that I wasn't thinking straight. I knew that I was dredging up old memories. I knew that I was damaging myself. I knew...unwittingly I had walked into the tinned food aisle. This was where Chloe had been taken. <i>What am I doing here? </i>I asked myself, again. I picked up a can of creamed corn. I was going to make my little girl her favourite meal. Corn Fritters. I remember seeing her eyes light up, as I reached for the can. <i>I should've never turned my back. It only took a few seconds for my daughter to disappear out of my life. </i>One of the initial explanations was that Chloe had run away. I soon ruled this out though. She was only four years old and Mark knew how much she adored me. She would never do something like this. I couldn't believe how little evidence the police had. They couldn't find any witnesses or suspects. They described it as, "disappearing off the face of the Earth, without leaving a trace."<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
A little girl ran behind me, squealing with delight. I turned around and looked down at her. She seemed to be the same age as Chloe. The little girl looked so much like my daughter. The same wide brown eyes. The same brown pigtails. I was almost tempted to pick her up and hug her, until I came to my senses. <i>Of course, it isn't Chloe, you silly fool. </i>Before I did anything rash, I left the supermarket. As I stepped out of the building, I stared at the can of creamed corn I had just purchased. I was going to make Corn Fritters tonight, in honour of Chloe.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
As I pushed my front door open, I noticed a white envelope on the thatched mat. I picked it up and realised that there wasn't an address. There wasn't a stamp either. Whoever delivered this letter knew where I lived. I didn't have the energy to think about who sent it for the moment. I walked over to the answering machine and instinctively checked my messages. There was one from Mark. As I walked through to the kitchen, I listened to the recording. Until she vanished, me and Chloe had lived in a small flat. Since it was just the two of us, we had never needed a big house. There were a few beeps, before the message began.<br />
<br />
"Hi, Paul. I didn't call to offer my condolences. You already know how sorry I am. I called to tell you that the police has arranged a memorial service for Chloe in a couple of days. I hope you can make it, but I can understand if you want to stay at home. Do you want me to come over? I've also posted the details of Chloe's case through your letter box. I'm not sure what good it'll do, but I thought you might be interested. Call me back, mate." An address for the memorial service followed. I smiled at the efforts of my friend and rang him back. Unsurprisingly, the call went to voicemail, as well.<br />
<br />
"Hey Mark. Thanks for the support mate, and for sending over the details. Yeah, I'll be there. I appreciate the offer, but I'll just prefer to be alone. Thanks again, mate. I'll see you in a couple of days."<br />
<br />
I put down the phone and opened the envelope. Chloe's personal information had been typed up and printed out in a cold and cheerless way. Even though I knew the details off by heart, I read through them again, anyway.<br />
<br />
<i>Name: Chloe Stokes</i><br />
<br />
<i>Age: Four years old and 4 months.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Date of birth: 14/01/08</i><br />
<br />
<i>Place of birth: St. George's Hospital</i><br />
<br />
<i>Appearance: (See attached photo) </i>I shifted my attention to the photo of Chloe for her nursery school calendar. She looked so innocently naive. I smiled at her cute little dimple on her right cheek, before I read the rest of the report.<br />
<br />
<i>Siblings: None</i><br />
<br />
<i>Parents: Mother: Julie Stokes (deceased, aged 26) Father: Paul Stokes (30)</i> Julie had died in childbirth, leaving me to bring up Chloe.<br />
<br />
<i>Location of disappearance: Sainsbury's Supermarket in Ilford, Redbridge.</i><br />
<br />
<i>Details of circumstance: On the twentieth of May 2012, in Sainsbury's Supermarket in Ilford highstreet, Redbridge, Chloe Stokes disappeared. The CCTV footage has proved to be inconclusive and everybody present within the store at the relevant time, including the father, have been questioned, to little gain. Even though some fingerprints have been gathered from the child's cuddly toy, they have also proved to be inconclusive.</i><br />
<br />
Chloe took her toy dog with her everywhere. She was always clutching him, as if her life depended on it. When Chloe had been taken, Growlithe, this was the name that had appeared on the box, was all that had been left behind. This was how I knew my daughter had not run away. She would never leave behind her beloved canine. I read the rest of the report.<br />
<br />
<i>After a year's investigation, an index finger with the same DNA as Chloe Stokes has been discovered. We have to assume the child has been murdered and to conserve resources, this case is to be terminated.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
As I read the last word, a single teardrop fell onto the report, making the ink run down the paper, as if it were trying to escape from life. I knew how it felt.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
I had been lying on my sofa for hours examining four photos and writing a little speech. I still hadn't cooked dinner. The can of creamed corn lay by the cooker. I had been drowning in the pity and apologies and condolences and sentiments and sympathies and sensitivities of my friends and family, who offered to come over and comfort me. I politely declined all of them. I still needed some time alone. Of course, I was wondering about what happened to Chloe and where she was, as well as who took her, but the worst scenarios kept coming to mind. I decided it would be healthier to concentrate on our happiest memories together. Perhaps, I could speak about them at the memorial. The photos were of Chloe, me, and of course Growlithe, on her individual birthdays. Growing up.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
Everybody had their eyes on me. Why were they watching me? I wasn't even talking. Chloe's grandfather was giving a little eulogy. My head was pointing at the ground. I couldn't stomach the pitying glances, that my friends and family were offering me. After my father had finished, Sergeant Damos stood up and gave his eulogy. Chloe used to call him 'Uncle Mark.' Memories of my daughter were flooding my mind. Drowning my senses. Images of her mischievous grin crashed down in front of my eyes. Her innocent laughter was filling up my ears. I was mindlessly playing with Growlithe. I thought that I could leave him as an offering. It would be difficult to part with him, Chloe had always said it was a boy. In the days since my daughter had...I had slept with the toy. I clutched him close to my chest, just as Chloe did. Some people might have called this behaviour stupid or obsessive, but it got me through the lonely nights. Due to my mental lapses, I only heard a few words of Mark's speech.<br />
<br />
"A woman...brilliant...she...adorable...... was...thoughts...Paul Stokes. Coming up, buddy?"<br />
<br />
My head snapped up, as I realised it was my turn to speak.<br />
<br />
"Don't worry, mate. You'll be fine." Sergeant Damos comforted. I smiled my gratitude, as I staggered to my feet and stumbled over to the podium. I was so nervous. An earthquake had sent tremors rippling throughout my body. Hesitantly, I swallowed and looked over the crowd of thirty people. On one side were my relatives and on the other were Julie's. All of them were dressed in black. Why? This wasn't her funeral. It was her memorial. Everyone was patiently waiting for me to speak. Nervously, I undid my top button. It felt like my throat had been lined with cardboard. "I...Chloe...we." The words were tumbling out of my mouth. A single teardrop fell onto my prompt cards. Tears of silence. Chloe never made any noise when she cried. The cardboard had turned into sandpaper. Scraping my throat. "Chl...I'm sorry." Mark came up behind me and put a comforting arm around my shoulders. He guided me back to my seat and signalled to the Vicar to make the final proceedings. I took a photo out of my pocket and rested it on Growlithe. Again, I had become lost in thought. After the service my parents and a few of my friends tried to console me. As I had told him to, Mark politely swatted them away. Instead, my parents decided to lay some flowers on Chloe's memorial stone. Afterwards, they stood to one side and spoke to Julie's mum and dad. Mark stayed by me, until the crowd had dispersed, which was when I asked him to leave me alone. I knelt by Chloe's grave... no not grave. This was <i>not </i>her funeral. I laid down Growlithe, as well as a photo of me and Chloe on her fourth birthday. Afterwards I stood up and walked off from the funeral, no, not funeral, memorial. <i>Oh who was I kidding? This is Chloe's funeral. She's dead and she's never going to come back. </i>I sighed and resisting the urge to look back, I carried on walking to lose myself in another crowd. <br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
I wrote this for a contest which was about people disappearing and I wanted to explore the effect on the people left behind. This is an idea that I've had knocking around for a while and I've finally done something with it.James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-53021404788296974962016-10-17T14:07:00.000-07:002016-10-17T14:07:45.106-07:00Empty CityWe had been ignored to freeze in a metallic hell. There were four of us in the container. Me, two girls and another boy. The two girls were speaking in hushed whispers, while the boy was huddled up in a corner. Through air holes, his grimy face was illuminated by the moonlight. I was exploring our cage. My fingers were slowly marching over the ribbed metalwork. We were all complete strangers. Within the night, we had been stolen from our dreams and transported here. Using the distorted surface to guide me, I walked to what I hoped was the front of the container. I carried on moving, until I felt pain partying across my fingertips. I groaned and withdrew my hand. A hurricane of warm air stormed down from my mouth to the edge of my fingers. One of the girls took notice of me.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"What have you done?" She asked. It sounded, as if she were addressing a four year old, who had just banged his head. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I think I've just scraped my fingerprints off." I said, gesturing to the wall.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The girl sighed. "It can't be that serious. Let's take a look," for a few seconds she squinted in the darkness, "I can't see anything in this light. Come over to the air holes." Carefully me and the girl walked over to the miniature portholes, while the other girl anxiously looked on and the other boy was still crouching in the corner. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Let's see," the girl prompted, and I extended my hand, "what's your name?" She asked, more out of awkwardness than anything.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Andrew Stone."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I'm Isabella Hamilton." The girl replied.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I'll offer to shake your hand, but you're already holding it."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The other boy suddenly stood up, which drew my attention away from the girl. As the boy was no longer hunched over, I could see how tall he really was. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"There's someone outside. It sounds like they're unlocking the door." The boy replied, in a surprisingly deep and coarse voice. Up until now, he had remained quiet and introverted. However, in a second he had transformed into a confident leader. What had motivated this transition remained a mystery to me. Even though, the door was not visible in the darkness, we trusted our ears and walked in the direction of the sound of keys being throttled in a lock. As the door opened, we expected to take sight of our captor. Instead, we were met with open air. Without hesitation, the other boy stepped out of our cage. He almost disappeared from sight, as the whole area exploded in an ocean of glare.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As we adapted to the blinding light, we saw a lorry resting with its open eyes shooting out dazzling electricity. Standing dominantly in front of the vehicle was a bald man.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Who do you think he is?" The other boy asked to Isabella.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Benjamin Lockhaven! Don't be rude. Address any questions you have to me."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Nervously, I turned around and noticed that the other girl was hanging back inside the container.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"More importantly, how do you know my name?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"My name is Gatiss and I am part of an organisation, which has had dealings with all of your parents."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"That's an American accent. Where are we?" I remarked. I was getting a little jealous that Benjamin had taken control.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"We're in Chicago. Take a look round."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We slowly walked away from the container and examined our surroundings. Looking up, I noticed that we were in a ruined building, where the roof had been replaced with a giant hole. The other girl looked down at her feet and she noticed that we were standing in a sea of shingle. Benjamin took a few steps to the left, when he came to a riverside. Isabella walked forward and within the light, I could see her racing blue eyes. She was trying to control them, in an attempt to mask her fear.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Why are we here?" She asked. Gatiss walked towards the teenagers. As he talked I could see that his front teeth were cracked. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"All of your parents have cheated us. We'e going to punish them." He paused. For a few seconds, the only sound we heard was the wind running over the skin of the Chicago river.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"We have created an elaborate simulation of the city of Chicago. In all due time, all four of you shall be distributed throughout the city. We're hoping that your parents will pay up, when they see their little babies killing each other." The American continued.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"What are you talking about?" The other girl squeaked up. She had a very quiet and mouse like voice.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I was just getting to that, Audrienna. Hopefully, it won't come to that level. We also have safety protocols in place. You won't be in any danger. What's going to happen is all four of you will be taken to a corner of the simulation. I will be waiting in the middle of the city. Whoever finds me first wins."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Wins what?" Isabella probed. The wind gently blew through her brunette locks.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Your freedom. If you're the first one to find me, then you and your parents will be released and we'll forget about any outstanding debts."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"What about the losers?" Audrienna asked.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Can I call you Audrey? You don't need to worry about the losers. You just have to concentrate on finding me."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I turned around despairingly and faced the riverside. Across the surface of the water, I could see lights twinkling on skyscraper upon skyscraper. The whole city was illuminated, like a bizarre Christmas tree made out of sand and stone.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"This simulation is massive. It could take weeks to find you."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Don't be so pessimistic, Andrew. Throughout the simulation we've placed helpful hints. The whole city is wired up with CCTV, as well, so your parents can watch over you."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Benjamin decisively stepped forward. "Why should we do anything you want?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"We're holding your parents hostage and they'll be punished if you disobey us. Capisce?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"It doesn't look like we have a choice." Benjamin replied, resignedly. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"That's a good boy. You'll be taken to your starting positions, now. Let the race begin."<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Audrey had been dropped in the Northwest corner of the simulation. During the journey, Gatiss had told her that she would be completely alone. She had to make it to the centre of the city by herself. Audrey had been left in the decayed area of the simulation. Shattered blades of glass littered the floor like broken teeth. The moonlight desaturated the area. The girl carefully stepped through the ruined architecture. Gatiss had given all four teenagers: maps of the simulation, torches and first aid kits. Something ran past behind Audrey. The wind from...whatever it was...rattled the flaking shards of metal. The girl nervously turned around.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Who's there? Andrew? Ben?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Silence answered her.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Audrey's hand snapped down to her belt and withdrew a seven inch hunting knife, Gatiss had given her for protection. The moon reflected off the serrated blade. The girl was struggling to remain calm. She knew that she was being followed. She couldn't hear what it was, but she knew it was there. A splashing of water brought the thirteen year old out of her thoughts. Looking down, she saw that her leather boot had sunk into a puddle. Examining the area in front of her, she noticed that the paving stones were cracked and covered in slime, which grotesquely glistened in the moonlight. Something slammed behind her. Audrey started to run, as fear sprinted throughout her veins. The moonlight projected two moving shadows. One of them was the running teenager, but what was the other? The shadow jumped in front of the girl, but it was still shrouded in darkness.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"What are you?" She asked.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It jumped again. Audrey guessed that Gatiss had set traps within the simulation. Something dropped out of the sky. The girl's attacker was prowling across the ruined structures of the rotting buildings. Audrey decided to carry on walking. If she could only reach Gatiss, then she might be able to escape. The American had taken her mobile phone, which completely isolated her. Audrey had been so lost in thought, that she hadn't noticed how silent her environment had become. Out of panic, the girl lashed out behind her, whipping the knife around. The only thing she wounded was the quiet air. There was a heavy thudding, as two heavy footsteps crashed down behind the girl. Before the adolescent could react, something grabbed onto her legs and pulled her over. The knife slipped out of her hands. As Audrey was dragged away, her fingernails broke. <br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I thought I heard somebody screaming, but I couldn't be sure. Examining the map, I was positive that I was getting closer to Gatiss. The American had told me, that there were other people within the simulation, but we were not allowed to have any contact with them. Whirring up above me was a security camera. I didn't like the idea of being watched, so I scavenged for a heavy rock and with a well aimed throw, I obliterated the camera. Just like the others, I had been given a knife and I was gripping it tightly in one hand. Out of nowhere a Rottweiler charged up to me and clamped down on my leg. Thinking quickly and rashly, with all of my strength I rammed the knife down onto the dog's head. The blade was brought down with such force, that it snapped within the animal's skull. As the dog whimpered and dropped to the ground, I told myself that this was only self-defence. I took out my first-aid kit and dabbed the wound with some disinfectant. I gritted my teeth through the burning. Afterwards, I carefully bandaged the wound. I sighed, as I realised that I had been left without a weapon. Hopefully this wouldn't matter. I opened the map again and determined that the fastest way to reach Gatiss was to walk around the perimeter of the simulation, to the Northwest corner where Audrey had been left. I folded the map away and dodging a drop of stagnant water, I started to limp.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Something shone in the night. I moved towards the reflecting object and realised it was a knife. Could this have been Audrey's? I hobbled around the area, but the thirteen year old wasn't in sight. I decided to claim the knife as my own. Finders-keepers. There didn't seem to be any cameras around either, so why did it feel like something was watching me?<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Andrew!" Something called out behind me. I tried to ignore it. If I started panicking, then I would make mistakes. Perhaps this was what happened to Audrey. I couldn't worry about her. I had to protect myself. A stone gently rocked behind me.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Andrew!" Something whispered in front of me. As the wind rocketed broken windows, a shard of glass free-fell through the air and shattered, as it hit the ground.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Andrew Stone!" A shadow howled my name from the left of me. Cautiously, I took hold of my knife. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Andrew Stone!" The voice shouted my name, down from the glittering sky. Unwittingly, I had walked out of the Northwest corner of the simulation, but something was still following me. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Mr. Stone." The voice had become stereo. I could no longer tell where it was coming from.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Abandoning my common sense, I began to limp away. As my speed increased, the voice started to accelerate. It felt like I was being circled. I knew that I was panicking and I brought myself to a stop. The voice kept screaming though. It was getting louder and louder, penetrating my skull. Something broke through the whirring noise and tapped my shoulder. Within my blind paranoia, I whipped around and plunged my knife into the person behind me. Blood slowly trickled out of Isabella Hamilton's mouth. I lowered the seventeen year old to the ground and stood over her. I briefly wondered, why my parents hadn't given in. Paid up! Got me the hell out of here. Before I left the girl, I closed her eyes, knowing that it wouldn't be long before she opened them again.<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Gatiss smiled, as he watched Andrew's actions. "Two down. Two to go."<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Benjamin had been left in the greener area of the city. His parents owed the least money, so he was placed the closest to Gatiss. This was fortunate for the blond seventeen year old. The batteries in his torch were dying and he couldn't read the map. If he wanted to reach Gatiss then all he had to do was stay on the right road. At the end of the street, Benjamin thought he could see the American standing by a lorry. He inhaled and started to walk. The breath came out as a gasp, as Benjamin was pulled to one side.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Andrew! How did you get here? What happened to your leg?" The seventeen year old asked.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I only made it here, through luck." I replied. As soon as I saw the boy, I pulled him into a side alleyway.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Do you know where the girls are?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"I haven't seen Isabella and I'm not sure what happened to Audrey. I found her knife." I held up the blade, as evidence.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Benjamin's green eyes widened. "Why is there blood on it?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Gatiss has set us up to fail. There's something here in this simulation. It could've taken Audrey."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Benjamin nervously scratched his ear. "I did hear a girl screaming earlier. What do we do?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"We force Gatiss to end this simulation and free our parents."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Can we do that?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"You heard Gatiss. Only one of us gets out of here. Who knows what'll happen to the other?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Benjamin nodded. "You're right. Let's move."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I smiled to myself. I was glad that the boy's leadership qualities had taken over. He was walking with his back to me, assuming I was following him. He was moving quickly and I half ran, half hobbled to catch up with him. I was careful to remain behind him, though. As the bald American with the broken teeth came into sight, I plunged my knife between Benjamin's shoulder blades. Without hesitation, I carried on walking towards Gatiss. He smiled, as I approached him.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Andrew Stone. You're the first one here." He announced, for no particular reason.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Where are the girls?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Audrey has been taken and you disposed of Isabella yourself."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I gritted my teeth. "That was an accident."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Unlike poor Benjamin. You stabbed him in the back. Quite literally."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. He'll survive."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Gatiss melodramatically raised his hand to his mouth. "Oh, did I say you weren't in any danger? I lied. There never were any safety protocols."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>As Gatiss revealed this information, I knew that he was vulnerable. In an act of young naivety, I attempted to punch him. He was expecting it. In one swift movement, he pushed my arm halfway up my back. <br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Let's not do anything rash. You've won this. You're free to leave." He released my arm and I stepped back a few paces, rubbing my elbow.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"Why didn't my parents give in and get me out of here?"<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"They did, long ago, but we thought it would be more entertaining to leave the simulation running."<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I spat out my hateful emotion. I had nothing left to say.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"There's no need to be so depressed, Andrew. You survived. You've beaten the simulation. You've won. Capisce?"<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>****<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Gatiss smiled, as he saw Andrew and his family, as well as the other parents, being escorted away from the city. All of them had paid up in the end. He briefly wondered what Andrew's parents would make of their murderous son, but this was none of his concern. The simulation had been an unqualified success. The American walked through the streets of his creation. He knelt besides Benjamin's body and withdrew the knife. Andrew's knife. Audrey's knife. Gatiss' knife. Finders-keepers.<br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
This was written for a prompt of a Hunger Gamesesque scenario where a bunch of characters are in a simulation and have to kill each other. Not the best thing I've written but I still like it.James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-28672898524596928962016-10-10T13:42:00.000-07:002016-10-10T13:42:40.768-07:00RemnantsIt was raining. No. Not rain. Something different. It wasn't water falling from the sky. It was rocks. Jim Fox ran a hand through his chestnut hair as he tried to figure out the enigma. Was it hail? Impossible. The sun was a golden inferno burning down on the screaming life below. It finally occurred to the fourteen year old boy what was happening. Meteorites. Usually, meteors would burn up in the Earth's atmosphere, long before they were a threat to humans. Not any more. The planet hadn't escaped this time and as a result, everyone would suffer. There was a variety of rumours soaring around. Christians called it the rapture come early. Realists called it a meteorite storm. Fanatics said that the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter had destabilised and now the fragments of rock were cascading, as a never ending waterfall, down onto the Earth's surface. Did it matter what the cause of this catastrophe was? Jim's brown eyes widened in a shocked fear, as rocks smashed into the planet's fragile skin, leaving broken limbs and shattered bones. He cursed himself for standing in the middle of destruction. Was he out of his mind? He had to run. Jim had to find somewhere to shelter from the storm. A sanctuary. If anywhere like that still existed.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
The military had been alerted to the oncoming threat, but they were too slow. Everything had happened too quickly. Missiles, torpedoes, projectiles were being blasted into the sky to desperately destroy the falling rocks. Occasionally a meteorite would crumble into oblivion, but the collapsing shards still wreaked havoc on the panicking humans below.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
The meteorite storm had begun, while Jim was in school. A fire bell rang out, drilling a monotonous noise into the quiet afternoon. Jim's English teacher frowned. "A fire drill wasn't scheduled for today. Class, move quickly and quietly to the assembly area. Keep calm and don't panic." Since Jim was the closest to the door, he led the way. As he was one of the first onto the playground, which served as the assembly area, he saw the event that caused the unexpected fire bell, first hand. As his schoolmates bled onto the tarmac, children were replaced with quivering balls of fear. Some of the younger classes had burst into tears, as teachers desperately tried to console them and keep order. A boy pointed up to sky, and as one, the school gasped. The deep breath before the plunge. A meteorite was headed straight for them. A burning white rock powered by the Earth’s magnetic pull. Panic gripped staff and pupil alike by the throat. The children started running. The head teacher desperately tried to regain control, but realised it was futile. Escape was the most important thing. Running was the only thing that mattered to Jim. He didn't spare a thought for his best friend. Anyone who got in his way, was viciously shoved to the ground. Whether they were infant, junior, adult. Jim paused. Looked round. A meteorite skidded into the concrete, sending bodies and shrapnel flying. Jim swallowed any of his remaining courage and ran to save his own skin. In retrospect, he sincerely regretted his actions, but he was so blindly afraid. He knew that helping anybody else would only slow him down. As cruel as it was, if he wanted to survive, then this was the attitude he had to adopt.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
Journalists were screaming out the news. The meteorite storm was causing an unprecedented number of natural disasters. As the rocks from space, fell into the world's oceans, monstrous tidal waves sucked the coastlines of the planet into oblivion. White hot fragments descended onto global forests. As one, the planet smelled the scent of burning wood. The fires weren't an isolated incident, the Amazon rainforest in South America, the Sagano Bamboo forest in Kyoto, the Daintree rainforest in Queensland, were slowly being incinerated. It didn't take long for the flames to spread to urban life. The winds picked up. Before long, fire storms dominated the city's skylines. Man, woman, child were instantly vaporised, as the heated air touched them. Every time a meteorite hit, another piece of the world slowly crumbled.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
The teenager knew he had to stay away from the main roads. They would be bursting to the brink with rioters, battling for the last supplies. His chances would be better, if he followed the back streets. Jim slowly walked along a quiet alley and came out in a road he had never been in before. Keeping his head down, he jogged along the old, cobbled street. He almost lost his footing, as he accidentally stepped into a small crater. Something caught the boy's eye and he ran towards it. As he approached the ruined building, he felt his heart rise. By sheer luck, he had discovered a corner shop, that hadn't been raided. As he stood back from it, he realised why. Through the splintered window, he saw that wooden beams and concrete walls had fallen on the shelves knocking them to the ground. This might have deterred the rioter, hoping to make a quick snatch and grab, but not Jim. He was skinny and that meant he was lithe. It might have been dangerous and stupid, but now was not the time to be afraid. If he wanted to survive, he had to do this. As Jim suspected, the door was wedged shut. Something must have fallen against it, making it impossible to open. However it shouldn't be too difficult to smash the window. Jim stood back and picked up a meteorite fragment before throwing it at the glass. There was a shattering, as the shards danced through the air, before hitting the concrete. Even though it was strictly prohibited, Jim took his bag with him, when he was evacuated from school. Knowing now, that he no longer had any use for his equipment and books, he threw them away and carefully climbed through the makeshift hole. <br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
Out of the corner of his eye, the teenager spotted something. He approached the counter and flinched, when he saw what lay behind it. It could've been the shop owner, splayed on the floor. It could've been the work experience kid. It could've been anybody. Jim didn't care. He stood back from the counter and took a few chocolate bars. The teenager dropped to his knees and tentatively browsed the shop floor. One of the shelves had toppled over, leaving enough space for the boy to scrounge underneath it. So he wouldn't put himself in any unnecessary danger, he extended one arm into the crook, the fallen shelves had left. After a few minutes of empty purchases, he struck gold. By luck Jim had grabbed onto a multipack of crisps. He put the food into his bag, along with the other random items, he’d picked up. Jim didn't know whether the shop's infrastructure had been weakened by the meteorite storm. The building could collapse at any time. He turned to leave, when he gasped, as two streaks of white lit up the darkness. The shopkeeper wasn't dead. He must've been wounded. "Help me..." He croaked. Jim groaned. He couldn't afford to care about anyone else. He grunted an apology, as he pulled open the door. "Don't leave me. Please help." The man behind the counter, screamed. Blinking back tears, Jim walked away from the man who would almost certainly die.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
The teenager viciously spat out his emotion. He had just left a man to die alone. What was he turning into? Jim looked at his watch and frowned. According to the timepiece, it was late evening, but it was still light out. As rubble trickled out of his hair, Jim understood. The meteorites burning up in the atmosphere, had cast an unnatural red glow over the city. Something grabbed his leg. Jim looked down and saw a blond haired man, close to death. He shook the bloody hand off and carried on walking. <br />
<br />
“Kill me!” The man called out. Jim ignored him and carried on walking. <br />
<br />
“Don’t leave me like this.” The man cried out. The teenager hesitated this time, but he carried on walking.<br />
<br />
“YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS! KILL ME!” The man screamed out. Jim could no longer overlook the man’s pleas. The teenager reluctantly walked back to the man who was now writhing in agony.<br />
<br />
“Why do you want to die so badly?” Jim asked.<br />
<br />
“No...body cares ab...out me. Nobody is com…ing for me. I'm in so much pain. I’m going to di…e any...way. I want…to go out quickly.” The man’s speech had started being broken up by deafening coughs. Jim was unsure of what to do. He had never been asked to perform euthanasia before. <br />
<br />
“What’s your name?” The teenager asked, awkwardly.<br />
<br />
“Tom.”<br />
<br />
“I'm Jim. Take some deep breaths and calm down. It'll all be over soon.”<br />
<br />
“D…on’t give me… that rub...bish. Just kill me!” Tom had started coughing up blood.<br />
<br />
Jim raised his hands. “You can't ask me to do that. I can't."<br />
<br />
“It won't...be long now. St...ay with...me!” Tom could barely speak now.<br />
<br />
"I will."<br />
<br />
“Don't leave me al...one.” Tom begged. <br />
<br />
Unsure of what to do Jim held one of the man's hands and clutched it tightly. After a few short seconds or it could have been mere minutes, Tom's body contracted as he went into a severe coughing fit, but thankfully he soon laid deathly still. Jim looked into the eyes of the man who had just died. A meteorite flying into a derelict corner shop, blasted Jim back into reality. Somehow the rubble had caught fire and the teenager heard the protests of rioting civilians.<br />
<br />
Jim stood up and carried on walking.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
The screaming had stopped. The suffering had stopped. The shouting had stopped. Had it all ended? Jim was sitting on a pile of rubble, like a king. His subjects lay dead around him. The world, as he knew it was over. Destroyed by the meteorite storm. Governments had collapsed. Societies had crumbled. Nature had been cremated. Jim hoped it would not take long to make order out of chaos. Whatever new society would be created, Jim would have to enter it alone. He had rejected anyone who had tried to help him. This was the attitude he wanted to adopt. Now he was paying the consequences. Fourteen years old and alone. Jim did the only thing he could do. He stood up and carried on walking.<br />
<br />
****<br />
<br />
Around the world, survivors huddled in groups. Waiting. In silence.<br />
<br />
*author's notes*<br />
<br />
Written for a contest about the end of the world-more specifically a meteorite hitting.James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-27210434571748782832016-10-03T13:33:00.000-07:002016-10-03T13:33:14.173-07:00Prayer Dear God,<br />
<br />
I dream bout her again. No. Not dream. More like nightmare. She screaming, as Pa beat her. Nightmare invade my mind. I whimper. Watch Pa batter her body. Burn behind my eyes. She bruise purple, like a rose. My mammy like a rose, towering above a pile of dirt. I dream about joining my mammy. I dream about climbing over thorns, join her in heaven.<br />
<br />
Same nightmare. Every night. I always try open my eye, but I never scape. I try scream, but can never scream in dream. Every time the nightmare happen, every time I fall sleep, my mind sink into darkness.<br />
<br />
See her blood, red as hell, splat the floor. Watching Pa beat my mammy, like watching a rabid animal tear through prey. Hear her screaming too, sound of fist hitting flesh. I try stop him, but he say it for her own good. He say, she a bad influence on me. Say she teach me woman skills and it not right. She don't realize her place and she need to learn.<br />
<br />
Finally awake. Pa never make his bed, but I always do. I do it, cos I know it make my mammy happy. Even in death, she my crutch. I try wake early to cook breakfast. I do it quietly. If Pa catch me cooking, he beat me. He say cooking Sofia's job. But she no cook. I can't tell her though. Not big enough yet. She beat me. I always try fight back, but she too strong. It hurt too much. I always got to crawl away and cry to myself. Whenever men round, I got to stay strong or it be my blood soaking into the floor.<br />
<br />
I own a jukejoint. It makes beaucous of money but aint what I wanna do. I don't belong here. This ain’t my kinda place. My mammy always talk about be respectful to womens. My mammy tell me to look after woman. Can't do that here. Woman just for show, like caged animals at the zoo. Woman not people here. They made to drink, sing, look pretty. My mammy always told me your wife is the most 'portant thing in the world. So treat her like royalty. I treat Sofia like a queen, so why she treat me like joker. I wanna be king. My mammy tell me I can be king and I believe her. Before my mammy die, Pa treat her like trash. I don't wanna be like the men at the club. I wanna be someone different. If I wanna win Sofia back, I needta change. I needta be different. I needta be a man she aint never seen before.<br />
<br />
I watch other mens enjoy themselves. They drink, like dogs at their bowls. They try get me to join in. If I don't say yes, I get kicked out. It might be my bar, but I got no power here. If mens don't waste money on drink, it be on games. Cards. Chips. Juss thrown across the table. Men get so involved, they almost gamble away they woman. My mammy never go places, like this. Pa never allow her. She stuck at home. Her spirit slowly trickle away. No surprise she cheat. She left on her own. All day. Nothing to do. No love. No respect. Nothing to stay for. I sneak away from the joint. I don't belong here. Not my place.<br />
<br />
I go back to the ranch, where Celie working. No. Not working. Slaving. Dying on her feet. I watch her struggle with the water. She musta carry it all the way from the river. Walking all that way while the sun burn down. She musta sweat a waterfall. She stumble an I see sweat pour down her face, like it trying to run away. She look at me. Her eyes be begging for help. If my mammy were here, she'd tell me go help her. But not Pa. To hell with him, I say. He not the boss of me. I go help Celie. I know it make mammy proud. As me and Celie stumble into the house, we walk past Pa, who sit on the porch. I specs him to shout. To be angry. But he stay quiet. Just sit there. He different somehow.<br />
<br />
It be Sunday. Day of God. Day of peace. Me and Pa walk to church. A woman block our way. Pa shove past her like she invisible. Nothing compared to the opposite sidewalk. What was happening? All I sees is a man shoving a woman to the ground. The woman be cowering, cawing like my mammy was. The man lose control. Go wild. Nobody stop him. This be normal. This be right. Tell her she need to learn her place. I turn away. Feel sick. It feel wrong in my head. So why they see it as right?<br />
<br />
I and Pa walk into church. Kneel down. Say our prayers.<br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
This is the fifth draft of my A-Level coursework based on the novel The Colour Purple. Any and all SPAG mistakes are completely intentional, as I was trying to recreate the voice of a deep south uneducated african american in the 30s. I suppose this could be classed as fanfiction. A very big theme in this book is patriarchy and sexism. The protagonist's mother was killed by his father for being unfaithful. However before the protagonist's mother died, she taught him to be respectful to women and he is trying to honour her wishes. James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-64034350796599835552016-09-26T14:09:00.000-07:002016-12-14T03:17:33.418-08:00Golden InfernoCars roared below the narrow ledge Niall McCormack was standing upon. Planes growled above him. It was all endless noise for the forty year old sales executive. For five years he had worked on the twenty-second floor of the Exeter building-a tower block of offices in central London. The sandy haired Bristollian looked across the city he called home. A billion lights glimmered in the darkness; some isolated, like a lonely lighthouse. Some were huddled together in groups for warmth. For protection. This no longer mattered. In a few minutes it would be all over for Niall. Soon he would jump. He turned his head and looked through the window, behind him. Orange fire reflected in his eyes. <br />
<br />
Who knew where the blaze had broken out? Who knew how it had exploded out of control? Who knew if anybody was coming to help him? Fire engines, ambulances, police officers had all been called out. However, they were travelling across London in rush hour. For now Niall was all by himself. Surrounded by flame and bodies.<br />
<br />
He knew it would be a shame to end everything, in this way. His life hadn't been impressive or glamorous, but it belonged to him. He thought of his wife: his gorgeous Rose waiting at home, for her husband. Praying. In silence. Niall hoped she wasn't watching the TV. He didn't want her to see his splattered remains across the cold, concrete ground. He hoped that the cameras wouldn't broadcast his blood and bones scattered across the pavement below.<br />
<br />
Something crackled behind Niall and he immediately swung his head round. He couldn't see anything. It must have been his imagination. The room had completely filled with an impenetrable cloud of smoke, as black as hell. Was there anybody still alive in there? Could someone be struggling to breathe?<br />
<br />
Impossible. <br />
<br />
If anyone was still there, they would have suffocated long ago. He was the last one left. Niall remembered when everybody else made their decisions. Who knew how long ago this was? Up on this window ledge, a second lasted as long as an eternity. Some of Niall's colleagues decided that the only way to escape this chaos was to jump. One by one, each office worker stepped off the window ledge to meet their sudden, sharp deaths. <br />
<br />
Were they brave?<br />
<br />
Niall knew this to be true. They possessed a great deal more courage than he could ever hope to muster.<br />
<br />
Were they stupid?<br />
<br />
No.<br />
<br />
The stupid were the ones who believed that somebody was coming to rescue them. They were the ones who stayed behind. They were the ones who died slowly. Painfully. Agonisingly. He couldn't stay there any longer. Niall gently lifted one foot off the ledge into the empty air. He was about to shift all of his weight forward, when his mobile phone screamed into life.<br />
<br />
The glaring ringtone rang out in the quiet darkness. It suddenly reminded Niall of where he was and what he was about to do. He instinctively pulled his body away from the desolate void before him and against the brick wall behind him. He flinched, when he felt how searingly hot the wall had become. Niall shivered, as the fire's yellow tongue licked his back. His phone was still chiming incessantly away. Niall held it up to his ear and pressed the answer button. <br />
<br />
"Oh my gosh! Niall! You're alive. I don't believe it!" Screamed the hysterical voice of Niall's wife: Rose.<br />
<br />
"I'm the last one left, sweetheart. I don't have much time. I'm sorry."<br />
<br />
Rose tried to make sense of her husband's words. With a gasp, she realised what he was about to do.<br />
<br />
"Don't do it, Niall. Please, don't jump! Don't leave me. Stay where you are. The fire brigade are only two floors beneath you. They'll keep you safe. You'll be fine."<br />
<br />
"They're too late. Too late to save me." The smoke had started to seep through the window and Niall was finding it difficult to breathe. He didn't have time for an emotional good-bye.<br />
<br />
"Please don't do it. Wait a little longer."<br />
<br />
"I'm sorry. Don't look, Rose...<br />
<br />
Don't look."<br />
<br />
With that last word, Niall disconnected the call and slipped the mobile into his shirt pocket. He took one final glance at the office, he had worked in for the past five years. It was now completely hidden, behind a barrier of thick, toxic smoke. <br />
<br />
Summoning the last of his courage, Niall took a deep breath and followed in the footsteps of his courageous colleagues before him.<br />
<br />
*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
Somewhat inspired from 9/11 and how many people jumped out of the building to suffer a fast death, as opposed to being slowly burned to death. This was written for the contest prompt of my protagonist is on a ledge, ready to jump, when their mobile phone rings. What happens next? This was also my first piece of writing to be published: http://alliteratimagazine.com/issues/issue-14/James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5203620589192644290.post-38428851961419805012016-09-11T06:51:00.001-07:002016-12-13T04:18:50.935-08:00Once Upon a Time I wrote the Worst Story Ever*Author's Notes*<br />
<br />
<i>I wrote this for a prompt contest of worst stories ever. We had to write a story, which highlights everything we shouldn't do, when writing stories. I can safely say, that this does not reflect my writing at all, but this was so much fun to think up and write. As you can see here I despise slang and people who misuse "your" and "you're" and "there," "their" and "they're." It's not that difficult to get it right. I am a tad worried at how easy I found it to write this. If you're not english, you may not understand the slang terms used.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Once upon a time in a galaxy far far away. Oh wait is that from Star Wars. Right let me start again. Once upon a time in a beautiful kingdom lived a beautiful princess. Oh wait that sounds like a fairytale. Right one more time. Once upon a time in London, there was these two boys on a very high rooftop and one boy who we'll call jarred because thats his name. anyway jarred looked over the very high rooftop and then he was turning to the other boy who was also on the very high rooftop. jarred said "wouldn't it be bare sick if you could find that one perfect girl out dere. obviously they'd have to be bare peng, but they need to be deep too. you get me? they need to get you, you get me? But finding a girl like that would be hard. It'd be like finding a needle in a haystack, a ice cube in a ocean, a egg in a forest. BLUD you listening to me!!!"<br />
<br />
The other boy on the very high rooftop turned around. "Oh your talking to me?"<br />
<br />
"Of course Im talkin to you. Your my boy, my brethren, my homie, famalam. Who else would I talk too?"<br />
<br />
"I have no idea what you just said. I just came up to the very high rooftop to admire the view and you came along and started talking about, I dont even know what your talking about. Why dont you speak english properly?"<br />
<br />
"BLAD. Is you is mocking the way I is talking? Do you want me to bang you in you're head blad. Cos i will. Don't think i won't. I'm bare hench, you get me."<br />
<br />
"Jarred, I have no idea what your talking about."<br />
<br />
"How the fuck do you know my name? Blad you best piss of, before I fuck you up blud. Fuck of, you dick."<br />
<br />
"I still have no idea what your talking about, so ima go now. Good luck with whatever your doing." The other boy walked away from the very high rooftop. jarred turned back and looked over the very high rooftop, where he saw a bare peng girl. she was really fit. she had brown hair and brown eyes and was really fit. jarred knew that she was the one. Then out of nowhere five men in black clothes walked up to the girl and started attacking her. jarred knew that he cant let no one hurt his girl so he had to protect her. But how? He would just jump off the very high rooftop. usually this would break someone's legs but jarred was so bare hench and strong that he jumped the rooftop without a scratch. Now I need something to protect myself. OOO look someone left an AK47 with a few rounds, behind that dumpster. I'll just pick that up and shoot those guys attacking my girl. So jarred did that and the guys died. the girl went up to jarred and said "my hero. I LOVE YOU. WANT TO GET MARRIED!" Then they had a big smoochy, massive kiss. Then jarred and tina got married and then they had kids and then they got a dog and then they got a cat and then everyone lived happy ever after. (except for the guys jarred killed, who died in a lot of pain)<br />
<br />
The End.<br />
<br />
Epilogue<br />
<br />
<br />
Remember those guys who jarred killed? Well they were part of a massive gang who then killed jarred and shannon and there children and they're pets and all their servants. Ooops did I forget to mention that they got servants, well dats a whole other story entirely, but before I tell you that story i have to tell you this story...James Lintonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08705791210628995868noreply@blogger.com0