Vivika Widow's Blog, page 68

Character Profile: Sudelka ‘Tiger Grin’ Habaru

Sudelka Habaru

AGE: 17

NATION: Fosgon – full warrior.

WARRIOR NAME – ‘Tiger Grin’

The son of Linciu ‘Blue Raven’, Sudelka garnered a reputation as a young boy during a visit to a zoo when a girl fell into the tiger enclosure. Sudelka leapt into action and faced the tigers without fear. His cold stare held the wild cats at bay long enough for the keepers to react and get them to safety. Thanks to Sudelka the little girl’s life was saved.

However, one good deed serves a darker one. On another occasion when attacked by a group of boys, Sudelka left one dead and the rest severely injured. Protected by his nation Sudelka never answered for his crimes.

He is respected by the Fosgon tribe but also greatly feared. He is the first since the original to wear a red feather – meaning ‘power’. Red feathers are hungry for power, relentless in their pursuit of command and highly volatile.

With Sudelka’s history of deciding life or death for others he has given the Fosgons cause for concern. Under the guidance of Resiu ‘Hunting Bear’ he remains loyal to his chief but there will come a day when he will bid for the ultimate strength.

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Stand and Grow Tall

Timothy Hardship is my name. With that you would think I’ve had a hard life but its really the opposite. The truth is I was a bright and happy boy. That was until I accidentally made myself as tall as a house. Now, simple things like going to school, playing with my friends and other regular kid things present more of a challenge.

Grandad always used to tell me that little kids should give up their seats for adults because they need to stand and grow tall. I was one of the smallest boys in my class so I took my grandad’s advice and kept on my feet as much as possible, thinking it would stretch me out.

Tiny Tim they called me. Well, one day I had had enough.

I was looking through a catalogue that had been lying around the house for years. It was one of those useless things that for some reason my mum wouldn’t throw away. My finger stopped on a very eye catching, star shaped ad. ‘Make yourself as tall as a house!’ it read. A lot of hoodwink and pish posh I thought but since it claimed it was free and all you had to do was call a toll free number I thought ‘why not?’

My parents had been visiting a neighbour who had just had a new baby so I was home alone. I picked up the phone and dialled 0800 – GET – TALL. The ad was so old that I had expected the number to have been disconnected. To my surprise an automated voice came on the other end.

“One moment please,” it said in its computerised, honeyed tone. Then there was a click and the line went dead.

‘Well I don’t feel taller,” I said to myself, putting the phone down with just a little disappointment.

***

I went to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face. I was starting to feel really hot. I hoped I was coming down with something so I could have a day or two off school.

I felt dizzy. I looked down at the sink. It looked a lot smaller and a lot further away than it had a moment ago. I felt something bump against my head. It was the roof! I climbed out of the bathroom and charged downstairs like a stilt walker and squeezed out the front door.

I waved my arms like great boat sails. I could now see in my bedroom window on the top floor.

My tiny mum and miniscule dad came walking down the pathway. Mum shrieked and fell faint. Dad gave a very firm, “Oh my!” and twitched his moustache.

After mum finally recovered I explained to them what had happened. Dad opened the window so I could talk to them, hunching down and peeping in. Dad tried calling the maker of the ad but they had closed business. It seems there wasn’t much business for people wanting to be as big as houses.

***

I’ve had to make a few adjustments. A sky high house has been built for me to live in. I have to sit in the school yard and listen to my lessons through the window, even when its raining. Mum was shocked at first but she says she loves me no matter my size. I’ll be big until dad can track down the owner of ‘Getting Tall’. At least they don’t call me Tiny Tim anymore.

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Ten things you (probably) didn’t know about Myths and Tales

1 – Based on Tales from the Crypt and similar

We all remember those shows that had a different little story to tell every week right? Well, ‘Myths and Tales’ was inspired by these shows. ‘Tales from the Crypt’ and ‘Tales of the Unexpected’ being Vivika’s favourites. It is a mash of genres which gives something for all readers to enjoy.

2 – Based on not so true events?

The ‘Confessions’ series stemmed from a ‘Myths and Tales short story titled ‘Confessions of an Anatomist’ which was written during Vivika’s time at medical school. She promises no one was harmed in the writing of the story but the black humour, the horror and the unforgettable character of Tracey Campbell made it a favourite amongst ‘Myths and Tales’. So much so it was adapted into a full novel! ‘My Silly Little Confessions’.

3 – Handling the Hangram

After an initial pitch of the ‘Hangram’ short story, Vivika was surprised to receive comments on how violent it was.

“I honestly didn’t see it that way,” she said. “Perhaps I should lay off listening to Marilyn Manson when writing.”

We love the ‘Hangram’ as violent as she is.

4 – Shared universe

‘Red Snow’, ‘Knights of Ravensedge’, ‘Seeking a Boat’ and ‘The Mad King’ all share a common universe and are part of the Red Snow Fairy Tales.

5 – Treading the boards

‘The Gift’ has been adapted as a stage play and will be hitting theatres in the UK in 2018!

6 – This Place Misunderstood

It may not seem it from the outset, tone and general happenings in the ‘This Place’ poem but Vivika assures us there is actually a positive and affirming message behind it.

Torrance Global took a closer look. Click HERE to read their thoughts.

7 – Listen to the Music

Vivika loves music of all kinds. She especially enjoys classical music. The poem ‘Violin’ is a dedication to that love, which is ironic because Vivika plays cello (somewhat).

8 – Kicking off a Conflict

In ‘Myths and Tales’ you are introduced to the elite group known as Rogue Battalion. This is just the beginning of the highly anticipated Conflict series. Coming soon as a graphic novel as well as some insights featuring as part of the ‘Myths and Tales’ web series! Stay tuned.

9 – Taking Requests

‘Princess and the Beetle’ is the most requested poem of Vivika’s for recital. It is a favourite among readers and we are so excited for it to be the pilot of the web series. It will be leading the charge with a unique brand of comedy.

10 – Soon to be a Web Series

Directed by Leo ST Paul (The Walk) ‘Myths and Tales’ will be hitting the Torrance Media channel soon! Subscribe, tune in and enjoy!

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Coming soon as a Torrance Media web series

The Capacity to Love

I look around and what do I see?

A chorus of people crying ‘Please help me!’

‘My problem is great, more so than theirs.

You are the one to soothe my cares!’

So who is first? Who deserves it the most?

Perhaps the downtrodden or the benevolent host?

A special place lies for those who will try,

For they are the ones who only in solitude will cry.

They carry their burden in quiet despair,

So to help them first would only be fair.

I have the capacity for love,

It was sent to me from the being above.

It swells in my heart to see the hateful shove,

For I have the capacity to love.

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Coming soon as a web series from Torrance Media

The King Imposter (A Red Snow Tale)

Ravensedge is a mighty kingdom perched high on the Elinway mountains. The king’s residence in the Sparrington Fort had been an impenetrable fortress for generations. The old king, Alfred, had died leaving only his daughter – Princess Anne. With no male heir, Alfred had made a selection amongst his trusted Knights Guard as a suitable successor. Sir William Raleigh had been the most obvious choice. William was a noble knight, a learned man and if the rumours were to be believed, already held the heart of the fair princess. However, to the astonishment of the kingdom, Alfred chose instead Sir Henry Deveraux to be his son in law and therefore king of Ravensedge. Henry too was a fierce knight but he had always struggled to best William in tournaments. Henry focused on his accomplishments more than his learning. Anne didn’t care too much for him either. Something had inexplicably changed Alfred’s mind. The wave of support Alfred had shown towards Henry spread. Anne married him and he was crowned king. Like a creeping curse the people of Ravensedge followed Henry without question. Only Henry himself knew how he came to be on the throne and he would show no mercy to those who would uncover the truth.

It was a warm day in Ravensedge. The sun was high and strong. A cool breeze flowed down the mountain to the luscious greenery and the Wilton Woods that lay at the bottom. King Henry was holding court in the Kings Hall. It was a long room with thin slits for windows. The floors were a heavy marble. Henry sat on the throne of Ravensedge as his subjects brought their concerns to him. The queen’s chair beside him was vacant.

Henry could see that Sir William was eager to speak so he leaned his head on his hand, stifling a yawn and ushered him forward.

“You look a little anxious, Sir William,” said the king. The gold of the crown that circled Henry’s dark feathery hair glinted in what little light the room allowed.

William raised his chin and stood proudly. He would always be Henry’s closest rival, even if no one seemed to remember it so. “It’s been several weeks since the death of King Alfred. It was always his wish to demonstrate the might of Ravensedge across the kingdoms. Now would be the best time to do this. If Your Majesty agrees that a suitable time of mourning has passed.”

A smile broke on Henry’s thin lips. Before Alfred’s travel away from the mortal coil the people of the court barely looked at Henry twice. He was of no noble blood and fought tirelessly to be taken into the Knight’s Guard. Now that they asked his permission for everything he was given a great deal of satisfaction.

“You’re suggesting that we go to war?” asked Henry. “To what end?”

As the king’s dark eyed focus narrowed on him, William ran his fingers through his thick blonde hair nervously. “Imperialism, Majesty, pure and simple.”

Henry laughed. “I like the way you think Sir William. I have always wished to see the kingdoms of Navaria, our closest neighbours, draped in the black and yellow of Ravensedge. It would also be quite a boon to have the wealth of Elgany at our disposal.”

William’s gaze dropped to the vacant chair. “Will the queen not be joining us?”

Henry felt a flutter in his stomach. He was angry what he should be asked such a question.

“She needs her rest,”he replied, probably saying more than he should have. “Pregnant women can be terribly fussy. Only her own maids will see her until she gives birth to my son.” The court was watching him. Their judgemental stares caused his own to lower to the ground. “You impudent knave!” he barked. “You have no right to ask of the queen.”

William bowed low. “I’m so sorry Your Majesty. I meant no offence.”

Henry stood as tall as he could. His chest heaved. “You have overstepped your bounds too many times. I will have your head if it ever happens again.”

***

When the court had cleared Henry told his aides that he wished for some time alone.

“I’m not to be disturbed,” he warned.

“Of course, Majesty,” said the young squire. He was an apple cheeked young boy who hailed from a long noble lineage. Henry had never learned his name. The boy dashed off to see that the knights and nobles met the king’s demands. Henry removed his crown and sighed. He wiped the sweat from his brow. The crown was a much heavier burden than he ever imagined.

Through the Kings Hall was a narrower corridor that led to the south west of the fort. Along the corridor lined images of previous Ravensedge kings, watching Henry with judgemental stares like those of his court.

‘What do they know?’ grunted Henry to himself. ‘They had the throne handed to them by birth. They didn’t have to struggle as I did to become king. Kissing the arse of some old fool just so he’ll give me a second glance and perhaps consider letting me marry his daughter.’

His thoughts carried him through the corridor and up to the second floor of the south west tower. He had the only key to the room. He kept it on him at all times. The long, black, iron key was too important to be entrusted to inferior hands. The door opened with a soft click. As it swung open he was met with a shrill shriek. Anne had thrown herself in the corner. Her flowing, white gown was stained with blood. The stain was heaviest around her pregnant stomach. She was holding a silver dagger in one hand, the other was splayed like the claws of a cat. Her magnificent hair was in disarray. She looked more like a mad witch than a queen.

Henry pulled the dagger out of her clutches. “What have you done!?”

“I will never bear your child!” she screamed. “My womb is for regal children and will never be infected with the dirt of your seed!”

Henry slapped her. She stumbled backwards.”I am your king,” he roared. “You will bear me one hundred children if I order you to do so.”

“My father never wanted you,” she spat venomously. “You are a useless knight then and a joke of a king now. My father wanted William.”

Henry threw her onto the floor. “I am the only one who knows you are here. Where did you get this dagger?”

Anne was breathing heavily. At first she refused to answer, until finally she said, “I will never tell you.”

Henry growled, “Now I have to fetch a doctor. You are lucky you didn’t kill yourself you stupid whore of a woman.”

As Henry locked the door again he heard crash as Anne threw her piss pot against the other side.

When Alfred had first chosen Henry as his successor, Anne had been as compliant as the rest of them. Now she remembered the struggles Henry had trying to prove himself against William. Whatever bewilderment the kingdom had fallen under it was wearing thin. Henry was running out of time.

***

It had been a trip to the surrounding Wilton Woods where everything had changed for Henry. He had been frustrated by his constant humiliations trying to beat William, the king’s failing to acknowledge him and Anne’s refusal to offer him a second glance. He met a tall, skulking creature named Benedict there who offered him the chance for all his dreams to come true. A month had passed and all his dreams were beginning to take the shape of nightmares. He had to find Benedict again. He had to make Anne succumb to him and have his child. With a son of true royal blood his rule would never be questioned again.

He waited at the same spot he had first met the unusual man, until darkness began to charge across the sky. He was preparing to leave when he heard a rustling in the foliage of the forest floor. There was Benedict again. He was so pale he almost glowed in the dusk.

“I get the sense I don’t have a happy customer,” he said with an underlying shrill malice. A wide grin spread from ear to ear.

“Anne hates me. My knights want to go to war. It won’t be long before they all remember.”

Benedict emitted a throaty laugh. “You were warned that ambition can be toxic. You can only control people for a time. Sooner or later their minds become their own again.”

Henry became flustered. “I need more of the drink you gave me. I need to secure my place as king and then it won’t matter if they have their own minds. They won’t be able to question my crown.”

Benedict stretched out his arm and turned the palm to the sky. A small glass vial appeared containing luminescent green liquid. “Now I want you to be sure of this. The last dosage left quite a bitter taste.”

Henry snatched the vial and gulped down the contents. Benedict watched him intently. “Aren’t you going to ask what the price is? Ambition like that doesn’t come for free.”

Henry climbed onto his waiting steed. “If it will make Anne bring me a son and controls my knights I don’t care what the price is.”

“I’ll seek you out when payment is due,” called Benedict as the king rode back to his castle. “You will care for the price,” he grinned. “And you will pay it.”

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Check out other Red Snow fairy tales exclusively on this site:

A Trail of Ashes (A Red Snow Tale)

Whispers in the Woods (A Red Snow Fairy tale)

The Unwanted Throne (A Red Snow Tale)

The Tower (A Red Snow Tale)

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Talking about my generation

‘We weren’t like that’ is something I’m sure every generation grumbles about the one coming after them. I hear my fellow generation Xers despair about the millennials and how disconnected they are from the world. If it is true what we read we can assume them to be whiny, incapable of looking after themselves and completely unprepared for the harsh realities of life. If could be just that I’m on the wrong side of thirty and my fellows like to have something to moan about. The fashions, the television shows and the obsession with Ed Sheeran (as good a musician as I’m sure he is) are all strange to the genX. Then again, the Spice Girls, gladiators and skousers (skirt trousers) certainly raised a few eyebrows in the 90s and early noughties so who are we to judge?

Is it just a generational thing or is there a lack of understanding in the millennials? I don’t think so.

The millennials get a lot of stick in the media but I for one can see the amazing changes they are bringing to the world. My eldest niece (a millennial) defies what the media has to say about her generation. She is a confident, well educated and independent young woman who has just started her own business and is thriving. Like many of her peers she is ready to take the world on.

Despite the man buns and snap chat second life our millennials are up and coming and sure to do great things for our world. They will always fight for social justice. They work hard despite educations costs rising and getting on the property ladder is more difficult. So to you millennials, your ways seem strange to us but you will change the world for the better. Your contributions are invaluable.

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Knock, Knock (Episode 10): Calling Last Orders

Knock, Knock: Episode 10

“You’re Dennis Platt,” repeated the little boy. “I’m Milo, your son.”

Dennis’ eyes widened in shock at first. He looked back at me. I could only shrug my shoulders. I didn’t know Dennis’ family. I couldn’t confirm. Finally the club manager emitted a hearty laugh.

“Nice try kid,” he said. “I don’t have a son.”

He started to push the door closed. The boy stepped in the way. The door man stepped forward and placed his hands on the boys chest. He shoved him back into the alley. The boy stumbled and fell into a pile of trash bags.

“I am your son!” he cried as the door was closed over. “Julianne Platt is my mum!”

Before the door came to a complete close Dennis pushed aside the door man.

“Get out of here kid!” he warned. “It isn’t safe here.”

The boy was locked out. He had had such a striking resemblance to Dennis If it wasn’t his son he was at least a close relation. I couldn’t believe Dennis hadn’t seen it.

“I didn’t know you had a son,” the door man commented off handedly.

Dennis was frowning. Temper was not suiting him. Anger told in his dark eyes and it was like the amiable mask he wore for the public had been torn off exposing the true person underneath.

“I don’t,” he replied with frustration. “I don’t know him.”

The door man crossed his arms across his chest as he resumed his post. “He seemed to know you.”

This only heightened Dennis’ anger. “Don’t breathe a word of this to any one. Do you understand me?” The door man backed off. “Especially to Tabitha.”

As he turned round he came face to face with one of the regular patrons. The mask was back on. “Oh hey bud,” he said. “Having a good night?”

“Any messages left for me?” the patron asked.

Dennis put his arm around the broad shoulder of the customer and started to lead him away. “Not that I know of but if you go back to your table I’ll check with the girls.”

The customer seemed satisfied with that. He hadn’t overheard Dennis’ exchange with the door man and if he had he wasn’t interested.

I followed Dennis towards the bar. “What if that boy is your son?” I said.

Dennis stopped. He glared at me. I think it was the most honest exchange we had had in our time knowing each other.

“Do you think I wouldn’t recognise my own son? Even after all these years?”

Before I could speak again Dennis added, “That boy was Milo but it’s far too dangerous for him to hang around here.”

“Anything could happen to him out there,” I pleaded.

Dennis shook his head. He rested a hand on my shoulder. “I need your help.”

I raised my eyebrows. “My wife was killed, I was accused of murder, I’m being kept a prisoner here in this dank hole of a club and I find out my grandfather was responsible for every wretched run of bad luck I have ever experienced. I turned to you to try and help me – help us both – get out of here and you told me no. Now you want me to help you?”

Dennis narrowed his gaze. “You won’t be helping me. I’ve made my bed. You would be helping an innocent ten year old who has nothing to do with any of this.”

Damn it! Dennis always had an answer for everything. Tabitha was off stage and would be there any minute.

“Fine,” I relented. “But you have to get me out of here.”

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Follow from the beginning:

Knock, Knock (Episode 1): Welcome to the Club

Knock, Knock (episode 2): Don’t Come Knockin’

Knock, Knock (Episode 3): Sleep Tight Sam

Knock, Knock (Episode 4): Take A Bow

Knock, Knock (Episode 5): Big City Kid

Knock, Knock [Episode 6] Picking up strange women

Knock, Knock: Episode 7 (A night cap at the club)

Knock, Knock: (Episode 8) Just a quick one

Knock, Knock: Episode 9 (The daddy of them all)

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We are not one soul. We are a society!

Conflicts are fought on many fronts. With heroes and villains on all sides it takes a fearless group of people to stand against social injustice. They come and go without being seen. The forgettable man you pass in the street, the woman selling jewellery in the market or the even the children playing. The spectre society is everywhere and they will have their people remember one thing… THEY ARE NOT AFRAID.

They will stand against injustice, they will fight against tyranny and in a world torn by conflict they will protect the innocent.

Not a single soul but a society.

*Special thanks to Glasgow Museum and Art gallery

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Coming soon in Myths and Tales web series.

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Torrance Media presents: Myths and Tales (the series)

Joining the Myths and Tales series will be Vivika Widow’s Hangram. Based on the short horror story we find ourselves in search of a monster. The legendary creature known as the Hangram seeks those who have sinned. She devours their evil souls and her thirst for the blood of those who have done wrong is […]

via Can you escape the Hangram? —

Little List of Doom

I once had a little red notebook. It could rest quite comfortably in the palm of my hand. I was only twelve at the time this all happened but I had pretty small hands. Anyway, this book had been in my family for generations. Lots of the pages had been torn out. It didn’t seem like much when I found it amongst the boxes in the attic. We were clearing out junk and I pulled this little red notebook from the dustiest box, hidden in the darkest corner.

“What’s this?” I asked my mum.

Her eyes widened. She was never one for dramatics but I saw a true look of fear on her face that day mixed with general bewilderment. “That was your gran’s,” she replied.

My gran had lots of weird belongings. I remember some of the strange statues we had found after she moved to sunnier climates. They looked eerily like little people carved out of wax. Some some of them had needles sticking in what I would imagine would be very painful places. Mum melted all of the dolls down and threw them away. My gran was a little weird. I always thought so but as a kid it was really fun to be around. When I stayed over with her she would show me all sorts of old books and tell me ghost stories. I said I could handle it but she told them so vividly that I would wake up in the middle of the night and swear that the ‘goober man’ was watching me. ‘Goober man’ was one of her favourites. He was a dusty old creature who stalked the ancient streets where my gran lived. The fingers and toes of little girls – just like me – were his favourite delicacy. He had long thin strands of hair covering a liver spotted head. His eyes were bulbous and yellow. His fingers were long and he had sharp teeth for gnawing on little bones. He sounded awful. I didn’t want a visit from him. As I said gran loved telling me stories of ‘goober man’. She would see how scared I would be getting and she would laugh. She was a little strange.

“Can I keep this?” I asked my mum of the little red book.

Mum wrinkled her nose. “It’s all rotten and there are hardly any pages left.”

I agreed but I did like the red cover. It gave the notebook some importance. Mum shrugged her shoulders and continued sorting the junk so I slipped the book into the back pocket of my jeans and helped.

That night when everyone – mum, dad and my little brother Ray – had gone to sleep, I kept my night light on and finally had a look at my new red notebook. There was an inscription inside that read:

ENEMY LIST; ENEMIES BEWARE. GONE FOREVER.

This actually made me smile. Even the most patient and tolerant of us would love the chance to make certain people in our lives disappear. One name came to mind – Stacey Willen. She was a nasty girl in my class who had being going out of her way to make my life a misery since we first started school. She would tease me about my hair, my clothes and pretty much everything about me. She had her loyal band of supporters who laughed at her jokes that really weren’t that funny. They were all so eager to gain her approval that they wouldn’t even help me up when she pushed me into the mud. They just stood there like grinning hyenas like it was the best comedy in the world. Just that day I had been sat underneath the tree reading a book. It was a very sunny day. The tree was offering a nice cooling, shady breeze. I was enjoying my reading, blocking out the nonsense screaming of my classmates in the school yard. Stacey must have spotted me from across the yard and felt unable to leave me content. She marched over to me and snatched the book from my hands.

“Give me that back!” I protested.

Stacey sneered. She wasn’t particularly bright. She opened the book in the middle and spat on the pages. Not quite having caused enough havoc she turned to the end and ripped out the last three pages. Seeing I wasn’t reacting she got bored and threw the book back at me, hitting me hard on the arm.

Staring at my gran’s enemy list I took a pen from the night stand. It had thick black ink. She would have to be the first name. STACEY WILLEN. Content with myself I turned off my light and fell into a comfortable nights sleep.

The next morning when I arrived at school I had half expected Stacey to be there to greet me, somehow knowing I had added her to my enemy list. To my surprise her usual band of supporters were gathered but there was no Stacey.

“She has just disappeared. Her parents say she was in her room last night and when they went to check on her she was gone! They think she has ran away. The police were around and everything,” Stacey’s appointed ‘second in command’ was telling the others.

Stacey disappeared? After I had added her to my enemy list? Surely this was just coincidental. I knew my gran was weird but surely she wasn’t that weird?

Mr Perlman was the caretaker at the school. He was always shouting at the kids and he spat when he spoke. He was a bitter old crank and never had a nice word to say about anyone, even sweet old Mr Faben – the headmaster – who was technically his boss.

He sat at a table in the entranceway making sure the students made their way to class in a timely and organised manner. He wore a battered old hat that was once red but now yellowy and in desperate need of a wash.

“Move it along Wilson!” he spat at me even though he could clearly see I was moving to my first class. I turned and looked at him to verify exactly what it was he was shouting at me for. I had after all just crossed the threshold into the school. He pointed savagely at his brown forehead. “Are you a moron!? I said move along!”

I shook my head and grunted. I took out my red notebook and smiled to myself as I wrote down, in heavy letters, MR PERLMAN. It did make me feel much better. I walked along to my class. If I had turned at that moment I would have noticed the seat where Mr Perlman had been in just moments before, empty except for the battered old hat.

That afternoon over lunch I saw Mr Faben wandering around the hall looking for Mr Perlman. I didn’t think anything of it. I just saw it that the student body was getting a break for an afternoon both from Stacey Willen and Mr Perlman so it was win win. I overheard the girls at the table next to me discussing the maths test we were to have later that afternoon. They were in my class, they knew me well by name but never invited me to join them. It seems they thought I was a little odd. They hadn’t met my gran. As the girls left the lunch room, offering me but a fleeting glance I began to think of how under prepared I was for the maths test. I and many twelve year olds would much rather be doing anything else than sitting a maths test so for kicks I took out my red notebook once again. This time I added MISS PARSON AND THE S32 MATHS CLASS to the enemy list.

Eventually the bell rang and I swung my bag over my shoulder and took a deep breath. I arrived at my maths class and it was empty. Everyone had gone, even Miss Parson.

Whilst the school was in turmoil trying to find out where an entire class of students, a rookie maths teacher and the caretaker would have disappeared to I slipped my red enemy list back into my pocket. I was going to have to learn to use it wisely…

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