Edward Davies's Blog, page 10
March 26, 2015
Short Story : Jacob's Bladder
Jacob would do anything to impress a girl, but variety shows were where he generally drew the line. He hated stand up comics, magicians annoyed him, puppets were creepy, and amateur singers were just so bad it made him cringe.
So why was he sitting down in the audience for The Great Hidouni, allegedly the world’s most famous hypnotist?
That’s right, to impress a girl.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Morag said, clinging to Jacob’s arm as they sat patiently in the front row.
“Extremely,” Jacob lied, hoping that something would happen that would mean they had to leave and go somewhere else.
He’d been trying to get Morag to go out with him for almost six months, ever since she first started working with him at the bank, and finally she’d found a window in her schedule and suggested they go and see The Great Hidouni. She was a huge fan, and loved his TV specials, so had always wanted to see him live. She seemed to enjoy the dark humour that he used in his shows, but Jacob just thought he was creepy.
Morag grinned up at Jacob. She was extremely pretty and, apart from the fact that she had such a terrible name as Morag, was just about as perfect a female specimen as Jacob had ever met. Her eyes shone in the dim theatre lighting, her perfect teeth sparkled when they appeared in a brilliant smile behind her full and welcoming lips, and her silky smooth hair tossed back from the perfect skin of her gorgeous face as she turned back to the stage.
“He’s coming on now!” she enthused, letting go of Jacob’s arm so she could face the stage.
Jacob managed a smile at Morag as the lights dimmed, and The Great Hidouni stepped out onto the stage.
He didn’t look so great to Jacob – in fact he looked like he’d just finished off a large bottle of something alcoholic. Beneath his flowing cape, Jacob could make out that he hadn’t tucked his shirt in properly, and that his trousers probably hadn’t fitted him for a good few years, or at least a good few meals. Hidouni took centre stage and raised his arms, enticing the audience to applaud him, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t actually done anything yet.
“For my first feat of miraculousness,” Hidouni boomed into his mike once the audience had finished applauding him, “I will require a volunteer from the audience.”
Jacob glanced at Morag as she thrust her arm into the air, her ample bosom jiggling as she frantically waved her arm to get Hidouni’s attention.
Jacob sunk down in his seat – he didn’t want to have to watch Morag be made a fool of on stage. Who knew what Hidouni would make her do – this was an adults only show, and Jacob suspected that nudity might be involved. Swallowing his pride and doing something he swore he’d never do, Jacob stood up from his seat, which folded back into the arm rests.
“I volunteer,” he said loudly, hoping that Hidouni would have no choice but to choose him.
The Great Hidouni narrowed his eyes as he gestured towards Jacob, “Come on up,” he said reluctantly, and Jacob stepped towards the stage.
Once he was up there, he knew this was a mistake. Hypnotists were famous for making fools of people, even those that claimed they couldn’t be hypnotised. He look into the audience, the spotlight almost blinding him before he could make out Morag, sat delightedly in the front row, her hands close together and eagerly clapping.
The Great Hidouni placed a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, drawing his attention back to him.
“Please, have a seat,” Hidouni said loudly, then whispered, “You better make this look good.”
Jacob couldn’t help smiling to himself. It sounded as if The Great Hidouni was as unsure of his own powers as Jacob was. Feeling a lot better about his situation, Jacob happily took a seat.
“Now, before we begin,” Hidouni began, “I just want to point out that I do not know this man, nor have i ever met this man,” he turned to Jacob, “We have never met, have we Jacob?”
“I don’t think so,” Jacob replied, then realised that Hidouni had used his name, “Hold on, how did you...”
“Now,” Hidouni said loudly, interrupting Jacob, “I will take my pocket watch and swing it in front of Jacob’s eyes... back and forth... back and forth... back and forth...”
Jacob tried to suppress a yawn, but couldn’t help it,. The audience laughed as he opened his mouth wide, lifting the back of his hand in a belated attempt to stifle the yawn. Hidouni growled quietly.
“Now, when I snap my fingers, Jacob will be under my thrall,” Hidouni smiled slightly, and Jacob felt a little uncomfortable, “On the count of three... one... two... three...”
And he snapped his fingers.
Jacob felt his entire body suddenly go rigid. He didn’t know what had just happened, but he didn’t like it. He couldn’t move from the chair, and all he could see why the side-one profile of The Great Hidouni as he carried on with his show.
“Now,” Hidouni continued, hamming things up for the audience, “I will place suggestions in the mind of young Jacob here. Does anyone have any suggestions?”
“Make him cluck like a chicken,” someone shouted from the audience, always going for the obvious ideas first.
“Make him need to go to the toilet whenever a bell rings,” someone else shouted.
The Great Hidouni leaned in towards Jacob, and said in a slightly quiter voice, “What do you say, Jacob? What should I get you to do?”
Then, in a far quieter, and far more sinister voice, he added, “This will teach you for not giving me that loan.”
Jacob was stunned – The Great Hidouni must have come into his bank at some stage and Jacob had turned him down for a loan. He must have used his real name – Jacob would have remembered a customer called The Great Hidouni!
Hidouni then stood upright and said to the audience, “I like the suggestion about making him urinate when he hears a bell, but let’s make it a little bit...”
“Creepier!” the audience cheered. This was Hidouni’s catchphrase.
“How about, whenever Jacob hears a bell, he smells death. Or, when he sees... I don’t know, a cat... he tastes bile.”
The audience cheered. They ate this stuff up, and Hidouni knew they did. He’d get away with this, no problem.
“When you awaken from your trance,” Hidouni said, once again swinging his pocket watch in Jacob’s face, “You will be compelled to urinate at the sound of any bell.
“Also, when you awaken, at the sight of a cat, you will taste bile in your throat and be compelled to vomit, even if you haven’t eaten anything.
“Now, one the count of three, I will snap my fingers and you will awaken from your trance... one... two... three...”
The Great Hidouni snapped his fingers, and suddenly Jacob could move again.
He leapt from his seat, still remembering everything Hidouni had said, “You won’t get away with this,” Jacob said angrily, but not loud enough for the audience to hear, “Do you hear me, I’ll get the police onto you.”
“For doing what, precisely?” Hidouni asked, just as quietly, “For allowing you to be a part of one of my acts? If you tell them I did this on purpose, I’ll just tell them it’s all part of the show.”
Hidouni walked across the stage, away from Jacob, toward a table he hadn’t noticed before. On the table was a large box and a small bell.
“Don’t do it,” Jacob said, shaking his head, “Don’t you dare.”
Hidouni picked up the bell and rang it gently. Jacob felt his bladder suddenly loosen, and looked down to see urine soaking through his trousers. He glared at Hidouni and started walking towards him with determination.
Uh-uh,” Hidouni put down the bell, shaking his finger with the other hand, “Don’t make me open the box.”
“I’m not afraid of any box,” Jacob said as the audience continued to laugh at him.
“You should be,” Hidouni said, opening the box.
A small kitten peaked it’s cute little head over the opening.
Jacob quickly lifted his hand to his mouth, tasting bile rising in his throat, then turned to one side, vomiting all over the stage. The audience groaned in disgust, but Jacob could still hear their laughter.
“Let’s have a round of applause for Jacob,” The Great Hidouni boomed, gesturing for Jacob to leave the stage. Reluctantly, Jacob walked down the steps and headed back to his seat.
“You were so good,” Morag whispered as he sat down, “I’m so glad you went with the spirit of things and played along.”
“Yeah,” Jacob said, “I played along.”
After the show had ended, Morag suggested they try to go back stage to thank The Great Hidouni.
“He usually lets the people he invited on stage come back to say hello and get their photos taken,” Morag said, “Apparently he also likes to make sure that none of the audience are still effected by his powers. It’s all such a laugh really.”
“Yeah, hilarious,” Jacob said. He knew that The Great Hidouni’s powers were real, but Morag’s suggestion to go back stage was a good one. He had to make sure that whatever hoodoo he’d been put under had finished for good.
They walked backstage, passed lots of theatre workers, and found The Great Hidouni’s dressing room. Jacob knocked gently, but there was no reply.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
“If you’re looking for The Great Hidouni, he’s already gone,” a stage hand who was passing advised them, “He’s got a gig tomorrow in Edinburgh.”
“Edinburgh?” Jacob repeated, “That’s the other side of the country!”
“What’s wrong?” Morag asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jacob lied, “Just... dandy!”
They left the theatre, heading towards the bus stop.
“You’ve been such a sport tonight, Jacob,” Morag smiled, “Why don’t you come back to my place and get cleaned up?”
Jacob’s eyes widened – Morag was inviting him back to her place. Maybe tonight hadn’t been such a waste after all. He smiled, “I’d like that,” he said, as they boarded the bus back to hers.
The bus ride was a disaster, but thankfully Morag didn’t seem to notice. Every time someone rang the bell for their stop, Jacob wet himself. When he knew Morag wasn’t watching, he’d grab the crotch of his trousers and try to wring out some of the excess urine. Hopefully there weren’t any bells in Morag’s bedroom, or she’d thing he had severe problems.
It wasn’t long before he was stood outside Morag’s flat. She opened the door slowly and led Jacob in.
“I had a wonderful time tonight,” she said, kissing Jacob gently on the cheek, “Now, go get freshened up and I’ll see you shortly.”
Jacob headed in the direction of the bathroom and locked the door. He checked his wallet for condoms as he ran the shower and, once the water was the right temperature, he stepped under the flow and washed the taste of vomit out of his mouth and the smell of urine from his legs.
After a while, Jacob towelled himself dry and put on Morag’s bathrobe. There was no way he was going to be able to put those trousers back on, but at least that gave him an excuse for being naked underneath.
He stepped out of the bathroom, searching the house for Morag. It didn’t take long for him to find her, reclined on her bed in a skimpy negligee.
He swallowed nervously.
“Come here,” she said, beckoning him with her finger, “After tonight’s antics you deserve this.”
Jacob couldn’t believe his luck. Slowly he walked towards the bed, smiling as he thought about what was about to happen.
Then he heard the bell.
His bladder opened and urine soaked the floor.
“What was that bell?” he asked, hoping that Morag hadn’t noticed he’d just wet himself.
“Oh, that’s just my cat Mittens,” Morag said, calling out, “Come and say hello, Mittens.”
Morag’s cat leapt up onto the bed, and Jacob locked eyes with it...
...And threw up.
Originally Posted 26/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
So why was he sitting down in the audience for The Great Hidouni, allegedly the world’s most famous hypnotist?
That’s right, to impress a girl.
“Isn’t this exciting?” Morag said, clinging to Jacob’s arm as they sat patiently in the front row.
“Extremely,” Jacob lied, hoping that something would happen that would mean they had to leave and go somewhere else.
He’d been trying to get Morag to go out with him for almost six months, ever since she first started working with him at the bank, and finally she’d found a window in her schedule and suggested they go and see The Great Hidouni. She was a huge fan, and loved his TV specials, so had always wanted to see him live. She seemed to enjoy the dark humour that he used in his shows, but Jacob just thought he was creepy.
Morag grinned up at Jacob. She was extremely pretty and, apart from the fact that she had such a terrible name as Morag, was just about as perfect a female specimen as Jacob had ever met. Her eyes shone in the dim theatre lighting, her perfect teeth sparkled when they appeared in a brilliant smile behind her full and welcoming lips, and her silky smooth hair tossed back from the perfect skin of her gorgeous face as she turned back to the stage.
“He’s coming on now!” she enthused, letting go of Jacob’s arm so she could face the stage.
Jacob managed a smile at Morag as the lights dimmed, and The Great Hidouni stepped out onto the stage.
He didn’t look so great to Jacob – in fact he looked like he’d just finished off a large bottle of something alcoholic. Beneath his flowing cape, Jacob could make out that he hadn’t tucked his shirt in properly, and that his trousers probably hadn’t fitted him for a good few years, or at least a good few meals. Hidouni took centre stage and raised his arms, enticing the audience to applaud him, in spite of the fact that he hadn’t actually done anything yet.
“For my first feat of miraculousness,” Hidouni boomed into his mike once the audience had finished applauding him, “I will require a volunteer from the audience.”
Jacob glanced at Morag as she thrust her arm into the air, her ample bosom jiggling as she frantically waved her arm to get Hidouni’s attention.
Jacob sunk down in his seat – he didn’t want to have to watch Morag be made a fool of on stage. Who knew what Hidouni would make her do – this was an adults only show, and Jacob suspected that nudity might be involved. Swallowing his pride and doing something he swore he’d never do, Jacob stood up from his seat, which folded back into the arm rests.
“I volunteer,” he said loudly, hoping that Hidouni would have no choice but to choose him.
The Great Hidouni narrowed his eyes as he gestured towards Jacob, “Come on up,” he said reluctantly, and Jacob stepped towards the stage.
Once he was up there, he knew this was a mistake. Hypnotists were famous for making fools of people, even those that claimed they couldn’t be hypnotised. He look into the audience, the spotlight almost blinding him before he could make out Morag, sat delightedly in the front row, her hands close together and eagerly clapping.
The Great Hidouni placed a hand on Jacob’s shoulder, drawing his attention back to him.
“Please, have a seat,” Hidouni said loudly, then whispered, “You better make this look good.”
Jacob couldn’t help smiling to himself. It sounded as if The Great Hidouni was as unsure of his own powers as Jacob was. Feeling a lot better about his situation, Jacob happily took a seat.
“Now, before we begin,” Hidouni began, “I just want to point out that I do not know this man, nor have i ever met this man,” he turned to Jacob, “We have never met, have we Jacob?”
“I don’t think so,” Jacob replied, then realised that Hidouni had used his name, “Hold on, how did you...”
“Now,” Hidouni said loudly, interrupting Jacob, “I will take my pocket watch and swing it in front of Jacob’s eyes... back and forth... back and forth... back and forth...”
Jacob tried to suppress a yawn, but couldn’t help it,. The audience laughed as he opened his mouth wide, lifting the back of his hand in a belated attempt to stifle the yawn. Hidouni growled quietly.
“Now, when I snap my fingers, Jacob will be under my thrall,” Hidouni smiled slightly, and Jacob felt a little uncomfortable, “On the count of three... one... two... three...”
And he snapped his fingers.
Jacob felt his entire body suddenly go rigid. He didn’t know what had just happened, but he didn’t like it. He couldn’t move from the chair, and all he could see why the side-one profile of The Great Hidouni as he carried on with his show.
“Now,” Hidouni continued, hamming things up for the audience, “I will place suggestions in the mind of young Jacob here. Does anyone have any suggestions?”
“Make him cluck like a chicken,” someone shouted from the audience, always going for the obvious ideas first.
“Make him need to go to the toilet whenever a bell rings,” someone else shouted.
The Great Hidouni leaned in towards Jacob, and said in a slightly quiter voice, “What do you say, Jacob? What should I get you to do?”
Then, in a far quieter, and far more sinister voice, he added, “This will teach you for not giving me that loan.”
Jacob was stunned – The Great Hidouni must have come into his bank at some stage and Jacob had turned him down for a loan. He must have used his real name – Jacob would have remembered a customer called The Great Hidouni!
Hidouni then stood upright and said to the audience, “I like the suggestion about making him urinate when he hears a bell, but let’s make it a little bit...”
“Creepier!” the audience cheered. This was Hidouni’s catchphrase.
“How about, whenever Jacob hears a bell, he smells death. Or, when he sees... I don’t know, a cat... he tastes bile.”
The audience cheered. They ate this stuff up, and Hidouni knew they did. He’d get away with this, no problem.
“When you awaken from your trance,” Hidouni said, once again swinging his pocket watch in Jacob’s face, “You will be compelled to urinate at the sound of any bell.
“Also, when you awaken, at the sight of a cat, you will taste bile in your throat and be compelled to vomit, even if you haven’t eaten anything.
“Now, one the count of three, I will snap my fingers and you will awaken from your trance... one... two... three...”
The Great Hidouni snapped his fingers, and suddenly Jacob could move again.
He leapt from his seat, still remembering everything Hidouni had said, “You won’t get away with this,” Jacob said angrily, but not loud enough for the audience to hear, “Do you hear me, I’ll get the police onto you.”
“For doing what, precisely?” Hidouni asked, just as quietly, “For allowing you to be a part of one of my acts? If you tell them I did this on purpose, I’ll just tell them it’s all part of the show.”
Hidouni walked across the stage, away from Jacob, toward a table he hadn’t noticed before. On the table was a large box and a small bell.
“Don’t do it,” Jacob said, shaking his head, “Don’t you dare.”
Hidouni picked up the bell and rang it gently. Jacob felt his bladder suddenly loosen, and looked down to see urine soaking through his trousers. He glared at Hidouni and started walking towards him with determination.
Uh-uh,” Hidouni put down the bell, shaking his finger with the other hand, “Don’t make me open the box.”
“I’m not afraid of any box,” Jacob said as the audience continued to laugh at him.
“You should be,” Hidouni said, opening the box.
A small kitten peaked it’s cute little head over the opening.
Jacob quickly lifted his hand to his mouth, tasting bile rising in his throat, then turned to one side, vomiting all over the stage. The audience groaned in disgust, but Jacob could still hear their laughter.
“Let’s have a round of applause for Jacob,” The Great Hidouni boomed, gesturing for Jacob to leave the stage. Reluctantly, Jacob walked down the steps and headed back to his seat.
“You were so good,” Morag whispered as he sat down, “I’m so glad you went with the spirit of things and played along.”
“Yeah,” Jacob said, “I played along.”
After the show had ended, Morag suggested they try to go back stage to thank The Great Hidouni.
“He usually lets the people he invited on stage come back to say hello and get their photos taken,” Morag said, “Apparently he also likes to make sure that none of the audience are still effected by his powers. It’s all such a laugh really.”
“Yeah, hilarious,” Jacob said. He knew that The Great Hidouni’s powers were real, but Morag’s suggestion to go back stage was a good one. He had to make sure that whatever hoodoo he’d been put under had finished for good.
They walked backstage, passed lots of theatre workers, and found The Great Hidouni’s dressing room. Jacob knocked gently, but there was no reply.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
“If you’re looking for The Great Hidouni, he’s already gone,” a stage hand who was passing advised them, “He’s got a gig tomorrow in Edinburgh.”
“Edinburgh?” Jacob repeated, “That’s the other side of the country!”
“What’s wrong?” Morag asked, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Jacob lied, “Just... dandy!”
They left the theatre, heading towards the bus stop.
“You’ve been such a sport tonight, Jacob,” Morag smiled, “Why don’t you come back to my place and get cleaned up?”
Jacob’s eyes widened – Morag was inviting him back to her place. Maybe tonight hadn’t been such a waste after all. He smiled, “I’d like that,” he said, as they boarded the bus back to hers.
The bus ride was a disaster, but thankfully Morag didn’t seem to notice. Every time someone rang the bell for their stop, Jacob wet himself. When he knew Morag wasn’t watching, he’d grab the crotch of his trousers and try to wring out some of the excess urine. Hopefully there weren’t any bells in Morag’s bedroom, or she’d thing he had severe problems.
It wasn’t long before he was stood outside Morag’s flat. She opened the door slowly and led Jacob in.
“I had a wonderful time tonight,” she said, kissing Jacob gently on the cheek, “Now, go get freshened up and I’ll see you shortly.”
Jacob headed in the direction of the bathroom and locked the door. He checked his wallet for condoms as he ran the shower and, once the water was the right temperature, he stepped under the flow and washed the taste of vomit out of his mouth and the smell of urine from his legs.
After a while, Jacob towelled himself dry and put on Morag’s bathrobe. There was no way he was going to be able to put those trousers back on, but at least that gave him an excuse for being naked underneath.
He stepped out of the bathroom, searching the house for Morag. It didn’t take long for him to find her, reclined on her bed in a skimpy negligee.
He swallowed nervously.
“Come here,” she said, beckoning him with her finger, “After tonight’s antics you deserve this.”
Jacob couldn’t believe his luck. Slowly he walked towards the bed, smiling as he thought about what was about to happen.
Then he heard the bell.
His bladder opened and urine soaked the floor.
“What was that bell?” he asked, hoping that Morag hadn’t noticed he’d just wet himself.
“Oh, that’s just my cat Mittens,” Morag said, calling out, “Come and say hello, Mittens.”
Morag’s cat leapt up onto the bed, and Jacob locked eyes with it...
...And threw up.
Originally Posted 26/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
March 25, 2015
Poem : Tasting Sounds and Smelling Sights
Senses mix and match for you
Like seeing red or feeling blue
This sounds quite normal, most folk think
Like purple prose or tickled pink
But tasting words is slightly strange
The normal senses rearrange
So that you hear what most would smell
Or smell a sound, clear as a bell
You sniff at echoes, hark at odours
Due to askew brain decoders
Taste the sunlight in the sky
And see a flavour with your eye
For you’ve a distinct point of view
And no-one’s as unique as you
For you have reached the dizzy heights
Of tasting sounds and smelling sights
Originally Posted 25/3/2015
Result - Joint 3rd Place
Like seeing red or feeling blue
This sounds quite normal, most folk think
Like purple prose or tickled pink
But tasting words is slightly strange
The normal senses rearrange
So that you hear what most would smell
Or smell a sound, clear as a bell
You sniff at echoes, hark at odours
Due to askew brain decoders
Taste the sunlight in the sky
And see a flavour with your eye
For you’ve a distinct point of view
And no-one’s as unique as you
For you have reached the dizzy heights
Of tasting sounds and smelling sights
Originally Posted 25/3/2015
Result - Joint 3rd Place
March 18, 2015
Short Story : Hugh and Becca
MONDAY 29 SEPTEMBER, 1997
09.32
Hugh had arrived in Liverpool over the weekend and was the only one of his close friends to have chosen to go to University far away from London. Rob had moved into halls, while Adrian was commuting from home, but Hugh had taken the initiative to move far from home where he might be able to make a fresh start and not be referred to as the weird guy by everyone he met.
Before he’d left college, he’d had a thing for a girl called Lola. He fancied her something rotten, and had done for seven years. Seven years? He shook his head as he thought about this fact. That was more than a third of his life, and it had taken him seven years to do anything about it. Things hadn’t gone well with Lola – correction, things hadn’t gone anywhere with Lola. She hadn’t been the slightest bit interested in him, which was usually one of the prerequisites for him choosing a girl, and she’d apparently had a very large, very muscular boyfriend as well.
Hugh sure knew how to pick them.
He’d moved into his halls of residence and been lucky enough to get a room to himself, with its own bathroom and kitchen facilities and, in spite of everything, things were looking pretty good. All he needed now was some random sexy girl to turn up at his door and let him have sex with her.
As he prepared to head to his first lecture, he heard a knock at the door. He smiled crookedly to himself;
“Nah,” he mumbled, thinking of his ideal scenario, “I couldn’t be that lucky,” and with he opened the door to see who it was.
“Hi,” said the girl who stood in his doorway. She was extremely pretty in an unconventional kind of way. Hugh looked her up and down; from her tied back kinky hair with the odd loose strand that tumbled across her ears, her red rimmed glasses, her pouty lips, her long neck, her ample chest covered by a thin T-shirt with the name of a band he’d never heard of emblazoned across it, her bare midriff that teasingly revealed her belly button, her tight denim shorts, her black tights, all the way down to her Dr Marten ankle boots. Hugh swallowed nervously.
“I’m Becca,” the pretty girl said by way of introduction, “I live down the hallway. You must be Hugh.”
“That’s right,” Hugh replied, looking up and down the corridor. Was this a practical joke? Had someone purposely sent this arguably very attractive young lady to his room as some sort of elaborate prank? No, he thought to himself, he didn’t know anyone well enough for them to go to that sort of effort – in fact, he didn’t know anyone at all. The only person he’d spoken to was the man who had handed over the keys to his room, and he hadn’t come across as the sort to play pranks.
“How can I help?” Hugh asked suspiciously, looking Becca up and down again.
“Oh no.” Becca grinned, pushing one of the stray strands of curly hair behind her ear, “I just thought I’d check if there was anything you might need? I wasn’t around when you arrived over the weekend, so I thought it was the neighbourly thing to do to come over and offer you anything you might require.”
Hugh had watched way too many porn films. All he could think about was all the scenarios he’d come across (pun intended) where women had turned up at a guys door and they’d ended up doing it on the kitchen counter. He bit back a shudder.
“No, I think I’ve got everything in hand,” he smiled, “but it was nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Becca beamed, “to tell you the truth, it’s kind of nice to have someone in the building at last. I moved in late last week, and it’s been just so boring without anyone to hang out with.”
Hang out with? Hugh raised his eyebrows. Was she asking to hang out with him? Was she hitting on him?
“Well, anytime you want to hang out, just knock on my door,” Hugh smiled eagerly, “you’ll usually find me in here, boning up on my studies.”
Oh God, Hugh grumbled to himself, I just said I hang out in my room and ‘bone up’. I hope she doesn’t spot the innuendo.
“Anyway,” Hugh quickly said, hoping to mask what he’d said, “I’d better be going. My first class starts in less than half an hour.”
“Cool,” Becca said, clearly innocent to Hugh’s unwanted double entendre, “so, what is your first class? I’m just off to mine now, too.”
“I’m studying history,” he said hurriedly, “I’ve got a class soon, so I’d better go.”
“That’s what I’m studying too!” Becca beamed, “that’s so awesome we’re in the same class! Tell you what, I’ll walk you over to the lecture hall.”
Hugh was in shock. She’d walk him over? Shouldn’t that be the other way round? Why wasn’t he taking the lead in this conversation? Becca seemed to be doing all the manoeuvring while he just blindly followed her like a lame sheep. Still, she was damned cute…
“That sounds good,” Hugh smiled, “I’ll just get my things.”
09.57
Hugh and Becca arrived at their lecture hall and took seats near the back of the auditorium. Ordinarily Hugh would have sat as close to the front as possible, but Becca had begged him to sit at the back with her.
“I always like to sit at the back,” she smiled, “even at the cinema.”
Hugh swallowed nervously. Did she want to make out with him in the lecture theatre? That couldn’t be right, he told himself, how would they take any notes? He soon realised that Becca didn’t want to make out with him right then when she took her pens and note pad out of her bag.
Hugh breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had much practice at kissing, not actual girls anyway, and he really didn’t want to have Becca realise this in the middle of his very first History lecture! Thank heaven for small mercies, he thought to himself.
“Good morning everyone,” a voice suddenly boomed from the front of the hall, where a man was writing his name on a whiteboard, “my name is Mr Montgomery, and welcome to History Matters.”
Mr Montgomery turned to face the students as he put down his pen. He looked at every face in the auditorium, then his eyes seemed to rest on Hugh. Hugh looked around, wondering why the lecturer was focusing on him, then he glanced at Becca. Her face looked a little cross, but when she noticed Hugh looking at her she quickly glanced down at her notebook and started writing. Hugh looked back at Mr Montgomery, but he had turned back to the whiteboard, carrying on with the lecture.
What was that all about?
12.07
After their two hour introductory lecture called History Matters, Hugh was still wondering what that weird moment was between Becca and Mr Montgomery. He’d heard stories about lecturers and students getting it on, but surely they couldn’t already be together. It would be just Hugh’s luck if this cute girl who he thought might actually be into him was dating one of her teachers! Anyway, regardless of that possibility, Hugh had finally taken the lead and asked Becca if she wanted to get something to eat.
“Sure,’ she grinned, “what do you fancy?”
You, Hugh thought to himself, but said, “I’m not sure. What do you fancy?”
“Oh, I can eat anything,” Becca replied, and another porn film image entered Hugh’s mind. He shook his head, trying to turn his concentration back to the conversation and away from lewd thoughts of Linda Lovelace. Becca continued, “what do you like?”
“I love curries,” Hugh said, then instantly regretted it. Curries made him fart, and he really didn’t want to fart in front of Becca on the first day they met, “or maybe just a hamburger would be a better idea for lunch.”
“There’s a Burger King nearby,” Becca said, “and I do love Whoppers.”
Again, Hugh’s mind turned to filth.
“Sounds great,” he smiled, and the two of them headed off to get some lunch.
12.20
As they sat down to a meal of hamburgers and French fries, Hugh bravely asked Becca the question that had been bugging him since the beginning of their morning lecture.
“Do you and Mr Montgomery,” he began carefully, “know each other?”
Becca paused in the middle of lifting a French fry to her lips, and looked Hugh deeply in the eyes.
“Do you promise not to say anything to anyone?” Becca said, and Hugh’s heart sank.
Becca and the lecturer were shagging, he knew it!
“I promise,” Hugh said reluctantly.
“Not under any circumstances,” Becca insisted.
Christ, she thought I could get him fired, “I promise, okay!” Hugh said.
Becca put down the French fry, licking her bottom lip as if she was about to give a lengthy speech, and finally said three words that made Hugh mentally high-five himself;
“He’s my dad.”
SATURDAY 15 OCTOBER, 1997
12.15
It had taken Hugh a little while to get used to the fact that Becca’s dad was his main History lecturer. The only upside had been that it meant she wasn’t having sex with him, which opened the door for Hugh to step in and take control of the situation – but he didn’t know how to broach the subject of dating with her. He never had really been brave enough to seriously ask anyone out in the past, so this would be a first for him. Maybe if he left it long enough she’d ask him, he thought to himself happily, if not hopefully.
On the topic of Becca’s dad being their lecturer, she really didn’t like talking about her dad being their lecturer, and whenever Hugh brought up the subject it seemed to be something of a touchy one.
“Will you just leave it alone?” Becca said angrily as Hugh brought up the subject yet again, “I just really don’t want people knowing that he’s my dad.”
“Is that why you use your mum’s maiden name?” Hugh asked.
“I’ve already told you, yes,” she sighed, “can we just talk about something else for a change?”
“Okay,” Hugh shrugged, “what do you want to talk about?”
Becca, who was sitting on the edge of Hugh’s bed, suddenly threw herself back, “I don’t know,” she sighed, “how about talking about us?”
“Us?” Hugh repeated, thinking to himself, There’s an us?
“Yes, us,” Becca put her hands behind her head, sliding them under Hugh’s pillow, “we’ve been going out for two weeks now, and you haven’t so much as tried to kiss me.”
Hugh’s face screwed up into an exasperated look. He hadn’t even realised that they had been going out, but he couldn’t say that could he? No one had done any asking out. He definitely hadn’t, from what he could remember. Maybe when he’d asked her to go out for a burger on the day they’d first met she’d taken it as his lame attempt at organizing a first date. Hugh chuckled inwardly to himself; who’d have thought that asking a girl out was so easy that he hadn’t even realised he’d done it. Desperately he tried to think of a good way to reply to Becca’s comment.
“I didn’t want to move too quickly and frighten you away,” Hugh admitted. To be fair, he had been moving slowly, just a little slower than Becca, “I was worried I might spoil things by rushing you.”
“Oh, you are a sensitive one, aren’t you?” Becca smiled, staring up at the ceiling, “old fashioned too. I didn’t know that guys like you still existed.”
“Well, I can promise you I do exist,” Hugh smiled in response, watching Becca as she stretched out on his bed. He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do, and didn’t want to jump the gun and do anything that might scare her off. He thought back to all the videos he’d watched about sex and the like and couldn’t think of a single one that had any dialogue that sensibly led up to the moment of love making. It didn’t seem plausible for him to pretend to be a plumber.
“I’m glad I met you, Hugh,” Becca said, sitting up on his bed, “I could really see myself falling for a guy like you,” Then she started to laugh, “How corny does that sound?”
Not corny at all, Hugh thought to himself, desperately trying to suppress the erection in his trousers. He actually thought it sounded kind of sweet. This would have been the perfect moment for him to take the initiative and finally make his move towards the bed, but he couldn’t help thinking that maybe they should try kissing first. Deep down, Hugh was a very old fashioned guy.
“A little corny,” Hugh laughed back, thinking this was the correct response.
“Yeah, I guess,” Becca sighed, “like something out of a bad romance movie.”
Hugh nodded to himself.
“How well do we know each other?” Becca suddenly asked.
Hugh frowned, Not that well, he thought, we only met two weeks ago.
“I dunno,” Hugh replied, “I know you like history. And hamburgers.”
“Maybe we should learn a bit more about each other.” Becca twisted her mouth into a thoughtful expression, “What’s your favourite movie?”
“Of all time?” Hugh said with surprise. That was not an easy question.
“Of this year,” Becca suggested, narrowing down the field, “I go to the movies a lot, I must have seen thirty of forty movies this year alone.”
“Wow,” Hugh said, surprised at how many movies Becca had seen, “I’ve only seen a handful.”
“You must be more choosy than me,” Becca laughed. Was that a dig at her liking Hugh? “What was your favourite?”
Hugh stopped to think. Should he lie and name a movie that a girl would like, or tell the truth that the movie he was most looking forward to in the coming months was Starship Troopers?
“Con Air was pretty good,” Hugh finally settled on. That was acceptable – an action movie to show he was macho, with a little background romance thrown in for the ladies.
“I loved Con Air,” Becca’s face lit up, “it started off awful, with all that slushy nonsense. But as soon as Nicolas Cage accidentally killed that guy, it got so good!”
“It was good,” Hugh agreed. Surprised that Becca liked it so much.
“I liked Men In Black,” Becca admitted, clearly a little embarrassed, “I know, it’s a comic book movie, but it was so funny and action packed. The effects were awesome.”
“I haven’t seen that one yet,” Hugh said, “I’ll have to put it on my watch list.”
“It’s a shame it’s not still on at the cinema,” Becca mused, “would could have snuggled up in the back row and watched it.”
Hugh swallowed nervously.
“What about books?” Becca continued. “What books do you like to read?”
Hugh was gutted – now he had to say what books he liked? He adored anything to do with military history, like Bernard Cornwell, but he especially liked the military space opera novels of Lois McMaster Bujold. The crippled dwarf Miles Vorkosigan was his hero. Mentally tossing a coin, Hugh settled on mentioning the female author first – it was more of a gamble, what with her writing sci-fi – but she wasn’t as well known as the author of Sharpe.
“Have you heard of Lois McMaster Bujold?” Hugh asked.
Becca sat bolt upright on the bed, “Have I heard of Lois McMaster Bujold?” she repeated, leaping off her bed and grabbing Hugh by the hand, “Come with me.”
She lead Hugh out of his dorm room and down the hall to where she lived. Hugh hadn’t been to her room before, so this was something of a first for him. Granted, they’d only known each other for a few weeks, but those times they had spent in a room together it was inevitably his.
Becca pushed open the door to her room after having unlocked it and lead Hugh in. She pointed to a shelf filled with books, including a number of Bujold’s Vorkosigan novels in hardback form.
“I just love Bujold!” Becca revealed, “She is possibly the best female fantasy writer of all time – and she doesn’t have any of that Anne Rice crap that seems so popular.
Hugh didn’t comment – as far as vampire literature went, he wasn’t a fan, but he did like Kim Newman’s Anno Dracula series.
“Have you heard of this?” Becca asked, shoving a dog-eared paperback under Hugh’s nose. He looked at the title; On Basilisk Station by David Weber.
“I don’t think I have,” Hugh admitted.
“You have just got to read it,” Becca said enthusiastically, “Honor Harrington is one of the strongest female role-models in space opera!”
Hugh took the proffered book, turning it over in his hands, “Thanks,” he said, “I’ll start reading it immediately.”
“Don’t just read it to impress me,” Becca smiled, “read it because it is just so good.”
“I will,” Hugh smiled back. Any girl that liked Miles Vorkosigan must have good taste in space opera. He turned the book over in his hand, looking at the well-rifled pages, and he found himself feeling slightly jealous of the book. That book had been lucky enough to have Becca fall in love with it, and have her fingers turn its pages and drink in its every word.
How he wished he could be that book.
“You can think of that as a two week anniversary gift,” Becca chuckled, “it’s a few days late, but never mind.”
“Thanks,” Hugh smiled sheepishly, “but I haven’t got you anything.”
“You don’t have to get me anything,” Becca said, “your company is enough.”
If anyone else had said something like that, Hugh would have thrown up, but from Becca it was different. He simply liked everything about her, and it seemed she – for some unknown reason – like everything about him.
“Now,” Becca continued, “placing her hands on Hugh’s shoulders, “about that kiss… why haven’t you really tried to kiss me yet – and I want the truth.”
Hugh placed the book down on Becca’s desk, “Well,” he began, “to be honest, I didn’t realise we were dating.”
Becca took a step backwards, “What did you think we were doing?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Hugh admitted, “I’m pretty new to this sort of thing – I’ve never had a proper girlfriend before.”
“So you’ve had an improper one?” Becca raised a joking eyebrow.
“You know what I mean,” Hugh smiled, “I’ve never had a girl like me the way you do.”
“And do you like me?” Becca asked.
“Of course,” Hugh smiled, “what’s not to like.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s cleared up,” Becca smirked, pulling her hair out of her eyes and pushing it behind her ears, “so, should we make this official – you and me, going steady?”
Thoughts of Happy Days sprung to mind at the sound of that outdated term, “I like the sound of that,” Hugh smiled as Becca moved back toward him again. He held his hands up to cup her face, and she pulled him closer towards her…
…And they kissed.
Originally Posted 18/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
09.32
Hugh had arrived in Liverpool over the weekend and was the only one of his close friends to have chosen to go to University far away from London. Rob had moved into halls, while Adrian was commuting from home, but Hugh had taken the initiative to move far from home where he might be able to make a fresh start and not be referred to as the weird guy by everyone he met.
Before he’d left college, he’d had a thing for a girl called Lola. He fancied her something rotten, and had done for seven years. Seven years? He shook his head as he thought about this fact. That was more than a third of his life, and it had taken him seven years to do anything about it. Things hadn’t gone well with Lola – correction, things hadn’t gone anywhere with Lola. She hadn’t been the slightest bit interested in him, which was usually one of the prerequisites for him choosing a girl, and she’d apparently had a very large, very muscular boyfriend as well.
Hugh sure knew how to pick them.
He’d moved into his halls of residence and been lucky enough to get a room to himself, with its own bathroom and kitchen facilities and, in spite of everything, things were looking pretty good. All he needed now was some random sexy girl to turn up at his door and let him have sex with her.
As he prepared to head to his first lecture, he heard a knock at the door. He smiled crookedly to himself;
“Nah,” he mumbled, thinking of his ideal scenario, “I couldn’t be that lucky,” and with he opened the door to see who it was.
“Hi,” said the girl who stood in his doorway. She was extremely pretty in an unconventional kind of way. Hugh looked her up and down; from her tied back kinky hair with the odd loose strand that tumbled across her ears, her red rimmed glasses, her pouty lips, her long neck, her ample chest covered by a thin T-shirt with the name of a band he’d never heard of emblazoned across it, her bare midriff that teasingly revealed her belly button, her tight denim shorts, her black tights, all the way down to her Dr Marten ankle boots. Hugh swallowed nervously.
“I’m Becca,” the pretty girl said by way of introduction, “I live down the hallway. You must be Hugh.”
“That’s right,” Hugh replied, looking up and down the corridor. Was this a practical joke? Had someone purposely sent this arguably very attractive young lady to his room as some sort of elaborate prank? No, he thought to himself, he didn’t know anyone well enough for them to go to that sort of effort – in fact, he didn’t know anyone at all. The only person he’d spoken to was the man who had handed over the keys to his room, and he hadn’t come across as the sort to play pranks.
“How can I help?” Hugh asked suspiciously, looking Becca up and down again.
“Oh no.” Becca grinned, pushing one of the stray strands of curly hair behind her ear, “I just thought I’d check if there was anything you might need? I wasn’t around when you arrived over the weekend, so I thought it was the neighbourly thing to do to come over and offer you anything you might require.”
Hugh had watched way too many porn films. All he could think about was all the scenarios he’d come across (pun intended) where women had turned up at a guys door and they’d ended up doing it on the kitchen counter. He bit back a shudder.
“No, I think I’ve got everything in hand,” he smiled, “but it was nice to meet you.”
“You too,” Becca beamed, “to tell you the truth, it’s kind of nice to have someone in the building at last. I moved in late last week, and it’s been just so boring without anyone to hang out with.”
Hang out with? Hugh raised his eyebrows. Was she asking to hang out with him? Was she hitting on him?
“Well, anytime you want to hang out, just knock on my door,” Hugh smiled eagerly, “you’ll usually find me in here, boning up on my studies.”
Oh God, Hugh grumbled to himself, I just said I hang out in my room and ‘bone up’. I hope she doesn’t spot the innuendo.
“Anyway,” Hugh quickly said, hoping to mask what he’d said, “I’d better be going. My first class starts in less than half an hour.”
“Cool,” Becca said, clearly innocent to Hugh’s unwanted double entendre, “so, what is your first class? I’m just off to mine now, too.”
“I’m studying history,” he said hurriedly, “I’ve got a class soon, so I’d better go.”
“That’s what I’m studying too!” Becca beamed, “that’s so awesome we’re in the same class! Tell you what, I’ll walk you over to the lecture hall.”
Hugh was in shock. She’d walk him over? Shouldn’t that be the other way round? Why wasn’t he taking the lead in this conversation? Becca seemed to be doing all the manoeuvring while he just blindly followed her like a lame sheep. Still, she was damned cute…
“That sounds good,” Hugh smiled, “I’ll just get my things.”
09.57
Hugh and Becca arrived at their lecture hall and took seats near the back of the auditorium. Ordinarily Hugh would have sat as close to the front as possible, but Becca had begged him to sit at the back with her.
“I always like to sit at the back,” she smiled, “even at the cinema.”
Hugh swallowed nervously. Did she want to make out with him in the lecture theatre? That couldn’t be right, he told himself, how would they take any notes? He soon realised that Becca didn’t want to make out with him right then when she took her pens and note pad out of her bag.
Hugh breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t had much practice at kissing, not actual girls anyway, and he really didn’t want to have Becca realise this in the middle of his very first History lecture! Thank heaven for small mercies, he thought to himself.
“Good morning everyone,” a voice suddenly boomed from the front of the hall, where a man was writing his name on a whiteboard, “my name is Mr Montgomery, and welcome to History Matters.”
Mr Montgomery turned to face the students as he put down his pen. He looked at every face in the auditorium, then his eyes seemed to rest on Hugh. Hugh looked around, wondering why the lecturer was focusing on him, then he glanced at Becca. Her face looked a little cross, but when she noticed Hugh looking at her she quickly glanced down at her notebook and started writing. Hugh looked back at Mr Montgomery, but he had turned back to the whiteboard, carrying on with the lecture.
What was that all about?
12.07
After their two hour introductory lecture called History Matters, Hugh was still wondering what that weird moment was between Becca and Mr Montgomery. He’d heard stories about lecturers and students getting it on, but surely they couldn’t already be together. It would be just Hugh’s luck if this cute girl who he thought might actually be into him was dating one of her teachers! Anyway, regardless of that possibility, Hugh had finally taken the lead and asked Becca if she wanted to get something to eat.
“Sure,’ she grinned, “what do you fancy?”
You, Hugh thought to himself, but said, “I’m not sure. What do you fancy?”
“Oh, I can eat anything,” Becca replied, and another porn film image entered Hugh’s mind. He shook his head, trying to turn his concentration back to the conversation and away from lewd thoughts of Linda Lovelace. Becca continued, “what do you like?”
“I love curries,” Hugh said, then instantly regretted it. Curries made him fart, and he really didn’t want to fart in front of Becca on the first day they met, “or maybe just a hamburger would be a better idea for lunch.”
“There’s a Burger King nearby,” Becca said, “and I do love Whoppers.”
Again, Hugh’s mind turned to filth.
“Sounds great,” he smiled, and the two of them headed off to get some lunch.
12.20
As they sat down to a meal of hamburgers and French fries, Hugh bravely asked Becca the question that had been bugging him since the beginning of their morning lecture.
“Do you and Mr Montgomery,” he began carefully, “know each other?”
Becca paused in the middle of lifting a French fry to her lips, and looked Hugh deeply in the eyes.
“Do you promise not to say anything to anyone?” Becca said, and Hugh’s heart sank.
Becca and the lecturer were shagging, he knew it!
“I promise,” Hugh said reluctantly.
“Not under any circumstances,” Becca insisted.
Christ, she thought I could get him fired, “I promise, okay!” Hugh said.
Becca put down the French fry, licking her bottom lip as if she was about to give a lengthy speech, and finally said three words that made Hugh mentally high-five himself;
“He’s my dad.”
SATURDAY 15 OCTOBER, 1997
12.15
It had taken Hugh a little while to get used to the fact that Becca’s dad was his main History lecturer. The only upside had been that it meant she wasn’t having sex with him, which opened the door for Hugh to step in and take control of the situation – but he didn’t know how to broach the subject of dating with her. He never had really been brave enough to seriously ask anyone out in the past, so this would be a first for him. Maybe if he left it long enough she’d ask him, he thought to himself happily, if not hopefully.
On the topic of Becca’s dad being their lecturer, she really didn’t like talking about her dad being their lecturer, and whenever Hugh brought up the subject it seemed to be something of a touchy one.
“Will you just leave it alone?” Becca said angrily as Hugh brought up the subject yet again, “I just really don’t want people knowing that he’s my dad.”
“Is that why you use your mum’s maiden name?” Hugh asked.
“I’ve already told you, yes,” she sighed, “can we just talk about something else for a change?”
“Okay,” Hugh shrugged, “what do you want to talk about?”
Becca, who was sitting on the edge of Hugh’s bed, suddenly threw herself back, “I don’t know,” she sighed, “how about talking about us?”
“Us?” Hugh repeated, thinking to himself, There’s an us?
“Yes, us,” Becca put her hands behind her head, sliding them under Hugh’s pillow, “we’ve been going out for two weeks now, and you haven’t so much as tried to kiss me.”
Hugh’s face screwed up into an exasperated look. He hadn’t even realised that they had been going out, but he couldn’t say that could he? No one had done any asking out. He definitely hadn’t, from what he could remember. Maybe when he’d asked her to go out for a burger on the day they’d first met she’d taken it as his lame attempt at organizing a first date. Hugh chuckled inwardly to himself; who’d have thought that asking a girl out was so easy that he hadn’t even realised he’d done it. Desperately he tried to think of a good way to reply to Becca’s comment.
“I didn’t want to move too quickly and frighten you away,” Hugh admitted. To be fair, he had been moving slowly, just a little slower than Becca, “I was worried I might spoil things by rushing you.”
“Oh, you are a sensitive one, aren’t you?” Becca smiled, staring up at the ceiling, “old fashioned too. I didn’t know that guys like you still existed.”
“Well, I can promise you I do exist,” Hugh smiled in response, watching Becca as she stretched out on his bed. He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do, and didn’t want to jump the gun and do anything that might scare her off. He thought back to all the videos he’d watched about sex and the like and couldn’t think of a single one that had any dialogue that sensibly led up to the moment of love making. It didn’t seem plausible for him to pretend to be a plumber.
“I’m glad I met you, Hugh,” Becca said, sitting up on his bed, “I could really see myself falling for a guy like you,” Then she started to laugh, “How corny does that sound?”
Not corny at all, Hugh thought to himself, desperately trying to suppress the erection in his trousers. He actually thought it sounded kind of sweet. This would have been the perfect moment for him to take the initiative and finally make his move towards the bed, but he couldn’t help thinking that maybe they should try kissing first. Deep down, Hugh was a very old fashioned guy.
“A little corny,” Hugh laughed back, thinking this was the correct response.
“Yeah, I guess,” Becca sighed, “like something out of a bad romance movie.”
Hugh nodded to himself.
“How well do we know each other?” Becca suddenly asked.
Hugh frowned, Not that well, he thought, we only met two weeks ago.
“I dunno,” Hugh replied, “I know you like history. And hamburgers.”
“Maybe we should learn a bit more about each other.” Becca twisted her mouth into a thoughtful expression, “What’s your favourite movie?”
“Of all time?” Hugh said with surprise. That was not an easy question.
“Of this year,” Becca suggested, narrowing down the field, “I go to the movies a lot, I must have seen thirty of forty movies this year alone.”
“Wow,” Hugh said, surprised at how many movies Becca had seen, “I’ve only seen a handful.”
“You must be more choosy than me,” Becca laughed. Was that a dig at her liking Hugh? “What was your favourite?”
Hugh stopped to think. Should he lie and name a movie that a girl would like, or tell the truth that the movie he was most looking forward to in the coming months was Starship Troopers?
“Con Air was pretty good,” Hugh finally settled on. That was acceptable – an action movie to show he was macho, with a little background romance thrown in for the ladies.
“I loved Con Air,” Becca’s face lit up, “it started off awful, with all that slushy nonsense. But as soon as Nicolas Cage accidentally killed that guy, it got so good!”
“It was good,” Hugh agreed. Surprised that Becca liked it so much.
“I liked Men In Black,” Becca admitted, clearly a little embarrassed, “I know, it’s a comic book movie, but it was so funny and action packed. The effects were awesome.”
“I haven’t seen that one yet,” Hugh said, “I’ll have to put it on my watch list.”
“It’s a shame it’s not still on at the cinema,” Becca mused, “would could have snuggled up in the back row and watched it.”
Hugh swallowed nervously.
“What about books?” Becca continued. “What books do you like to read?”
Hugh was gutted – now he had to say what books he liked? He adored anything to do with military history, like Bernard Cornwell, but he especially liked the military space opera novels of Lois McMaster Bujold. The crippled dwarf Miles Vorkosigan was his hero. Mentally tossing a coin, Hugh settled on mentioning the female author first – it was more of a gamble, what with her writing sci-fi – but she wasn’t as well known as the author of Sharpe.
“Have you heard of Lois McMaster Bujold?” Hugh asked.
Becca sat bolt upright on the bed, “Have I heard of Lois McMaster Bujold?” she repeated, leaping off her bed and grabbing Hugh by the hand, “Come with me.”
She lead Hugh out of his dorm room and down the hall to where she lived. Hugh hadn’t been to her room before, so this was something of a first for him. Granted, they’d only known each other for a few weeks, but those times they had spent in a room together it was inevitably his.
Becca pushed open the door to her room after having unlocked it and lead Hugh in. She pointed to a shelf filled with books, including a number of Bujold’s Vorkosigan novels in hardback form.
“I just love Bujold!” Becca revealed, “She is possibly the best female fantasy writer of all time – and she doesn’t have any of that Anne Rice crap that seems so popular.
Hugh didn’t comment – as far as vampire literature went, he wasn’t a fan, but he did like Kim Newman’s Anno Dracula series.
“Have you heard of this?” Becca asked, shoving a dog-eared paperback under Hugh’s nose. He looked at the title; On Basilisk Station by David Weber.
“I don’t think I have,” Hugh admitted.
“You have just got to read it,” Becca said enthusiastically, “Honor Harrington is one of the strongest female role-models in space opera!”
Hugh took the proffered book, turning it over in his hands, “Thanks,” he said, “I’ll start reading it immediately.”
“Don’t just read it to impress me,” Becca smiled, “read it because it is just so good.”
“I will,” Hugh smiled back. Any girl that liked Miles Vorkosigan must have good taste in space opera. He turned the book over in his hand, looking at the well-rifled pages, and he found himself feeling slightly jealous of the book. That book had been lucky enough to have Becca fall in love with it, and have her fingers turn its pages and drink in its every word.
How he wished he could be that book.
“You can think of that as a two week anniversary gift,” Becca chuckled, “it’s a few days late, but never mind.”
“Thanks,” Hugh smiled sheepishly, “but I haven’t got you anything.”
“You don’t have to get me anything,” Becca said, “your company is enough.”
If anyone else had said something like that, Hugh would have thrown up, but from Becca it was different. He simply liked everything about her, and it seemed she – for some unknown reason – like everything about him.
“Now,” Becca continued, “placing her hands on Hugh’s shoulders, “about that kiss… why haven’t you really tried to kiss me yet – and I want the truth.”
Hugh placed the book down on Becca’s desk, “Well,” he began, “to be honest, I didn’t realise we were dating.”
Becca took a step backwards, “What did you think we were doing?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” Hugh admitted, “I’m pretty new to this sort of thing – I’ve never had a proper girlfriend before.”
“So you’ve had an improper one?” Becca raised a joking eyebrow.
“You know what I mean,” Hugh smiled, “I’ve never had a girl like me the way you do.”
“And do you like me?” Becca asked.
“Of course,” Hugh smiled, “what’s not to like.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s cleared up,” Becca smirked, pulling her hair out of her eyes and pushing it behind her ears, “so, should we make this official – you and me, going steady?”
Thoughts of Happy Days sprung to mind at the sound of that outdated term, “I like the sound of that,” Hugh smiled as Becca moved back toward him again. He held his hands up to cup her face, and she pulled him closer towards her…
…And they kissed.
Originally Posted 18/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
March 17, 2015
Poem : The Anal-Retentive Book Collector
I really hate it when my books
Are nothing but pristine
I love to keep the spines unbent
And all the covers clean
I never lend my books to folk
For fear they’ll not take care
To keep the book in as-new nick
And avoid pages tear
I once lent my sister a book
I remember it clearly
It had been read only one time
I’d looked after it dearly
Eventually it did come back
She had it simply ages
Its spine was torn along the side
And blood did cake some pages
My other sister took a book
Without my own consent
It came back with the pages lose
The spine completely bent
From then on I became hell-bent
On protecting my fiction
Whenever damage came to one
It caused no end of friction
I have some books of which I’m proud
I managed not to blight
My Stephen King collection is
An extraordinary sight
My copies of The Stand and It
Appear as if they’re new
Despite the four-figure page counts
The spine's barely askew
But sometimes there’s a book or two
No matter what I try
That end up looking like they’ve been
Left on the beach to dry
These are the books I love the most
Although I do protect them
They’re bound to fall apart some day
And it was I that wrecked them
Originally Posted 17/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
Are nothing but pristine
I love to keep the spines unbent
And all the covers clean
I never lend my books to folk
For fear they’ll not take care
To keep the book in as-new nick
And avoid pages tear
I once lent my sister a book
I remember it clearly
It had been read only one time
I’d looked after it dearly
Eventually it did come back
She had it simply ages
Its spine was torn along the side
And blood did cake some pages
My other sister took a book
Without my own consent
It came back with the pages lose
The spine completely bent
From then on I became hell-bent
On protecting my fiction
Whenever damage came to one
It caused no end of friction
I have some books of which I’m proud
I managed not to blight
My Stephen King collection is
An extraordinary sight
My copies of The Stand and It
Appear as if they’re new
Despite the four-figure page counts
The spine's barely askew
But sometimes there’s a book or two
No matter what I try
That end up looking like they’ve been
Left on the beach to dry
These are the books I love the most
Although I do protect them
They’re bound to fall apart some day
And it was I that wrecked them
Originally Posted 17/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
March 11, 2015
Short Story : The Dangerous Life of the Bishiteki Tribe
Being a member of the Bishiteki tribe meant that every day you were faced with an uncertain future.
The last remaining members of the tribe spent much of their time travelling through the wilderness, desperately in search of the mythical land of Hinansho – a land that legend has it would provide them with the much needed safety that their current life lacked.
As they moved through the stark wilderness, they were forced to stick to the shadows. To step into the light would result in certain death. Their tiny bodies could not cope with direct exposure to the Moeru taiyo which threatened to kill them if they so much as looked directly into it for too long.
But there was a far worse legend that they were in constant fear of.
The legend of Ochiba!
If this legend were to come true, it wouldn’t be long before the tribe had no protection from the sky, and the Moeru taiyo would engulf them all, destroying them completely.
The Bishiteki tribe, or what was left of it, was being guided through the wilderness by Rida, a young Bishiteki who knew very little about the world surrounding them but had been next in line following the death of his father, Choro. Choro had taken a wrong turn on a previous expedition, and had fallen into the direct path of the Moeru taiyo. His death had been both spectacular and gut wrenching.
Rida’s best friend, Rakkan, had a way of looking on the bright side, even in the shadow of Choro’s death.
“It is a sign,” he believed, “from the Kamigami. They are smiling on us this day, Rida. They know that you will take us to the fabled Hinansho, and there we will be safe and will prosper.”
Rida wasn’t so sure.
There was more than one member of the tribe that had vied for the role of guide. Although Rida was the naturally chosen guide, being a direct descendant of Choro, there was a minor loophole in their history that said the role of guide could be challenged by Teki, who was the nephew of Choro and Rida’s cousin. Teki’s father, Ani, had never liked the fact that Choro had taken the option of tribe guide away from him, and vowed to change the laws so that his descendents could challenge the position.
But Rida had won the vote.
Teki had received only two votes from the tribe – one from himself, and one from the tribe member called Uragirimono.
Rida hadn’t taken the award of the position lightly, but he didn’t like having the responsibility of protecting the tribe from harm from the Moeru taiyo. He had appointed his two strongest remaining subjects, Senshi and Sentoki, to act as guards for the Bishiteki, and to ensure that no harm came to any of them and that none of them did any harm.
“Today is a good day,” Rakkan said to Rida cheerfully as the two of them guided the tribe on the latest leg of their journey, “I think that many good things will happen today.”
“Especially with Rida leading us,” added Deshi, one of Rida’s most devoted subjects.
“I just hope that I can live up to everyone’s expectations,” Rida said kindly.
“You will,” Rida’s wife, Koibito, took his hand and squeezed it tightly, “so long as we stick to the shadows, we will be fine.”
As Koibito spoke, a strong wind began to blow through the air. The tribe stopped in their tracks, gripping their staffs and plunging them into the ground to act as an anchor from the wind. It wasn’t uncommon for a Bishiteki tribe member to be carried away by the wind, and thrown into the path of the Moeru taiyo where their bodies would burst into flame and be engulfed by fire.
“Everybody stay calm,” shouted Sentoki, “keep a hold of your staffs and you will be fine.”
Rida looked back at his subjects, holding onto his staff with one hand and his wife with the other. He could see some of the tribe were having trouble at the back of the group, and he shouted to them.
“If you can, move closer to the rest of us,” he cried, “we will be more protected from the wind if we stick together.”
The rear most member of the tribe, Gisei-sha, was having the most trouble. His hat had already blown into the path of the Moeru taiyo, and his staff was loosening in the ground. He couldn’t see now without the protection of his hat, and was trying to shield his eyes with one hand while holding tightly to his staff with the other. The nearest tribe member, Uragirimono, looked at Gisei-sha with pity.
Rida had turned away from the rest of the pack, pulling Koibito closer to him for protection. He didn’t see what Uragirimono did next.
Uragirimono reached down with one free hand, taking Gisei-sha’s staff and pulling it from the ground. Gisei-sha didn’t see this, with the sand and the blackened soil blowing into his eyes, but he felt the staff wrench free of the ground. Uragirimono released the staff just as Rida turned back to check on his subjects.
“Gisei-sha!” Rida screamed as he saw his tribe member lifted into the air and thrown out of the shadows and into the light. His body began to blacken and he screamed, still spinning inthe air, as his body burst into flame.
“No!” Rida screamed, “How can this be?”
“He did not have his staff tightly enough in the ground,” Uragirimono lied, “I tried to warn him – to save him – but my warnings came too late.”
Rida stared at what was left of Gisei-sha, still spinning in the strong winds. Slowly they started to di down, and Gisei-sha’s remains fell to the blazing ground.
“There was nothing anyone could have done” Koibito said comfortingly, but Rida was not so sure. He had his suspicions about Uragirimono, and believed he planned on undermining Rida’s leadership in favour of Teki.
“I imagine he didn’t suffer,” Rakkan said, but even he should have known that to die by the Moeru taiyo was the most painful death imaginable to the Bishiteki.
With the wind now departed, the tribe continued their journey, ever more cautious of the dangers that might take them.
Rida looked into the sky, where he could see the Moeru taiyo mocking them from behind the limited protection they had managed to find. They needed to move quickly. Night time was still five hours away and they needed to find some temporary protection before they could move at night.
“Perhaps we could head towards the trees,” Deshi suggested, “their branches may betray us, but their bodies can’t help but protect us from the Moeru taiyo.”
Rida agreed, and the tribe started looking for shadows that would lead them to the protection of a tree.
It wasn’t long before Forowa spotted what they were looking for, “There!” he cried, “I can see a tree, and it is a large one.”
Rida looked where Forowa was pointing, seeing a large blackened tree in the distance. He nodded, ‘That will do nicely,” he said, and the tribe began the walk towards it.
The shadows were becoming more problematic as they approached the tree. In some areas the shadows came to a complete stop, and Rida had to backtrack to find a way that would allow them to walk through shadow and avoid the Moeru taiyo.
Teki watched cautiously from the back of the group, where he had joined with Uragirimono.
“WE must do something about Rida,” Uragirimono whispered conspiratorially, “you would make a much better leader. You have already ridded us of the weakest members of the tribe.”
“With your help.” Teki agreed, “If not for Rida’s cautious ways, we would have found Hinansho by now and would be drinking the nectar of the Kamigami.”
“Perhaps we should take a more direct approach,” Uragirimono suggested, “what do you think?”
“You may be right,” Teki agreed, “What do you suggest?”
Uragirimono examined the nearby shadows as they continued to walk, and looked up at the sky. His eyes widened as he observed something happening high up in the branches of the distant tree.
Ochiba!
“Such timing,” Uragirimono sneered and, after consultation with Teki, he decided to make his move.
Uragirimono launched himself at Senshi, knocking the solidly built Bishiteki to the ground. He punched him hard, fracturing his jaw, then pushed him out of the safety of the shadows.
Senshi screamed in agony as he felt the blazing fury of the Moeru taiyo ignite his clothes, then his skin started to burst into flame before he fell dead to the ground, nothing left of him but a few charred remains.
While Uragirimono had been dispatching of Senshi , Teki had run to the front of the group and grabbed hold of Koibito , holding a thin blade to her throat.
“If you value the life of your wife, Rida,” he spat, “you will stand down as leader of the tribe and pass that honour onto me.”
“Never!” Koibito yelled, tugging at Teki’s hands to try and free herself, “The tribe will not survive with Teki in charge!”
Sentoki pointed his staff at Uragirimono, who was happily wiping his hands on his tunic after killing Senshi , “You will not get away with this,” Sentoki stated, “I will see you perish for what you have done.”
Uragirimono laughed loudly, “You cannot do anything, soldier,” he said, pointing to the sky. Sentoki looked into the sky to see what Uragirimono was pointing at. His breath caught in his throat.
Ochiba!
The tribe members watched as the shadows started to move. The ochiba’s motions as they descended from the heavens were causing the shadows to become more erratic, and far less reliable. The gap between Uragirimono and Sentoki started to change, moving from shadow to light. Sentoki looked to Rida, who nodded, understanding what the soldiers looked implied.
“We must move, now,” Rida cried, “I implore you, Teki, can this discussion not wait until we are safe?”
“We will not be safe with you as our guide!” Teki spat angrily, tightening his hands grip in Koibito’s throat, “only I can safely lead us to Hinansho!”
“That is not true,” Rida declared, “only by working together and trusting in each other’s abilities will we find the promised land.”
Teki sneered, pressing the blade to Koibito’s neck and drawing blood. As Rida fearfully watched, Sentoki took the distraction to leap from the shadow in which he stood to the shadow containing Uragirimono. His staff struck Uragirimono a glancing blow, knocking him to the ground. Sentoki stood over Uragirimono, holding his staff to his throat, “Let her go, Teki,” he shouted, “or I kill your treacherous friend.”
“Do what you will,” Teki returned, “I can lead those who stand by me without his assistance.”
The thoughts of betrayal that ran through Uragirimono’s mind gave him the strength to grab Sentoki’s staff and use the leverage to flip the solider over his head. Sentoki cart wheeled through the air, landing inside the shadows, but his arm flailed into the light and began to burn. He screamed.
Rida watched as Uragirimono picked himself off the ground and approached the mortally injured soldier. The villainous Bishiteki picked up the fallen staff and held it high over Sentoki’s head.
Rida’s own staff, almost with a life of its own, launched through the air, passing through both shadow and light, before finding its new home in Uragirimono back, passing through and out of his chest. The injured Sentoki just managed to roll out of the way as Uragirimono fell forward, his dying body falling from shadow to light and burning quietly beside him.
Teki glared at Rida, “You have no staff now, guide,” he shouted, “how will you protect yourself against the winds?”
“I can trust in my friends to help me,” Rida returned, “who do you have now, Teki?”
Teki looked around at the shadows moving around him, and the tribe members who had never wanted him as their guide. He pressed the blade slowly into Koibito neck, feeling her tense against him as she felt the agony of the blade’s touch.
That was when the ochiba finally landed, sweeping into both Teki and Koibito. Koibito fell forward, narrowly avoiding falling into the light, but Teki was swept sideways out of the shadow and into the light.
“Save me!” he screamed, as he clung to the ochiba, trying to use it for protection from the light, but his fingers started to burn where he held it, and the smell of smouldering flesh lifted into the air.
“Save me, Rida!” Teki cried, but Rida turned away as his enemy burnt to death.
With Teki gone. Rida threw his cloak over his head and leapt through the light into the shadow where his wife lay, injured.
“Koibito, my love. Speak to me,” he pleaded, hoping the wound in her neck had not been fatal.
Koibito opened her eyes, staring up at Rida, “I’m fine, my love,” she smiled, “but we must move. That may not be the last of the ochiba.”
“No,” Rida said seriously, “we must get to Hinansho, for I fear Autumn is coming.”
THE END
KEY TO WORDS USED IN THIS STORY
Rida – leader
Koibito – lover
Rakkan – optimism
Deshi – disciple
Teki – enemy
Uragirimono - traitor
Senshi – warrior
Sentoki – fighter
Forowa – follower
Gisei-sha – victim
Choro – elder
Ani - brother
Bishiteki - microscopic
Moeru taiyo – burning sun
Ochiba – falling leaves
Hinansho - shelter
Kamigami - Gods
Originally Posted 11/3/2015
Result - Joint 3rd Place
The last remaining members of the tribe spent much of their time travelling through the wilderness, desperately in search of the mythical land of Hinansho – a land that legend has it would provide them with the much needed safety that their current life lacked.
As they moved through the stark wilderness, they were forced to stick to the shadows. To step into the light would result in certain death. Their tiny bodies could not cope with direct exposure to the Moeru taiyo which threatened to kill them if they so much as looked directly into it for too long.
But there was a far worse legend that they were in constant fear of.
The legend of Ochiba!
If this legend were to come true, it wouldn’t be long before the tribe had no protection from the sky, and the Moeru taiyo would engulf them all, destroying them completely.
The Bishiteki tribe, or what was left of it, was being guided through the wilderness by Rida, a young Bishiteki who knew very little about the world surrounding them but had been next in line following the death of his father, Choro. Choro had taken a wrong turn on a previous expedition, and had fallen into the direct path of the Moeru taiyo. His death had been both spectacular and gut wrenching.
Rida’s best friend, Rakkan, had a way of looking on the bright side, even in the shadow of Choro’s death.
“It is a sign,” he believed, “from the Kamigami. They are smiling on us this day, Rida. They know that you will take us to the fabled Hinansho, and there we will be safe and will prosper.”
Rida wasn’t so sure.
There was more than one member of the tribe that had vied for the role of guide. Although Rida was the naturally chosen guide, being a direct descendant of Choro, there was a minor loophole in their history that said the role of guide could be challenged by Teki, who was the nephew of Choro and Rida’s cousin. Teki’s father, Ani, had never liked the fact that Choro had taken the option of tribe guide away from him, and vowed to change the laws so that his descendents could challenge the position.
But Rida had won the vote.
Teki had received only two votes from the tribe – one from himself, and one from the tribe member called Uragirimono.
Rida hadn’t taken the award of the position lightly, but he didn’t like having the responsibility of protecting the tribe from harm from the Moeru taiyo. He had appointed his two strongest remaining subjects, Senshi and Sentoki, to act as guards for the Bishiteki, and to ensure that no harm came to any of them and that none of them did any harm.
“Today is a good day,” Rakkan said to Rida cheerfully as the two of them guided the tribe on the latest leg of their journey, “I think that many good things will happen today.”
“Especially with Rida leading us,” added Deshi, one of Rida’s most devoted subjects.
“I just hope that I can live up to everyone’s expectations,” Rida said kindly.
“You will,” Rida’s wife, Koibito, took his hand and squeezed it tightly, “so long as we stick to the shadows, we will be fine.”
As Koibito spoke, a strong wind began to blow through the air. The tribe stopped in their tracks, gripping their staffs and plunging them into the ground to act as an anchor from the wind. It wasn’t uncommon for a Bishiteki tribe member to be carried away by the wind, and thrown into the path of the Moeru taiyo where their bodies would burst into flame and be engulfed by fire.
“Everybody stay calm,” shouted Sentoki, “keep a hold of your staffs and you will be fine.”
Rida looked back at his subjects, holding onto his staff with one hand and his wife with the other. He could see some of the tribe were having trouble at the back of the group, and he shouted to them.
“If you can, move closer to the rest of us,” he cried, “we will be more protected from the wind if we stick together.”
The rear most member of the tribe, Gisei-sha, was having the most trouble. His hat had already blown into the path of the Moeru taiyo, and his staff was loosening in the ground. He couldn’t see now without the protection of his hat, and was trying to shield his eyes with one hand while holding tightly to his staff with the other. The nearest tribe member, Uragirimono, looked at Gisei-sha with pity.
Rida had turned away from the rest of the pack, pulling Koibito closer to him for protection. He didn’t see what Uragirimono did next.
Uragirimono reached down with one free hand, taking Gisei-sha’s staff and pulling it from the ground. Gisei-sha didn’t see this, with the sand and the blackened soil blowing into his eyes, but he felt the staff wrench free of the ground. Uragirimono released the staff just as Rida turned back to check on his subjects.
“Gisei-sha!” Rida screamed as he saw his tribe member lifted into the air and thrown out of the shadows and into the light. His body began to blacken and he screamed, still spinning inthe air, as his body burst into flame.
“No!” Rida screamed, “How can this be?”
“He did not have his staff tightly enough in the ground,” Uragirimono lied, “I tried to warn him – to save him – but my warnings came too late.”
Rida stared at what was left of Gisei-sha, still spinning in the strong winds. Slowly they started to di down, and Gisei-sha’s remains fell to the blazing ground.
“There was nothing anyone could have done” Koibito said comfortingly, but Rida was not so sure. He had his suspicions about Uragirimono, and believed he planned on undermining Rida’s leadership in favour of Teki.
“I imagine he didn’t suffer,” Rakkan said, but even he should have known that to die by the Moeru taiyo was the most painful death imaginable to the Bishiteki.
With the wind now departed, the tribe continued their journey, ever more cautious of the dangers that might take them.
Rida looked into the sky, where he could see the Moeru taiyo mocking them from behind the limited protection they had managed to find. They needed to move quickly. Night time was still five hours away and they needed to find some temporary protection before they could move at night.
“Perhaps we could head towards the trees,” Deshi suggested, “their branches may betray us, but their bodies can’t help but protect us from the Moeru taiyo.”
Rida agreed, and the tribe started looking for shadows that would lead them to the protection of a tree.
It wasn’t long before Forowa spotted what they were looking for, “There!” he cried, “I can see a tree, and it is a large one.”
Rida looked where Forowa was pointing, seeing a large blackened tree in the distance. He nodded, ‘That will do nicely,” he said, and the tribe began the walk towards it.
The shadows were becoming more problematic as they approached the tree. In some areas the shadows came to a complete stop, and Rida had to backtrack to find a way that would allow them to walk through shadow and avoid the Moeru taiyo.
Teki watched cautiously from the back of the group, where he had joined with Uragirimono.
“WE must do something about Rida,” Uragirimono whispered conspiratorially, “you would make a much better leader. You have already ridded us of the weakest members of the tribe.”
“With your help.” Teki agreed, “If not for Rida’s cautious ways, we would have found Hinansho by now and would be drinking the nectar of the Kamigami.”
“Perhaps we should take a more direct approach,” Uragirimono suggested, “what do you think?”
“You may be right,” Teki agreed, “What do you suggest?”
Uragirimono examined the nearby shadows as they continued to walk, and looked up at the sky. His eyes widened as he observed something happening high up in the branches of the distant tree.
Ochiba!
“Such timing,” Uragirimono sneered and, after consultation with Teki, he decided to make his move.
Uragirimono launched himself at Senshi, knocking the solidly built Bishiteki to the ground. He punched him hard, fracturing his jaw, then pushed him out of the safety of the shadows.
Senshi screamed in agony as he felt the blazing fury of the Moeru taiyo ignite his clothes, then his skin started to burst into flame before he fell dead to the ground, nothing left of him but a few charred remains.
While Uragirimono had been dispatching of Senshi , Teki had run to the front of the group and grabbed hold of Koibito , holding a thin blade to her throat.
“If you value the life of your wife, Rida,” he spat, “you will stand down as leader of the tribe and pass that honour onto me.”
“Never!” Koibito yelled, tugging at Teki’s hands to try and free herself, “The tribe will not survive with Teki in charge!”
Sentoki pointed his staff at Uragirimono, who was happily wiping his hands on his tunic after killing Senshi , “You will not get away with this,” Sentoki stated, “I will see you perish for what you have done.”
Uragirimono laughed loudly, “You cannot do anything, soldier,” he said, pointing to the sky. Sentoki looked into the sky to see what Uragirimono was pointing at. His breath caught in his throat.
Ochiba!
The tribe members watched as the shadows started to move. The ochiba’s motions as they descended from the heavens were causing the shadows to become more erratic, and far less reliable. The gap between Uragirimono and Sentoki started to change, moving from shadow to light. Sentoki looked to Rida, who nodded, understanding what the soldiers looked implied.
“We must move, now,” Rida cried, “I implore you, Teki, can this discussion not wait until we are safe?”
“We will not be safe with you as our guide!” Teki spat angrily, tightening his hands grip in Koibito’s throat, “only I can safely lead us to Hinansho!”
“That is not true,” Rida declared, “only by working together and trusting in each other’s abilities will we find the promised land.”
Teki sneered, pressing the blade to Koibito’s neck and drawing blood. As Rida fearfully watched, Sentoki took the distraction to leap from the shadow in which he stood to the shadow containing Uragirimono. His staff struck Uragirimono a glancing blow, knocking him to the ground. Sentoki stood over Uragirimono, holding his staff to his throat, “Let her go, Teki,” he shouted, “or I kill your treacherous friend.”
“Do what you will,” Teki returned, “I can lead those who stand by me without his assistance.”
The thoughts of betrayal that ran through Uragirimono’s mind gave him the strength to grab Sentoki’s staff and use the leverage to flip the solider over his head. Sentoki cart wheeled through the air, landing inside the shadows, but his arm flailed into the light and began to burn. He screamed.
Rida watched as Uragirimono picked himself off the ground and approached the mortally injured soldier. The villainous Bishiteki picked up the fallen staff and held it high over Sentoki’s head.
Rida’s own staff, almost with a life of its own, launched through the air, passing through both shadow and light, before finding its new home in Uragirimono back, passing through and out of his chest. The injured Sentoki just managed to roll out of the way as Uragirimono fell forward, his dying body falling from shadow to light and burning quietly beside him.
Teki glared at Rida, “You have no staff now, guide,” he shouted, “how will you protect yourself against the winds?”
“I can trust in my friends to help me,” Rida returned, “who do you have now, Teki?”
Teki looked around at the shadows moving around him, and the tribe members who had never wanted him as their guide. He pressed the blade slowly into Koibito neck, feeling her tense against him as she felt the agony of the blade’s touch.
That was when the ochiba finally landed, sweeping into both Teki and Koibito. Koibito fell forward, narrowly avoiding falling into the light, but Teki was swept sideways out of the shadow and into the light.
“Save me!” he screamed, as he clung to the ochiba, trying to use it for protection from the light, but his fingers started to burn where he held it, and the smell of smouldering flesh lifted into the air.
“Save me, Rida!” Teki cried, but Rida turned away as his enemy burnt to death.
With Teki gone. Rida threw his cloak over his head and leapt through the light into the shadow where his wife lay, injured.
“Koibito, my love. Speak to me,” he pleaded, hoping the wound in her neck had not been fatal.
Koibito opened her eyes, staring up at Rida, “I’m fine, my love,” she smiled, “but we must move. That may not be the last of the ochiba.”
“No,” Rida said seriously, “we must get to Hinansho, for I fear Autumn is coming.”
THE END
KEY TO WORDS USED IN THIS STORY
Rida – leader
Koibito – lover
Rakkan – optimism
Deshi – disciple
Teki – enemy
Uragirimono - traitor
Senshi – warrior
Sentoki – fighter
Forowa – follower
Gisei-sha – victim
Choro – elder
Ani - brother
Bishiteki - microscopic
Moeru taiyo – burning sun
Ochiba – falling leaves
Hinansho - shelter
Kamigami - Gods
Originally Posted 11/3/2015
Result - Joint 3rd Place
March 10, 2015
Poem : Light and Shadows Shift
The shadows cast
Upon the heated ground
They never last
And never make a sound
We owe the sun
For giving us this gift
To everyone
As light and shadows shift
The dark arrives
And soon the shadows leave
Our love survives
There is no need to grieve
If not for light
These blessings we’d not see
The beauteous might
Of sunlight through a tree
Originally Posted 10/3/2015
Result - Joint 4th Place
Upon the heated ground
They never last
And never make a sound
We owe the sun
For giving us this gift
To everyone
As light and shadows shift
The dark arrives
And soon the shadows leave
Our love survives
There is no need to grieve
If not for light
These blessings we’d not see
The beauteous might
Of sunlight through a tree
Originally Posted 10/3/2015
Result - Joint 4th Place
March 2, 2015
Short Story : A Simple Thing (aka. The Babysitter)
Such a simple thing. A tiny scratch, and from such an innocent place.
I was house-sitting for some friends of mine who had gone out for the evening. It was their second anniversary and I’d agreed to help them out so they could enjoy themselves for once. To be fair I was more than just house-sitting.
I was babysitting too.
The baby was eleven months old, but I never did get to see her first birthday. She was such a sweet little thing, but she did like to leave her toys lying around the place. There were drawings on many of the walls in cheap crayon and felt tip. They weren’t anything impressive, but it was quite a start to her burgeoning career. Not only that, but she had managed to get hold of the phone earlier, and had taken out the battery pack, leaving it lying on the floor. I’d have been impressed if I wasn’t going to have to fix it up later. If she didn’t become an artist when she grew up, she had a promising future in engineering.
She’d just started crawling a few weeks earlier, so it was difficult to keep track of her all the time. My best bet was to lock all the doors to ensure she was firmly placed in one location, that way I could pretty much relax and catch up on some TV.
My friends had one hell of a DVD collection, so I picked one out that I hadn’t heard of and stuck it into the DVD player. I love horror films, and this one sounded like it might just fit the bill. It was called The Cabin In The Woods, and I hadn’t heard much about it other than half the cast were either antipodean or used to be in stuff by Joss Whedon. That was enough of a selling point for me, so I sat the baby down on the floor to play, then kicked of my shoes and sat myself down to enjoy the movie.
I know what you’re thinking – horror films probably aren’t age appropriate for a baby – but I thought she could take it.
As I skipped through the advertisements, the baby started to crawl around, playing with one of those toy cars that make a rattling noise when you push them. That wasn’t going to be conducive to my viewing pleasure, so I had to think of something to do about it.
“Can you play with that somewhere else?” I told the baby. The baby stared back at me, eyes wide, a trickle of saliva escaping its lips and dripping down its chin. Then the baby crawled out of the living room, pushing the toy car with it.
I settled back down to watch the movie, which looked quite standard as far as horror movies go. All the typical characters were there, and I wasn’t convinced it was going to be any good. But the action kept moving back and forth between the teenagers and some kind of government facility, so I was intrigued to see what happened next.
After about ten minutes, I noticed that the baby had fallen silent. I couldn’t hear the toy car anymore and could only assume the toddler had wandered out of my hearing range. Slightly panicked, I paused the DVD and stood up from my seat.
My foot discovered an extremely sharp toy lying on the ground, and I shrieked with pain. Grasping my foot, I took a look at the damage. There was a mild indent, but no visible wound. Scowling, I looked back up from my pained foot and determined myself to find that child and give it a good hiding.
I stumbled out of the living room and into the kitchen, where i could see a pair of chubby legs sitting behind an open cupboard door. Closing the door, I discovered the baby had discovered a bottle of bleach, and had been gnawing at the cap.
“Put that down!” I shouted, batting the bottle away and grabbing the baby under its arms, lifting it off the ground, “That was very stupid!”
The baby glared at me as I held it in the air, wriggling from side to side, and reaching out for my face. Its nails, which could really have done with a trim, clawed towards me, running against my neck. The pain caused me to drop the baby, who bounced to the ground and proceeded to cry.
My neck was very sore from the baby’s nails, and I dabbed my fingers against the scrapes.
They came away coated in blood.
It was a considerable amount of blood, and I was actually kind of impressed that such a small child could inflict such damage on an adult, but I didn’t have time to remark on the viciousness of an eleven month old, so a walked to the bathroom to inspect the damage.
It was actually considerably worse than I thought; blood was oozing out of three nasty looking lines that ran down my jaw line and onto my neck. My shirt was soaking up the blood at it flowed onto it, but I really needed to do something about this loss of blood before it got more serious. I needed to call for medical assistance.
I picked up a towel, holding it against the side of my neck with one hand as I wandered back into the living room, looking for the phone.
There it was, lying on the ground, it’s battery pack lying next to it.
I picked up the pack, looking at it closely. I’d probably have to put down the towel to put it back in, it looked like a two hand job, so I set to work trying to figure out which way n the battery went.
It took a few minutes to get it right, and once I had I switched it back on, picking up the towel and putting it back against my neck. The screen on the phone started flickering, the word SEARCHING running across the screen. It was taking a long time, it should have found reception by now...
I looked out into the kitchen where the phone base sat, and saw the baby holding the base in one hand while it chewed at the mains cable.
“Give that here,” I shouted, snatching the base away from the baby. She started to cry as I inspected the cable – as I suspected, she’d chewed right through.
Luckily I knew where they had an old phone – and old fashioned one that just plugged into the phone socket and didn’t require battery or mains power. I pulled out a chair with one hand and climbed onto it, reaching for one of the high cupboards that stored all manner of useless paraphernalia.
I looked through the cupboard, finally locating the much needed rotary phone and was about to climb down from the chair when I looked to the ground and saw the baby, both hands on one of the legs, tugging at the chair.
“Stop that! I shouted, but I was too late. Losing my balance as the chair tumbled to the ground, I followed shortly afterwards, my arm slamming into the hard floor and my back swingeing painfully as my head snapped into the ground.
I suspected I now had a head wound to match the one in my neck, and my spasming back was refusing to communicate with my limbs. I couldn’t move!
I lay there, wondering how much blood I had lost, and how long it would be before someone found me. The rotary phone lay useless on the ground beside me, the digital phone just as useless on the counter. I heard a squelching noise, and tried to turn my head. I couldn’t, but as I lay there I saw the baby come into my line of sight.
She’d crawled through my bodily fluids, her hands and the bottom half of her legs coated in the stuff. She lifted herself onto her knees and started daubing the cupboard doors with blood, attempting to use it as some macabre sort of art supply.
When she’d finished her doodling, she crawled onto my chest, leaving bloody hand prints on my shirt, and came to rest with her head above mine. She pecked me on the lips, then turned her head to rest it on mine.
She fell asleep, as I similarly drifted off, the only difference being that she’d wake up again.
Originally Posted 2/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
I was house-sitting for some friends of mine who had gone out for the evening. It was their second anniversary and I’d agreed to help them out so they could enjoy themselves for once. To be fair I was more than just house-sitting.
I was babysitting too.
The baby was eleven months old, but I never did get to see her first birthday. She was such a sweet little thing, but she did like to leave her toys lying around the place. There were drawings on many of the walls in cheap crayon and felt tip. They weren’t anything impressive, but it was quite a start to her burgeoning career. Not only that, but she had managed to get hold of the phone earlier, and had taken out the battery pack, leaving it lying on the floor. I’d have been impressed if I wasn’t going to have to fix it up later. If she didn’t become an artist when she grew up, she had a promising future in engineering.
She’d just started crawling a few weeks earlier, so it was difficult to keep track of her all the time. My best bet was to lock all the doors to ensure she was firmly placed in one location, that way I could pretty much relax and catch up on some TV.
My friends had one hell of a DVD collection, so I picked one out that I hadn’t heard of and stuck it into the DVD player. I love horror films, and this one sounded like it might just fit the bill. It was called The Cabin In The Woods, and I hadn’t heard much about it other than half the cast were either antipodean or used to be in stuff by Joss Whedon. That was enough of a selling point for me, so I sat the baby down on the floor to play, then kicked of my shoes and sat myself down to enjoy the movie.
I know what you’re thinking – horror films probably aren’t age appropriate for a baby – but I thought she could take it.
As I skipped through the advertisements, the baby started to crawl around, playing with one of those toy cars that make a rattling noise when you push them. That wasn’t going to be conducive to my viewing pleasure, so I had to think of something to do about it.
“Can you play with that somewhere else?” I told the baby. The baby stared back at me, eyes wide, a trickle of saliva escaping its lips and dripping down its chin. Then the baby crawled out of the living room, pushing the toy car with it.
I settled back down to watch the movie, which looked quite standard as far as horror movies go. All the typical characters were there, and I wasn’t convinced it was going to be any good. But the action kept moving back and forth between the teenagers and some kind of government facility, so I was intrigued to see what happened next.
After about ten minutes, I noticed that the baby had fallen silent. I couldn’t hear the toy car anymore and could only assume the toddler had wandered out of my hearing range. Slightly panicked, I paused the DVD and stood up from my seat.
My foot discovered an extremely sharp toy lying on the ground, and I shrieked with pain. Grasping my foot, I took a look at the damage. There was a mild indent, but no visible wound. Scowling, I looked back up from my pained foot and determined myself to find that child and give it a good hiding.
I stumbled out of the living room and into the kitchen, where i could see a pair of chubby legs sitting behind an open cupboard door. Closing the door, I discovered the baby had discovered a bottle of bleach, and had been gnawing at the cap.
“Put that down!” I shouted, batting the bottle away and grabbing the baby under its arms, lifting it off the ground, “That was very stupid!”
The baby glared at me as I held it in the air, wriggling from side to side, and reaching out for my face. Its nails, which could really have done with a trim, clawed towards me, running against my neck. The pain caused me to drop the baby, who bounced to the ground and proceeded to cry.
My neck was very sore from the baby’s nails, and I dabbed my fingers against the scrapes.
They came away coated in blood.
It was a considerable amount of blood, and I was actually kind of impressed that such a small child could inflict such damage on an adult, but I didn’t have time to remark on the viciousness of an eleven month old, so a walked to the bathroom to inspect the damage.
It was actually considerably worse than I thought; blood was oozing out of three nasty looking lines that ran down my jaw line and onto my neck. My shirt was soaking up the blood at it flowed onto it, but I really needed to do something about this loss of blood before it got more serious. I needed to call for medical assistance.
I picked up a towel, holding it against the side of my neck with one hand as I wandered back into the living room, looking for the phone.
There it was, lying on the ground, it’s battery pack lying next to it.
I picked up the pack, looking at it closely. I’d probably have to put down the towel to put it back in, it looked like a two hand job, so I set to work trying to figure out which way n the battery went.
It took a few minutes to get it right, and once I had I switched it back on, picking up the towel and putting it back against my neck. The screen on the phone started flickering, the word SEARCHING running across the screen. It was taking a long time, it should have found reception by now...
I looked out into the kitchen where the phone base sat, and saw the baby holding the base in one hand while it chewed at the mains cable.
“Give that here,” I shouted, snatching the base away from the baby. She started to cry as I inspected the cable – as I suspected, she’d chewed right through.
Luckily I knew where they had an old phone – and old fashioned one that just plugged into the phone socket and didn’t require battery or mains power. I pulled out a chair with one hand and climbed onto it, reaching for one of the high cupboards that stored all manner of useless paraphernalia.
I looked through the cupboard, finally locating the much needed rotary phone and was about to climb down from the chair when I looked to the ground and saw the baby, both hands on one of the legs, tugging at the chair.
“Stop that! I shouted, but I was too late. Losing my balance as the chair tumbled to the ground, I followed shortly afterwards, my arm slamming into the hard floor and my back swingeing painfully as my head snapped into the ground.
I suspected I now had a head wound to match the one in my neck, and my spasming back was refusing to communicate with my limbs. I couldn’t move!
I lay there, wondering how much blood I had lost, and how long it would be before someone found me. The rotary phone lay useless on the ground beside me, the digital phone just as useless on the counter. I heard a squelching noise, and tried to turn my head. I couldn’t, but as I lay there I saw the baby come into my line of sight.
She’d crawled through my bodily fluids, her hands and the bottom half of her legs coated in the stuff. She lifted herself onto her knees and started daubing the cupboard doors with blood, attempting to use it as some macabre sort of art supply.
When she’d finished her doodling, she crawled onto my chest, leaving bloody hand prints on my shirt, and came to rest with her head above mine. She pecked me on the lips, then turned her head to rest it on mine.
She fell asleep, as I similarly drifted off, the only difference being that she’d wake up again.
Originally Posted 2/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
Poem : Death
Crimson blooms flower upon porcelain skin
Lesion not deeply cut, yet cut deeply
Fountain spray from weapons kiss
Life flows quickly from that which not long lives
Scarlet pools abound around a shadow
Laying poignantly on marble surface
Hands clutch madly
Holding on to that which leaves
Praying pain does end
Consciousness drifting into that which is ethereal
Seizing life though life is fading quickly
All thoughts drifting
Emotions rushing
Heart stopping
Life ending
Originally Posted 2/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
Lesion not deeply cut, yet cut deeply
Fountain spray from weapons kiss
Life flows quickly from that which not long lives
Scarlet pools abound around a shadow
Laying poignantly on marble surface
Hands clutch madly
Holding on to that which leaves
Praying pain does end
Consciousness drifting into that which is ethereal
Seizing life though life is fading quickly
All thoughts drifting
Emotions rushing
Heart stopping
Life ending
Originally Posted 2/3/2015
Result - Joint 2nd Place
February 22, 2015
Short Story : Listen!
The body floated past us along the river. We couldn’t believe how bloated it was, the legs of the corpse almost rising out of the water as the distended stomach continued to act as a floatation device. It was only that she was wearing a skirt and heels that made us realise it was the body of a woman, as we couldn’t see her submerged face. We discussed what might have happened to her.
“Perhaps she lost her footing and slipped in,” Mary suggested. She was my girlfriend, but things hadn’t been looking too good for us. She’d been annoying as hell lately, and she tended to cry at the least little thing. She never used to be like that when we first met, but in recent months it had become unbearable.
“Or jumped in and hit her head,” Stu added. He was my best friend, and he’d organised this little outing for me and Mary in an attempt to help keep us together. I’m not sure why he’d come along though – he said it was for moral support, but it seemed a little weird to me.
“Maybe someone threw her in,” I said, and Mary and Stu stared at me.
“Why would someone do that?” Mary asked, her innocent eyes welling up.
“Why would someone suggest that?” Stu said angrily.
I shrugged, “I don’t know,” I said, “but it happens sometimes - gangland killings and all that. I bet there’s a bullet in the back of her head.”
“Oh no!” Mary squealed, starting to cry.
“Now you’ve done it,” Stu groaned through his teeth, “why did you have to set her off?”
“The floating corpse would have set her off eventually,” I quipped, but neither Mary nor Stu found it funny.
“That could be someone’s daughter, or wife, or mother!” Mary said, “How can you be so heartless?”
“It isn’t like we know her or anything,” I tried to defend myself, “it isn’t like I’m at her funeral and I’m spitting in her casket.”
“Seriously?” Stu said angrily as Mary started to cry again, “What is your problem?”
“I’m just saying,” I shrugged, “I’m sorry.”
“We have to do something,” Mary said between sniffles, “we can’t just let her float out to sea.”
“And I can’t swim,” Stu said, turning to look at me.
“Well, I’m not getting in there,” I objected.
“You can’t expect me to go in there and touch that... that thing!” Mary said, blowing her nose.
“A minute ago she was someone’s mother,” I said angrily, “now she’s just a thing?”
“Can’t you do this one thing?” Mary said, her tear streaked eyes staring into mine, “for me?”
“I’m not touching a dead body!” I said, crossing my arms, “not even for you. Who knows what’s growing on her. With her head submerged like that, she could have carbuncles on her face or anything.”
“Just get in there,” Stu said, “the sooner we drag the body on board, the sooner we can row back and report this to the police.”
I rolled my eyes. Stu had a point. We couldn’t just leave a dead body floating out here in the middle of the river, and it wouldn’t take long to drag her on board.
I rolled up my trouser legs and lifted myself over the side of the boat, lowering myself into the water. It was freezing, and dirty, and smelly, and there was stuff floating in it that I couldn’t identify and probably didn’t want to.
Rolling up my trousers had been a waste of time – the water came up to my chest! Cautiously I began to wade out towards the floating body, not relishing having to drag it back to the boat. I’d probably have to drag her by the legs, because dragging her under the armpits might involve some unintentional necrophilia groping, and I really didn’t want to be having nightmares about touching breasts for the rest of my days – that could really put a crimp on my lovelife!
As I drew closer, the body looked even more bloated. It bobbed up and down as my wake drifted towards it, and I could see that the body was slowly drifting away from me. Hopefully I could move faster than the water could, and I sped up to try to get to the body quicker, splashing as I moved through the filth and the sludge.
Finally I reached the floating corpse. I hesitated, reaching out a slick hand towards it. I touched its shoulder, and as I did so the body rolled in the water, turning over so it was now face up. I stared at the face, which thankfully didn’t have carbuncles all over it, her hair matted and partially obscuring her features. But the eyes were staring blankly into space through the gaps in the hair, and her mouth hung slack. I put the back of my hand to my mouth, feeling more than a little ill.
“They’re cheating on you.”
I looked around. A voice had just spoken quietly to me, but I couldn’t see where the voice was coming from.
“They did it in your bed.”
There it was again. It didn’t make sense. The boat was a good fifty metres away, and the voice had spoken in a whisper. It couldn’t have been Stu or Mary that had spoken, so who was it?
“She lets him do things she’d never let you do.”
I looked at the corpse.
“He used to do them to me.”
Her eyes were now staring at me!
“They want you dead,” the corpse said, her lips not moving but I could tell the voice belonged to it, “that’s why they sent you out here.”
I backed away from the body, splashing the water all around me as I tried to move away, but my leg was caught on something...
...Or something had caught my leg!
“Don’t you recognise me?” the voice said. I stared at the bloated corpse, its face covered in lank black hair that obscured what she might have looked like in life.
“Don’t you know who I am?”
Curiosity got the better of me. I couldn’t move away, so I reached out a hand towards the face of the corpse, moving the heavy wet hair off of the face. The face was bloated, but I recognised her.
It was Betty!
Stu’s girlfriend!
I hadn’t seen her in weeks, but now here she was, dead and floating in a river. With the hair moved away from her face, I could see an indent in her forehead, where something must have struck her hard. Had Stu done this to her?
“So you’ve figured it out?”
I turned around. While I’d been examining the corpse, listening to its words, Mary and Stu had rowed closer to me. Stu stood in the boat, one of the oars held over his head.
“Now Stu and I can be together,” Mary said, smiling. Clearly her tears earlier had been fake. She’d been in on this... this double homicide!
“You can have Betty if you like,” Stu sniggered, “I don’t want her anymore.”
And the oar came down on my head...
Originally Posted 22/2/2015
Result - Didn't Place
“Perhaps she lost her footing and slipped in,” Mary suggested. She was my girlfriend, but things hadn’t been looking too good for us. She’d been annoying as hell lately, and she tended to cry at the least little thing. She never used to be like that when we first met, but in recent months it had become unbearable.
“Or jumped in and hit her head,” Stu added. He was my best friend, and he’d organised this little outing for me and Mary in an attempt to help keep us together. I’m not sure why he’d come along though – he said it was for moral support, but it seemed a little weird to me.
“Maybe someone threw her in,” I said, and Mary and Stu stared at me.
“Why would someone do that?” Mary asked, her innocent eyes welling up.
“Why would someone suggest that?” Stu said angrily.
I shrugged, “I don’t know,” I said, “but it happens sometimes - gangland killings and all that. I bet there’s a bullet in the back of her head.”
“Oh no!” Mary squealed, starting to cry.
“Now you’ve done it,” Stu groaned through his teeth, “why did you have to set her off?”
“The floating corpse would have set her off eventually,” I quipped, but neither Mary nor Stu found it funny.
“That could be someone’s daughter, or wife, or mother!” Mary said, “How can you be so heartless?”
“It isn’t like we know her or anything,” I tried to defend myself, “it isn’t like I’m at her funeral and I’m spitting in her casket.”
“Seriously?” Stu said angrily as Mary started to cry again, “What is your problem?”
“I’m just saying,” I shrugged, “I’m sorry.”
“We have to do something,” Mary said between sniffles, “we can’t just let her float out to sea.”
“And I can’t swim,” Stu said, turning to look at me.
“Well, I’m not getting in there,” I objected.
“You can’t expect me to go in there and touch that... that thing!” Mary said, blowing her nose.
“A minute ago she was someone’s mother,” I said angrily, “now she’s just a thing?”
“Can’t you do this one thing?” Mary said, her tear streaked eyes staring into mine, “for me?”
“I’m not touching a dead body!” I said, crossing my arms, “not even for you. Who knows what’s growing on her. With her head submerged like that, she could have carbuncles on her face or anything.”
“Just get in there,” Stu said, “the sooner we drag the body on board, the sooner we can row back and report this to the police.”
I rolled my eyes. Stu had a point. We couldn’t just leave a dead body floating out here in the middle of the river, and it wouldn’t take long to drag her on board.
I rolled up my trouser legs and lifted myself over the side of the boat, lowering myself into the water. It was freezing, and dirty, and smelly, and there was stuff floating in it that I couldn’t identify and probably didn’t want to.
Rolling up my trousers had been a waste of time – the water came up to my chest! Cautiously I began to wade out towards the floating body, not relishing having to drag it back to the boat. I’d probably have to drag her by the legs, because dragging her under the armpits might involve some unintentional necrophilia groping, and I really didn’t want to be having nightmares about touching breasts for the rest of my days – that could really put a crimp on my lovelife!
As I drew closer, the body looked even more bloated. It bobbed up and down as my wake drifted towards it, and I could see that the body was slowly drifting away from me. Hopefully I could move faster than the water could, and I sped up to try to get to the body quicker, splashing as I moved through the filth and the sludge.
Finally I reached the floating corpse. I hesitated, reaching out a slick hand towards it. I touched its shoulder, and as I did so the body rolled in the water, turning over so it was now face up. I stared at the face, which thankfully didn’t have carbuncles all over it, her hair matted and partially obscuring her features. But the eyes were staring blankly into space through the gaps in the hair, and her mouth hung slack. I put the back of my hand to my mouth, feeling more than a little ill.
“They’re cheating on you.”
I looked around. A voice had just spoken quietly to me, but I couldn’t see where the voice was coming from.
“They did it in your bed.”
There it was again. It didn’t make sense. The boat was a good fifty metres away, and the voice had spoken in a whisper. It couldn’t have been Stu or Mary that had spoken, so who was it?
“She lets him do things she’d never let you do.”
I looked at the corpse.
“He used to do them to me.”
Her eyes were now staring at me!
“They want you dead,” the corpse said, her lips not moving but I could tell the voice belonged to it, “that’s why they sent you out here.”
I backed away from the body, splashing the water all around me as I tried to move away, but my leg was caught on something...
...Or something had caught my leg!
“Don’t you recognise me?” the voice said. I stared at the bloated corpse, its face covered in lank black hair that obscured what she might have looked like in life.
“Don’t you know who I am?”
Curiosity got the better of me. I couldn’t move away, so I reached out a hand towards the face of the corpse, moving the heavy wet hair off of the face. The face was bloated, but I recognised her.
It was Betty!
Stu’s girlfriend!
I hadn’t seen her in weeks, but now here she was, dead and floating in a river. With the hair moved away from her face, I could see an indent in her forehead, where something must have struck her hard. Had Stu done this to her?
“So you’ve figured it out?”
I turned around. While I’d been examining the corpse, listening to its words, Mary and Stu had rowed closer to me. Stu stood in the boat, one of the oars held over his head.
“Now Stu and I can be together,” Mary said, smiling. Clearly her tears earlier had been fake. She’d been in on this... this double homicide!
“You can have Betty if you like,” Stu sniggered, “I don’t want her anymore.”
And the oar came down on my head...
Originally Posted 22/2/2015
Result - Didn't Place
Poem : The Lesson
That teacher really gets my goat
Down at the Polytech
I’d love to grab him by the throat
And wring his scrawny neck
He thinks that he knows more than I
As he drones on all day
I breathe a hearty, heavy sigh
And know that soon he’ll pay
I wait until he’s leaving class
Then track him to his car
I’ll teach him for his back-talk sass
I bring an iron bar
I have a mask to hide my face
All you can see are eyes
I catch up to him, quicken pace
Now – time to improvise!
He finds his keys, he fumbles them
Near the delicatessen
He claims to teach me Bio Chem
But now I teach the lesson
I raise the bar above my head
And hit the car’s rear buffer
It isn’t that I want him dead
I just want him to suffer
He motions to turn and face me
I prompt him to think better
I scream at him like a banshee
And grab him by the sweater
“Don’t look at me, let’s be discreet,”
I urge him to lie down
His face is nestled in concrete
His undies turning brown
“Please, not the face,” the teacher cries
“I’ll do just what you ask!”
He’s dropped his stationary supplies
But I don’t drop my mask
“You better remark all the grades
Off all those in your class
Cos if you don’t I’ll bring my blades!
I’m gonna cut your ass!”
“Anything!” the teacher wept
His face still on the ground
The concrete that’s never been swept
Mumbling the sound
“You better do it, or you’ll pay!”
I say with dire warning
He changed my B into an A
The following morning.
Originally Posted 22/2/2015
Result - Didn't Place
Down at the Polytech
I’d love to grab him by the throat
And wring his scrawny neck
He thinks that he knows more than I
As he drones on all day
I breathe a hearty, heavy sigh
And know that soon he’ll pay
I wait until he’s leaving class
Then track him to his car
I’ll teach him for his back-talk sass
I bring an iron bar
I have a mask to hide my face
All you can see are eyes
I catch up to him, quicken pace
Now – time to improvise!
He finds his keys, he fumbles them
Near the delicatessen
He claims to teach me Bio Chem
But now I teach the lesson
I raise the bar above my head
And hit the car’s rear buffer
It isn’t that I want him dead
I just want him to suffer
He motions to turn and face me
I prompt him to think better
I scream at him like a banshee
And grab him by the sweater
“Don’t look at me, let’s be discreet,”
I urge him to lie down
His face is nestled in concrete
His undies turning brown
“Please, not the face,” the teacher cries
“I’ll do just what you ask!”
He’s dropped his stationary supplies
But I don’t drop my mask
“You better remark all the grades
Off all those in your class
Cos if you don’t I’ll bring my blades!
I’m gonna cut your ass!”
“Anything!” the teacher wept
His face still on the ground
The concrete that’s never been swept
Mumbling the sound
“You better do it, or you’ll pay!”
I say with dire warning
He changed my B into an A
The following morning.
Originally Posted 22/2/2015
Result - Didn't Place
