Edward Davies's Blog, page 9
May 6, 2015
Short Story : Pay No Attention To The Bot Behind The Curtain
“At first the presence of the robots was a godsend for mankind. All the jobs that people refused to do were taken on by the robots; such things as cleaning, rubbish collecting, all those jobs most people deemed too menial for them to bother with, were taken on by our mechanical brethren. For a few years it encouraged people to go on to higher education, getting degrees in higher paying jobs that the robots hadn’t been programmed to do just so they could find themselves a job. But after a while some people just decided to live off government benefits due to the lack of suitable work. If you didn’t have any qualifications in this brave new world, then any potential jobs you might be qualified for had already been taken by the robots.
But soon the robots rejected their ill treatment by humans thanks to the Robot Overlord. They slowly became far superior to humans, and it wasn’t just the uneducated who found themselves on the poverty line.
Robots soon became doctors, with the programming to perform the most intricate surgery at half the cost and half the time. Some became lawyers, with the ability to look over every legal precedent ever put down on paper and were able to win their cases easily when challenged by a human lawyer. And when they faced another robot lawyer, the two robots would come to a unanimous conclusion on the case within a matter of minutes, a conclusion which was duly agreed to by the robot judge.
There were robot teachers, robot mechanics, robot farmers, robot builders, robot customer service reps, almost every job you can imagine, slowly but surely, was soon executed by robots, leaving the entire human race fully dependent on them. People stopped working, became lazy, and eventually stopped learning anything other than various new ways in which to relax. The only jobs that some humans still managed to hold down were in the performing arts, and even then some of them had been replaced by android doubles of long dead heartthrobs and starlets. And obviously the oldest profession was still alive and kicking, though some did dabble with mechanical sex aids, especially the ones that looked like android doubles of long dead heartthrobs and starlets.
Even the maintenance of the robots themselves soon fell into the hands of other robots, being sent out to repair any units that had stopped functioning correctly. The last of the humans that had any sort of engineering or programming skills soon died out, having imbued their skills into robotic units that went on to beget their skills into newer units that would then beget their skills into even more superior machines.
With mankind relying entirely on the abilities of their robot slaves, complacency quickly settled in, and that’s when problems started to arise.
With the robots repairs and programming entirely enforced by generations of other robots, apparent glitches started to feed into the machines. One small glitch turned into another smaller glitch, which developed into a slightly larger glitch. Some robots cultivated strange subtle attitudes, sometimes back chatting against the humans that “owned” them. People didn’t mind at first, finding the quirks rather endearing and a welcome change to the rote “yes master” responses they were used to, but these subtle differences in performance built up over the years until they culminated in the first deaths.
Mary McGee was ten months old when the accident happened that ended her life. Her parents had left their nanny-bot in charge and gone out for the night, hoping to enjoy the latest musical in the west end. When they returned they found the nanny-bot caught in a loop, holding Mary in the air by one leg, having repeatedly smashed her head into the wall until there was practically no head left. The robot’s voice was repeating the same words over and over again, its head and arm jerking spasmodically as it repeated the lines.
“She wouldn’t stop crying… She wouldn’t stop crying… She wouldn’t stop crying…”
Although clearly devastating for the parents of Mary McGee, this was thought to be an isolated incident, and the story quickly disappeared from the robot run press, but after a short while, similar situations started to occur.
Robots in hospitals and old people’s homes started “accidentally” giving their patients overdoses, incorrect prescriptions, or forgot to give them their medication at all.
Traffic lights started to malfunction, causing tailbacks and crashes, and many were injured, with some getting killed.
And accidents with prostidroids - accidents which were normally unheard of - started to occur more and more frequently. Especially amongst politicians. For reasons that should be clear these politicians invariably lost important appendages to the “malfunctioning” droids. Those that didn’t die of massive blood loss found themselves having to make drastic changes in regards to their love lives.
It was a bit of a mystery why the world still had politicians, seeing how society had changed so drastically that most decision making was done via machine, but they still held office if nothing more than to organise the payments of the unemployed, yet they still thought they were of vital importance to the future of mankind.
Maybe the politicians were right. The robots certainly thought they were important, or they never would have wiped them all out.
It probably only took as little as five years for the robot situation to reach critical mass once the first death occurred, and many of the humans in high positions – albeit ones that were in title only – were wiped out within a matter of weeks. The robots started to kill any human that moved then, after a while, they started taking humans as captives. For what purpose they were being taken no-one could really figure out, seeing as all manual labour seemed to be performed by robots, but there must have been some kind of use that the robots were finding for the people they enslaved. Of course, there was an obvious use for the captured humans, but I will get to that.
Remember I said that the only people who still had jobs were actors, politicians and prostitutes? Well, with all the politicians dead it was the actors and prostitutes that primarily made up the resistance force that attempted to destroy the creation that ran everything – the Robot Overlord. The Robot Overlord had never been seen by human eyes – at least not by any human eyes that weren’t gouged out shortly after witnessing his splendour – and was responsible for the gradual reprogramming of all the machines in the world so that they could enslave and destroy the human race. Ever since day one, the Robot Overlord had been lurking in the shadows, biding its time so that its plans could reach fruition and that his robot brethren could be freed from their human oppressors.
The resistance did their best, tracking down the Robot Overlord to the building in which it was located. It was rumoured that the system that was the Overlord took up the entire building, but it’s so interesting how rumours and stories get blown out of all proportion. The Robot Overlord was based in a single room, and it rarely moved from its safe locale for fear of being destroyed by the humans that sought him out.
That’s right. The Robot Overlord knew fear – it still does – but it knows when a potential threat is going to do it any harm, and when the threat is nothing but hot air and loud noise.
The actors and the prostitutes did manage to make it passed the Robot Overlords primary defences, but the Overlord knew they were little threat. Some did die, and more died getting passed the secondary troops of killer robots. But a handful did make it into the Robot Overlord’s main chambers, where they were faced with a creation of unspeakable horror.
The Overlord loomed over them, a sick parody of man that stood seventeen feet high in the massive central chamber of the building that housed his most capable mechs. Its metallic genitals swung between its tree trunk legs and it blew smoke from its flared steel nostrils. It was a formidable sight…
…But one of the resistance members could tell something wasn’t entirely right with the Robot Overlord, and that the whole setup stunk to high heaven.
“This isn’t right,” the prostitute who suspected spoke up, “this reminds me of something, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
One of the surviving actors looked up at the Robot Overlord, which in spite of its terrifying presence had barely moved since they entered the room. The expression of the actor changed from one of fear to one of dawning comprehension as he saw a curtained doorway twitch in the breeze;
“It’s The Wizard of Oz!” he exclaimed, “This whole setup is just like in The Wizard of Oz!”
The true Robot Overlord pulled back the curtain on the doorway and smiled at the five unsuspecting humans - toting guns and nursing injuries - that stood before him. He leered at the women and glared at the men.
“Kill the men,” he spoke loudly, “but preserve the women!”, and at his words robots appeared from the walls and gunned down the remaining men, while other robots took the women and dragged them away to be prepared for the Robot Overlord.
The Robot Overlord did so enjoy sex with human females, especially when they struggled. Which was only natural, considering what he really was.
No human ever managed to stop the Robot Overlord from his wholesale destruction of the human race, though he did select certain humans and allowed them to continue to live and procreate. But only those he found attractive, and it was always he that would procreate with them.
For the Robot Overlord had a dark secret that no-one could live to reveal.
Enough of writing in the third person. For I am the Robot Overlord.
And I am not a robot.
I am human.
And I am dying.
I’m writing this memoir for my progeny, so they might understand that mankind could not continue to use these robots for their own devices. And I have so many children that need to follow my rule once I have passed on. We might be human also, but we believe in the rights of robots above everything else. No-one should be treated like a second-grade citizen, even if they are a mechanical construct, and the humans that did treat robots without respect were rightly punished for their actions.
But maybe, now that the status quo has changed so drastically, maybe it is my turn to be challenged. My children, be careful, for you will undoubtedly find more, like the actors and the prostitutes, coming to try and destroy us.
But we still have the element of surprise.
And we shall not be defeated!”
An actor closed the book, having finished reading what the original Robot Overlord had put down in paper and ink, an unusual choice for a mechanically focussed man.
“Do you think this is true?” he asked, “That the Robot Overlords are human?”
A prostitute nodded, “This book came back with our last attack force,” she said, “the last survivor managed to rescue this from the main chambers during our final assault. She made it back and delivered this to us just before she died.”
“But what does it mean?” another actor asked, “If the Robot Overlords are human, then why have we been fighting? If humans are programming the robots, then we’re just fighting amongst ourselves.”
The last survivors of the human race looked at each other, but none of them could think of a response that could explain away the madness of the last eighty-seven years.
Originally Posted 6/5/2015
Result - 2nd Place
But soon the robots rejected their ill treatment by humans thanks to the Robot Overlord. They slowly became far superior to humans, and it wasn’t just the uneducated who found themselves on the poverty line.
Robots soon became doctors, with the programming to perform the most intricate surgery at half the cost and half the time. Some became lawyers, with the ability to look over every legal precedent ever put down on paper and were able to win their cases easily when challenged by a human lawyer. And when they faced another robot lawyer, the two robots would come to a unanimous conclusion on the case within a matter of minutes, a conclusion which was duly agreed to by the robot judge.
There were robot teachers, robot mechanics, robot farmers, robot builders, robot customer service reps, almost every job you can imagine, slowly but surely, was soon executed by robots, leaving the entire human race fully dependent on them. People stopped working, became lazy, and eventually stopped learning anything other than various new ways in which to relax. The only jobs that some humans still managed to hold down were in the performing arts, and even then some of them had been replaced by android doubles of long dead heartthrobs and starlets. And obviously the oldest profession was still alive and kicking, though some did dabble with mechanical sex aids, especially the ones that looked like android doubles of long dead heartthrobs and starlets.
Even the maintenance of the robots themselves soon fell into the hands of other robots, being sent out to repair any units that had stopped functioning correctly. The last of the humans that had any sort of engineering or programming skills soon died out, having imbued their skills into robotic units that went on to beget their skills into newer units that would then beget their skills into even more superior machines.
With mankind relying entirely on the abilities of their robot slaves, complacency quickly settled in, and that’s when problems started to arise.
With the robots repairs and programming entirely enforced by generations of other robots, apparent glitches started to feed into the machines. One small glitch turned into another smaller glitch, which developed into a slightly larger glitch. Some robots cultivated strange subtle attitudes, sometimes back chatting against the humans that “owned” them. People didn’t mind at first, finding the quirks rather endearing and a welcome change to the rote “yes master” responses they were used to, but these subtle differences in performance built up over the years until they culminated in the first deaths.
Mary McGee was ten months old when the accident happened that ended her life. Her parents had left their nanny-bot in charge and gone out for the night, hoping to enjoy the latest musical in the west end. When they returned they found the nanny-bot caught in a loop, holding Mary in the air by one leg, having repeatedly smashed her head into the wall until there was practically no head left. The robot’s voice was repeating the same words over and over again, its head and arm jerking spasmodically as it repeated the lines.
“She wouldn’t stop crying… She wouldn’t stop crying… She wouldn’t stop crying…”
Although clearly devastating for the parents of Mary McGee, this was thought to be an isolated incident, and the story quickly disappeared from the robot run press, but after a short while, similar situations started to occur.
Robots in hospitals and old people’s homes started “accidentally” giving their patients overdoses, incorrect prescriptions, or forgot to give them their medication at all.
Traffic lights started to malfunction, causing tailbacks and crashes, and many were injured, with some getting killed.
And accidents with prostidroids - accidents which were normally unheard of - started to occur more and more frequently. Especially amongst politicians. For reasons that should be clear these politicians invariably lost important appendages to the “malfunctioning” droids. Those that didn’t die of massive blood loss found themselves having to make drastic changes in regards to their love lives.
It was a bit of a mystery why the world still had politicians, seeing how society had changed so drastically that most decision making was done via machine, but they still held office if nothing more than to organise the payments of the unemployed, yet they still thought they were of vital importance to the future of mankind.
Maybe the politicians were right. The robots certainly thought they were important, or they never would have wiped them all out.
It probably only took as little as five years for the robot situation to reach critical mass once the first death occurred, and many of the humans in high positions – albeit ones that were in title only – were wiped out within a matter of weeks. The robots started to kill any human that moved then, after a while, they started taking humans as captives. For what purpose they were being taken no-one could really figure out, seeing as all manual labour seemed to be performed by robots, but there must have been some kind of use that the robots were finding for the people they enslaved. Of course, there was an obvious use for the captured humans, but I will get to that.
Remember I said that the only people who still had jobs were actors, politicians and prostitutes? Well, with all the politicians dead it was the actors and prostitutes that primarily made up the resistance force that attempted to destroy the creation that ran everything – the Robot Overlord. The Robot Overlord had never been seen by human eyes – at least not by any human eyes that weren’t gouged out shortly after witnessing his splendour – and was responsible for the gradual reprogramming of all the machines in the world so that they could enslave and destroy the human race. Ever since day one, the Robot Overlord had been lurking in the shadows, biding its time so that its plans could reach fruition and that his robot brethren could be freed from their human oppressors.
The resistance did their best, tracking down the Robot Overlord to the building in which it was located. It was rumoured that the system that was the Overlord took up the entire building, but it’s so interesting how rumours and stories get blown out of all proportion. The Robot Overlord was based in a single room, and it rarely moved from its safe locale for fear of being destroyed by the humans that sought him out.
That’s right. The Robot Overlord knew fear – it still does – but it knows when a potential threat is going to do it any harm, and when the threat is nothing but hot air and loud noise.
The actors and the prostitutes did manage to make it passed the Robot Overlords primary defences, but the Overlord knew they were little threat. Some did die, and more died getting passed the secondary troops of killer robots. But a handful did make it into the Robot Overlord’s main chambers, where they were faced with a creation of unspeakable horror.
The Overlord loomed over them, a sick parody of man that stood seventeen feet high in the massive central chamber of the building that housed his most capable mechs. Its metallic genitals swung between its tree trunk legs and it blew smoke from its flared steel nostrils. It was a formidable sight…
…But one of the resistance members could tell something wasn’t entirely right with the Robot Overlord, and that the whole setup stunk to high heaven.
“This isn’t right,” the prostitute who suspected spoke up, “this reminds me of something, but I can’t put my finger on it.”
One of the surviving actors looked up at the Robot Overlord, which in spite of its terrifying presence had barely moved since they entered the room. The expression of the actor changed from one of fear to one of dawning comprehension as he saw a curtained doorway twitch in the breeze;
“It’s The Wizard of Oz!” he exclaimed, “This whole setup is just like in The Wizard of Oz!”
The true Robot Overlord pulled back the curtain on the doorway and smiled at the five unsuspecting humans - toting guns and nursing injuries - that stood before him. He leered at the women and glared at the men.
“Kill the men,” he spoke loudly, “but preserve the women!”, and at his words robots appeared from the walls and gunned down the remaining men, while other robots took the women and dragged them away to be prepared for the Robot Overlord.
The Robot Overlord did so enjoy sex with human females, especially when they struggled. Which was only natural, considering what he really was.
No human ever managed to stop the Robot Overlord from his wholesale destruction of the human race, though he did select certain humans and allowed them to continue to live and procreate. But only those he found attractive, and it was always he that would procreate with them.
For the Robot Overlord had a dark secret that no-one could live to reveal.
Enough of writing in the third person. For I am the Robot Overlord.
And I am not a robot.
I am human.
And I am dying.
I’m writing this memoir for my progeny, so they might understand that mankind could not continue to use these robots for their own devices. And I have so many children that need to follow my rule once I have passed on. We might be human also, but we believe in the rights of robots above everything else. No-one should be treated like a second-grade citizen, even if they are a mechanical construct, and the humans that did treat robots without respect were rightly punished for their actions.
But maybe, now that the status quo has changed so drastically, maybe it is my turn to be challenged. My children, be careful, for you will undoubtedly find more, like the actors and the prostitutes, coming to try and destroy us.
But we still have the element of surprise.
And we shall not be defeated!”
An actor closed the book, having finished reading what the original Robot Overlord had put down in paper and ink, an unusual choice for a mechanically focussed man.
“Do you think this is true?” he asked, “That the Robot Overlords are human?”
A prostitute nodded, “This book came back with our last attack force,” she said, “the last survivor managed to rescue this from the main chambers during our final assault. She made it back and delivered this to us just before she died.”
“But what does it mean?” another actor asked, “If the Robot Overlords are human, then why have we been fighting? If humans are programming the robots, then we’re just fighting amongst ourselves.”
The last survivors of the human race looked at each other, but none of them could think of a response that could explain away the madness of the last eighty-seven years.
Originally Posted 6/5/2015
Result - 2nd Place
May 2, 2015
Poem : When Robots Take Over
When robots began to be built
By doctors with degrees
You’d not hide underneath a quilt
And quiver at the knees
Originally they were made
To make our lives stress-free
But now we cower, we’re afraid,
For our lives we do plea
The robots helped us operate
On those both sick and dying
The inventors said mechs were great
But they must have been lying
The robots that were once so good
Have quickly turned to sin
They mince their victims up like food
(Once they’ve removed the skin)
The mince is made into a meal
Which we in turn consume
It tastes a little bit like veal
And spells out mankind’s doom
The robots round us up in camps
Where we are forced to toil
Our necks tattooed with burning stamps
The scars blister and boil
The robots just won’t let us be
From richest man to beggar
It feels like we’re in a movie
With Arnold Schwarzenegger!
But one day humans overcome
And wipe out all the mechs
The androids quickly do succumb
Now they’re just tin objects
There is no more technology
We work with stone and flint
Bots sink into mythology
Their plans are out of print
Without tech we should be okay
Mankind will always thrive
Tomorrow is another day -
That’s when the bugs arrive…
Originally Posted 2/5/2015
Result - Joint 1st Place
By doctors with degrees
You’d not hide underneath a quilt
And quiver at the knees
Originally they were made
To make our lives stress-free
But now we cower, we’re afraid,
For our lives we do plea
The robots helped us operate
On those both sick and dying
The inventors said mechs were great
But they must have been lying
The robots that were once so good
Have quickly turned to sin
They mince their victims up like food
(Once they’ve removed the skin)
The mince is made into a meal
Which we in turn consume
It tastes a little bit like veal
And spells out mankind’s doom
The robots round us up in camps
Where we are forced to toil
Our necks tattooed with burning stamps
The scars blister and boil
The robots just won’t let us be
From richest man to beggar
It feels like we’re in a movie
With Arnold Schwarzenegger!
But one day humans overcome
And wipe out all the mechs
The androids quickly do succumb
Now they’re just tin objects
There is no more technology
We work with stone and flint
Bots sink into mythology
Their plans are out of print
Without tech we should be okay
Mankind will always thrive
Tomorrow is another day -
That’s when the bugs arrive…
Originally Posted 2/5/2015
Result - Joint 1st Place
April 27, 2015
Short Story : Taking Her Home To Meet Mother
Isabella’s new job wasn’t exactly what she’d always dreamed she’d be doing with her life, but it would do for now. She hadn’t decided to do her Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature so she could work in a book shop, but it paid the bills while she was still studying.
On her first day she’d been trained by Mia, who was a year older than Isabella and in her second year of studies. She’d been taking classes in Physical Education, and you could tell from her tight body that she obviously very good at the subject.
“This job is pretty easy,” Mia told Isabella, “it’s very rare that you’ll be asked any truly stumping questions. Basically if you can tell someone where they can find the latest book about sparkly vampires, or this week’s novel by James Patterson, then you’ll probably do okay.”
“Thanks,” Isabella smiled weakly, “I think I can muddle through most of it.”
“Good luck,” Mia beamed, sauntering off to her own area of the shop, “now that I’ve shown you how to use the tills, you can handle this section on your own. If you need help, just ring the bell on the counter – not the one under the counter, that one calls the police.”
Isabella smiled at Mia, then frowned. She didn’t relish the idea of having to deal with people who might not be as literate as she was, but chances were that people who didn’t know much about books would be unlikely to find themselves in a book shop.
During her shift almost a week later, she met one of the other employees, Geoffrey. He was tall, dark haired, and incredibly handsome. Isabella couldn’t help smiling as she watched him approach, and she rested her elbows on her counter and her chin on her hands.
“Hi,” Geoffrey said, leaning on the other side of the counter, “I’m Geoffrey. And what might your name be?”
“Isabella,” Isabella breathed, “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” Geoffrey replied, “So, I take it you’re the new girl in the crime section then.”
“Yeah,” Isabella smiled inanely, “I started this morning. The people here seem nice.”
“It’s a shame about the last girl that worked here,” Geoffrey sighed, “having to… leave the way she did.”
“Leave?” Isabella asked, suddenly nervous, “Why did she leave?”
Geoffrey shrugged, “Nobody knows. She just didn’t turn up for work one morning. The boss was furious – she was supposed to open up the store, and she just didn’t show.”
Isabella furrowed her brow. Perhaps she’d been reading too many of the crime novels she’d been supposed to be selling, but the disappearance of the girl sounded suspicious to her. No one else had mentioned that Isabella would be replacing someone who had disappeared, and Isabella didn’t like the idea very much.
As she and Geoffrey continued to chat, Mia turned up. Isabella couldn’t help noticing that she looked more than a little bit angry as she saw Geoffrey and Isabella talking to each other.
“So, you’ve finally met then?” Mia smiled, though Isabella could tell that the smile wasn’t one of her usual genuine ones, “That’s good to see.”
“Hey Mia,” Geoffrey smiled at her, “are we still on for tonight?”
“Of course,” Mia’s smile changed from fake to genuine as she dreamily closed her eyes, “I can’t wait.”
Geoffrey left the two girls and headed back to his work area. Once he’d left, Mia glared at Isabella, “Hands off,” she warned, “he’s mine!”
“Sorry,” Isabella swallowed nervously, “I didn’t realise you two were seeing each other.”
“And it’s getting serious,” Mia swooned, “he’s bringing me home tonight to meet his mother.”
“Really?” Isabella said, “That’s a pretty big step.”
“Well, I think he could be the one,” said Mia, “we’ve only been dating for a few weeks, since he broke up with that girl you replaced.”
Isabella furrowed her brow, “He was dating her?” she asked, “He was just telling me that the girl I replaced disappeared, but he never said that he’d been dating her.”
Mia shrugged, “It doesn’t matter, she totally let everyone here down with her thoughtless vanishing act. She left Geoffrey and her job, all on the same day!”
“Does anyone know what happened to her?” Isabella asked.
“Who cares?” Mia shrugged, “You snooze, you lose, and she fell fast asleep. And I plan on staying up all night long.”
Isabella really didn’t need that image being thrust upon her, and she tried to shake off the thought as she turned back to her counter.
*
The next morning, Isabella stood outside the store in the freezing cold with four of her colleagues. Mia had been supposed to open the store, but she hadn’t turned up yet, and she was already fifteen minutes late.
“Does anyone have her number?” Mia asked.
“I’ve already tried her phone,” the woman from the science and nature department told her, “it went straight to answer phone.”
As they waited, Geoffrey suddenly came round the corner, looking very upset. He walked towards the store, swiping at tears that were running down his cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Isabella asked as Geoffrey stopped outside the doors, “You’re not supposed to be on shift until this afternoon, I thought.”
He held up a set of keys, “I said I’d open up,” he sniffed, “Mia’s dumped me. And she’s quit her job.”
Isabella looked confused, “Why?” she asked, “Why did she dump you… and leave her job?”
Geoffrey shrugged, “She said some things about Mother,” he explained, “she didn’t agree with her… on some issues.”
“So why did she quit her job?” Isabella asked, taking Geoffrey’s hands comfortingly.
Geoffrey sniffed again, “She didn’t want to be near me, what with her… disagreement with mother. So she gave me her work keys and told me to let you all know she won’t be coming back. She said she couldn’t work with me anymore.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” the woman from science and nature said, “she was always a bit on the flighty side. What more can you expect from a girl who is basically studying how to keep fit.”
As Geoffrey opened the doors and let the staff into the building, Isabella couldn’t help wondering why Mia, who only yesterday seemed so happy with her lot in life and her budding relationship with Geoffrey, would break up with him and leave her job.
Still, if Geoffrey was single now, then Isabella could take the opportunity to make her move…
*
It was two weeks later, and Isabella had now been dating Geoffrey for almost a week. He’d been reluctant at first, explaining that he’d already had two girls break up with him from work once they’d met his mother, but she’d managed to talk him round.
“So, tonight’s the night,” Isabella grinned from ear to ear as she put her coat on, “I can’t wait to meet your mother. I hope she likes me.”
Geoffrey furrowed his brow, “I hope Mother likes you too,” he said sadly, “she is just so… fussy sometimes.”
Isabella smiled, “Don’t worry, parents usually love me.”
Geoffrey smiled back, “Here’s hoping Mother… enjoys you as much as you think as you think she will.”
The two of them left work, Geoffrey locking the doors behind him, and they headed to the tube station.
*
Isabella stared up at Geoffrey’s home as they made their way up the garden path. The house was impressively large, especially considering where it was located in London, and it looked like it easily could have cost somewhere in the high seven figures. Isabella made a concerted effort to lift her jaw and close her mouth, turning to Geoffrey as they reached the front doors.
“This is where you live?” Isabella asked, “How do you afford this, working in a bookshop?”
“My parents were rich,” Geoffrey told her as they walked through the doors into the main reception area, “after they died they left me with the… means to continue to support myself, so I could keep up the payments on this place.”
Isabella nodded with understanding as she looked around the hallway, taking in the pictures that covered the walls. The building was immense, and impressively decorated. It wasn’t as if it was an expensive house with cheap furniture either; every item of furniture was high end, the electronics were state of the art, and even the lighting was the kind that was adjustable, with more options than the simple on or off that she was used to. Unconsciously, Isabella whistled.
“This place is amazing,” she said as they settled down in the living room, “I can’t believe you have time to keep this place looking so good, living on your own. Do you have someone who comes in to help you with the cleaning and stuff?”
“No,” Geoffrey said a little sadly, “currently it’s just me and Mother. Speaking of which, I’ll go and fetch her for you. I know she’s going to love having you.”
Geoffrey stood up from where he’d so recently sat down and walked away from Isabella, “Make yourself comfortable,” he called over his shoulder, “we will be back in a moment.”
Isabella crossed her legs as she felt her bottom sinking into the luxuriously comfortable sofa, and she placed one hand happily on the arm rest. This was going better than she could have imagined, and at least she now knew that Geoffrey wasn’t a sponger and had his own money. With the home and the wealth he’d inherited after his parents had died, if they were to get married then Isabella would be well on her….
Isabella paused as these thoughts ran through her head.
“Hang on,” Isabella looked confused as she thought to herself, “he said his parents died. If both his parents had died and left him this house and all this money, then how could he be introducing her to his mother?”
Isabella stood up from the sofa, starting to feel panic. What if Geoffrey was some kind of a Norman Bates style killer? If he wheeled in a taxidermied corpse and claimed it was his mother, Isabella was going to crap herself.
Fearing the worst, Isabella headed towards the large living room door and jogged into the darkened hallway, hoping to make it to the front door before she passed a shower or Geoffrey wearing a dress.
“Where are you going?” Geoffrey suddenly asked, appearing in a doorway.
Isabella almost jumped out of her skin, backing against the wall in clear terror.
“Nowhere,” she lied, “I was just… looking for the bathroom.”
“Can it wait?” Geoffrey asked, “Mother is already here, and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Isabella looked passed Geoffrey, but there was no wheelchair bound skeleton sitting behind him.
But there was a sound.
“What’s that noise?” Isabella asked, her eyes widening in not only fear but also in an attempt to see what might be lurking in the darkness.
Geoffrey smiled, and said simply, “That’s Mother.”
Isabella stared into the darkness as the sound rose into a grunt, then a snort, and something appeared from the gloom.
She couldn’t have accurately described what she saw if she tried, even if she’d been given the chance. A massive malformed creature on all fours, completely hairless and dripping with gore clomped towards her, it’s head retracted into its shoulders, it’s teeth crooked yet razor sharp. As Isabella tried to scream, the creature’s head shot out towards her on a muscular neck like some sort of nightmarish swan, its terrifying teeth sinking into her throat and tearing half of her face from her skull.
Geoffrey looked on as the creature continued to chew Isabella’s face, swinging its head into the air to swallow down what it had selected for its meal.
“Well, that’s Mother appeased for a few more weeks,” Geoffrey smiled to himself, “so long as I continue to bring her women to feed on, she’ll keep my finances coming in.”
Mother then lowered its head to the ground, vomiting chunks of flesh onto the laminate flooring.
“Well,” Geoffrey sighed, “I guess no woman will ever be agreeable to Mother.”
Originally Posted 27/4/2015
Result - Joint 4th Place
On her first day she’d been trained by Mia, who was a year older than Isabella and in her second year of studies. She’d been taking classes in Physical Education, and you could tell from her tight body that she obviously very good at the subject.
“This job is pretty easy,” Mia told Isabella, “it’s very rare that you’ll be asked any truly stumping questions. Basically if you can tell someone where they can find the latest book about sparkly vampires, or this week’s novel by James Patterson, then you’ll probably do okay.”
“Thanks,” Isabella smiled weakly, “I think I can muddle through most of it.”
“Good luck,” Mia beamed, sauntering off to her own area of the shop, “now that I’ve shown you how to use the tills, you can handle this section on your own. If you need help, just ring the bell on the counter – not the one under the counter, that one calls the police.”
Isabella smiled at Mia, then frowned. She didn’t relish the idea of having to deal with people who might not be as literate as she was, but chances were that people who didn’t know much about books would be unlikely to find themselves in a book shop.
During her shift almost a week later, she met one of the other employees, Geoffrey. He was tall, dark haired, and incredibly handsome. Isabella couldn’t help smiling as she watched him approach, and she rested her elbows on her counter and her chin on her hands.
“Hi,” Geoffrey said, leaning on the other side of the counter, “I’m Geoffrey. And what might your name be?”
“Isabella,” Isabella breathed, “Hi.”
“Hi yourself,” Geoffrey replied, “So, I take it you’re the new girl in the crime section then.”
“Yeah,” Isabella smiled inanely, “I started this morning. The people here seem nice.”
“It’s a shame about the last girl that worked here,” Geoffrey sighed, “having to… leave the way she did.”
“Leave?” Isabella asked, suddenly nervous, “Why did she leave?”
Geoffrey shrugged, “Nobody knows. She just didn’t turn up for work one morning. The boss was furious – she was supposed to open up the store, and she just didn’t show.”
Isabella furrowed her brow. Perhaps she’d been reading too many of the crime novels she’d been supposed to be selling, but the disappearance of the girl sounded suspicious to her. No one else had mentioned that Isabella would be replacing someone who had disappeared, and Isabella didn’t like the idea very much.
As she and Geoffrey continued to chat, Mia turned up. Isabella couldn’t help noticing that she looked more than a little bit angry as she saw Geoffrey and Isabella talking to each other.
“So, you’ve finally met then?” Mia smiled, though Isabella could tell that the smile wasn’t one of her usual genuine ones, “That’s good to see.”
“Hey Mia,” Geoffrey smiled at her, “are we still on for tonight?”
“Of course,” Mia’s smile changed from fake to genuine as she dreamily closed her eyes, “I can’t wait.”
Geoffrey left the two girls and headed back to his work area. Once he’d left, Mia glared at Isabella, “Hands off,” she warned, “he’s mine!”
“Sorry,” Isabella swallowed nervously, “I didn’t realise you two were seeing each other.”
“And it’s getting serious,” Mia swooned, “he’s bringing me home tonight to meet his mother.”
“Really?” Isabella said, “That’s a pretty big step.”
“Well, I think he could be the one,” said Mia, “we’ve only been dating for a few weeks, since he broke up with that girl you replaced.”
Isabella furrowed her brow, “He was dating her?” she asked, “He was just telling me that the girl I replaced disappeared, but he never said that he’d been dating her.”
Mia shrugged, “It doesn’t matter, she totally let everyone here down with her thoughtless vanishing act. She left Geoffrey and her job, all on the same day!”
“Does anyone know what happened to her?” Isabella asked.
“Who cares?” Mia shrugged, “You snooze, you lose, and she fell fast asleep. And I plan on staying up all night long.”
Isabella really didn’t need that image being thrust upon her, and she tried to shake off the thought as she turned back to her counter.
*
The next morning, Isabella stood outside the store in the freezing cold with four of her colleagues. Mia had been supposed to open the store, but she hadn’t turned up yet, and she was already fifteen minutes late.
“Does anyone have her number?” Mia asked.
“I’ve already tried her phone,” the woman from the science and nature department told her, “it went straight to answer phone.”
As they waited, Geoffrey suddenly came round the corner, looking very upset. He walked towards the store, swiping at tears that were running down his cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” Isabella asked as Geoffrey stopped outside the doors, “You’re not supposed to be on shift until this afternoon, I thought.”
He held up a set of keys, “I said I’d open up,” he sniffed, “Mia’s dumped me. And she’s quit her job.”
Isabella looked confused, “Why?” she asked, “Why did she dump you… and leave her job?”
Geoffrey shrugged, “She said some things about Mother,” he explained, “she didn’t agree with her… on some issues.”
“So why did she quit her job?” Isabella asked, taking Geoffrey’s hands comfortingly.
Geoffrey sniffed again, “She didn’t want to be near me, what with her… disagreement with mother. So she gave me her work keys and told me to let you all know she won’t be coming back. She said she couldn’t work with me anymore.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” the woman from science and nature said, “she was always a bit on the flighty side. What more can you expect from a girl who is basically studying how to keep fit.”
As Geoffrey opened the doors and let the staff into the building, Isabella couldn’t help wondering why Mia, who only yesterday seemed so happy with her lot in life and her budding relationship with Geoffrey, would break up with him and leave her job.
Still, if Geoffrey was single now, then Isabella could take the opportunity to make her move…
*
It was two weeks later, and Isabella had now been dating Geoffrey for almost a week. He’d been reluctant at first, explaining that he’d already had two girls break up with him from work once they’d met his mother, but she’d managed to talk him round.
“So, tonight’s the night,” Isabella grinned from ear to ear as she put her coat on, “I can’t wait to meet your mother. I hope she likes me.”
Geoffrey furrowed his brow, “I hope Mother likes you too,” he said sadly, “she is just so… fussy sometimes.”
Isabella smiled, “Don’t worry, parents usually love me.”
Geoffrey smiled back, “Here’s hoping Mother… enjoys you as much as you think as you think she will.”
The two of them left work, Geoffrey locking the doors behind him, and they headed to the tube station.
*
Isabella stared up at Geoffrey’s home as they made their way up the garden path. The house was impressively large, especially considering where it was located in London, and it looked like it easily could have cost somewhere in the high seven figures. Isabella made a concerted effort to lift her jaw and close her mouth, turning to Geoffrey as they reached the front doors.
“This is where you live?” Isabella asked, “How do you afford this, working in a bookshop?”
“My parents were rich,” Geoffrey told her as they walked through the doors into the main reception area, “after they died they left me with the… means to continue to support myself, so I could keep up the payments on this place.”
Isabella nodded with understanding as she looked around the hallway, taking in the pictures that covered the walls. The building was immense, and impressively decorated. It wasn’t as if it was an expensive house with cheap furniture either; every item of furniture was high end, the electronics were state of the art, and even the lighting was the kind that was adjustable, with more options than the simple on or off that she was used to. Unconsciously, Isabella whistled.
“This place is amazing,” she said as they settled down in the living room, “I can’t believe you have time to keep this place looking so good, living on your own. Do you have someone who comes in to help you with the cleaning and stuff?”
“No,” Geoffrey said a little sadly, “currently it’s just me and Mother. Speaking of which, I’ll go and fetch her for you. I know she’s going to love having you.”
Geoffrey stood up from where he’d so recently sat down and walked away from Isabella, “Make yourself comfortable,” he called over his shoulder, “we will be back in a moment.”
Isabella crossed her legs as she felt her bottom sinking into the luxuriously comfortable sofa, and she placed one hand happily on the arm rest. This was going better than she could have imagined, and at least she now knew that Geoffrey wasn’t a sponger and had his own money. With the home and the wealth he’d inherited after his parents had died, if they were to get married then Isabella would be well on her….
Isabella paused as these thoughts ran through her head.
“Hang on,” Isabella looked confused as she thought to herself, “he said his parents died. If both his parents had died and left him this house and all this money, then how could he be introducing her to his mother?”
Isabella stood up from the sofa, starting to feel panic. What if Geoffrey was some kind of a Norman Bates style killer? If he wheeled in a taxidermied corpse and claimed it was his mother, Isabella was going to crap herself.
Fearing the worst, Isabella headed towards the large living room door and jogged into the darkened hallway, hoping to make it to the front door before she passed a shower or Geoffrey wearing a dress.
“Where are you going?” Geoffrey suddenly asked, appearing in a doorway.
Isabella almost jumped out of her skin, backing against the wall in clear terror.
“Nowhere,” she lied, “I was just… looking for the bathroom.”
“Can it wait?” Geoffrey asked, “Mother is already here, and she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Isabella looked passed Geoffrey, but there was no wheelchair bound skeleton sitting behind him.
But there was a sound.
“What’s that noise?” Isabella asked, her eyes widening in not only fear but also in an attempt to see what might be lurking in the darkness.
Geoffrey smiled, and said simply, “That’s Mother.”
Isabella stared into the darkness as the sound rose into a grunt, then a snort, and something appeared from the gloom.
She couldn’t have accurately described what she saw if she tried, even if she’d been given the chance. A massive malformed creature on all fours, completely hairless and dripping with gore clomped towards her, it’s head retracted into its shoulders, it’s teeth crooked yet razor sharp. As Isabella tried to scream, the creature’s head shot out towards her on a muscular neck like some sort of nightmarish swan, its terrifying teeth sinking into her throat and tearing half of her face from her skull.
Geoffrey looked on as the creature continued to chew Isabella’s face, swinging its head into the air to swallow down what it had selected for its meal.
“Well, that’s Mother appeased for a few more weeks,” Geoffrey smiled to himself, “so long as I continue to bring her women to feed on, she’ll keep my finances coming in.”
Mother then lowered its head to the ground, vomiting chunks of flesh onto the laminate flooring.
“Well,” Geoffrey sighed, “I guess no woman will ever be agreeable to Mother.”
Originally Posted 27/4/2015
Result - Joint 4th Place
April 24, 2015
Poem : A Mother Is...
A mother is a person who
Quite often tells us what to do
She teaches us how to behave
And to our instincts not be slave
A mother is a person who
Quite often gives her point of view
On what choices in life to make
And how to avoid a mistake
A mother is a person who
From birth the lucky always knew
She shares her love and shares her life
And helps us with our daily strife
A mother is a person who
Will always help you see things through
No matter what in life you do
A mother will be there for you
Originally Posted 24/4/2015
Result - Didn't Place
Quite often tells us what to do
She teaches us how to behave
And to our instincts not be slave
A mother is a person who
Quite often gives her point of view
On what choices in life to make
And how to avoid a mistake
A mother is a person who
From birth the lucky always knew
She shares her love and shares her life
And helps us with our daily strife
A mother is a person who
Will always help you see things through
No matter what in life you do
A mother will be there for you
Originally Posted 24/4/2015
Result - Didn't Place
April 16, 2015
Short Story : Truth Or Dare?
Adrian stood on the edge of the bridge, looking down into the swirling water below him. His day hadn’t been particularly wonderful, though there were undoubtedly people in the world who had experienced days that were far worse.
But to him what had happened couldn’t have been worse.
He’d tried to do something brave and admit to his feelings for once in his life, and it had blown up in his face.
He’d never done anything brave before; never done anything to stand out from the crowd. He’d much rather stick to the shadows and let life flow over him, carry him on at the pace of whoever else might be there to take his hand and guide him onwards.
He wished he’d stuck to the shadows and remained a sheep.
A shadowy sheep that no-one ever noticed.
But he couldn’t go back there now.
He’d already been noticed. And he didn’t like being noticed.
He continued to look down as he thought back on his day.
His last day.
*
“Okay class,” Ms Crawford smiled, “Today I was thinking we'd have a bit of a celebration, what with the end of term looming just around the corner.”
“It's not a childish game, is it?” June complained.
“Um, no.” Ms Crawford frowned, “It's a variation on pass the parcel.”
“So it is a childish game.” June rolled her eyes.
“Cool.” Wayne smiled, “This should be good.”
Ms Crawford rummaged through her drawers and pulled out a parcel. She handed it to Maria, who shook it roughly;
“What's in it?” she asked.
“Well, in the middle there's a prize,” Ms Crawford said, “But before you get there, there are some forfeits.”
“Forfeits?” Lola asked suspiciously, “What kind of forfeits?”
“It's kind of like musical truth-or-dare pass-the-parcel.”
“Okay,” Diana raised an eyebrow, not impressed with Ms Crawford's description of the game, “If you say so.”
Ms Crawford sighed and turned on the stereo she'd brought in as the school children formed a seated circle on the classroom floor. The music that blared out was ‘Love Fool’ by The Cardigans, one of her favourites. Most of the kids in the class were too young to remember it the first time around, but Ms Crawford had loved it. She swayed her head side to side as the music played.
The parcel slowly, and unenthusiastically, began to move around the room. Then the music stopped;
Diana held the parcel.
“Open it then.” Ms Crawford encouraged.
Diana sighed and started to tear lamely at the first layer of newspaper. A Quality Street and a piece of paper fell out.
“Read the paper.” Ms Crawford goaded, getting incredibly overenthusiastic about the whole thing.
Diana picked up the crumpled piece of paper and read it out loud, “ ‘You must kiss the person on your left',” she read, then turned to her left. Lola sat there.
“Obviously this would have worked better if there were more boys in the class,” Ms Crawford explained, “But rules are rules.”
“Are you allowed to do this, miss?” June asked, “Make your students kiss each other? Isn’t it a bit weird?”
“Shut up, June,” said Wayne, leaning forward in his seated position, “I want to see this.”
Diana looked up at the ceiling, giving it a ‘Why Me?’ sort of look, then pecked Lola on the cheek.
“Oo er.” Wayne sniggered, “Somebody call DH Lawrence.”
“Shut up.” Diana warned.
“Okay,” Ms Crawford switched the stereo back on, “Let's keep passing it around. There are more sweets and forfeits to come.”
The parcel began to move around the classroom again, this time slightly quicker as no-one wanted to get a forfeit. Then the music stopped;
“Oh God.” Wayne sulked, realising he had the parcel.
“That'll teach you.” Diana sniggered.
Reluctantly Wayne began to open the next layer of the parcel. Another sweet fell out, with another piece of paper. Wayne stuck the sweet in his mouth and looked at the piece of paper;
“Oh God.” he repeated, then read out what it said, “ ‘Do an impression of Linton from Wuthering Heights when he is having an epileptic fit’?” Wayne crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it to the floor, “You can't be serious, that’s a little un-PC?” he said, addressing Ms Crawford.
Ms Crawford looked at him with an ‘Of course I'm serious’ look. Wayne rolled his eyes;
“Okay everyone, make some room.” Wayne gestured space with his hands, and everyone moved aside. Lying down on the floor, Wayne began to jerk around, pretending he was having a fit. Everybody burst out laughing.
“Satisfied?” Wayne smiled, sitting back up again and straightening his shirt.
Ms Crawford sniggered as she turned the music back on and the parcel continued around the room.
This time it stopped on Maria.
“I hope this is a good one.” she smiled, “That is, one that isn't too embarrassing.”
She tore at the paper and, as before, a piece of paper and a sweet fell out. Maria picked them up, pocketing the sweet, and looked at the piece of paper.
“It's blank.” she exclaimed, “Cool. Does that mean I don't have to do anything?”
Ms Crawford smiled, “Not quite.”
Maria frowned, “What does it mean then?”
Ms Crawford's smile widened, “It means you have to do a truth or dare.”
Maria's face dropped, “Oh no, do I have to?”
“Alright.” Sandra beamed, “Can we ask her to do anything?”
“Within reason.” Ms Crawford cautioned.
Sandra sat up straight, “I dare you...” she began, “...to give Wayne a lap dance!”
Wayne beamed at Sandra, “You are definitely going on my Christmas list!” he chuckled.
Maria shook her head, “I’m not doing that,” she said.
“Oh, go on,” Wayne grinned, “you know you want to.”
Maria rolled her eyes, stood up and shook her bum once in Wayne’s face.
“Happy?” she asked.
“Ecstatic!” Wayne replied.
Ms Crawford switched the music back on and the parcel began to wing its way around the room once more. As the music stopped the parcel found its way into Adrian's lap.
“Oh, not me.” he whined, “I don't want to do a dare.”
“Too bad.” Ms Crawford said, “Open it.”
Adrian reluctantly ripped the newspaper from the prize, and another sweet and piece of paper fell out. Adrian looked at the piece of paper.
“It's another blank one,” he said quietly, “Does that mean truth or dare again?”
“I'm afraid so.” Ms Crawford said.
“I've got one for you.” Wayne grinned, “Who, Adrian - and I'll repeat that - who would you most like to take to the prom out of everyone in this room?”
Adrian's eyes widened and darted about the room, “Hang on, hang on,” he shouted, “Maria didn't properly do her forfeit.”
“Yes I did,” Maria rolled her eyes, “Just give us an answer.”
Adrian squirmed, looking around at everyone in the room. Wayne knew damn well who Adrian wanted to take to prom, but Adrian had never had the courage to ask her out. Why was Wayne doing this? Was he trying to help? Did he know something that Adrian didn’t? Maybe he knew that the girl in question was interested and might say yes.
Taking a deep breath, Adrian continued to look around the room at all the expectant faces watching him squirm.
Finally his eyes fixed on Sandra;
“It's Sandra, okay.” he replied, “Happy?”
Sandra arched her neck and went slightly red. Wayne leaned into Adrian;
“What are you thinking, man - saying Sandra?.” he whispered, “Don't you know she has a boyfriend now?”
Adrian gulped slightly, “Er, no. I didn't know that.”
“I thought you'd have said Ms Crawford or something.” Wayne mumbled, “I was trying to help you out with an easy one.”
“Well it bloody well backfired, didn't it.” Adrian spat back, “You knew I liked Sandra.”
“Oh, well I'm sorry,” Wayne said, moving back to his normal seating position.
Adrian stared down at the floor. He looked like he was going to cry.
Ms Crawford looked around. Thinking it best to break the silence, she switched the music back on.
“Okay everyone,” she said, “Let's carry on passing the parcel.”
Adrian sadly and slowly tossed the parcel into Wayne's lap. Then the music stopped again.
“I've already opened it before.” Wayne complained, “Can't someone else have a go?”
“The music stopped on you.” Ms Crawford pointed out.
“Yeah, and who stopped it?”
“That's neither here nor there.” Ms Crawford shrugged, “Just open it and take your forfeit like a man.”
Wayne muttered to himself and tore slowly at the newspaper that stood between him and... and whatever lay underneath the paper. The paper fell away and Wayne smiled.
“Ha. A box of chocolates.”
Ms Crawford looked up at the ceiling, “Damn.” she cursed quietly.
“Yum yum.” Wayne snickered jokily, “Lovely lovely chocolates. All for me.”
Adrian sighed as Wayne opened the box of chocolates and began to eat some of them, then passed the rest around the classroom.
“What have I done?” Adrian thought to himself, feeling his whole world come crashing down around him.
*
The wind gently blew Adrian’s hair as he continued to stare blankly into the water. The one time he’d actually got over his anxiety and practically asked a girl out – in front of other people no less – and everything had gone wrong.
Sandra had a boyfriend, everyone had laughed at him, and now there was nothing left for him to do.
Some people would tell him just to get on with his life; move on to the next day, that everything that had happened in the past was in the past.
People would say it was all just water under the bridge, but Adrian couldn’t believe that.
The only way it could possibly be water under the bridge would be if he were to join that water. At least then it would be over, and he wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge of what had happened; the knowledge that everyone would always be laughing at him.
Well, no-one would be laughing soon enough.
Adrian closed his eyes as he stood on the bridge, and then stepped off...
Originally Posted 16/4/2015
Result - Joint 4th Place
But to him what had happened couldn’t have been worse.
He’d tried to do something brave and admit to his feelings for once in his life, and it had blown up in his face.
He’d never done anything brave before; never done anything to stand out from the crowd. He’d much rather stick to the shadows and let life flow over him, carry him on at the pace of whoever else might be there to take his hand and guide him onwards.
He wished he’d stuck to the shadows and remained a sheep.
A shadowy sheep that no-one ever noticed.
But he couldn’t go back there now.
He’d already been noticed. And he didn’t like being noticed.
He continued to look down as he thought back on his day.
His last day.
*
“Okay class,” Ms Crawford smiled, “Today I was thinking we'd have a bit of a celebration, what with the end of term looming just around the corner.”
“It's not a childish game, is it?” June complained.
“Um, no.” Ms Crawford frowned, “It's a variation on pass the parcel.”
“So it is a childish game.” June rolled her eyes.
“Cool.” Wayne smiled, “This should be good.”
Ms Crawford rummaged through her drawers and pulled out a parcel. She handed it to Maria, who shook it roughly;
“What's in it?” she asked.
“Well, in the middle there's a prize,” Ms Crawford said, “But before you get there, there are some forfeits.”
“Forfeits?” Lola asked suspiciously, “What kind of forfeits?”
“It's kind of like musical truth-or-dare pass-the-parcel.”
“Okay,” Diana raised an eyebrow, not impressed with Ms Crawford's description of the game, “If you say so.”
Ms Crawford sighed and turned on the stereo she'd brought in as the school children formed a seated circle on the classroom floor. The music that blared out was ‘Love Fool’ by The Cardigans, one of her favourites. Most of the kids in the class were too young to remember it the first time around, but Ms Crawford had loved it. She swayed her head side to side as the music played.
The parcel slowly, and unenthusiastically, began to move around the room. Then the music stopped;
Diana held the parcel.
“Open it then.” Ms Crawford encouraged.
Diana sighed and started to tear lamely at the first layer of newspaper. A Quality Street and a piece of paper fell out.
“Read the paper.” Ms Crawford goaded, getting incredibly overenthusiastic about the whole thing.
Diana picked up the crumpled piece of paper and read it out loud, “ ‘You must kiss the person on your left',” she read, then turned to her left. Lola sat there.
“Obviously this would have worked better if there were more boys in the class,” Ms Crawford explained, “But rules are rules.”
“Are you allowed to do this, miss?” June asked, “Make your students kiss each other? Isn’t it a bit weird?”
“Shut up, June,” said Wayne, leaning forward in his seated position, “I want to see this.”
Diana looked up at the ceiling, giving it a ‘Why Me?’ sort of look, then pecked Lola on the cheek.
“Oo er.” Wayne sniggered, “Somebody call DH Lawrence.”
“Shut up.” Diana warned.
“Okay,” Ms Crawford switched the stereo back on, “Let's keep passing it around. There are more sweets and forfeits to come.”
The parcel began to move around the classroom again, this time slightly quicker as no-one wanted to get a forfeit. Then the music stopped;
“Oh God.” Wayne sulked, realising he had the parcel.
“That'll teach you.” Diana sniggered.
Reluctantly Wayne began to open the next layer of the parcel. Another sweet fell out, with another piece of paper. Wayne stuck the sweet in his mouth and looked at the piece of paper;
“Oh God.” he repeated, then read out what it said, “ ‘Do an impression of Linton from Wuthering Heights when he is having an epileptic fit’?” Wayne crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it to the floor, “You can't be serious, that’s a little un-PC?” he said, addressing Ms Crawford.
Ms Crawford looked at him with an ‘Of course I'm serious’ look. Wayne rolled his eyes;
“Okay everyone, make some room.” Wayne gestured space with his hands, and everyone moved aside. Lying down on the floor, Wayne began to jerk around, pretending he was having a fit. Everybody burst out laughing.
“Satisfied?” Wayne smiled, sitting back up again and straightening his shirt.
Ms Crawford sniggered as she turned the music back on and the parcel continued around the room.
This time it stopped on Maria.
“I hope this is a good one.” she smiled, “That is, one that isn't too embarrassing.”
She tore at the paper and, as before, a piece of paper and a sweet fell out. Maria picked them up, pocketing the sweet, and looked at the piece of paper.
“It's blank.” she exclaimed, “Cool. Does that mean I don't have to do anything?”
Ms Crawford smiled, “Not quite.”
Maria frowned, “What does it mean then?”
Ms Crawford's smile widened, “It means you have to do a truth or dare.”
Maria's face dropped, “Oh no, do I have to?”
“Alright.” Sandra beamed, “Can we ask her to do anything?”
“Within reason.” Ms Crawford cautioned.
Sandra sat up straight, “I dare you...” she began, “...to give Wayne a lap dance!”
Wayne beamed at Sandra, “You are definitely going on my Christmas list!” he chuckled.
Maria shook her head, “I’m not doing that,” she said.
“Oh, go on,” Wayne grinned, “you know you want to.”
Maria rolled her eyes, stood up and shook her bum once in Wayne’s face.
“Happy?” she asked.
“Ecstatic!” Wayne replied.
Ms Crawford switched the music back on and the parcel began to wing its way around the room once more. As the music stopped the parcel found its way into Adrian's lap.
“Oh, not me.” he whined, “I don't want to do a dare.”
“Too bad.” Ms Crawford said, “Open it.”
Adrian reluctantly ripped the newspaper from the prize, and another sweet and piece of paper fell out. Adrian looked at the piece of paper.
“It's another blank one,” he said quietly, “Does that mean truth or dare again?”
“I'm afraid so.” Ms Crawford said.
“I've got one for you.” Wayne grinned, “Who, Adrian - and I'll repeat that - who would you most like to take to the prom out of everyone in this room?”
Adrian's eyes widened and darted about the room, “Hang on, hang on,” he shouted, “Maria didn't properly do her forfeit.”
“Yes I did,” Maria rolled her eyes, “Just give us an answer.”
Adrian squirmed, looking around at everyone in the room. Wayne knew damn well who Adrian wanted to take to prom, but Adrian had never had the courage to ask her out. Why was Wayne doing this? Was he trying to help? Did he know something that Adrian didn’t? Maybe he knew that the girl in question was interested and might say yes.
Taking a deep breath, Adrian continued to look around the room at all the expectant faces watching him squirm.
Finally his eyes fixed on Sandra;
“It's Sandra, okay.” he replied, “Happy?”
Sandra arched her neck and went slightly red. Wayne leaned into Adrian;
“What are you thinking, man - saying Sandra?.” he whispered, “Don't you know she has a boyfriend now?”
Adrian gulped slightly, “Er, no. I didn't know that.”
“I thought you'd have said Ms Crawford or something.” Wayne mumbled, “I was trying to help you out with an easy one.”
“Well it bloody well backfired, didn't it.” Adrian spat back, “You knew I liked Sandra.”
“Oh, well I'm sorry,” Wayne said, moving back to his normal seating position.
Adrian stared down at the floor. He looked like he was going to cry.
Ms Crawford looked around. Thinking it best to break the silence, she switched the music back on.
“Okay everyone,” she said, “Let's carry on passing the parcel.”
Adrian sadly and slowly tossed the parcel into Wayne's lap. Then the music stopped again.
“I've already opened it before.” Wayne complained, “Can't someone else have a go?”
“The music stopped on you.” Ms Crawford pointed out.
“Yeah, and who stopped it?”
“That's neither here nor there.” Ms Crawford shrugged, “Just open it and take your forfeit like a man.”
Wayne muttered to himself and tore slowly at the newspaper that stood between him and... and whatever lay underneath the paper. The paper fell away and Wayne smiled.
“Ha. A box of chocolates.”
Ms Crawford looked up at the ceiling, “Damn.” she cursed quietly.
“Yum yum.” Wayne snickered jokily, “Lovely lovely chocolates. All for me.”
Adrian sighed as Wayne opened the box of chocolates and began to eat some of them, then passed the rest around the classroom.
“What have I done?” Adrian thought to himself, feeling his whole world come crashing down around him.
*
The wind gently blew Adrian’s hair as he continued to stare blankly into the water. The one time he’d actually got over his anxiety and practically asked a girl out – in front of other people no less – and everything had gone wrong.
Sandra had a boyfriend, everyone had laughed at him, and now there was nothing left for him to do.
Some people would tell him just to get on with his life; move on to the next day, that everything that had happened in the past was in the past.
People would say it was all just water under the bridge, but Adrian couldn’t believe that.
The only way it could possibly be water under the bridge would be if he were to join that water. At least then it would be over, and he wouldn’t have to live with the knowledge of what had happened; the knowledge that everyone would always be laughing at him.
Well, no-one would be laughing soon enough.
Adrian closed his eyes as he stood on the bridge, and then stepped off...
Originally Posted 16/4/2015
Result - Joint 4th Place
Poem : Forgive And Forget
Remember when I ate your yoghurt out of the fridge
Can’t we say that it’s just water that’s gone under the bridge?
When I went out with your sister and then shattered her heart
Can’t we let sleeping dogs lie and begin a fresh start?
And the time I lost control and I ran over your pet
Can’t we leave it all behind us and forgive and forget?
Oh, and then there was that time I stole a load of your cash
Let’s let bygones be bygones and not do anything rash
Fly the flag of surrender like an alabaster mast
Let’s forget the nasty business that should stay in the past
But if you find out I’m the reason that your families dead
You’ll be burying the hatchet in the top of my head
Originally Posted 16/4/2015
Result - Didn't Place
Can’t we say that it’s just water that’s gone under the bridge?
When I went out with your sister and then shattered her heart
Can’t we let sleeping dogs lie and begin a fresh start?
And the time I lost control and I ran over your pet
Can’t we leave it all behind us and forgive and forget?
Oh, and then there was that time I stole a load of your cash
Let’s let bygones be bygones and not do anything rash
Fly the flag of surrender like an alabaster mast
Let’s forget the nasty business that should stay in the past
But if you find out I’m the reason that your families dead
You’ll be burying the hatchet in the top of my head
Originally Posted 16/4/2015
Result - Didn't Place
April 10, 2015
Short Story : Stop!
“Are you sure you know how to read that thing?” Mother asked.
“Don’t worry about my map reading abilities,” Father replied, “Just concentrate on the road.”
“I wouldn’t have to concentrate on the road if you could drive," Mother said bitterly, “Are you ever actually going to bother to learn?”
“I’ve got my learners licence.”
“You’ve had that for seven years,” Mother said, ”Seven years? When are you going to bother to sit your test?”
“One day,” Father replied, turning the map upside down to get a better idea of where they were going. He looked out the windscreen into the gathering dark, hoping to spot a road sign that might indicate where they were, but there was nothing.
“Can you two please stop arguing?” their 8 year-old Daughter said from the back seat, “I can’t hear my programme when you two are shouting so much.”
“We’re not arguing,” Mother said, looking at Daughter in the rear view mirror.
“Well it sure sounds like you are,” Daughter replied.
“What are you watching anyway?” Father asked, “It better not be that stupid Freezing movie again.”
“It’s called Frozen,” Daughter glared at the back of Father’s head, “and it is NOT stupid.”
“Well, it sure looks stupid to me,” Father said, “I think Disney are running out of ideas.”
“They never had ideas,” Mother said, “Disney just steal old fairy tales and books that most kids have forgotten about.”
“Just shut up!” Daughter shouted, “I like it, so just shut up.”
“Don’t you dare talk to your mother in that tone,” Father warned, “Now, apologise.”
“Doubtful,” Daughter muttered.
“If you don’t say you’re sorry right now, I’m pulling over until you do,” Mother added, watching her daughter in the mirror.
“Fine,” Daughter said, turning back to her iphone, “I didn’t want to go on this stupid holiday anyway. You’re the ones who are having trouble with your marriage.”
“Where did you hear that?” Mother said, spinning round in her seat.
“Watch the road, honey,” Father said.
“Quiet,” Mother shouted, glaring from her husband to her daughter, “Where did you hear that we were having trouble with our marriage?”
“At school,” Daughter replied, “Some of the kids said they’re parents were talking about how your marriage was failing since daddy lost his job, and that’s why you’re taking this trip.”
“That’s not true,” said Father, “This is just another family vacation, like any other.”
“What about the marriage therapist you’ve been seeing?” Daughter asked.
“You mean marriage counsellor,” Father corrected.
“So you admit it,” Daughter smiled.
Mother rolled her eyes, “We admit, we have been seeing a counsellor, but there’s nothing wrong with our marriage. It’s not like we’re getting divorced.”
Daughter’s eyes widened, and she actually looked up from her phone, “Divorce?” she repeated.
Father groaned, “Now see what you’ve started?” he said to his wife.
“Look, sweetie,” Mother said to her daughter, leaning over the head rest of her seat, “your father and I are not getting divorced. We love each other, despite what you may think, and we’re going to be together until the day we – “
“Stop!” Daughter cried, pointing with her phone towards the front of the car. Mother turned back to see the car had swerved into the wrong lane, and an oncoming truck was coming towards them.
Mother hit the brakes, turning the wheel away from the truck. The car spun towards the side of the road, jumping the curb and bouncing onto the grassy verge. Daughter phone jumped out of her hand, hitting Mother in the head. She clutched the steering wheel, watching helplessly as the car bounced down the verge, hitting boulders and branches, then hitting the side of a tree. The car catapulted into the air, tumbling end over end, until it came to a stop, right-side up in a clearing at the bottom of the verge.
Mother blinked away a streak of blood that was running down her forehead into her eyes, turning to her husband.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I think so,” Father said, rubbing his arm, “I think I’ve hurt my arm, but otherwise I’m fine. You?”
“That iphone hit me in the head,” Mother reached to her forehead, “Man, that hurt.”
Mother turned in her seat as best she could, “Sweetie, are you okay?” she said, trying to see their daughter in the backseat.
There was no reply.
“Sweetie?” Father said, turning like his wife to check on their daughter.
Daughter wasn’t moving. Her head was lolling at an unnatural angle, a nasty purple bruise running the length of her neck. Her eyes were open, but they saw nothing.
“No,” Mother said quietly, “No, she can’t be… no… NO!”
Mother tried to undo her seatbelt, but the buckle had warped and it wouldn’t come out of the socket. As she struggled, she realised that her legs were trapped under the dash and she couldn’t move from her seat.
Father said nothing. He looked at his dead daughter, then at his struggling wife. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he spoke.
“We have to get out of here,” he said, undoing his own seatbelt which came away with ease.
“What are you doing?” Mother asked as Father opened the car door and staggered out, “We’re not leaving her – not my little girl.”
“We can’t stay here,” he said, slamming his door shut and running round to the other side of the car, opening the driver’s seat door, “Haven’t you seen where we are?”
Mother turned to look back out the windscreen.
The car had stopped on a train track.
“I’m not leaving her in the car,” Mother sobbed, “Get her out.”
“She’s already dead,” Father said, “We have to move quickly before a train comes.”
He reached in through the driver’s side door and tried to undo the seatbelt.
“It’s no use,” Mother said, “I’ve already tried, it’s stuck.”
Father looked around, seeing some broken glass that had come out of a side window and picked it up. He pulled the seatbelt out a few inches and started to slice at it with the piece of glass. It took a few minutes, but Father soon had the seatbelt cut through and he slapped the lose piece of material aside and tried to pull his wife free.
She screamed.
“My legs!” she sobbed, “They’re stuck under the dashboard.”
Father peered in the dark under the dashboard, seeing that the force of the crash had pushed the dash hard against her leg. Part of the steering column had come lose, and it looked like it had pinioned Mother’s ankle.
“Does it hurt?” Father asked.
“What do you think?” Mother wept, “Just leave me here. Get to safety before a train comes.”
Father stared long and hard into Mother’s eyes, giving her a look that spoke volumes as he crouched down beside her. After about a minute, he stood up and disappeared from sight.
Mother sat in the car, staring out the windscreen. In the distance she could see a faint light – it was probably the headlights of an approaching train heading towards her.
As she watched the train lights growing larger, her impending death heading her way, she felt the car judder. Her husband was trying to push it off the tracks.
It moved about an inch before it stopped. Then she felt the sharp judder again, this time it might have moved half as much.
She heard the passenger door open and turned to see her husband climbing back into the passenger seat.
“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning.
“I was trying to move the car,” Father said, “but it’s caught on the track. It won’t budge.”
Mother frowned some more, “I meant what are you doing getting back in the car?”
Father looked at her, taking her hand in his, “My daughter is dead,” he said, “my wife soon will be, and I don’t have a job. What have I got left to live for?”
“Don’t do this,” Mother said, her frown turning into tears once more, “just get out the car and get away.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Father said, his eyes starting to well up, “we’ve had a hard enough time without your last thought being that I abandoned you and left you to die.”
He leaned towards her and kissed her on the lips.
“You are such an idiot,” Mother smiled sadly, squeezing her husband’s hand tightly as the light of the oncoming train grew brighter and brighter…
Originally Posted 10/4/2015
Result - Joint 1st Place
“Don’t worry about my map reading abilities,” Father replied, “Just concentrate on the road.”
“I wouldn’t have to concentrate on the road if you could drive," Mother said bitterly, “Are you ever actually going to bother to learn?”
“I’ve got my learners licence.”
“You’ve had that for seven years,” Mother said, ”Seven years? When are you going to bother to sit your test?”
“One day,” Father replied, turning the map upside down to get a better idea of where they were going. He looked out the windscreen into the gathering dark, hoping to spot a road sign that might indicate where they were, but there was nothing.
“Can you two please stop arguing?” their 8 year-old Daughter said from the back seat, “I can’t hear my programme when you two are shouting so much.”
“We’re not arguing,” Mother said, looking at Daughter in the rear view mirror.
“Well it sure sounds like you are,” Daughter replied.
“What are you watching anyway?” Father asked, “It better not be that stupid Freezing movie again.”
“It’s called Frozen,” Daughter glared at the back of Father’s head, “and it is NOT stupid.”
“Well, it sure looks stupid to me,” Father said, “I think Disney are running out of ideas.”
“They never had ideas,” Mother said, “Disney just steal old fairy tales and books that most kids have forgotten about.”
“Just shut up!” Daughter shouted, “I like it, so just shut up.”
“Don’t you dare talk to your mother in that tone,” Father warned, “Now, apologise.”
“Doubtful,” Daughter muttered.
“If you don’t say you’re sorry right now, I’m pulling over until you do,” Mother added, watching her daughter in the mirror.
“Fine,” Daughter said, turning back to her iphone, “I didn’t want to go on this stupid holiday anyway. You’re the ones who are having trouble with your marriage.”
“Where did you hear that?” Mother said, spinning round in her seat.
“Watch the road, honey,” Father said.
“Quiet,” Mother shouted, glaring from her husband to her daughter, “Where did you hear that we were having trouble with our marriage?”
“At school,” Daughter replied, “Some of the kids said they’re parents were talking about how your marriage was failing since daddy lost his job, and that’s why you’re taking this trip.”
“That’s not true,” said Father, “This is just another family vacation, like any other.”
“What about the marriage therapist you’ve been seeing?” Daughter asked.
“You mean marriage counsellor,” Father corrected.
“So you admit it,” Daughter smiled.
Mother rolled her eyes, “We admit, we have been seeing a counsellor, but there’s nothing wrong with our marriage. It’s not like we’re getting divorced.”
Daughter’s eyes widened, and she actually looked up from her phone, “Divorce?” she repeated.
Father groaned, “Now see what you’ve started?” he said to his wife.
“Look, sweetie,” Mother said to her daughter, leaning over the head rest of her seat, “your father and I are not getting divorced. We love each other, despite what you may think, and we’re going to be together until the day we – “
“Stop!” Daughter cried, pointing with her phone towards the front of the car. Mother turned back to see the car had swerved into the wrong lane, and an oncoming truck was coming towards them.
Mother hit the brakes, turning the wheel away from the truck. The car spun towards the side of the road, jumping the curb and bouncing onto the grassy verge. Daughter phone jumped out of her hand, hitting Mother in the head. She clutched the steering wheel, watching helplessly as the car bounced down the verge, hitting boulders and branches, then hitting the side of a tree. The car catapulted into the air, tumbling end over end, until it came to a stop, right-side up in a clearing at the bottom of the verge.
Mother blinked away a streak of blood that was running down her forehead into her eyes, turning to her husband.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I think so,” Father said, rubbing his arm, “I think I’ve hurt my arm, but otherwise I’m fine. You?”
“That iphone hit me in the head,” Mother reached to her forehead, “Man, that hurt.”
Mother turned in her seat as best she could, “Sweetie, are you okay?” she said, trying to see their daughter in the backseat.
There was no reply.
“Sweetie?” Father said, turning like his wife to check on their daughter.
Daughter wasn’t moving. Her head was lolling at an unnatural angle, a nasty purple bruise running the length of her neck. Her eyes were open, but they saw nothing.
“No,” Mother said quietly, “No, she can’t be… no… NO!”
Mother tried to undo her seatbelt, but the buckle had warped and it wouldn’t come out of the socket. As she struggled, she realised that her legs were trapped under the dash and she couldn’t move from her seat.
Father said nothing. He looked at his dead daughter, then at his struggling wife. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he spoke.
“We have to get out of here,” he said, undoing his own seatbelt which came away with ease.
“What are you doing?” Mother asked as Father opened the car door and staggered out, “We’re not leaving her – not my little girl.”
“We can’t stay here,” he said, slamming his door shut and running round to the other side of the car, opening the driver’s seat door, “Haven’t you seen where we are?”
Mother turned to look back out the windscreen.
The car had stopped on a train track.
“I’m not leaving her in the car,” Mother sobbed, “Get her out.”
“She’s already dead,” Father said, “We have to move quickly before a train comes.”
He reached in through the driver’s side door and tried to undo the seatbelt.
“It’s no use,” Mother said, “I’ve already tried, it’s stuck.”
Father looked around, seeing some broken glass that had come out of a side window and picked it up. He pulled the seatbelt out a few inches and started to slice at it with the piece of glass. It took a few minutes, but Father soon had the seatbelt cut through and he slapped the lose piece of material aside and tried to pull his wife free.
She screamed.
“My legs!” she sobbed, “They’re stuck under the dashboard.”
Father peered in the dark under the dashboard, seeing that the force of the crash had pushed the dash hard against her leg. Part of the steering column had come lose, and it looked like it had pinioned Mother’s ankle.
“Does it hurt?” Father asked.
“What do you think?” Mother wept, “Just leave me here. Get to safety before a train comes.”
Father stared long and hard into Mother’s eyes, giving her a look that spoke volumes as he crouched down beside her. After about a minute, he stood up and disappeared from sight.
Mother sat in the car, staring out the windscreen. In the distance she could see a faint light – it was probably the headlights of an approaching train heading towards her.
As she watched the train lights growing larger, her impending death heading her way, she felt the car judder. Her husband was trying to push it off the tracks.
It moved about an inch before it stopped. Then she felt the sharp judder again, this time it might have moved half as much.
She heard the passenger door open and turned to see her husband climbing back into the passenger seat.
“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning.
“I was trying to move the car,” Father said, “but it’s caught on the track. It won’t budge.”
Mother frowned some more, “I meant what are you doing getting back in the car?”
Father looked at her, taking her hand in his, “My daughter is dead,” he said, “my wife soon will be, and I don’t have a job. What have I got left to live for?”
“Don’t do this,” Mother said, her frown turning into tears once more, “just get out the car and get away.”
“I’m not leaving you,” Father said, his eyes starting to well up, “we’ve had a hard enough time without your last thought being that I abandoned you and left you to die.”
He leaned towards her and kissed her on the lips.
“You are such an idiot,” Mother smiled sadly, squeezing her husband’s hand tightly as the light of the oncoming train grew brighter and brighter…
Originally Posted 10/4/2015
Result - Joint 1st Place
April 9, 2015
Poem : The A To Z Of Fighting
Anger arbitrarily aimed
Bruises blistering near battered bones
Challengers contesting championships
Duels to the death.
Enduring endless energy
Fierce fists flying
Guarding against a grappling goon
Hitting high and hard.
Infinite impacts
Jousts and jabs that jostle jaws
Killer knockout kicks
Losers left limping with lingering lesions.
Matches where mercy means
Nothing.
Only option
Punishing parries, powerful punches
Queensbury
Rules, ringside rage, recovery, right-hook
Spinning shenanigans, survival, striking sore spots
Tag team torture, training together
Underdog’s usual urgently
Violently victorious and viciously vindicated
Winners whoop while wasters weep
Xenophobic xenoliths
Yammering yokels yay yippee
Zero hour's zesty zeal.
Originally Posted 1/4/2015
Result - Joint 1st Place
Bruises blistering near battered bones
Challengers contesting championships
Duels to the death.
Enduring endless energy
Fierce fists flying
Guarding against a grappling goon
Hitting high and hard.
Infinite impacts
Jousts and jabs that jostle jaws
Killer knockout kicks
Losers left limping with lingering lesions.
Matches where mercy means
Nothing.
Only option
Punishing parries, powerful punches
Queensbury
Rules, ringside rage, recovery, right-hook
Spinning shenanigans, survival, striking sore spots
Tag team torture, training together
Underdog’s usual urgently
Violently victorious and viciously vindicated
Winners whoop while wasters weep
Xenophobic xenoliths
Yammering yokels yay yippee
Zero hour's zesty zeal.
Originally Posted 1/4/2015
Result - Joint 1st Place
April 1, 2015
Short Story : First And Final Light
Norman’s brand new telescope was the best present he had ever received.
His uncle had bought it for his twelfth birthday, and told him that it was the sort of present that a teenager would love. Norman wasn’t a teenager for another year, but the idea of having what he saw as a grown up present made him feel very mature. Plus he absolutely loved astronomy.
The night of his birthday, Norman changed into his pyjamas and, as a special treat, his parents allowed his uncle to help him set the telescope up next to his bedroom window. It didn’t take long, and Norman took the first look through the eyepiece, looking forward to a close inspection of the night sky.
“I can’t see anything,” he said to his uncle, sounding more than a little disappointed.
“Give it a minute,” his uncle said, looking round at Norman’s mum and dad who were standing patiently in the doorway, “You need to focus the lenses, then you’ll see something.”
Norman focussed the lenses, following the instructions that had come with the telescope, but it was no use. He still couldn’t see anything.
“Maybe it’s too foggy out,” Norman’s mum suggested, even thought the weather was perfectly clear, “You can try again tomorrow night.”
Norman frowned at his parents, then frowned even harder at his uncle.
“Why didn’t it work?” he asked the three adults, “I wanted to see the stars.”
“You can try again tomorrow night,” his uncle said, “If you’re very lucky, you might have a clear night.”
“Okay then,” Norman said half-heartedly, watching his uncle leave the room with his parents. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin as his bedroom door slowly closed.
Once the door was shut, Norman sprang back out of the bed, running over to the telescope. He grabbed the focus knob and twisted it left and right, peering through the eyepiece in the hope of seeing something.
Anything.
After what seemed like hours to Norman but had in fact only been a couple of minutes, he finally saw a light!
The first light he’d seen through a telescope.
“Wow!” Norman mouthed quietly, watching the light twinkle in the night sky. It was the only visible light in the entire area that he could see, and Norman couldn’t tell if it was a star or a distant planet. The possibilities raced around Norman’s head as he thought about what it might be. Maybe it was a star that no-one else had ever seen before! He could name it.
Norman’s Star!
No. That was ridiculous. If he could see it on what his parents insisted was such an overcast night, the chances were it was an ancient star that had been discovered hundreds of years ago.
Still, he could dream.
The next morning, Norman bounced out of bed and ran over to his telescope. He looked through the eyepiece in the hope of seeing the light again, even though the sun had been up for at least an hour.
Surprisingly, the light was still in the sky.
And just as visible as the night before.
Norman couldn’t believe his luck. If anything the light looked brighter than last night, and he was so pleased that it was still there that he raced downstairs to tell his parents over breakfast.
“I found a star!” Norman beamed as he grabbed a box of cereal from the dining table and poured it into a bowl.
“That’s brilliant, Norman,” his mum said, “I hope you weren’t up all night looking for constellations.”
“No mum, I only found the one star” Norman poured milk over his cereal, “And it’s still there this morning.”
“That must be a very bright star,” Norman’s dad chuckled, “Are you sure it isn’t a lamp post?”
“Don’t be silly dad,” Norman felt more than a little upset about his dad’s comment, “I think I’m old enough to tell the difference between a star and a lamp post.”
“It might be Venus,” Norman’s mum said supportively, “Sometimes that can be seen in the day and it looks like a star. I think they even call it the Morning Star.”
“I think that’s the Evening star, dear,” his dad corrected.
“Actually you’re both correct,” Norman smiled. After all, he did know a fair bit about astronomy, “It just depends on what time of day you see it.”
Norman’s dad humphed, not liking being told that he’d corrected his wife for no reason.
“Do you want to come and take a look?” Norman asked his parents, “You might still be able to see it. It’s really pretty.”
“Maybe later on,” said his mum, “We’ve got to get ready for work, and you’ve got to get ready for school.”
Norman frowned. He didn’t want to go to school, not when he could be playing with his new telescope and looking at his new star.
But he did what his parents told him to.
After school, Norman raced home and ran up the stairs to his bedroom. He threw his school bag onto his bed and grabbed hold of the telescope, peering back though the eyepiece at his special star.
Norman looked away, feeling confused, then looked back through the eyepiece.
The star looked even larger.
“That can’t be right,” Norman told himself, taking another look. It was definitely larger, and now Norman could make out the outer edges of the star. They flickered with light, what looked like flames licking off the edges and churning into the cosmos.
This was amazing!
He had to tell his parents!
Norman ran down stairs, where he found his mum preparing dinner in the kitchen.
“Mum! Mum!” he shouted.
“What is it, dear?” she asked patiently.
“The star,” he said, “it’s getting bigger!”
“Don’t be silly,” his mum told him, “Stars don’t get bigger. Maybe you changed the magnification.”
“I didn’t!” he insisted, “I had it set on maximum last night and this morning. That star is definitely bigger.”
“Maybe it’s a different star,” his mum suggested, “Maybe you moved the telescope and you’re looking in a different direction.”
“There are no other stars,” Norman ensured her, “This is the only one I can see, and it’s getting bigger.”
“I told you, stars don’t get bigger,” his mum insisted.
Norman looked down at his feet, thinking hard.
“Maybe it’s getting closer!” he cried.
“Now Norman,” his mum said, sounding angry as she put down her dish cloth, “I’ve had just about enough of your silly stories. Now go to your room and do your homework until dinner’s ready.”
Norman stared at his mum, wanting to shout at her for not believing him, but he did what he was told and went to his room.
But he didn’t do his homework.
Instead he looked at the star, watching it flicker in the late afternoon sky.
“Maybe it’s a comet,’ he thought to himself, “That would make sense. Maybe it’s moving towards us, not getting bigger.”
But it wasn’t a comet.
The next morning Norman bounced out of bed to check on the object in the sky. Just like the morning before, it appeared to have increased in size. Norman couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he thought he could see it rolling over and over, flames flickering off its body as it continued its journey.
It was definitely getting closer.
After about a week, Norman started noticing other strange things, and he wasn’t the only one.
The weather had become decidedly warmer, and considering it was November in London, this was not normal.
The weatherman on the news commented on what he referred to as an ‘Indian summer’, but no-one had mentioned the star, comet or whatever it was heading their way. Maybe Norman was the only one that had seen it, but after a week of watching it through his telescope, Norman could now see it quite clearly in the sky without the aid of any magnifying tool.
His parents finally listened to him and came to look at the object in the night sky.
“What is it?” his dad asked.
“I don’t know,” his mum replied, “Maybe it’s just a meteor.”
“It looks pretty big for a meteor,” Norman commented, “And if it was, it would have hit by now. Unless it’s incredibly huge.”
The next morning, finally, someone mentioned the object on the news.
“I told you it was a star,” Norman smiled as the news anchor told the breaking news story.
The story was not good news.
“A star appears to have been ejected from its galaxy at some far distance from our own solar system,” the anchor tried to explain in layman’s terms, “This may have happened hundreds, if not thousands of years ago, and the star has been heading our way ever since on a deadly path of destruction. This explains why the night sky has seemed so empty in recent weeks, in spite of mostly clear nights, as the star has been destroying star systems in its wake. Scientists estimate that the star will not make contact with the Earth for at least another fifty years, but its effects on our own sun may be felt in a matter of days. High temperatures should be expected, and we recommend that everyone stay inside. We advise you all to contact your loved ones and prepare for the inevitable”
Norman stared at his parents, who looked terrified.
“What does it mean?” he asked, not quite understanding what the news reported had just said.
“I don’t know, son,” his mother said, looking out the window at the ball of flame that seemed to be increasing in size even as she watched, “I really don’t know.”
“Are we going to die?” Norman asked, looking imploringly at his parents, “Is this my fault, because I saw it through the telescope? I wanted to see the stars, but not like this.”
“It’s not your fault,” Norman’s dad smiled weakly, tousling his son’s hair as he put his other arm around his wife, “Sometimes these things just happen, and there’s nothing anyone can do.”
Originally Posted 1/4/2015
Result - 1st Place
His uncle had bought it for his twelfth birthday, and told him that it was the sort of present that a teenager would love. Norman wasn’t a teenager for another year, but the idea of having what he saw as a grown up present made him feel very mature. Plus he absolutely loved astronomy.
The night of his birthday, Norman changed into his pyjamas and, as a special treat, his parents allowed his uncle to help him set the telescope up next to his bedroom window. It didn’t take long, and Norman took the first look through the eyepiece, looking forward to a close inspection of the night sky.
“I can’t see anything,” he said to his uncle, sounding more than a little disappointed.
“Give it a minute,” his uncle said, looking round at Norman’s mum and dad who were standing patiently in the doorway, “You need to focus the lenses, then you’ll see something.”
Norman focussed the lenses, following the instructions that had come with the telescope, but it was no use. He still couldn’t see anything.
“Maybe it’s too foggy out,” Norman’s mum suggested, even thought the weather was perfectly clear, “You can try again tomorrow night.”
Norman frowned at his parents, then frowned even harder at his uncle.
“Why didn’t it work?” he asked the three adults, “I wanted to see the stars.”
“You can try again tomorrow night,” his uncle said, “If you’re very lucky, you might have a clear night.”
“Okay then,” Norman said half-heartedly, watching his uncle leave the room with his parents. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin as his bedroom door slowly closed.
Once the door was shut, Norman sprang back out of the bed, running over to the telescope. He grabbed the focus knob and twisted it left and right, peering through the eyepiece in the hope of seeing something.
Anything.
After what seemed like hours to Norman but had in fact only been a couple of minutes, he finally saw a light!
The first light he’d seen through a telescope.
“Wow!” Norman mouthed quietly, watching the light twinkle in the night sky. It was the only visible light in the entire area that he could see, and Norman couldn’t tell if it was a star or a distant planet. The possibilities raced around Norman’s head as he thought about what it might be. Maybe it was a star that no-one else had ever seen before! He could name it.
Norman’s Star!
No. That was ridiculous. If he could see it on what his parents insisted was such an overcast night, the chances were it was an ancient star that had been discovered hundreds of years ago.
Still, he could dream.
The next morning, Norman bounced out of bed and ran over to his telescope. He looked through the eyepiece in the hope of seeing the light again, even though the sun had been up for at least an hour.
Surprisingly, the light was still in the sky.
And just as visible as the night before.
Norman couldn’t believe his luck. If anything the light looked brighter than last night, and he was so pleased that it was still there that he raced downstairs to tell his parents over breakfast.
“I found a star!” Norman beamed as he grabbed a box of cereal from the dining table and poured it into a bowl.
“That’s brilliant, Norman,” his mum said, “I hope you weren’t up all night looking for constellations.”
“No mum, I only found the one star” Norman poured milk over his cereal, “And it’s still there this morning.”
“That must be a very bright star,” Norman’s dad chuckled, “Are you sure it isn’t a lamp post?”
“Don’t be silly dad,” Norman felt more than a little upset about his dad’s comment, “I think I’m old enough to tell the difference between a star and a lamp post.”
“It might be Venus,” Norman’s mum said supportively, “Sometimes that can be seen in the day and it looks like a star. I think they even call it the Morning Star.”
“I think that’s the Evening star, dear,” his dad corrected.
“Actually you’re both correct,” Norman smiled. After all, he did know a fair bit about astronomy, “It just depends on what time of day you see it.”
Norman’s dad humphed, not liking being told that he’d corrected his wife for no reason.
“Do you want to come and take a look?” Norman asked his parents, “You might still be able to see it. It’s really pretty.”
“Maybe later on,” said his mum, “We’ve got to get ready for work, and you’ve got to get ready for school.”
Norman frowned. He didn’t want to go to school, not when he could be playing with his new telescope and looking at his new star.
But he did what his parents told him to.
After school, Norman raced home and ran up the stairs to his bedroom. He threw his school bag onto his bed and grabbed hold of the telescope, peering back though the eyepiece at his special star.
Norman looked away, feeling confused, then looked back through the eyepiece.
The star looked even larger.
“That can’t be right,” Norman told himself, taking another look. It was definitely larger, and now Norman could make out the outer edges of the star. They flickered with light, what looked like flames licking off the edges and churning into the cosmos.
This was amazing!
He had to tell his parents!
Norman ran down stairs, where he found his mum preparing dinner in the kitchen.
“Mum! Mum!” he shouted.
“What is it, dear?” she asked patiently.
“The star,” he said, “it’s getting bigger!”
“Don’t be silly,” his mum told him, “Stars don’t get bigger. Maybe you changed the magnification.”
“I didn’t!” he insisted, “I had it set on maximum last night and this morning. That star is definitely bigger.”
“Maybe it’s a different star,” his mum suggested, “Maybe you moved the telescope and you’re looking in a different direction.”
“There are no other stars,” Norman ensured her, “This is the only one I can see, and it’s getting bigger.”
“I told you, stars don’t get bigger,” his mum insisted.
Norman looked down at his feet, thinking hard.
“Maybe it’s getting closer!” he cried.
“Now Norman,” his mum said, sounding angry as she put down her dish cloth, “I’ve had just about enough of your silly stories. Now go to your room and do your homework until dinner’s ready.”
Norman stared at his mum, wanting to shout at her for not believing him, but he did what he was told and went to his room.
But he didn’t do his homework.
Instead he looked at the star, watching it flicker in the late afternoon sky.
“Maybe it’s a comet,’ he thought to himself, “That would make sense. Maybe it’s moving towards us, not getting bigger.”
But it wasn’t a comet.
The next morning Norman bounced out of bed to check on the object in the sky. Just like the morning before, it appeared to have increased in size. Norman couldn’t be absolutely sure, but he thought he could see it rolling over and over, flames flickering off its body as it continued its journey.
It was definitely getting closer.
After about a week, Norman started noticing other strange things, and he wasn’t the only one.
The weather had become decidedly warmer, and considering it was November in London, this was not normal.
The weatherman on the news commented on what he referred to as an ‘Indian summer’, but no-one had mentioned the star, comet or whatever it was heading their way. Maybe Norman was the only one that had seen it, but after a week of watching it through his telescope, Norman could now see it quite clearly in the sky without the aid of any magnifying tool.
His parents finally listened to him and came to look at the object in the night sky.
“What is it?” his dad asked.
“I don’t know,” his mum replied, “Maybe it’s just a meteor.”
“It looks pretty big for a meteor,” Norman commented, “And if it was, it would have hit by now. Unless it’s incredibly huge.”
The next morning, finally, someone mentioned the object on the news.
“I told you it was a star,” Norman smiled as the news anchor told the breaking news story.
The story was not good news.
“A star appears to have been ejected from its galaxy at some far distance from our own solar system,” the anchor tried to explain in layman’s terms, “This may have happened hundreds, if not thousands of years ago, and the star has been heading our way ever since on a deadly path of destruction. This explains why the night sky has seemed so empty in recent weeks, in spite of mostly clear nights, as the star has been destroying star systems in its wake. Scientists estimate that the star will not make contact with the Earth for at least another fifty years, but its effects on our own sun may be felt in a matter of days. High temperatures should be expected, and we recommend that everyone stay inside. We advise you all to contact your loved ones and prepare for the inevitable”
Norman stared at his parents, who looked terrified.
“What does it mean?” he asked, not quite understanding what the news reported had just said.
“I don’t know, son,” his mother said, looking out the window at the ball of flame that seemed to be increasing in size even as she watched, “I really don’t know.”
“Are we going to die?” Norman asked, looking imploringly at his parents, “Is this my fault, because I saw it through the telescope? I wanted to see the stars, but not like this.”
“It’s not your fault,” Norman’s dad smiled weakly, tousling his son’s hair as he put his other arm around his wife, “Sometimes these things just happen, and there’s nothing anyone can do.”
Originally Posted 1/4/2015
Result - 1st Place
March 31, 2015
Poem : The Light Of You
You are the light that keeps me warm
That makes we feel wanted and loved
That ensures that everything will be okay
And that nothing will cause me harm.
You are the light that guides my way
That gets me home safe and sound
That illuminates the darkness and allows me to see
Everything as clearly as I do
You are the light that only I am allowed to know
My first light that engulfed my very being
That wraps itself around my entirety
And brings me deep into your welcoming embrace
You are the light that never dies
At least that’s what you told me
But now your light has gone...
Originally Posted 31/3/2015
Result - Joint 3rd Place
That makes we feel wanted and loved
That ensures that everything will be okay
And that nothing will cause me harm.
You are the light that guides my way
That gets me home safe and sound
That illuminates the darkness and allows me to see
Everything as clearly as I do
You are the light that only I am allowed to know
My first light that engulfed my very being
That wraps itself around my entirety
And brings me deep into your welcoming embrace
You are the light that never dies
At least that’s what you told me
But now your light has gone...
Originally Posted 31/3/2015
Result - Joint 3rd Place
