Three Odd Little Stories

Long-time readers will know that most days I do a Starter for 10. This is a ten minute writing exercise where I start with a blank page and then come up with whatever weirdness comes into my head. Occasionally, I even do them live on TikTok and you can watch me jiggle as I type.

@shaniswriting#LIVEhighlights #TikTokLIVE #LIVE just a guy with a paunch tapping on a keyboard. Scroll on by. #paunchtype #dadbod [image error]Tiktok failed to load.

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It’s always been a useful process and I recommend all writers to do it, because it 1) reminds me that I’m a writer and 2) helps me to loosen up. The added bonus is that sometimes I get something of use out of it - a sentence, a character, a germ of an idea which then goes onto being something bigger.

I thought I might share four of the odder recent ones with you. I’d love to know what you think in the comments or replies.

HOUSE RENOVATION

Photo by Shridhar Vashistha on Unsplash

The door creaked. The floor creaked. The walls and furniture creaked. Attempting to go to the toilet during the night would elicit the outspoken wooden moans of an entire forest. The drive had a pothole in it that was so deep that it swallowed an entire milk float, which we had to get the tractor to winch out. The garden was infested with a version of Japanese Knotweed which is resistant to commercial grade pesticides, fire and prayer. It is also an irritant.

The plumbing, I’m… I’m actually not sure that I’m ready to tell you about the plumbing yet. They say that time heals every wound, so I anticipate being ready to talk about the plumbing during the next geological age. I will say just this on the subject of the plumbing. On the first morning I span the rusty hot tap in the kitchen and it fell off. I span the other tap and it awoke the brass section of a primary school who had somehow been trapped in the walls. I don’t know the exact details but it sounded like the trombonist wanted to murder the bugles and was attempting to do so with blunt force of sound. After listening for an entire minute, the tap gave a shudder and several vinegar stroke humps and then a shrew fell into the sink. I don’t want to talk about the plumbing.

The only reason that we are stood here now is because of the attention, care, energy and verve of you – our team of builders, plumbers, electricians and carpenters. That you would so freely give your time to this project speaks volumes about the sort of people you are. I have been proud over this incredible 3 day period to work alongside you. In total we have had more than 300 people who have given help to renovate this farmhouse. I am forever in your debt. There have been too many instances of the generosity – I think of Colin missing his wedding to help out. I think of Janet bringing us the curtains from her own house. I think of you all.

Now, we must talk about the difficult thing. I appreciate that when you were initially told about this project there may have been some mention of a home for abandoned children with cancer. Talk focused on this when we said that we just wanted 3 bedrooms and that the sauna would be suitable for them. I don’t think this will come as too much of a surprise when I tell you that there are actually no children. No cancer orphans. That’s why I’m not letting you in through the gates, which were kindly donated by Lowestoft Farm and Gate Supplies. We thank you for your service and wish you well, but please get off our land.

SHAKE IT

Photo by Allec Gomes on Unsplash

Shake it and see what happens.

They took it down from the shelf, it was large enough that they both needed to grab an end. Close up, it looked even weirder. The two metal ends were made of a dark, almost clammy metal that folded in on itself with an intricacy that defied the solidity of the material. How had someone carved such intricate designs into such a solid surface? And what did the curlicues and loops represent. When Michael looked at it, he could almost imagine that he knew what the figures were, but they seemed to shift under his gaze so that he couldn’t quite pin down their meaning.

The two metal sides were about the size of a house fan, but the two lengths of glass tube that ran between the metal was completely clear. It seemed thick and at the bottom of the two tubes were what looked like dead flies, scattered along the lengths.

The boys placed the device on the ground. Later on, after everything that happened, neither of them were completely clear about why or how they knew the thing as a device – as something with a function, or a purpose. It just did. Alan hissed as one of the metal wires along the back scratched the back of his hand. It drew a thin line of red on his hand and he instinctively moved to lick it.

Go on, shake it.

Alan wiped the back of his hand on his shorts and took his place on the device’s right side. Michael squatted by the left. Together they placed their hands on the metal sides and lifted it an inch from the ground. A shaft of light burned into the room as the sun emerged from behind a cloud and the change in contrast made both the boys blink. Then they shook the device.

At once, the wires on the back of the device extended. They turned in all directions like a dowse and then lengthened and drove themselves into the ground. Michael and Alan looked at each other, fear writ large on their faces – both wishing they had never shook the device. There were six wires driven some way into the ground and both boys felt the device assert itself and they realised that it was now supporting its own weight.

Then it emitted a noise. Michae remembered it like a sigh, “a dusty long sigh” he said. But Alan thought he heard a single shout, like a person in a far-off room getting angry. As one they stepped backwards and drew together for the comfort of another human’s touch, even if it was just their shoulders meeting. The machine jerked three times, a spastic uncontrolled lurch which made them jump where they stood. Then slowly the two metallic sides rotated in opposite directions. Michael gasped as the two glass tubes cracked and sent flecks of a powdery substance and minute shards of glass across the floor.

The two sides rotated in a smooth turn that brought them through an entire revolution, when the tubes were once more somehow complete. Two thick tubes, supported by the metal sides. The wires lengthened again and brought the device back in line with the shelf and slowly slotted itself away, amongst the rest of the apocrypha, two more dry flies languishing at the bottom of the tubes, thinking “go on” and “shake it”.

GREEN SHARPIE

Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

…it said “Time is the enemy you find obt more” in this jagged green Sharpie writing and then there was a QR code, which also looked like it had been created with the same Sharpie. The mysterious instruction was in one of those clear plastic A4 envelopes with the white punctured side so you could clip it in a binder. It had been ziptied to the railing next to the traffic lights and I just managed to get a hurried photo of it before the lights changed and the cars started to move.

Up to the office car park and squeeze in next to Karen’s red Fiat. Make a cup of tea and sit at my desk. There was a lot to do today. There were emails backed up from the bank holiday and a small stack of post-its. It all added up to hours of my day chasing customers, leaving messages, small talk, repeat.

I got my phone out for a little hit of rage dopamine before the day was stolen. As I keyed in my PIN I remembered the sign. I opened it up. The thing that really irked me was that the plastic envelope had been orientated so that the opening was at the top – surely, you’d hang it upside down so that it had some protection from the rain? And why would you hand-draw a QR code? There’s no way that would work.

I pinched in on the image. The ziptie had been positioned in holes too close so it cinched the envelope together. The whole thing was a design atrocity. I posted it on r/designgonewrong with a flippant title “If you’re going to be mental, at least learn the rudiments of design”. I went to close the image but as I zoomed out the camera superimposed a URL across the photo. I zoomed out more, shocked that it seemed like the QR code was actually working. That was so weird – a hand-drawn QR code?

The URL didn’t seem formatted. It didn’t begin with http or www it was just a list of numbers and characters. My finger hovered over the link. I didn’t really have time to waste today. I pressed the it said “Time is the enemy you find obt more” in this jagged green Sharpie…

REGINALD REGAL

Photo by Tetiana Bykovets on Unsplash

There was a short fanfare, blown on twelve horns of burnished gold and then nothing happened. Or at least nothing visible happened immediately. The children were captivated watching towards the double-doors that had the word “Workshop” written in a fine brown calligraphy over the top. What they were not expecting was for Reginald Regal himself to descend from the ceiling, lowered in some manner of harness.

“Greetings! Greetings!” he warbled as he gracefully descended into the middle of the group.

“Reginald Regal!” one of the children cried and pointed - soon they were all marvelling at this wizard of confectionary appearing amidst them. One of them tried to hug him, but Reginald used his mighty cane to prise the child away.

“Someone needs to collect their infant. But well met and good health to you all. I’m so pleased that you’ve made it and that you are in actual fact – here. Or rather, there. I am here. But maybe, perhaps, you too – would like to be here?”

Reginald skipped lightly to a series of steps that corkscrewed up to a sort of multi-coloured pulpit where he could see the entire group and they could see him.

And what a curious fellow he was – tall, exceedingly so, made all the taller by the large top hat that he wore on his head. He was dressed foot-to-toe in a sort of gold taffeta material that made him seem like he was put together from sweet wrappers. If his hat and suit were strange then the three ties that hung from his neck were all the stranger, especially as they seemed to be covered in chocolate smudges. His face was thin and long, with a lopsided smile that seemed to imply that he knew where the bodies had been buried and it was up to us to find them.

“Hello children, hello grown-ups, hello grown-downs, hello adults, I’d like to welcome you all to the place you’ve heard of where your brains have already been inside their imagination trains – but now you see you’ve arrived at the real destination station. All should disembark! Disembark I say!” and with that he placed a purple whistle to his lips and blew a shrill sound. He then crunched the whistle up, as a cast of normal-sized workers filtered in through the double doors bearing silver platters of immaculate and uncanny treats.

“Hello grown-ups, grown-downs – all, we’ve got a taste sensation for you – put it in your gobs and chew, chew, chew.”

The children and adults reached out and swiped handfuls of the chocolates from the trays and started to stuff their mouths with them.

At once they started to spit them out, some into their hands, others onto the floor and all their faces displayed the grimace of a foul taste.

“But Mr Regal – these are dark chocolates!” I shouted as Billy wretched by my side.

“But of course! Nearly 110% dark chocolate – a flavour so dense and heavy that it could stun a rhino!”

“But dark chocolate is horrible!” Billy cried.

“Ok, Grouchy Pouchers – escort that child and his grown-up from Reginald Royal’s Boutique Chocolate Workshop – they’re clearly milk chocolate people.”