Monday 30 December 2013

My adventure










Hiding under the kitchen sink
I came across a sight
A greeny coloured fellow
Only one inch tall in height

I asked him in an astounded tone
`What are you doing here?`
He answered in a booming voice
`THIS IS MY HOME MY DEAR.`

Shocked and confused by his reply
This tiny little thing
Sent soundwaves through my very soul
And made my eardrums ring

Recovering from the mighty sound
I shook my head to clear
And once again I questioned him
`Why was he living here`?

`MY DEAREST BOY` he boomed again
`THIS IS MY FAMILY HOME`
`MY UNCLE’S, AUNTS AND GRANDFATHER’S
HAVE ALL SAT ON THIS THRONE`

Pointing to a little chair
A  box of balsa wood
He jumped upon his regal seat
And shouted loud and good

`I AM THE RULER OF THIS LAND`
`I AM THE PRINCE AND AIRE`
`I AM THE LAST OF THE CULDESACKS`
`OF THAT YOU MUST BEWARE`

A little sad by his response
But hiding all my fright
I asked the tiny ruler
If what he said was right

`OF COURSE I MEANT JUST WHAT I SAID`
replied the little thing
`But why so rude and why so loud?`
I asked the tiny King

`LOOK LETS PRETEND I NEVER SAID`
`THOSE WORDS WHICH SHOOK YOU GOOD`
I nodded my head and did concur
his words were misunderstood.

Still a tad confused
By the little one’s reply
I turned my head to face him
And looked him in the eye

`You really need to understand`
`That shouting‘s really rude`
And if you really are the king
You should change your foul mood

`I’LL  DECIDE` was his retort
`HOW DARE YOU QUESTION ME`
`I AM THE KING AS I SAID BEFORE`
`PLEASE REMEMBER THE COMPANY`

A little bored by this shouting match
I sighed a little sigh
I pulled my head back from the sink
Then waved the chap goodbye

`GOODBYE MY FRIEND, MY ELDEST CHUM`
He bawled at my retreat
`PLEASE COME AGAIN INTO MY RELM`

`AND NEXT TIME TAKE A SEAT`.

Sunday 15 December 2013

Compared to...






...the squatting turkey waiting for the knife.


The angry holly clashes; the pleading peal,


Of bells swinging Christ back on a horny heel


To clutch his cross like a desired wife.

And now, pinned there, he flutters till they come,

The gross men and the women they are with,

Who kneel and take his soft flesh in their teeth,

And, chewing the holy cud, flock slowly home.

There as the golden children gather by,

Hung with chill bells, the harsh tree is displayed:

A delicate fear wets each child’s eye

While the gross father, with the whiskey flush

Deepening in his cheeks, prepares the blade

To pare off from the bone the warm white flesh


Easter brings relief




Merry Christmas readers!

Thursday 12 December 2013

The Christmas tree


The Christmas tree


Abducted from mother earth

In the mist of our prime

Market forces will dictate

Cut, netted, and with a dispatch date

Alien territory the destination

Dry atmosphere awaits

Natural beauty eroded

When the dehydrated needles carpet the floor

Revealing our vulnerability once more

Deprived of sunlight and hydration

-

Serial imposters cooped up in its cardboard coffin

Take the alternative route

Emerging from the dusty loft

Instructions awry, allows free rein

Puzzle pieces come together

No inbuilt character defect or imperfections

To conquer, same old story year on year

Timeless unlike an avocado bath

All manufactured to stand the test of time

The Only criminal in the box the space age fibre optic option!


Tiny hands eager with joy and excitement

Accompany the master magician

To make good the glorious visitor for the 25th

To be standing noble and proud

-

Flashing sparkles baubles abound spare

Our vulnerability and cover our nakedness

 Tradition unfolds who sits on the throne

The star or the angel

Others hide in the shadows –simple and plain décor

The picture frame view

Admired by many are not privy to the secrets we keep

They must attend their own private viewing

We keep imagination in tact

Until the ungodly hour dawns

On Christmas morning

Will the festive miser pull the plug?

Before the 6th night

So, disappearing like space ship

 Return to earth or the dark void of the loft?

The final destination

Tuesday 3 December 2013


The Gift


Scratching his head, old uncle Will wondered.......

Relaxing in his big old wingback chair, fire glowing cosily, in the Study of his big old house on Cedar Hill. All within the town of Benedict, on the North, Eastern coast of America.


..........Wondered......what he would get his nephews this year for Christmas.


He didn't see them much these days........., in fact,........ hardly at all. They weren't young kids now, Dwight, the older, was around 12 and young Drew was around 9.


"Still young boys really but old enough to work in old money," Will thought.

In his day maybe.....

Will lived alone.......well, except for old Pepe, his beloved Poodle, who was around 14 years old now.

After a small breakfast of pancakes, he left Cedar Hill to wander into town to seek out a gift, with old Pepe in tow. The pace would be slow......


It was the only gift he would buy at Christmas,......., in fact,.........all year. It was important to him as his nephews held a very special place in his heart. They were the only children in the family and would surely inherit all that was Wills. A lovely, big old house, riddled with character, maybe a bit run down and.....well,.....sod all else.

"That was enough," Will always thought.

But the gift had to be special, maybe a bit unique, truly magical........


It was late morning as he plodded down Lower Cedar towards the centre of Benedict. It was mild and sunny although fresh snow blanketed all that was visible.

Will was a pleasant being with a heart of gold. He'd worked hard all of his long life and was now deep into his twilight years. He was enjoying every minute of it, at last having time for himself, maybe too much sometimes.

Just approaching early afternoon, Will arrived in town, with Pepe still looking spritely. For an older dog, he could walk all day and often did.

Finally.....he was ready to shop. He wasn't much use at it, after all it was woman's work really. And he seriously lacked practice but anyway......he had to, so off he went, in and out of premises, gazing through windows, asking shopkeeper advice, the works!! The hours went by, his feet grew sore, even Pepe was tiring!!

He'd exhausted everything and all he'd seen were, train sets, forts, sports games, skateboards, etc, etc, etc.
These were the gifts any kid could have and Will didn't want that.

Almost ready to throw in the towel and return to Cedar hill, he glanced across to Watson Street.

"There, over there" he breathed......

"The Old Curiosity Shop!!!"

The last stop saloon as far as he was concerned but why hadn't he thought of it before. It was surely the only place in town he would hope to find something different.

As he trudged across the street, a little, just a little, more urgency in his step. He gazed towards the window. It was filthy, with the road spray and weather. Will eagerly peered inside, wiping with his hand as his eyes searched............and there, propped up in a corner, was all he'd hoped for.......

"The Gift"

------------------------------------------------------------------

Yes it would be the perfect gift for the boys.

The shop door ‘tinkled’ musically as he entered. It was a reassuring sound after all the automatic plate glass doors with their security alarms buzzing rudely at confused customers. The shop's dim interior  had a quiet air of antiquity; there were no spot lights or horrible flickering neon tubes here, no chrome, no garish displays or vulgar merchandising sales.

Instead goods were crammed into every available space, in an ordered chaos that took time to appreciate. Wooden toys of every shape and size dominated one corner. At the back area novelty mechanical contraptions ‘lived’, animatronic action figures of a bygone era. Everywhere he looked will saw toys that appealed to his sense of nostalgia, old toys that summoned ghostly friends from his own long-gone childhood. But he was not to be swayed; what he was after was tucked in the corner. And it seemed to be calling him; whispering ‘choose me, choose me’

Pepe scampered forward, snuffling as if he had scented something of canine interest. Will watched as Pepe’s head dropped to an object on the wooden floor. The familiar sounds of lapping told him that Pepe had found a dog boll filled with water. Thank goodness, they were both a bit dehydrated after trudging from shop to shop.  These days most shops didn’t even allow dogs past their doors, and they certainly didn’t cater to them with water.  Will felt a bit thirsty himself.  

“Good boy” he murmured and smiled down at Pepe. This was his kind of shop.

The shop seemed to be  deserted; where was the shop assistant hiding? He saw that there was a ‘bell’ by the rather ornate cash register.  This was in character with the rest of the shop – in fact there were no jarring notes, nothing seemed incongruous at all, anywhere, which impressed Will. He wondered about the staff; would they be suitably attired? He looked around hopefully. But there was no one in sight. He didn't like to ring the service bell but his finger was poised, ready to strike. ‘Nothing else for it,’ he thought, ‘I’ll just have to-’. But just then:


“Thank you for being patient” the voice was behind him.

“Oh!” he turned – no one was there!

“Hello?” He said.

“Good boy! Good boy! What’s his name? I'm over here”

The voice had moved; Will saw that the speaker was kneeling down and rubbing Pepe behind his ears. And Pepe was letting him.

“It’s Pepe” said Will – and added “you’re privileged…Pepe doesn’t usually like strangers”

“Ah, but I’m no stranger” this sounded rather cryptic to Will.

Abruptly the sales person sprang to his feet with his hand out stretched.

“Merry Christmas, I’m Morgan, how can I help?”

Will responded to his enthusiastic handshake, all the while appraising the fellow’s oddly antiquated clothing. He had been right about that. Morgan’s attire was like a costume. But in truth, it was Will who felt out of place in his jeans and his old water proof Burberry. This fellow seemed right at home in his well-worn brown velvet suit, complete with waistcoat and a glint of silver chain that had to be a fob watch. But the hat! – That was going too far; it made him look like the mad hatter from Alice in wonderland. And the expectant steady gaze added to the impression. With an effort, Will gathered his thoughts.

“I’m interested in –“

“Ah yes, the magic set!”

“Yes, that’s right - but how did you know?”

“That’s why I’m wearing this hat. It’s the original, you know. I heard it too, calling you…”

Will had difficulty in following this. It sounded like nonsense to him. Morgan was wearing the ridiculous hat because he somehow knew that Will was interested in the magic set? Was that it? And that thing about it calling to him; he had had an odd sense of something like that…

He met Morgan’s mad hatter gaze. “How?...” he began and faltered.

Morgan swept  the Top hat off with a showman’s bow, presenting the hat to Will.

“Take it, try it on. The hat goes with the magic set”

“Oh, I see” said Will as he accepted the hat. But he didn't see at all; none of it made sense. Morgan watched his puzzled expression.

“Go on then, put it on” He coaxed.

Will did as he was told, feeling like an embarrassed schoolboy.

“Good!” said Morgan, sounding like a teacher. “It suits you, you’re a natural”

Will doubted it. He fiddled uncomfortably with the hat on his head and then removed it.

He looked very confused.

“Don’t worry. It’s just the way it works here…The toys can be very choosy! instead of you picking the toys, sometimes they pick you!”

Will looked more doubtful than ever. His eyes had rested on a huge poster just behind Morgan. It was the only poster in the shop and it was in an ornate gilt bordered frame. He could see that it was very old, possibly vintage and collectible, judging by the faded colour and the archaic style of the lettering. But it was the name that the lettering spelled  that caught his attention: MORGAN THE MAGNIFICENT! And the depiction of the fellow in the top hat looked very familiar…

------------------------------------------------------------

Needless to say old Will bought the magic set.  He was giddy as a schoolboy as he paid for it, caring little for the cost.  Morgan wrapped it lovingly in a brown paper bag, including the hat.  As he wrapped the gift Morgan talked on, explaining more about the magic set and it's provenance, then it's potency, giving a long list of previous owners all of whom had been more than pleased with it.

Will walked home with the parcel firmly under his arm, Pepe seemed to have new life breathed into him, he bounded along and cavorted like a pup.  Will too felt a spring in his step, feeling the joys of the season in his spirit, he stopped to listen to some Christmas Carollers sing their hearts out.  He also stopped at a nearby bakery, buying a selection box of cakes, a little treat for the coming week.  

It was late when Will got back home, after giving Pepe his dinner and consuming his own Will was dead beat.   He flopped onto his armchair by the fire, soon falling fast asleep and snoring like a steam train.

Pepe laid his head down on the hearth rug, staring into the fire, also ready to fall asleep.

The parcel lay unwrapped on the table, ready to be delivered tomorrow or the next day. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to Morgan in the shop, this venerable magic set did not suit being neglected in this way.  

Apart from the sound of snoring all was still, all was quiet.  The fire was warm, old Pepe yawned contentedly, his eyelids becoming heavy, still staring deeply into the merrily dancing flames.

All of a sudden a flame shot up higher than the rest, Pepe's eyes were immediately fixed on it.  The flame seemed to assume a human shape of dwarfic proportions, a playful elf complete with pointed hat and flute.  Pepe watched it dance merrily, soon joined by several others.  A fireplace full of dancing elf-flames.  Their shadows appeared on the walls of the room, like a dancing carousel of flame. A shrill, merry form of music seemed to emanate from the fireplace. 

Pepe sat bolt upright as the sound of little marching feet came from the kitchen.  Soon the cakes from the box appeared, they had grown little arms and legs and were marching in step to the elven music.  Pepe's eyes were fixed on this bizarre little procession as they marched round him,  a chocolate fondant fancy was their leader, marching out in front swinging a toothpick as his baton. A strawberry tart turned to salute Pepe, then turning again waved to the elven flames. They danced a special flame dance in a ring, then seemed to salute the strawberry tart with their flutes in reply. 

 A fat little doughnut was bringing up the rear, struggling to keep up. A moment later their resident mouse appeared, it was avidly pursuing a terrified and squealing lemon meringue.  

The cakes marched up onto the arm of the chair old Will was sleeping on.  One by one they leapt from the arm of the chair onto Will's ample stomach, using it as a trampoline to reach the other side.
 Pepe barked with delight to see the little dancing cakes bobbing through the air, but his attention was grabbed by a piece of Gouda cheese and a pickled onion who waddled past him now, between them they were carrying an open bottle of Budweiser, spilling some onto the carpet as they walked in an odd, jerky motion. They also climbed up onto the arm of the chair, then up onto Will's mountainous stomach before sticking the bottle into his mouth.  Will automatically slurped down the beer although still asleep.  

A group of little olives scampered past, frolicking and giggling with glee.  One bounced too hard on Will's big belly and landed on the other side of the room. It soon picked itself up and caught up with the rest.  

Pepe barked with enthusiasm, waking Will.  He looked around rubbing his eyes, confused to see food and an empty bottle of Budweiser scattered on the floor.  Will picked up the chocolate fondant fancy and took a bite out of it, causing Pepe to bark out in shocked alarm.  

Will stared at his canine friend in surprise, then said 'Sorry Pepe.  I forgot you liked the chocolate one.  Here have a doughnut'  

______________________________


It was midnight on Christmas Eve and although the boys were supposed to be asleep, the excitement of the next day had kept them awake.
“Do you think that we’ll get our bikes tomorrow?” whispered Drew.
“You mean later on today,” laughed Dwight. “I know we will and I hope I get that radio controlled car.”
“Ooooh!” squealed Drew. “I am so excited!”
“What do you think Uncle Will has got for us?” Dwight asked. “His parcel looked so mysterious all wrapped up in brown paper. I hope it is something special.”
As the minutes ticked by both boys’ eyes closed and all that could be heard in the bedroom was the gentle rise and fall of their breathing.

The December sun rose on Christmas morning and the birds sang to welcome its arrival. The small creatures scurried to and fro and a large owl settled down to sleep after a busy night hunting.    
Morgan woke and stretched like a cat. Today was a special day and he needed a special breakfast to celebrate it.
“Hat!” he shouted. “Bacon, egg and sausages with a heap of hot buttered toast!”
Morgan waited, and waited and waited. Nothing happened! He heard nothing moving downstairs.
He climbed out of bed and after putting on his dressing gown and slippers went down to the kitchen.
“Hat!” he repeated. “Why is my breakfast not cooked waiting for me?”
The ‘Hat’ in question sat on the sideboard, unmoving and unresponsive.
“Hat…”began Morgan. “Oh my giddy aunt…, you aren’t my hat at all are you? I’ve gone and given away the wrong hat!”
Rushing upstairs Morgan pulled on his clothes and then after running back down the stairs with his shoe laces untied ran out of the front door and up the street towards old Will’s house.

Will had just finished getting out of the bath when he heard an angry knocking at his front door. Pepe was barking furiously and Will struggled to the door, wrapped in two wet towels. Throwing the door open he found Morgan on his doorstep, looking red faced and out of breath.
“Where is my…?” spluttered Morgan. “Where have you put my…?”   
“My good man,” said Will. “Calm down you’ll give yourself a heart attack. Where have I put…what?”
“My h-h-hat!” stammered Morgan. “The one I sold you yesterday!”
“Oh, the hat with the magic box?” replied Will. “Why, I gave it to my nephews for Christmas.”  
“Their address! Quickly man! It is a matter of life and death!” screamed Morgan.
Will scratched his head. He knew where it was, but could not remember the address. “Give me a minute to throw some clothes on and I will take you there.”
As quickly as he could, Will dressed himself and upon returning to the front door found Morgan pacing to and fro, muttering angrily to himself. “How stupid can I be? Imagine mixing up hats!”
The two men ran up the road towards Maple Grove, a very salubrious area of the town. The houses here were very large and grand and rich and important men lived there. So imagine the surprise that both men felt when they saw the lights of one of the larger houses, number 22, flashing off and on. Soot coming shooting out of its chimneys and its doors and windows opening and closing. The noise coming from this house was deafening, it sounded like a demented band was playing music out of tune and off key. It was sheer bedlam!
“That is my brother’s house,” said Will.
“You don’t say,” retorted Morgan.
A large crowd of concerned neighbours had gathered outside  number 22 and were all looking very scared.
“What’s happening?” screeched one lady. “Is it burglars?”
“I think it must be ghosts,” suggested a man. “I think it is one of these demonic hauntings!”
  Morgan and Wills stepped up to the front door and prepared to enter.
“Are you ready?” asked Morgan.
“Into the valley of Death…” quoted Will.
The scene that presented itself to the two men was something out of a very bad dream, a nightmare of the first category in fact.
Dwight , Drew and their parents were huddled down in the centre of their lounge and all hell was swirling about them.
Two shiny bicycles raced circles round the room. A toy motor car drove all over the carpet. The fairy from on top of the Christmas tree danced with a very spooky looking, long nosed, toy clown. Bunches of mistletoe and holly flew around the room. The Christmas tree and room lights flashed on and off. Books and fruit marched to and fro and toy instruments had formed a little band in the corner and was playing music that could only be described as sounding like several cats being tortured.
And sitting on the mantelpiece, like a king, was a very battered looking top hat.
“Stop it, Hat!” shouted Morgan and suddenly a silence fell on the room. The bicycles, toys, instruments, mistletoe and holly collapsed on the floor and lay still.
Will helped his brother, Cyril and sister-in-law, Dorothy to their feet as the boys collected all the toys together.
“What happened?” asked Will, turning to his brother.
“We all started opening our presents and admiring each others gifts, when the boys decided to open your parcel. They took out the hat and placed it on the mantelpiece and began to open the box when…suddenly all this began happening!”
“I am very sorry, sir,” said Morgan hanging his head. “I am afraid you were the unfortunate recipients of a true magical experience.”
“Rubbish!” retorted Cyril. “Magic is just trickery. It is not real. I demand you give us a plausible explanation for this fiasco. You’ve scared my wife and children half to death!”
Morgan stepped over to where the top hat lay. He pulled another similar hat out of his pocket and exchanged it for the one on the mantelpiece. “This one is the correct one for the magic set. I just made a little mistake.”    
“I want the police!” shouted Cyril. “This man is a very clever con artist. I want him arrested!”
Morgan sighed deeply and placed his top hat on his head. “I don’t think we should involve the police, do you? It is Christmas Day and I have given you some free entertainment. Can’t we leave it like that?”
“No, I want an unsavoury type like you locked away,” ranted Will’s brother.
Will placed his hand on his brother’s arm. “Cyril, it was my fault, don’t go involving the police. It’s the time of good will to all men.”
“No!” screamed Cyril. “He has made fools of my family and I and I will not stand for that!”
Suddenly there was the sound of music in the room and a whirring noise like bird’s wings. Morgan was holding his hands above him and had his eyes closed. A sensation like being engulfed in cotton wool filled the room.
Cyril spun round to face Morgan. “Is this more of your nonsense?”
A gentle wind blew through the room and everything begun to get blurred and insubstantial. Time was resetting itself to a time before this transgression had occurred. The massive debt that had been run up was paid back in full and World’s clock began to tick again…                                                                         


“Thank you for being patient” the voice was behind him.

“Oh!” he turned – no one was there!

“Hello?” He said.

“Good boy! Good boy! What’s his name? I'm over here”

The voice had moved; Will saw that the speaker was kneeling down and rubbing Pepe behind his ears. And Pepe was letting him.

“It’s Pepe” said Will – and added “you’re privileged…Pepe doesn’t usually like strangers”

“Ah, but I’m no stranger” this sounded rather cryptic to Will.

Abruptly the sales person sprang to his feet with his hand out stretched.

“Merry Christmas, I’m Morgan, how can I help?”

Will responded to his enthusiastic handshake, all the while appraising the fellow’s oddly antiquated clothing. He had been right about that. Morgan’s attire was like a costume. But in truth, it was Will who felt out of place in his jeans and his old water proof Burberry. This fellow seemed right at home in his well-worn brown velvet suit, complete with waistcoat and a glint of silver chain that had to be a fob watch. But the hat! – That was going too far; it made him look like the mad hatter from Alice in wonderland. And the expectant steady gaze added to the impression. With an effort, Will gathered his thoughts.

“I’m interested in –“

“Ah yes, the magic set!”

“Yes, that’s right - but how did you know?”

“That’s why I’m wearing this hat. It’s the original, you know. I heard it too, calling you…”

Will had difficulty in following this. It sounded like nonsense to him. Morgan was wearing the ridiculous hat because he somehow knew that Will was interested in the magic set? Was that it? And that thing about it calling to him; he had had an odd sense of something like that…

He met Morgan’s mad hatter gaze. “How?...” he began and faltered.

Morgan swept  the Top hat off with a showman’s bow, presenting the hat to Will.

“Take it, try it on. The hat goes with the magic set”

“Oh, I see” said Will as he accepted the hat. But he didn't see at all; none of it made sense. Morgan watched his puzzled expression.

“Go on then, put it on” He coaxed.

Will did as he was told, feeling like an embarrassed schoolboy.

“Good!” said Morgan, sounding like a teacher. “It suits you, you’re a natural”

Will doubted it. He fiddled uncomfortably with the hat on his head and then removed it.

He looked very confused.

“Don’t worry. It’s just the way it works here…The toys can be very choosy! Instead of you picking the toys, sometimes they pick you!”

Will looked more doubtful than ever. His eyes had rested on a huge poster just behind Morgan. It was the only poster in the shop and it was in an ornate gilt bordered frame. He could see that it was very old, possibly vintage and collectible, judging by the faded colour and the archaic style of the lettering. But it was the name that the lettering spelled that caught his attention: MORGAN THE MAGNIFICENT! And the depiction of the fellow in the top hat looked very familiar… 
Morgan wrapped everything in brown paper and tied it up with string. Will paid the price, which he thought was a little too much to pay for a dusty old magic set, but it would please the boys and that was what mattered.
“Good day!” said Will as he stepped out the door of the shop and began to make his way home.
Suddenly he heard a shout from behind him.
“Sir! Sir! Please come back!” It was Morgan the owner of the curiosity shop.
Will stopped and the man caught up with him. Carefully Morgan unwrapped the brown paper parcel and drew the top hat out. I am so sorry, I gave you my hat instead of the one that goes with the magic set. Really stupidof me…I am so sorry.
Will started back up the road with his nephew’s present under his arm. He whistled a little tune as he went and began to imagine the boy’s faces when they opened his gift.








Sunday 17 November 2013

Yesterday...

... I fell over the cat dish. On regaining consciousness I discovered that the neighbours had made off with my wheelie bin and had decided to shave my beard.

`Gosh!` I thought. `How rude.`

I think they doped me, since I lost consciousness. It looks like I am at their mercy.

I am not in danger. I have not been returned to my birthplace however.

Only afterwards did she meet my eyes – chest heaving, breath caught in her windpipe. I smiled, and she nodded back a response, exhausted.

And I felt confident.

`Ah, my crippled one,`you exclaim, in a voice that parodies my own.

`You look upon my eyes. Yes, that one on the left is new. Do you remember, last night, when we were dancing in this smoked filled room? You frolicked and then you fell, and I could not help but laugh, you looked such a brute.`

Long minutes passed while she revealed all the suppressed feeling in her soul … the ones she couldn't display to her family and somewhat she felt free of the burden of tears … she raised her head and dried her face with her sleeve … a light breeze blew on her face bringing with it the savoury scent of the sea.

It has to be done anyway. It's not like I could just pretend this didn't happen. Ever since I had to come home that day and explain to her what had happened I've known I was going to have to do this. At first I told myself that we couldn't afford the risk. Then I told myself that it was too dangerous. Eventually I tried just telling myself to let go. But the reality is I've never let it go. I've carried it in my heart like a weight, and I can't put it down until it's complete.

The sun had not risen for three weeks when the albatross impaled upon the mast, glowing like a full moon. The ship Balthazar sailed into an ever darker night, unable to see what lay ahead. The men were in a deep gloom, blind still in the night, unable to adjust to the darkness because it grew continually black. The albatross' crimson glow lit the deck, and drew the men to stare.

To enter the mind of the bird would be the ultimate experience, but that is an impossibility that neither I nor anyone who is like me shall ever encounter. They have put up so many barriers around them you could never hope to get a glimpse of who they really are. Even if one was to let you into what they think are their true feelings it would all be a facade put there by the matador. A red herring to stop you from looking any further, so you could never see what was behind the velvet drape.

Wednesday 13 November 2013

To and Fro






By the time Jimmy the jam found the house it was getting dark. Lights were flickering on up and down the street and as he‘d hoped his patience was rewarded; the house remained in darkness. He did a further quick recce; there were no cars in the driveway and the curtains were half drawn and still. To be sure, he threw gravel at the upper windows; the last thing he wanted was to disturb some snoozing night-shift worker.  He waited; no lights came on, the curtains remained still, no twitching.

The door was open; unlocked - eureka! It was practically an invitation. Old George had been right; there were rich pickings in an area like this; though not quite posh, it had pretensions of wealth. Thank god for the careless middle-classes.

With barely a backward glance, Jimmy pushed the door open and entered. Once inside he stood stock still while his senses adjusted. His ears and eyes strained: he was tuning in on background noises; the muffled sounds of street traffic, a car door, and somewhere kids shouting . . . but nothing from the house itself. So far so good.

Gradually he discerned objects in the dim interior. It was like dozens of other hallways he’d seen: a wooden coat stand lurched in the corner, with a well-worn jacket dangling from a hanger. The jacket caught his attention; it looked oddly familiar. He must have seen a similar jacket before . . . but he couldn’t think where. There were some shoes and boots on a rack, and besides that, a little wooden table with a lamp on it – and also what looked like a large leather wallet; with notes sticking out of it!

Jimmy reacted like Pavlov’s dogs; stimulus, response. With no conscious awareness of movement or thought, Jimmy had the wallet in his hands. He was probably salivating too as he saw a wad of notes. He started to count the money but his concentration was disturbed by a dull repetitious sound somewhere in the background . . . an alarm! . . . Somewhere . . . in the house! 

Jimmy kept cool; alarms were par for the course, as old George used to say. Stay calm and make your exit. Don’t panic! It could be hours before anyone responded to the alarm – or it could be minutes!

Jimmy turned on his heels, clutching the leather wallet. It was then that he noticed the button switch on the table. Who has a switch on a table? The wallet must have been resting on it! It must have pressed the switch down until Jimmy picked it up – releasing the switch!

Now Jimmy panicked. This was not par for the course. This was bad, very bad, thought Jimmy as he rushed to the door and grabbed the metal handle.

A massive electric jolt surged through Jimmy. He convulsed, unable to release his hand and then he passed out.  

When Jimmy came back to consciousness he lay perfectly still, eyes closed, and listened. The silence was unnerving. The sounds of the street were gone. Was the room sound proof? Maybe he’d lost his hearing? No, there was something . . . very faint, a sighing sound?

“It’s no use Jimmy, I know you are awake…” The voice was oddly familiar.

“Don’t you remember me?” Jimmy opened his eyes.
“You!” recognition chilled his rapidly beating heart. “But you are dead!”
“Yes, you would like to think that wouldn’t you?” said the tall man looking down at Jimmy. “It would suit your purposes.”
Slowly Jimmy got up. He felt alright, considering that he had been electrocuted. The hand that he had touched the handle with, felt a little numb, but all in all he was OK.
“Bernie Sloane,” said Jimmy looking at the man. “Archie and I buried you down by the Carne River. You had taken a bullet in the head!”
Sloane smoothed his long, greasy hair back from his forehead and Jimmy could see the scar as clear as day.
“Still inside my head,” he grunted. “If the bastard had aimed an inch lower I would still be lying by the river!”
“But how did you get out of the ground?” Jimmy grunted.
Sloane held his hands up displaying broken and missing fingernails. “Had to dig myself fricking out, didn’t I?”
Jimmy collapsed in an armchair and covered his eyes with his hands. “What do you want with me? Is this you come for your revenge? Archie is across in Canada now and unless you have infinite time to track him, you will have to just make do with me.”
“No,” said Sloane, sitting down opposite Jimmy. “I want you to help me with two things and then if you agree, I’ll get out of your hair forever.”

Jimmy looked about the room, his gaze falling on the handle of the door that had been electrified. “Couldn’t you have just picked up the phone instead of getting my attention by electrifying me?”
Sloane laughed evilly. “Old George told me that you had your eye on these properties and I realised that if I set up this trap, it would eventually guarantee me your undivided attention.”
“Old George told you? The old bastard! Was he pissed??” asked Jimmy.
“No,” Sloane hissed. “I just broke a couple of his fingers and he sang like a bird. I’ve been following your progress for a long time Jimmy, you and Archie’s.”
“But, as I said, Archie’s out of your reach now Bernie, he’s in Canada,” wailed Jimmy.
“Well actually, he is below Pier 10 in Southampton harbour. A couple of breeze blocks tied round his neck will keep him there until the crabs have had their fill of him.” Sloane said quietly, almost reverently.

Bernie brought two cups of steaming coffee through to the table between his and Jimmy’s chair. “Here mate, get your lips round this. It’ll make you feel much better.”
Jimmy the jam gazed dismally into the cloudy contents of his cup. “I should have recognised your old jacket hanging in the hall. Shouldn’t I have? This is your house then?”
“Yep,” said Bernie. “I rented it furnished when I knew that you were to be in the neighbourhood. The electrical traps were all my work though. Impressed you, did they?”
“Electrifying!” growled Jimmy sarcastically. “OK, what is it you want from me?”

Sloane rose and went through to the kitchen again. When he returned he was carrying a large map. He moved the now empty coffee cups and spread it out on the table. It was a blueprint of a factory looking place. There was writing at the bottom, but Jimmy could see that it was foreign.
“First of all, I want to know which of you buggers decided to shoot me and cheat me out of the haul from the National bank raid?” said Sloane menacingly.
“It was Archie, I swear Bernie,” pleaded Jimmy. “He reckoned you would take the biggest cut yourself!”
“And you went along with him, didn’t you?” Sloane spat.
“I was scared of Archie. He said that if I ratted to you he would kill us both!”
“You bloody wimp! I should kill you myself!”
“Aw Bernie, I can be useful to you. I promise,” Jimmy pleaded.
Sloane gave a big yawn and stretched himself.
“That brings us conveniently to my second request. Will you join me in a once only, last ever job that will leave us both richer than kings? I am asking politely,” growled Sloane. “But, you will help me or else you can join Archie counting fish!”

As the evening wore on Jimmy knew that whatever Sloane proposed he would have to go along with. If it was true that he had killed Archie, then he would lose no sleep doing the same to him. The plan would seem to hinge on the factory looking place laid out on the blueprint spread on the table.

“Right here is where the piece of machinery sits,” Sloane said pointing down at a rectangular unit on the plan. “On the top is the thing we have to get. It should be like taking candy from a baby. The only problem may be with any of the scientist’s that may still be there, but I can sort them out.”
Jimmy looked at Sloane and recognised the look in his eyes.
“You’re not going to kill anyone are you? I ain’t murdering people Bernie. I’ll steal for you but that’s where it ends!”
“Listen, you snivelling piece of shit,” said Sloane menacingly. “You owe me, you and Archie and as Archie ain’t here anymore, you can honour his ‘debt’”

The night for the job was decided as being the following Friday. Most of the personnel would have gone home for the weekend and apart from the security and maybe an odd ‘egghead’, the place would be empty. Sloane told Jimmy that he would pick him up in his car at about 10pm and they would take a couple hours to observe the place before making their entry.

Friday night was wet and as Jimmy waited below a lamppost the wind plucked at his coat. He shivered and drew on his cigarette, stamping his feet to heat them he moved about the lit area like a caged animal. Where was Sloane? He asked himself. Maybe he had been picked up by the police and was at that moment languishing in a cell. But Jimmy’s hopes were confounded when a beat up Ford came up the road and stopped right by him.
“Fricking get in you stupid bampot!” hissed Sloane as Jimmy climbed into the smoky, sweaty smelling interior. “Could you not have stood in the shadows?”
“Oh, and a good evening to you too,” said Jimmy sarcastically.

The rain intensified as they drove through the dark streets. No one seemed to be about and Jimmy wished that he was in his nice warm bed.
“Here it is,” hissed Sloane, looking up at a large sign that was partially lit. “Now keep your eyes peeled for the security bods. We have to work out their timing for their checks.”
Jimmy didn’t say anything. He was gazing at the sign and reading what was written on it.
               STARLEY ATOMIC RESEARCH ESTABLISHMENT
                          HOME OF BRITAIN’S CYCLOTRON
                         No admittance to unauthorised personnel.

“Sloane,” wailed Jimmy. “What’s a cyclotron? Why is it in an atomic research place?”
“Listen, and listen well. Some weeks ago I was approached by some foreign nationals.
They offered me a lot of money to obtain something for them and that is what we are going to do.” Sloane said, smacking Jimmy on the side of the head.
“But what do they want this something for? Were they terrorists? Is that what you’re not telling me?” Jimmy squeaked.
“I don’t give a flying frick what you believe or don’t believe. This job is getting done tonight or else you won’t see tomorrow’s sunrise!” Sloane rasped. Then he leant over, opened the passenger’s door and shoved Jimmy out into the driving wind and rain. “Now go and observe, Jimmy, the night is passing quick!”

As the nearby church clock rang for midnight, Sloane and Jimmy were crouched down by the barbed wire fence. Using a bolt cutter Bernie cut through the wire and sliding through the gap, both men slunk across towards a large building that sat at the back of the complex.
“Are you sure about the security?” hissed Sloane to Jimmy.
“Yes Bernie, they aint due for another hour.” Jimmy groaned miserably, the rain dripping down his neck.

The bolt cutters came in handy for the door into the building which had been firmly locked. A large padlocked chain hung down from the hasp, but Bernie’s cutter soon removed it. Next he pulled out a lock picking set and after a frustrating wait the door finally opened and admitted the thieves.

“Wow,” said |Jimmy shining his torch up at the massive metal tube that filled the interior of the building. “What is it supposed to do?”
Sloane put a hand over Jimmy’s mouth and hissed. “Shut up! Do you want to get us caught?”

Following Sloane’s directions Jimmy climbed up on a large rectangular box that sat on the tube. Everything was gigantic. Jimmy felt like he was in the land of the giants.
“Over there, you will find a lid,” whispered Sloane. “Just open it up and take out what’s inside.”
Lifting the lid Jimmy’s torch beam lit up a sign which was stuck to the top. It read:

WARNING: RADIOACTIVE ISOTOPE. HANDLE WITH EXTREME CARE.
“Here Bernie, this ‘ere thing is dangerous. I aint risking my life for this!” Jimmy began to climb back down.
The gun appeared in Sloane’s hand from nowhere. It sported an ugly silencer on the barrel.
“OK Jimmy boy, now get back up there and hand it down to me. This gun’s silent so no one is liable to hear me kill you!”
Jimmy climbed back up and moved towards the housing for the atomic particle.
“OK Sloane, but I deserve an explanation. What’s it to be used for this ‘ere isotope thing? What research are they doing anyway?”
“You deserve nothing Jimmy,” hissed Sloane. “But I will tell you that these scientists have been monkeying around with things that could wipe us all out. Trying to create something that happened at the beginning of time or something. Creation, Big Bang or some such nonsense. Just a waste of people’s money, that’s what I think!”
Slowly Jimmy slipped the radioactive element out from its setting and lifted it slowly.
“But what’s your foreign nationals wanting with this?” 
“Oh, probably going to make a bomb or something,” said Sloane carelessly.
“A bomb?” screamed Jimmy getting to his feet. “A bomb to kill people?”

Two things happened simultaneously, precipitating a third thing that was truly momentous.
Jimmy slipped; releasing the isotope which fell back into its housing, but in the opposite configuration to which it had been situated. Jimmy’s fall temporarily ended by him landing on the lid of the atomic housing shutting it with a bang that resounded around the Cyclotron area. Jimmy slid off the metal tube and landed in a heap on the floor.

For several seconds Sloane looked about him as fans began to start up and electrical lights illuminated. The massive metal tube began to vibrate and screech. It was a banshee like cry and intimated power with a capital P. Jimmy lifted his blood covered head and stretching his hand out appealed to Sloane to help him. Sloane just gazed about him. His mouth hung open and he drooled like a baby.

With an almighty whoosh, the particles raced off down the tube, released from their slumber, in the wrong direction, by Jimmy’s unfortunate accident. Round and round they sped their speed ever approaching the speed of light and then when optimum velocity had been reached, they smashed into each other, splintering and releasing colossal waves of energy.

Five billion Earth years later when every planet, star, planetoid, comet, asteroid, etc in the Universe had been gathered together in a large pulsating ball of matter, the chemical components began to interact and over time heat was generated. The pressure inside the ball became oppressive and finally with a massive explosion all the material was thrown out to become the expanding Universe again. Unfortunately for everyone concerned, everything that had happened, happened again as it would happen over and over again for all time. This was the way of the Universe. Expansion, contraction and repetition.

The Earth cooled, Ages passed, Mammal development took place, the dinosaurs died off, the Phoenicians set sail, the Vikings discovered America, the Romans invaded Britain, the Roman Empire collapsed, the Battle of Hastings, the First World War, the Second World War, the destruction of America’s Twin Towers, Jimmy found the house, got electrocuted, met Sloane, the two of them broke into the Atomic Research Establishment, Jimmy dropped the radioactive isotope and off went the sequence again. Total collapse, internal expansion, explosion outwards. The Universe reformed. An infinite reoccurring loop,

until………………..
Somewhere in the gigantic order (or disorder) of things a kernel of order existed and this cosmic pantomime had to be brought to a halt. It was beginning to resemble, after several aeons, the actions of a yoyo.

Young Billy decided to pinch his Dad’s car to go and meet his pals at the pub. It was a wet, windy night and well, he would pass his driving test next week when he sat it. He knew he was an excellent driver, the instructor, Mr Findlayson, had told him so, several times.
As Billy drove through the dark streets he gazed at all the parked cars. As soon as he got his licence he would buy one of these, something fast and sleek. Something to pick up the ladies in.
The car came out of a side street, travelling far to fast and inexperienced Billy did not brake fast enough to avoid ploughing into the side of it. Billy’s father’s car was a powerful BMW and it smashed into the other car like a hot knife through butter.
The collision stopped the ‘beamer’ in its tracks but the other car tumbled down the street bursting in flame and exploding before coming to rest against an old brick wall. The scene became almost surrealistic with the bright flames, the two men screaming as they died inside the car and shrieking wind which fanned the flames.

As Jimmy the jam and Bernie Sloane died, the artificial oscillating of the universe ceased for a longer period and order was, temporarily, restored.




























                                     




                                  
                To and Fro



   Dedicated to the progenitor, Dr Strange.