“I love you.”
It had come out of no where. They were just sitting on the sofa watching day time TV when he casually confessed his love, solidified by shifting his hand slightly over hers. She carried on chewing plump cherries from a lustrous porcelain bowl and spitting the seeds out in her other hand as if she hadn’t noticed.
“I really do,” he repeated somewhat concerned.
She chewed louder on the cherry pit in her mouth, grating it against her teeth. Turning her head, she replied simply with
“I know.”
She crunched straight through the cherry pit with a menace he hadn’t seen before. She didn’t even flinch and returned her gaze back to the TV.
He laughed nervously, tainted by confusion, “That’s…that’s it?”
“Yup.” She popped another cherry into her mouth. “Good to know I guess.”
Silently his hand slid back onto his lap. Confusion controlled him, testing lines in his head but he couldn’t work out how to reply. He took a deep breath but nothing came out. She carried on chewing and swinging her legs back and fourth, her eyes carefully following the far away figures on TV. He gazed at the scalloped rim of the cherry bowl but really he was looking far beyond it. Finally he spoke up.
“So you’re not going…”
She raised her hand to his face, her eyes still locked on the TV.
“It’s getting to the good bit,” she smiled.
He opened his mouth to protest but anything he said was drowned out by the increasing volume of the TV.
“You don’t love me?” he yelled above the news reader’s report.
She furrowed her brow half in annoyance, half in confusion. But before she replied, she cocked her head, seemingly pondering it.
“Not really,” she shrugged, tossing another cherry into her mouth. The bowl caught the light and the pearlescence struck his eyes.
He turned to look at the TV again, vaguely interested in the robbery reported. A hollow ache slowly burnt into his stomach, his mind littered with broken dreams of being with her.
“Look!” she yelled, squealing with excitement so much her empty cherry bowl rolled on the floor. “It’s me!”
Still looking down, he picked up the bowl and gazed into the swirling motifs entrancingly engraved into the pottery.
“This is going to do wonders for my reputation!” She grabbed his hand in excitement and he looked up immediately.
Before him, a porcelain pearlescent bowl with delicate engravings plastered across the TV screen. ‘Stolen’ it said. ‘Suspect a young women seen dressed in a cherry red dress.’
The bowl slowly rolled across the floor whilst she giggled as if someone had just confessed their love.
The house was empty but he talks alone. First a whisper then a clear voice behind his ear. “Can I have a sock?” asked the voice. There’s no reply. “Please.”
The child sat up. His bedroom was exactly how his parents left it to go to the hospital. He rubbed his eyes and his bubblegum bubble popped loudly, breaking the expected silence. “Why do you always ask for a sock?” the boy questioned before turning around, grabbing a sock from down the side of his bed and chucking it on the floor. He waited for a second before he pulled the covers back over and with a sigh closed his eyes again. “Another,” whispered the voice in the darkness. “This time blue and spotty.” The voice paused. “And one that doesn’t smell,” it added. “Shut up,” sighed the boy. The room fell silent again except for the frustrated chewing of gum. A silent breeze sailed through the room. “I prefer pastel socks, do you have any of those?” a different, softer voice asked. “Pastels are ugly, why would he have pastel socks?” came the first voice. Aggrieved, the second voiced punched back in a harsher tone, “His parents likes pastels, I could tell by the colour of the decorations downstairs.” “Go look in their room then,” “But I was told this is my room,” wailed the second voice, pitching up several tones. “No it’s mine, it always has been!” The first voice spun around the room, the sound reverberated off the walls. “Since when? I wasn’t told about this?” “You must have a different room because I found this one first!” The voices paused, everything was completely silent, even the chewing hushed. Then came muffled whispers. “There’s only this child though.” “Well I don’t know who told you there were two children but there’s only one.” “You know who told me…” “Shut up!” yelled the boy, sitting up sharply.
Suddenly, a door opened downstairs and a yellow light seeped around the cracks of his bedroom door. “Something’s coming,” panicked the voices and a swift breeze brushed through the room. Everything lay still. “Hello?” called the voice from downstairs. The boy assumed it must be the babysitter his parents had arranged whilst they were at the hospital. She must’ve been running late because she was meant to be here an hour ago. “Who are you yelling at?” came the downstairs voice. “Nightmare,” the boy yelled back. “Your mum’s done a good job of preparing for the baby,” shouted the voice, “these pastel teddies are adorable!” The boy flopped back into bed, his head hitting the pillow rather too violently. He winced and rolled onto his side. Finally, silence. He breathed deeply and sunk into sleep. “How do you turn the TV on?” pierced the downstairs voice. He opened one eye. “Can you help.” He opened both eyes “Please.” With a sigh he swivelled out of bed and cracked the door open. A harsh bright light sliced his eyes, forcing them shut as he fumbled his way downstairs. “Don’t worry! I figured it out!” exclaimed the voice, punctuated by several loud voices beamed into the living room by the faintly flickering box in the corner. He’d barely got halfway down the stairs. Squinting, the boy found his way back to his bedroom door and turned the handle. It didn’t move. He pulled at the door again. Still, it wouldn’t budge. As his eyes focused to the sharp light, he noticed the socks on the floor, placed neatly beneath his door. ‘DON’T YAWN!’ It was punctuated by a pastel blue baby sock. The TV blared loudly, the clapping of an audience rocking the house violently. A crisps packed crinckled and loud chewing textured the vibrations. Suddenly a breezy voice sliced through the noise. “It’s coming to get you, there can only be one child.” The pastel sock vanished. The beating floor, screaming TV voices, eating, crinkling, applauding, laughing, compressed the boy’s head. He pushed his hands over his ears harder, slumped down against the door, shutting his eyes so hard white and gray fuzz floated around his mind. “Go away, go away, go away,” he muttered. “Go away?” came a voice from infront of him. The boy peeled his hands away from his ears and opened his eyes, yet he still saw darkness and heard silence. The silence was so silent it began to ring, the sickly droning buzz bouncing off the walls of his skull. He could feel the figure coming closer. “Are you feeling sleepy,” it sung. “Time for a lullaby.” It’s voice was high pitched and dreamy, sickly and sleepy. It leeched his energy, crumpling his body into sleep. The boy reached for a light, his hands slapping aimlessly against the wall, fingers spread wide. Still the footsteps got closer.
“The moonlight whispers soft and low,” the voice meticulously sang, elongating the words and slowly twisting them. “As things you cannot see, they grow.” “Shut up,” yelled the boy but his voice was hushed. He could feel the wave of tiredness coming over him. With each wave his limbs got softer, his heart beat slowed and his darkness got darker. “As you yawn, so soft, so slow, the dreams will come and none shall know.” He could feel the breeze of ‘know’ fall against his face, soft and warm. The prescence was scary yet comforting. Sinking further into the wall, his hand trailing down the wall, the boy felt a yawn lodge in his throat. He breathed and it got larger. The voice seemed to reach and touch his skin, warmth curling around his face. “As you drift, you’re not alone…” A lock twisted downstairs. The voice froze, cold around his face. The boy shook off the sleepiness and the lump dislodged in his throat. “Emilio, we’re home!” called his Dad. A light flooded the hallway and the voice sunk away, pulling the blanket of tiredness with it. The boy’s ear pricked up and he raced downstairs. “Time to meet your little brother,” smiled his Mum. Emilio raced into his Mum’s arms, silent with lingering fear but his face smiling with relief. “Why is the living room filled with socks?” laughed his Dad, picking up one of his socks. “I didn’t even know we had this many,” he said shaking his head. “Ohh Emilio, I knew we shouldn’t have cancelled the babysitter,” his Mum laughed.
Elise stood outside the job centre on the curb, clasping her bag in both hands nervously. It was her first one, perhaps leading the way to a second and a third and maybe even her dream job.
The night before, in her tiny studio on the dilapidated estate, she sat on her bed, which also doubled up as a sofa since she couldn’t fit much in her flat and watched TV. That night she hadn’t eaten anything as money was short which was perhaps the only reason that pushed her into applying for the job. The TV was the only light in her room, flashing dull colours against the wall and reflecting off the raindrops that trickled down her window like tears that illuminated her saddened face. The people on the TV had what she wanted: a big house, a family, a pet, food, hope, happiness. Then the small pit of guilt in her stomach crawled out from within her. Should she plan for her interview? It would be better and then she would be prepared. The plan seemed reasonable but then a second voice came. It told her she didn’t need to do anything, she would wait for something to change, she would numb her feeling with TV, she would let her dream come to her, everything would be fine. The first voice drifted away and the pit of guilt got larger, eating her writhing within her. But instead she sat and watched TV as the night got darker and the rain hammered harder and she wished for more and more.
Elise stood outside the job centre staring at the rotting leaves that had turned over beneath her feet. She hadn’t prepared one bit for her interview. The despair grew vast and consumed her and the second voice crept in and told her to go home, to wait for another day, another chance, that her time would come. But it never did.
The world is changing, it’s not the same And we should look only to ourselves to blame. We make choices each day that will decided whether to delay or make way for the devastating doomsday, the crime against all humanity of who will suffer and who will recover and who will rediscover the connection with nature we lost so long ago.
All the trees have gone for greed Because we use and abuse the planet we share for what we want, not what we need Then we will look back and see In our tracks we have destroyed biodiversity. Where once there were clear skies and waves We have left our haze of toxic breath that suffocates the days blocking the hope of the Sun’s rays The stars that our ancestors looked to The new shoots that would breakthrough the vast meadows that rolled over and over into pristine mountain lakes that we revalue as only land for livestock or the concrete jungles that we replace and displace the animals and the plants that now only survive on an ancient bookcase. We mindlessly unlace the delicate interlocking race of nature that binds us together.
Where we began and where we belong.
For we are not one but a part and yet we still ask how this affects the economy whilst the question is how this affects autonomy of the world that can’t cope.
Yet we are too slow to move, too slow to prove that we take this problem seriously and now we are walking deliriously into our own mass extinction. Whilst this seemingly stands controversial we are wasting time, wasting lives because the world is not inertial, it changes universal.
Paradise lost in humans self In search for man’s eternal wealth It will destroy us.
So dark tides roll in, maybe not today, not tomorrow but soon and for the rest of mankind.
12th February 2021
There was nothing that we didn’t do together. Me and my human, it was always us. I was so proud of my owner and he was so proud of me and together we strutted the streets each day, putting the other dogs to shame. We did tricks together, we ate together, we’d watch TV together, I’d curl up next to my human at night. Everything was fine and full of love.
Then one day, we were practising a trick where I had to roll over and high five them. We both agreed it looked really cool in the video and wanted to give it a go. We began at eleven and finished at four in the afternoon since I would always work hard to make my owner proud but then the unspeakable happened. He forgot to give me a treat at the end. That’s right no treat! I’ve thought long and hard about this and concluded that I can’t forgive this because they always give me treats how could they forget when it was so engrained in their minds? Do they not love me as much anymore? Did I do the trick wrong? I don’t understand. But either way, for now I am not talking to him, every time he wants a cuddle or a walk I’ll show him my tail and walk away. Because for now, I can’t forgive that dreaded dreaded mistake.
In a golden afternoon, under skies of cloudless blue, Leisel put down her book. She had just finished reading Alice in Wonderland on her mother’s recommendation. She took a deep sigh, wishing that amongst all of the war and the fighting and the stupid Nazis and rationing and the general war time gloom, that she could just disappear away into wonderland.
The greyness and stuffiness of the room was killing her, as was her new found despair of the world which seemed bleak and disappointing after reading the marvels of Alice in Wonderland. She ran down stairs and opened the kitchen window. It was too late to go outside; her mother had told her about the new curfew this morning which was even stricter than the last. Everywhere in Germany seemed to be getting darker and tenser. The hope was lost, the glory was lost and now they were trapped in war.
She sat with her legs hanging out of the windowsill, her eyes shut as the golden rays warmed her face so it tingled gently. Far off she could hear the birds singing goodnight in the distant trees, a sound she hadn’t heard since the war began. The sky was a palette of pinks and oranges and soft blues and deep purples all blessed into one stunning gradient that gently guided up into the darkness of space and the wondrous infinity of beyond. Like her, the trees too were soaking up the last of the suns dying warmth and they were an earthy brown that gently blended into the sky. Everything was perfect, in its place but oddly so out of place. In the gloomiest time of war it seemed like Leisel had found her own looking glass into another world. “Carol must’ve got his inspiration from somewhere,” she whispered into the afternoon air.
“So we should just turn the corner and we’ll be there right?” Called out Seb who was perched precariously at the edge of the cliff, scanning a map.
“No! I think it’s that way,” yelled Josh over the wailing winds.
“Come and look here, I’m telling you it’s this way!”
Josh stumbled over some boulders, half bent over by his huge rucksack. Seb lifted his hand to point to the correct path only for the map to be blown violently away by a massive gust of wind.
“Oh now look! We’re doomed,” said Jazz. “I think we should head,” she whizzed her finger around in circles. “There.”
“Well it is close to where I wanted to go,” muttered Josh.
“But what about-“ called Seb but they had already started walking. “We aren’t supposed to be near any mountains anyway.” He mumbled.
They walked into a woodland just as night began to set in.
“Guys, I think we should set up camp soon,” said Seb, hunched over by his bag even more.
“Nah, it’s cool, maybe we’ll find werewolves,” said Jazz confidentially.
“Or vampires!” Cried Josh.
“Yeah or witches!” Exclaimed Jazz.
“Well whatever,” said Seb who continued walking again. “Don’t you think it’s getting a little dark though.”
Suddenly they stopped. A group of witches stood in front of them, one was weighed down by an enormous sign which read:
‘Holidays beyond magic!’
With a photo of a dank swamp with rising green steam.
“We sell the best holidays on the market,” said the first one.
“All with accurate ratings and reviews in hot or cold places,” said the second one. “And we organise the travel.”
“Hotel? Witchago,” said the third one smiling broadly.
“Okayyyy..........,” said Jazz. “We’re not really looking for a holiday at the moment.” “Wow this is cool!” Exclaimed Josh. “How much are they.” “Josh, we don’t need a holiday!” hissed Jazz. Behind them Seb stood stunned unable to move.
“We can get you anywhere,” said the first witch. “Yeah, really anywhere,” affirmed the third one. The second one nodded. “Would you like to browse our reviews?”
“Hmm well, we do need to get somewhere, so yes!” Said Jazz. “Take us to your coven!”
“Do you have food?” Asked Josh.
“We have worms,” said the third witch smiling up at him. “They’re really juicy.”
“Hmm, I’ve never had worms.”
They walked a few steps and entered the coven which was located in a tree which had a broken LED sign above which flashed ‘Witchago.’ It was a bit damp and smelled of rotten flesh. On one side was a desk and the other a cauldron. The third witch came with a photo book and started flipping the pages in front of Jazz silently.
“There is a place we want to go,” said Jazz. “Where, name anywhere and we’ll take you,” cried the first witch approaching Jazz like a loose cannon ball.
“To the finish of our walk. We were supposed to get there an hour ago and we might fail if we don’t arrive sharpish.”
“Velma! Get the old hikers boots and Friojk get the maps,”shouted the first witch.
“We used the boots the other day, Helga!” Said Velma worried.
“Well use of one of theirs!”
They poured some things into the cauldron added maps, Josh’s shoes and a strand of Jazz’s hair.
“Hold onto the side of the pot and say the magic words!” said Helga. “Oh we should mention this does come at a price,” said Friojk. “Oh what?” “Leave a five start reviewwwww!” they cried simultaneously as the hikers were transported to the finish line.
“Finally! You made it back,” said their supervisor. “What happened to you, Josh where are your shoes and... why are you all black. Did you meet some witches or something?”
The trio chuckled.
Roy Finch swung around and around in his chair. He’d never done a night shift before and he quickly realised why - because it was so incredibly deadly dull. Nothing ever happened except the occasional cat strutting along or an accidental car alarm so all he did was watch the street lamps get brighter or note down the cats he saw. But all this made everything all the more suspicious when a young boy turned up on London Road at 11:00pm.
Roy stopped swinging and fixed his eyes on the small boy of perhaps eleven or twelve. He was wearing a Boy Scouts uniform and holding a huge kayak paddle with David’s paddle written in massive letters. He had never seen this boy before or in fact anyone around this late. He turned the corner off the camera and onto another screen. Of course nothing was going to happen, he probably got a really late train and eleven wasn’t too late after all.
He grew impatient and bored and began swizzling around in his chair again munching on a doughnut despite knowing that he’d had plenty that day and watching the news. Suddenly he noticed the kayak paddle splayed out in the street adjacent to London Road and right in the corner and foot that was laid on the ground and being dragged away quickly into the darkness.
Roy Finch was the last person to see the boy alive but the weirdest part was that no ones knew a boy called David who went to Boy Scouts and not a single family came forward to mourn him and the body was never found. Sometimes when Roy did the nightshift he would glimpse something one time it was a Boy Scouts hat, the next a rucksack with David written on it and occasionally the paddle again.
Then one night as he watched the news, a story came up about a body being found of a boy aged around eleven in a river that dated all the way back to the 1920s. Roy froze and his camera screens went black.
It was another day for the fairy tale friends They had set up workshop to make up for odds and ends.
Although the tortoise was late And Cinderella had rushed off with another date.
Hansel and gretle Laid out their huge signs That read make sure your Breadcrumbs are all in lines
Pinocchio aggressively shoved Them out of the way And began to arrange His delicate crochet cafe
Whilst Snow White set Up some Apple bobbing Little Red Riding hood Practised her axe lobbing
Then came the Alice Who set up her tea party Laying out her teapot Which was an ancient rarity.
She told them all how She’d got it from a cool mad guy Until three pigs burst in with Ted And let out a massive war cry.
They stormed in and Barricaded the door Until one pig realised He needed to go to the hardware store.
A wizard walked in And magicked the barricade away And saw Pinocchios cafe and Began to crochet.
Then came Dorothy Holding random organs Followed by Perseus With some Demi gorgons.
“Hey!” cried Little Red Brandishing her axe “The Greeks are next door Or we’ll charge you the fairytale tax!”
Perseus mumbled something And walked away In came a handsome Prince Who held a flower bouquet
He collapsed on one knee At the sight of a Princess And thrust at her his flowers And promised her happiness.
Snow White shoved him away And he set up stall On dating advice And then Snow White began to birdcall
Finally came the hare Who dashed in fast And quickly demanded If he’d come last
Pinocchio responded That he had not But then his nose Grew out like a shot
It hooked Alice’s Prized ancient pot Which smashed on the floor And made the pigs laugh a lot.
In a rage she grabbed Little Red’s biggest axe But suddenly a huge flock of Snow Whites birds stopped her in her tracks.
The hare was running in Mad circles Trying to avoid all Of Snow Whites hurdles.
In his rage he tripped And flew into the crochet stall Angering the wizard Pinocchio and all.
The wizard accidentally Turned the handsome Prince Into ugly toad Which made all the Princess wince.
The chaos was everywhere Hansel and Gretel had lost their bread Snow White had turned bright red Pinocchio had lost all of his thread Little Red was locked in her wood shed The pigs had eaten gingerbread man Ted.
Suddenly the wizard Turned around, Waved his magic wand And everything was sound.
Around him bounced 15 green toads That leapt out their Stalls and carried on down the roads.
