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The magic trainers
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For Children
For Children
Author: Silibili
Created: 27 December 2004
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Once there was a young man who wanted to be the fastest runner in the world, though he was really no faster or slower than many others his age...
But he was very determined and decided that he would find some way to beat all the rest.
So he went looking for a pair of running shoes, after all who would run barefoot?
He saw many pairs in the market of every shape and colour, but none were quite what he was looking for. He searched high and low from dusk to dawn and back to dusk again, searching more and more frantically in every corner of the market; at last he found a stall he had missed before and there before him was the prize he had been looking for!
The running shoes were black as soot with brilliant white marks, resembling wings emblazoned on each side. Trying them on, his feet felt light as if he was supported by air and when he walked in them he felt a new spring in his step...
'How much?' he asked. The cost was every penny he had, he paid it gratefully and ran off to show his friends, who laughed at the price.
But after that he began winning whenever he competed and gained much admiration.
He vowed never to take the shoes off and his feet began to smell bad, but nobody told him this as he was fast becoming a running star.
He ran every event until he was competing against the best in the world and still he kept winning.
But he had made enemies and his greatest rival, who kept coming second, plotted against him and, after again being beaten before the whole world, she offered the victor a toast to celebrate his finest achievement, but the drink had been tampered with.
That night the young man slept so soundly that he did not notice when his enemy stole his shoes in the night and ran off.
The next morning, when he realized the theft, he set off in pursuit of his enemy, in completely the wrong direction.
However after a short time he bumped into his enemy coming full speed in the opposite direction! She had run so far and so fast that she had gone all around the world in one night and now the soles of the running shoes were worn away to almost nothing.
'You thief! What have you to say for yourself?'
'My feet hurt! The shoes are now useless.'
Hu suddenly recognised the girl from the market who sold him the shoes.
'Then give them back and I will hang them up for you. I have had enough running up against you for one life!' he smiled at last.
After that the two were lovers for ever more.
Great Aunt Augustinia's book of wisdom
I may be old... some say I am dead, but I still dance like the lilies and bluebells when the wind kisses us.
My dear husband, who died long ago, knew well that many a sweet tune is played on an old fiddle... he could teach these youngsters a thing or two if they would just stay and listen.
Sadly some leave us too soon.
Who would listen to my nostalgic ramblings?
I know you young people do not read much, all you seem to care about is your games and comics and that loud music few understand...
I was young once, though you may not believe it.
I have discovered the fountain of eternal youth, but I am sure you are not interested in the stories of old women. Are you?
But you asked me if I know stories?
I only know one... it is your story.
Ah, now I see why you are interested.
Forget the curios here, they are just cheap imitations for the tourists.
I keep the real proof hidden in full sight, though these fools will never see it.
The old lady smiles down on the child who has stayed to listen.
I am glad you are still here, after all the others have gone, now I can tell you the secret...
Every day you must say to yourself 'I am a good writer' you may not believe it at first but in time it will become true.
She kisses the brow of the young one who looked up to her.
Dedicated to 'Nana' my paternal grandmother. Gertrude Elizabeth Raylor
Search Engines
Novelty Act?
Go and catch a falling star.
Batoru Rowaiaru
Japanese schoolgirls : Noriko, Mitsuko, Takako Chigusa, Yukie, Yumiko, Yukiko, Megume, Kaori, Yuko... and the others.
How could I forget their names?
Yahoo!
With over half a million sites divided into more than 25,000 categories, Yahoo! is both browseable and searchable.
InfoSeek
GO Network is a new brand that brings together the very best of the Internet in one, easy to use place.
Fragments from 'The Burning Library'
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Is the Pope a Catholic?Author: Firecat
Created: 26 December 2004
Is the Pope a Catholic? I think not!
He tries to be a Christian, but that's your lot!
When he broke bread with the AB of C
(Their hands, so united, could part the sea)
I thought that meant Communion, you and me ~
Yet now I can with you, but not you with me!
How can we do multi-faith if we cannot agree?
The Pope sits Caesar of his overfished See.
The Gay priest giveth, the anti-gay shout!
Women's róle diminished - Sybils out!
Man's representatives divide us, me from you,
Roman from Orthodox, Gentile from Jew.
Is the Pope a Catholic? I think not!
God is a Catholic, we are not! Life passing you by?
Author: Firecat
Created: 08 January 2005
Do you fret? Do you cry?
While your life passes you by?
Watching as your work-load mounts?
Want to get out of Accounts?
Sitting crying in the loo?
Well, there's something you can do!
Life need not be quite so frightening
Now you've found us on Get Writing!
I felt like you last October,
Bored with life, unhappy, sober.
Now this site has made amends ~
I have two new special friends!
I Hope
Author: Firecat
Created: 16 January 2005
I hope you are wrong,
But I fear you are right!
It might not be long
Before permanent night.
Resistance is growing,
But is it too late?
The seeds we are sowing
Will reap our own fate!
We all need to help ~
Yet we walk in our sleep!
The puppies we whelp
Are the wolves that we reap.
If we all die it will be by our hands.
Slowly the darkness will cover our lands.
Choking pollution around us will swirl,
The banner of darkness will slowly unfurl.
The waters will rise to meet ash-laden sky,
And slowly, and whimpering, we'll one by one, die.
Man Made Madness
Author: Corry-Spawndance
Created: 16 January 2005
When will it ever end,
when will all this madness cease?.
Man's time upon this earth
is slowly going to decrease.
No thoughts now for Mother Nature,
man’s greed increases beyond all thought for others.
More and more he makes his demands
Now he is showing his true colours
Not content with his own destruction,
he wants to blow the world into pieces.
As he quietly strolls about his office block,
in a suit without creases.
Making decisions on peoples lives,
mowing them down like sheaves of corn.
People blindly accepting their fate
and looking so forlorn.
No point in any resistance,
no one will take a stand.
Total apathy has them in its grip
and no hero’s to take command.
Is there no one who will fight for us?
someone please take up our plight.
The world is heading for darkness,
one continual night.
No point in beseeching your politicians,
they are with him all the way.
Remember the old days
when we all used to have our say.
There’s nothing we can do now,
to avert the coming Armageddon.
It might just be around the corner
as we go rushing head on.
One thing is sure though,
and of that I have no doubt.
Man will not totally disappear,
without a victory shout.
Corry-Spawndance
The King of all England and Wayles
This and That
Author: roye
Created: 17 January 2005
This and That
It’s neither here nor there
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere.
Our House.
Mrs next door sez our cats a pest
Well! He only does his toilet - where the soil is best
Her dog a barking - never seems to rest
I won’t tell you - where he leaves his mess.
Still! No matter - we are best of friends
Life goes on in our street.
Going to work – keeps some busy
Some stay at home and draw the dole
Better they say - than working for council - digging a hole
We watch the telly – actors well paid
Win awards for doing their jobs
Me thinks! Our lass deserves an Oscar
For way she manages my wage
Our House
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere
It’s neither here nor there
We see the politicians
Banquets to enjoy
Off the shoulder dresses
Penguin suited good fellows.
Still we went in the rain to vote em in.
Our children will follow the flag
– when it’s waved.
We all went with Joe - to place him in his grave
Him from down the street – yu know
Parson said what a popular man - he used to be.
Funny - Not many spoke to Joe,
when him - they could see.
Still no matter – we’re all his friends now he’s gone
Our House
Life goes on in our street. We’re neither here nor their
In the middle of - H’mmm - nowhere.
Just Waiting.
Roye
Matching Moles
Zigzag the Zebra with itchy hooves
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For Children
For Children
Author: hopesfour
Created: 06 January 2005
Zigzag the zebra was totally fed up and bored. All the other animals in the Zoo seemed to
live such exciting lives with exciting and food and exciting games, in much more exciting
enclosures than the Zebras. So Zigzag decided he would move. But where shall I move to?
He sat down and thought about it the rest of that afternoon. I know! The Giraffes, yes the
Giraffes they seem to have so much fun. So early the next morning he set off for the Giraffes
enclosure, he thought of all the wonderful games they would play and all the wonderful food
he will eat when he lives with the Giraffes. He reached the Giraffes enclosure and knocked
on the door, bang, bang, bang. Charlie the tallest Giraffe opened the door, "hello Zigzag what
Can we do for you ", “I'm fed up with living in the Zebra enclosure, and can I live with you “.
said the Zigzag. "Of course you can, come on in you are just in time for breakfast” said
Charlie, Zigzag entered the Giraffes enclosure excited at the prospect of having breakfast
with Giraffes. "We have hay, carrots and apples for breakfast” said the Giraffes, Zigzag liked
the sound of that, but when he went to eat, he found the food hanging up so high he could not
reach it. This just isn't going to work, thought Zigzag, I'm starving! It's no good I'll have to
move again, I know, I will go and live with the Rhinoceroses they are the same height as me
I will be able to eat their food with out any problem. So Zigzag made his excuses" I’ve really
enjoyed living with you but I think its time I moved on, Thank you for your hospitality"
Zigzag may have itchy hooves, but he's a very well mannered Zebra. Zigzag walked down the lane towards the Rhinoceroses enclosure the Giraffes waved to him" good bye zig zag please call again if you or ever passing " "what a lovely Zebra said that giraffes, yes said Charlie and with such itchy hooves ". Zigzag knocked on the Rhinoceros is door bang, bang, bang. ‘Hello Zigzag what can we do for you’ said Raff the Rhinoceros, "well “Said Zigzag "I'm bored living with the Zebras can I live with you”?" of course you can” said Raff come on in we are about to play some games ", this is more like it thought Zigzag I'm going to like living here, the game they were about to play was called bump. They all had to run as fast as they could round the enclosure and when you were bumped you were out. But the Rhinos were much larger than Zigzag and when he was bumped he went flying. Three somersaults and a long skid later he was laying against the fence all dizzy and bruised. This won't do the rhinos are far too rough for me thought Zigzag; I know I will go and live with Monkeys; they are always playing and having fun. So he made his excuses, “thank you for letting me live with you but it's time I was moving on” said zig zag. “Please call again if you are passing “said the Rhinos and waved to him as he walked down the road towards the Monkey enclosure,” what to a nice zebra” said to the Rhinos, “but with such itchy hooves”. Zigzag reached the Monkey enclosure and knocked on the door bang, bang, bang Mike the Monkey opened it.” hello" said Mike “what can we do for you”, " I'm bored living with the Zebras, can I live with you said Zigzag " " of course come in we are about to have some fun, " screeched the Monkeys, I like the sound of that thought Zigzag. The Monkeys started to chase each other round and round up and down screeching and screaming, round and round, up and down, round and round, up and down over and over again. It went on and on, this won't do thought he Zigzag the monkeys do nothing but play and play, I know I will go and live with the bears they don't run a round all day. So Zigzag made his excuses “I’ve really enjoyed living with you but it's time I moved on” “if you are ever passing please called in said the Monkeys. Zigzag walked off down the road towards the bear’s enclosure, the monkeys waved to him “good bye call again” what a nice Zebra they all thought but with such itchy hooves. Zigzag reached the Bears enclosure and knocked on the door bang, bang, bang. Bert the bear opened it,” hello Zigzag what can we do for you “well said Zigzag I'm fed up living with the Zebras can I live with you” of course come on in Zigzag”. They all had a lovely lunch of apples vegetables and bread, this was more like it thought Zigzag I would enjoy living here. After lunch the bears and Zigzag sat down to rest, and rest and rest and rest,” shall we play a game said” Zigzag, we don't really play games said the Bears. So they just sat and sat and sat, shall we go for a walk said Zigzag we don't really go for walks said the Bears. So they just dozed and dozed and dozed, shall we talk said Zigzag, we don't really talk said the Bears. So they just slept and slept and slept, this won't do thought Zigzag, I have never been so bored. I know, thought Zigzag I know the perfect place to live where the food is just right and the games are just right and the company is just right. So he made his excuses, “thank you for letting me to live with you, but it's time I moved on " and he walked off down the road and I'm sure if the Bears could have stayed awake long enough they would have waved and said call again if you are ever passing what a lovely Zebra even if he did have extremely itchy hooves. Zigzag reached the enclosure and banged on the door bang, bang, bang. The door opened and he went in “I have been all around the Zoo looking for the perfect place to live and this is the perfect place, so can I live with you” said Zigzag. Of course you can said all the Zebras welcome home, Zigzag knew that he would always be a happy living in the Zebra enclosure, but still goes to visit all the other animals from time to time, so if you are at the Zoo and see a Zebra with the Rhinos, Bears, Monkeys or Giraffes say hello Zigzag.
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Freds Great Adventure
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For Children
For Children
Author: hopesfour
Created: 05 January 2005
Fred looked out of the window of the old shed at the bottom of the garden, the sun was starting to rise on a most beautiful summer's day." Creepy, Crawly " he shouted trying to wake the two sleepy spiders but Creepy and Crawly kept on sleeping " Creepy, Crawly " he shouted even louder the two spiders started to stir." Creepy, Crawly " he shouted even louder, " what " said the two sleepy spiders together, " are you awake "said Fred, " awake of course we are awake how can we sleep with you shouting " they said, " how can you sleep on such a wonderful day " said Fred, Fred pointed out of the window "look " he said "look at the sun rise ", Creepy and Crawly looked. " what are we exactly looking for " said Creepy " it looks like any other morning to me " said Crawly. "No, no, no " said Fred "this is a day for adventure ", What shall we do thought Fred explore the big apple tree next to the shed, or explore the hedge at the bottom of the garden, Creepy interrupted Fred's thoughts " I know " said creepy "let’s tidy up our Web, have lunch and go back to sleep ", " oh yes " said Crawly " that's a great idea ". " a great idea! " said Fred " it's a terrible idea, it's totally pants, it's the worst idea since the invention of birds (spiders don't like birds at all) we should be looking for adventure and excitement on a day like this we should be exploring, I've got it, I've got it we should be exploring the house". " THE HOUSE! " Said creepy and Crawly "we can't explore the house ". New owners had just bought the house after being empty for quite a while and Fred thought it would be a fantastic adventure to explore the house and see what the new owners were like. Creepy and Crawly didn't think this was a very good idea at all; the house was far down the other end of the garden a very long way for small spiders. But there was no stopping Fred, " well if you want to sit on the Web all day fine, but I'm going to explore for house and find out what I can about the new owners " he said hoping this would change their minds, but it didn't and so he set off on the long journey from the old shed to the house at the other end of the garden by him self Fred Walked for what seemed ages and ages but even with eight legs he hadn't got very far when he met bubble a mouse that lived in the garden, Fred told him about his idea for an adventure bubble didn't think it was the best of ideas, but asked Fred to find out if the new owners of the house planned to change the
garden, because bubble likes it the way it was all over grown. Fred promised to try to find out, " I know " said bubble” why don't you climb on my back and I will get you to the house in no time at all ". And so Fred climbed on bubbles back and they raced through the long grass, Fred had never gone so fast he held on tightly with all eight legs. Just as Fred was about to ask how long it will take bubbles came to a stop, right out side the back door of the house. Wow express mouse thought Fred the only way to travel. Bubbles told Fred that he would be back that evening to give him a ride back to the shed " thank you very much " said Fred " I will try to find out about the garden for you" he shouted after bubbles as the mouse disappeared back into the long grass. Fred looked at the house, the back door towering above him and thought well it's now or never and he squeezed under the door into a small lobby between the kitchen and bathroom. His little heart was beating faster and faster as he started to explore the kitchen but after a while he grew much more confident and was scuttling all through the cupboards and over the work tops he then turned his attention to the bathroom. He crawled under the door and climbed up on to the wall to get a better look at the place, he was extremely tired by now, Bubbles won't be back for ages yet thought Fred I'll just take a little nap, just five minutes you understand, just to rest my eyes. He sat on the tiles above the bath and fell fast asleep, and he slept and he slept and he slept right through the night. Next morning Fred work with a fright, the bathroom the light came on and someone came into the bathroom, it was one of the new owners, a lady. Fred lost his footing with the shock of being woken so suddenly and fell into the bath, he lay there very still hoping the lady hadn't seen him, she hadn't, and so Fred tiptoed to the edge of the Bath.
Oh dear thought Fred I must have over slept, never mind I will just creep out of the house and make my way back to the shed. So Fred started to climb out of bath. He climbed up and up and up but the sides were so steep and slippery that he fell back into the bath. He tried again and again and again but it was no good he was trapped. The other new owner of the house came into the bathroom it was a man and he was carrying a pot of paint and two paint brushes, come on then he said lets make a start. And they opened the big pot of paint and started to paint the bathroom with bright white paint. Fred started to cry, I'm never going to get out of here just as he thought things just can't get any worse a blob of paint came off the ladies paintbrush and headed for the bath! Fred tried getting out of the way it but it went splat all over him, the lady had seen the paint fall. " Bother " she said " I've dropped some paint in the bath ". She found an old cloth and went to wipe it up, but it moved! She went to wipe it
Again, but it moved again! She looked closer at the blob of paint and saw that it had the legs. " Oh dear, I've covered a poor little spider in paint, do you think it will be alright?"She asked. The man very carefully picked Fred up, Fred was a terrified, " Lets put him out side and hopefully the rain will wash the paint away " said the man. They opened the back door and carefully put Fred on the ground, Fred ran under a big leaf, " he seems OK " said the lady as they closed the door. Fred had never been so sad he was so far from the shed, so far from his friends, and worst of all covered in bright white paint. Just then he heard a rustling coming from the long grass, bubble poked his nose under the leaf, " where have you been? " said bubbles very annoyed, I have been waiting all night for you to come out of the house, and why are you hiding under this leaf? And why have you turned white? Fred told bubbles all about his adventures in the House, except the bit about him crying in the bath, as he didn't think that was important. "That is the most incredible adventure I have ever heard " said bubbles as he dropped Fred off at the old shed. "Thank you so much for the ride home said Fred as bubbles disappeared into the long grass, Fred didn't tell bubbles about the eight white footprints that he had left on his fur as he thought the man was probably right and the rain would wash the paint away. Creepy and Crawly were so happy to see Fred even if he had turned white, Fred told them of his adventure over breakfast, he didn't tell them about crying in the bath as he was sure this was not important. Just then the new owners of the house walked up the garden towards the old shed, Fred called creepy and crawling " look, look " he said pointing out of the window. "It is the new owners, that's the man and that's the lady I was telling you about, did I mention how brave I was when I became trapped in the bath". " Quiet said creepy I'm trying to hear what they are saying "." this garden will take some sorting out " said the man "look how long this grass is, chopping it all down will be the first job ". Bubbles won't be pleased thought Fred; the new owners make their way she up to the old shed, " let's look in here " said the lady pointing at the shed. They opened the a old creaking door and went inside, creepy and Crawly scuttled right into a dark corner, and Fred sat on the Web very still. This place is a mess said the man knocking a cobweb away with his hand. Fred looked in horror as all the spiders’ hard work was just brushed away; " look, " said the lady " look! " she was pointing straight at Fred. It’s the spider from the bathroom, I don't believe it! " how can you tell " said the man, " is it still covered in paint " said the lady, the man took a closer look " my goodness you're right how on earth did it managed to get right up here, well " said the man " if this spider made it all the way back up here the least we can do
is let him stay here as long as he likes ". " oh that's a great idea " said the lady " we have so much to do in the house anyway, we can leave this end of the garden all overgrown so all the creatures in the garden can keep their homes. It will be nice to have a wild bit of countryside right in our own garden. Fred creepy and Crawly woke the next morning and looked out of the window, " look at that Sunrise " said creepy " it's beautiful ", "oh yes " said Crawly " we really should do something special on a-day like this ". " I know " said creepy Lets tidy the Web, have lunch and go back to sleep", creepy and Crawly both looked at Fred, Fred looked out of the window then back at the two spiders "oh yes” said Fred " I think that's a great idea ".
THE END
Inordinately fond
Idealism is a Magic Spell
Short fiction
Author: Extraali
Created: 20 January 2005
Imagine, if you will, a taxi (which is unremarkable in every respect until you notice that the meter doesn’t work), and observe, as its driver follows a bus, as he does every working day, waiting until he sees an unfortunate soul who, running and waving, fails to attract the attention of the driver, and misses the bus – and who pulls over to offer him a free lift to wherever they want to go…
Consider too, the Store Detective, who – when he catches the young, heroin addicted mother shoplifting groceries – instead of phoning the police, gives her twenty pounds to buy her heroin (because anything he can say about quitting will be ignored) packs her stolen items in a carrier bag with a few extra items for her kids, reminds her of what will happen to them if she goes to jail, and escorts her to the door, telling her that she will not be welcome back but to take care of herself, and to be more careful…
Or a team, who are dedicated to finding successful career criminals (i.e. those that the police know nothing about) and who frame them for crimes they didn’t commit. Or their colleagues who find less successful criminals and infiltrate the prisons – as either inmates or warders – to quietly and patiently persuade, or cajole, or hint at the path to a productive life…
Or think of the traffic warden, without the hateful pad of tickets, who spends his days filling parking meters; the doctors who prescribe according to need, not the exhortations of drug company salesmen, and who – whenever they get the chance – jet off to tend those who would not otherwise be able to afford a doctor for free; and the dentists that don’t drive, live in council houses, give most of their earnings to charity, and do their jobs for the sheer love of relieving the pain…
Kindly think of a group of like-minded people, who steal from the corrupt, give to the oppressed, and cause havoc inside Organised Crime. Imagine also the collectors of fine art who decide among themselves where and when to anonymously donate their entire collections to municipal institutions, before starting again…
Dare to think that out there, somewhere, there are politicians who believe every word they say, and who work – not for power – but merely for influence, and who use the subtle, and considerable, persuasive abilities they possess, to quite unselfishly make the world a better place…
Reflect upon those unknown Loss Adjustors who know that it isn’t their money, and who notice unclaimed things to pay out upon, the airport baggage handlers who treat the property of others as they would their own, and who insert things into the bags that the owner had always wanted…
Envision soldiers who don’t fight to kill, but to protect, to help, and to simply serve, who go out of their way to make the lives of their ‘enemies’ that little bit better under the noses of both sides…
Assume, just for a second, there are people who, somehow, in the dead of night, fix the little dents in people’s cars, or wash the old people’s windows as they sleep, or silently and secretly visit the houses of every benefit claimant and pensioner on certain estates and strategically place ten pound notes where they can be ‘found’ the next morning…
Muse upon an idea there are those who hold the hands, and gently stroke the hair of all the people who die alone…
Suppose that as you imagine these things that you touch upon a Truth – that, for mysterious reasons of their own, there is a vast and secret network that do it all, and more… and know that in imagining it, that somewhere in the infinite, multi-layered miracle of existence, you have somehow made it so.
The Possible
Printer Friendly Version
Short fiction
Short fiction
Author: Extraali
Created: 19 January 2005
Sitting in the doctor’s surgery waiting room, a year or two ago, I absentmindedly flicked through an old, dog-eared copy of Science magazine.
I was looking for an article trailed on the cover, about the latest DNA advance, when, against all expectation, I came across a photograph which, for an instant, stopped the world I knew and shrank it to the pitiful dimensions of my tiny, trembling mind.
It was a double-page image from the Hubble Telescope, and appeared to be a photo of some stars, the sight anyone with eyes to see could observe, if they wished to, on any cloudless night. But closer examination revealed infinity.
These weren’t stars, they were, are, always will be, galaxies. Thousands of them. They were a variety of colours,shapes and sizes - but the staggering thing was their number. As I squinted to see the smallest ones, I noticed that the backround wasn't black, as I had imagined, but a merge of the colours of the galaxies I could see - a suggestion that there were thousands of times more of them beyond the limits of the telescope.
My mind reeled at the thought of scale. If, at that moment, some perverse and cruel magician had turned me into a calculator, I would have displayed ‘E’.
My eyes desperately sought the text that explained the image, as if they were an emergency service for the mentality. It didn’t help much – it was a bit like calling in the coast guard for a pot-hole rescue.
The blurb said that the telescope had remained fixed for a few days on a tiny patch of sky, it compared it to holding up a piece of A4 paper seventy kilometers away.
I sat back, while I tried to make sense of the comparison. Scale intruded once again, how many galaxies were there, for pity’s sake?
It took some time…and when I decided it just did not compute, I bent over the magazine again.
The ‘deep field’ image – as it was called – was, apparently, like a long exposure photograph, which allowed Hubble to see further and with a far wider perspective than it normally could. There was even talk of using the gravity of a nearby galaxy as a sort of galactic ‘lens’, enabling it to see almost unimaginably further.
I straightened up again. The Monocle of God, I thought.
In the name of mercy.
The old lady sitting next to me, bless her nylon pop-sox, asked if I was alright. My mouth must have been open as I stared into, well… space. You’re as white as a sheet, she said. I told her I was fine. In for a bad knee, I said. I shut my mouth, and smiled wanly at her.
I closed the magazine, and, as is my wont, busied myself with some furious thinking. Three thoughts flashed into my mind almost immediately:
The first was the memory of the day at Studfall Junior School, when Mrs. Malley taught us about Adam and Eve in R.E. in the morning, and, in the afternoon, in Science, told us that we were descendants of apes.
I remember clearly that I questioned this, and, smiling, Mrs. Malley told me patiently that the Bible was full of stories like that, and was a way of explaining the world, and shouldn’t be taken too literally.
I decided that day that the Bible was a bit like Santa, a story adults told to children to make them behave. I liked monkeys, so I chose to believe that instead. Now, twenty-five years later, I know that decision as the root of my Atheism.
(I didn’t, and still can’t, recall how the subject of our GrandApes came up – the lesson was about trees and why, in Autumn, their leaves fall off. I remembered her asking the class, that if all those leaves were dropped every year, why wasn’t the world completely buried in leaves? No-one knew for ages, until a new kid from Scotland finally had a brainwave. It turned out, much to my amazement at the time, that it was because tiny animals we can’t see called ‘bacteria’ ate them.
Thinking back now, I wondered why – sitting in the surgery – this memory of the discovery of the mechanics of corruption was so clear to me in the context of thinking about the universe, but I dismissed it at the time as irrelevent. Now, a bit older and wiser, I know better.)
The second thought that struck me was that this photograph had completely vindicated my childhood choice.
How typically arrogant of humanity, I thought, that we should have the gall to presume to believe that all those millions of billions of galaxies appeared there just for us.
They were put there, so the credulous try to persuade me, by an entity called God, in whose image we were made, who took five days to create and perfect the insignificant speck we call Earth, but only a day creating the other planets in the Solar System, the million-million other stars in our own unremarkable galaxy, before making the million-billion other galaxies we can now see.
After the majesty of the deep field image had touched me, the very idea seemed to be a violation of natural law.
Third, came an intiguing line from Pindar’s Pythian Odes that I had thought I had forgotten:
‘My soul, seek not immortality, but exhaust the realm of the possible.’
As I began to formulate an infinitely expanded idea of just what the ‘possible’ was, my name was announced over the surgery’s tannoy.
My knee is all better now. I never saw the old lady again though....
Mea Culpa
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Short fiction
Short fiction
Author: Extraali
Created: 18 January 2005
I created light, and saw that it was good,
I was Führer once,
I hurled the angels toward the Earth,
I tasted the forbidden fruit,
I won Mecca and Medina,
I built the gates of Babylon,
I led the way to the Promised Land,
I stood in front of a tank in Tianamen Square
I destroyed the Temple,
I looked into Mary’s eyes as she came,
I taught of the Eightfold Path,
I fiddled while Rome burned,
I was Oberstürmbahnführer at a station,
I survived for a thousand and one nights,
I built the Wall in China,
I appeared as a burning bush,
I won six feet of English earth,
I chiselled stone tablets on a mountain,
I had Hiroshima in my sights,
I held the line at Thermopylae,
I dreamed on a Midsummer’s Night,
I escaped when Pilate asked for a name,
I walked on the Moon,
I defended Stalingrad,
I am the first and the last,
I struck a compact with Doctor Faustus,
I sat on the throne of St. Peter,
I died at Trafalgar,
I carried a cross for a stranger,
I held Joan of Arc’s hand as we burned,
I dreamed the man from La Mancha,
I fought on the Post Office steps,
I tasted ashes at Los Alamos,
I immolated myself in Saigon,
I was covered in blood in Rwanda,
I invented the wheel,
I was grounded on Mt. Ararat,
I fired on a bloody Sunday,
I survived Bergen Belsen,
I am the alpha and omega,
I think therefore I am,
I am a mirror of all Mankind,
I have just read a list called Mea Culpa.
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Boiling Point
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Short fiction
Short fiction
Author: BukraMumkinInshallah
Created: 26 January 2005
He was small for his age. He wasn’t frail or weak looking, he was just smaller than other boys of a similar age. Maybe it was his smaller size that first made him a target of the bullies in his school. Later it was his reputation as a ferocious scrapper that made the bigger and often older boys want to take him on. He had been moved between three different schools in less than two years and he had yet to see his fourteenth birthday. What nobody knew or even suspected was the reason for his ferocity when challenged or confronted by the thugs and bullies at school and in his neighbourhood. He wasn’t brave or tough. In his own mind he was a coward. In truth he was just a young boy terrified of others and especially terrified of the pain and humiliation that was often inflicted on him by his peers and elders.
When confronted by trouble or danger his fear made him seize up in fear. He would stand rooted to the spot staring through his tears deaf to everything, his ears filled with the sound of his racing heart. As his fear mounted his body produced more and more adrenalin and cortisol, which was pumped directly into his bloodstream. The adrenalin caused his heart to pump faster which in turn alerted sympathetic nerves to squeeze tighter in an effort to limit the blood supply to his kidneys, liver, intestines, stomach and skin in order to make more blood available to the lungs and muscles in order to make him more ready for his “flight or fight”. About this time he would start shaking as the reduced blood supply to his skin and internal organs made him feel cold. This would encourage the bullying to become worse.
Meanwhile the cortisol in his blood stream was tranquillising his immune system in case of injury. It’s a bad idea for the body to produce antibodies in it’s own tissue. As the bullying and taunting increased so too did his fear and his body reacted as nature intended. More adrenalin, more blood produced and as his heart pumped ever harder his body would begin to dump glucose into his bloodstream to provide energy for the now inevitable battle.
At some point he would become conscious of his own pain. By this time the bullies were gone and he would pick himself from the ground and try to figure out how badly he had been hurt. Sometimes he would be covered in blood and it would not be until he made it home to the safety of his bathroom that he would realise that it wasn’t his own. Most times however he wouldn’t be so lucky and he would examine his lacerated lips and gums in the mirror while the tears streamed silently down his face, streaking the blood and dirt, giving him the appearance of a battle weary soldier.
On several occasions he had been unfortunate enough to lose a tooth and have several of his ribs cracked. A broken thumb and a broken collarbone were his worse defeats but it was his own fear that blinded him to his own savagery in conflict. On one occasion he nearly blinded one boy with his thumb and bit the top of another boy’s ear clean off. The blood and screams scared the other boys off and when the teachers found him at the back of the school sheds they were curled up on the ground howling like demons while he kicked them over and over until he was subdued by one of the teachers.
His own parents were horrified by this and within weeks had packed up and moved to the other side of the city. Nobody asked what the savaged boys had done to deserve such violent treatment and nobody noticed or seemed to care that they were both older and noticeably bigger and stronger than him. There had been five boys involved in the incident but that was never known, except by the boys themselves. He was twelve years old and already he had been judged, found to be wanting and labelled as a misfit.
The last two years of school saw him becoming more introverted and increasingly more violent when confronted by his tormentors. However, despite his ferocity the bullying did not stop. It became less frequent, but at the same time it worsened. Older boys, bigger groups of boys would pick on him to see if they could beat him, others just to see how mad he became when provoked. Towards the end of his school life he began to control his anger, began to focus it and cause even more damage to his tormentors. Gouging, biting, breaking bones, tearing at the soft flesh of lips, noses and ears. He wasn’t pretty to watch but he was very effective.
The day before his sixteenth birthday he walked out of school for the last time and the next day found a job loading trucks at a warehouse on the outskirts of the city. He was sixteen and already world-weary.
Welcome Dreamer
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Short fiction
Short fiction
Author: Extraali
Created: 20 December 2004
He looked around and found himself on a cold, strange staircase, without walls or balustrade; just a simple stone slab overlapping the next, and the echo of memory washing over his awareness like the ripples of a gentle tide. The stair seemed to shine slightly, hanging in a sable, starless sky. He tried to follow the route it took, and saw it twist away endlessly, over and under itself, spiralling off in every direction. He looked up (or what approximated to ‘up’) and saw the stair pass overhead, before screwing down below him, plunging into the depths of the deep black firmament.
Astonished, but curiously unafraid, he began to climb, or descend (he couldn’t with certainty decide which), and soon saw it loop back on itself, passing impossibly over his head. Against every instinct he possessed he carried on, and instead of falling off, or standing upside-down, his feet continued to be ‘down’ and his hair continued to be ‘up’.
He stopped, perplexed, and examined the step on which he was standing, noticing for the first time a strange peripheral flicker, barely discernable, coming from it, and, he now observed, from all of them. On closer inspection he found that the edges alternated quickly, the dimensions of the step differing slightly, at once bigger, then smaller, as if every step was many steps. He thought about this for a while and began to suspect, without fully knowing why, that perhaps each step was every step.
He began to feel disconcerted for the first time, and wondered what this strange staircase was, and why he found himself standing on it. He looked around and saw the glowing, glimmering stair snake its way around him. The majesty of the thing was breathtaking. It was everywhere. As far as he could see the sinuous stair looped and turned and coiled following its own route, mysterious, ubiquitous, its faint twinkle making it glisten in the strange obsidian sky.
Following the path of it, he picked a step not far away and, keeping in sight, he ran towards it. His stride was languid, as though he was forcing his way through thick, clotting blood. He found himself taking two, then several steps at a time, bounding along with impossibly long paces. Deciding to test this new found mobility to its limit, he picked a spot far away from him and took a huge bound towards it. The steps sped beneath him, whirring under his feet. It seemed to him as though the meandering stair straightened beneath him as if submitting to this new efficiency he had demanded of it.
He stopped again, becoming increasingly discomfited by this strange stair. He looked around for some kind of destination or direction. He found none. He peered over the edge of the stairs and saw nothing but the black sky and the stair, and the incessant echo of something that nagged at his awareness. As far as he could ascertain there was only one stair, and he was lost upon it. That the concept of ‘up’ or ‘down’ were meaningless here implied that the stair itself meant nothing, but he knew this couldn’t be. He began to despair.
At last, in extreme anxiety, he stepped off the side of it and into the void. He fell, not necessarily ‘down’, for what seemed an age, but could well have been a heartbeat, and gently landed on the stair once more. He tried again and again, desperate to rid himself of the hateful staircase, but found himself on some other step of the stair each time.
He eventually gave up and sat down in helpless despondency. He surmised that he must have somehow missed something, but there was nothing here to miss. He thought of the flickering steps, the nagging echo, and the deep black sky. There was nothing else.
He looked again at the nothingness that surrounded him. He squinted into the blackness, tracing the intricate pattern of the stair away in the distance. It seemed to him as though the convolutions of the stair coalesced into a discernable shape, but the harder he strained to make it out the more it seemed obscure itself.
The unrelenting echo in his head began to intrude upon his awareness once more, and he looked again at the nothingness that surrounded the stair, he glanced at the step he stood on and remembered that one step was every step, and looked back at the mysterious blackness. Understanding, awe, and the blinding light struck as one, and at last he understood. The nothingness was everything.
The man awoke, shivering. Heedless, he gathered his clothes, quickly dressed, and stepped over the sleeping bodies in the long-house. He emerged into the dew-soaked, star-lit morning, and began to walk briskly, looking around at the world with new-found wonder.
He was afraid to look up at the stars, concerned that his new found knowledge would overwhelm him, and was glad when the sun began to creep over the hills behind him.
He hurried to the ford in the river where he would find the Singer, the only man he knew who could explain what had happened to him. When the Singer heard the story of his dream he remained silent for some time, fear etched across his face.
At last he rose and told the man to follow him. They made their way to an area forbidden to the people of the tribe, even the king. When they came to the huge, ogham scratched stone, the man stopped, but was urged by the Singer to follow. Reluctantly, he did, frightened and curious, and at length, beside a beautifully still lake, surrounded by hills, came to a small hut beside a grove of oak trees.
The man who answered the Singer’s shout looked ageless, with a close cropped white beard, and wore a simple tunic, cut to the knee. For the first time in his life he saw the Singer, whose word was law to commoner and king alike, bow to this strange man.
Respectfully, the Singer told him of the man’s dream, of the stair, and of the knowledge he had gained. The man looked sharply at the dreamer, and, after affectionately patting the Singer’s shoulder, walked toward him. He stared into him for a long time as if trying to read his thoughts.
Eventually he reached out and gripped his shoulder and said, “Follow me, dreamer,” he looked at the Singer, “you too, my friend.”
For the remainder of the day, the three of them walked across the hills, without saying a word to one another, each lost in their own thoughts. It struck the dreamer that the strange stair had shown that a single step could take them to where they wanted to go. He kept his council, suspecting that the strange man must already know this, aware that he did not yet know their destination.
The man looked around, unable to escape the wondrous beauty that his new-found knowledge had given the world. Each blade of grass, he now knew, was every blade of grass; the breeze that blew gently against his face had breathed, and will breathe, upon every face; and that each of these things, all things, were one and the same.
He somehow knew that this knowledge was not, could not, be for mortal men. The fear in the eyes of the Singer had confirmed it. He also knew he was walking to his death, but what did death mean to him now?
At last they reached their destination, three great concentric circles of standing stones, set against the angry red sky of the evening. They had been laid out in such a way as to ensure that the centre could not be seen from the outside, the outer stones overlapping slightly with the ones inside. The infinite, elemental circle of stones seemed to him to be a crude imitation of the endless stairway of his dream, as though this was closest that man could ever hope to get to it.
Around twenty men, with the close cropped beards that the Singer’s mysterious master wore, stepped out from the circle and waited for them, almost as if they had been expected. They came toward them and, wordlessly, the Singer’s master greeted each of them by gripping their shoulder. He motioned to the man and then to the Singer and two of the waiting men beckoned them to follow.
Walking through the outer circle of stones, the man felt once again the cold of the stair and shivered in spite of himself. They were led inside the stones where a stark slab of stone, blackened with blood, stood at the centre.
Intuitively, the man walked towards it and, without knowing why bent backwards across the hateful thing. The Singer tried to back away, but was held by the some of the men, and dragged towards it, he began to scream and plead with his master, but a tender hand on his shoulder calmed him.
The men, apart from two who held the Singer down across the centre stone, stood between the inner stones and one of them began a low hum, the others added their voices to his, and the deep, strange sound echoed around the stones, growing louder with each new voice. The man could feel his eyes shake with the vibration of it, and the stones took on the flickering quality of those of the stair.
The Singer’s master raised the obsidian knife, and, as it opened his chest, the man whispered softly with his final breath, “Welcome, Dreamer…”
The last thing he heard was his words echo around the stones, mingling with the low hum, the sound bouncing off the stones, amplifying it into a roar, getting louder and louder until, as if the stones were unable to contain it, the cacophony burst outward, the sublime noise of it streaming out into eternity.
Onward it sped, radiating out across existence, until at last it came to a man standing on a cold, strange staircase, without walls or balustrade, the echo of it washing over his awareness like the ripples of a gentle tide.
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