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#Post#: 2--------------------------------------------------
The Entries
DIR By: Admin
Date: April 30, 2019, 5:40 am
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#01
The Dream Diary
It was after she started the diary, that Cassie realised her
dreams were precognitive.
It was mostly little things: a song on the radio, re-arranged
shelves in the supermarket, a wasp sting. Then she dreamed of
her sister, crying over baby clothes. When the pregnancy was
announced Cassie offered uneasy congratulations. The miscarriage
came days later.
People said she was crazy when she tried to warn them about The
Big One. The experts would know, they said. Strange, how many
experts were out of the country when it happened.
Cassie burned her journal. Now she takes sleeping pills, and
mourns.
#02
The Watcher
Perched atop of the open window, the Cat’s keen whiskers feeling
the cool breeze. Wind-milling Gulls crossed her vision, an
unwanted distraction as she scoured the fog wrapped coast.
Electric charged her fur as a distortion developed within the
fog bank, whisping light greys darkening as a pirate vessel
emerged from the milky depths.
‘He’s here’ she whispered, cascading onto the bed, pawing the
feet of the crew to awaken them.
‘Wake up, Blackbeard’s advancing on our position, man the 68
pounders’, but they merely sleepily rolled over. Why do they
always ignore me? She thought, sprinting for the guns.
#03
Te Amo
The heart of the war raged on the summit of the great mountain
Dykh-Tau. Immediately, I searched for the heads of each army so
that I can end this war.
I found them in the core of the summit – Sir Odium to my left,
Lady Invidia to my right; both armies preparing to go for one
final all-out clash.
In haste, I flew to the middle. I aimed to my left, shot Odium;
then, to my right and shot Invidia.
When the two rulers met in the center, both of them halted
unexpectedly.
They dropped their weapons, ran… and embraced.
#04
The Photograph
The couple crossed the border, eyes wide with relief. One huge
hand rested beneath her buttocks, the other wrapped around her
waist as he carried her, weaving between the crowds on the
bridge. This tiny doll of a woman reached up and ringed
Goliath’s neck with spaghetti-strand arms. Tears streaked her
pale face.
Their intimacy lacked passion. It was born of human need.
Nearby a man lifted his cell phone to capture the moment and,
stomach rigid I knocked it to the floor. My outrage outpaced
his. Her stumps, still too new and red-raw, had no place on
social media.
#05
Deathbed
“Surely nobody this sick can live?” I whisper bravely.
“Can you describe the symptoms?” the pretty doctor asks.
At last someone who'll listen! “The pain's enough to make
childbirth negligible. My temperature puts Jalapeño peppers to
shame; I'm losing a gallon of sweat every hour. Each cough is a
volcanic eruption. The Richter scale records every sneeze.”
“Can you eat?”
“If it's something really fancy made specially for me, I manage
a little...”
“I see.”
I plead with the Doctor, “What rare, terrible condition do I
have?”
She breaks the awful news, “You’re a man and you have a cold.”
#06
This Is How It Ends
Don looked to where V lay sleeping. He had always struggled with
foreign names, all those crazy accents. Hence, V.
He remembered what V had said on that first night: a Lincoln
quote (unusually):
‘Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?’ And
he’d smiled that wicked smile.
Warmed by the memory Don spooned V pressing his fake tanned
belly into V’s back.
The Russian President snuggled in close to the U.S. President.
‘I love you, sweetie,’ Don whispered.
V stirred and with eyes still closed he smiled that wicked
smile.
‘I luf you too, sveet-chicks.’
#07
The Fox
"Mother always said, never follow foxes", read the
pseudo-profound writing on the picture of a red fox drawn on a
size A3 piece of cardboard. She was standing in the dimly lit
room by the window and now had a clear view of the events. The
garbageman, as if he knew, after a brief second of hesitation
threw the drawing to where it truly belonged: on top of the pile
of stinking rubbish. It hurt at first as the fox slowly but
surely faded into oblivion as they pulled away. She wiped away a
tear. Mother was, after all, right.
#08
The Fateful Question
'I love you.' He says heavily, as if to justify something
terrible he is about to do. Walking along the beach, they see a
group of people in the distance. Huddled around what looks like
a bonfire, patches of light glow among the figures.
'They're lighting candles. I wonder why?' She says.
'Let's find out.' He responds.
As they near the huddle it separates and flames read: 'Marry
me.' He gets down on one knee, taking her hand. His face conveys
a mixture of emotions: sadness, guilt and pity. He knows better
than her what kind of husband he'll be.
#09
Domino Effect
The chill breeze lifts the tablecloth corners, flips one end
over the birthday cake. She flips it back, but it’s already
picked up a stain. The movement catches the attention of someone
she had resolved to ignore. Small things become signals – calls
to action. Brushing a fly from her arm. Flicking her hair out of
her eyes. Wiping peanut butter from Sally’s cheek. His look asks
a question she’s desperate to respond to. She looks away,
concentrates on pine needles dropping on the grass, wavering
candles. She looks back, sees only what she wants from him; not
her damaged future.
#10
Lost
Day after day I waited, Enduring the hate filled glances of
surrounding children and the pitiful looks of adults as you
promised you’d return . What would happen if I had to spend my
childhood alone. Mama come back, even if you hurt me or love me
with fists I’ll withstand it. Just take me to a place I belong,
just no more loneliness. People say cruel things, they say you
lied when you told me the pain you inflicted was for love. But
that can’t be true because that’s all the I have. So that’s why
please, save me.
#11
Shoehorned
“There’s an urban legend that Ernest Hemingway wrote a six word
story that made men cry.” The new kid said.
“So?” I scoffed.
“So that’s pretty impressive, right?” He insisted.
“What was the story?” I had to admit, I was curious.
“I don’t know, I don’t remember.”
“Why did you start telling me this story then?”
“I’m bored,” He sighed. “I’m just trying to pass the time.”
I couldn’t blame him. I mean, babies don’t walk, and their feet
grow quickly. Often, we get customers returning baby shoes never
worn. Working as a baby shoe salesman is slow, dull work.
#12
The Pearl
“I thought they might be worth something?”
The jewelled marbles picked up the honeyed glow from the skirted
lamp, as he slowly combed his eyes over my blinking offering.
“Might be, but did you ever come across a rainbow pearl?”
I shrugged, and the old collector shrugged too.
I felt the pearl burn in my pocketed hand, as I willed the
ponderous seconds to pass.
“Not much to me without it”
It was over. The old man was my last hope. and now the marbles
are mine forever, but I’m not letting go of the last pearl you
gave me.
#13
No Fault of My Own
James Doyle walks along the River Liffey. Suddenly he notices a
slight movement. Its 2 am, why would there be anybody else
around. He becomes tense, his senses heightened, believing
something suspicious is at play. Next thing he’s no longer
there, never to be seen again. Nobody has any inkling what could
have happened to James, where he could be. His wife begins a
hunt to find him, not knowing whether she will uncover her
husband alive or dead. Upon entering her own home she sees him,
lying on the floor a message tied to him. ‘This is your fault!’
#15
Carnival Barkers
Luca loved the eerie seediness of the travelling carnival. It
was dark when he wandered under twinkling lights through the
tawdry stalls, scoffing a cheap burger while watching fire
jugglers and performing dogs.
Luckily ‘‘Maestro the Magician’ was just starting his show. He
sniggered as a hapless young woman was dragged from the crowd,
stuffed in a coffin, and ‘transformed’ into a poodle.
Not so funny when Maestro picked him, “Young man, your turn!”
The mob roared as the lid slammed shut. Luca froze, panic
rising. Then relief and freedom as he ran for home, straight
into his handler’s arms.
#16
Crimson Mist
“Honey, there’s a package,” shouts Mrs Crimson Mist from the
front door. If she sounds like a super-villain, that’s because
she is.
“We’re not expecting the plutonium until next week,”
I say. The box is about two feet cubed, filled with packing
straw. I half expect a litter of kittens or a crying baby.
Instead I find nine sticks of dynamite taped together. There’s
even a little clock on top.
My wife clears her throat. She grips the detonator, her face
explosive red. “Now tell me, hotshot, who’s the Silver Vixen,
and why was her number in your super-suit pocket?”
#17
Henry and His Hod
It was yet another day full of unwanted surprises for Henry.
Spectacularly unsuccessful in school, Henry’s working life
became even worse.
The careers teacher foolishly encouraged employment in hod
carrying on a local building site.
Henry had killed several of his fellow workers before lunchtime.
In the blink of an eye, the hod and twenty-five bricks fell onto
the men below.
Their hard hats did not help, their skulls cracked like
eggshells. Without the weight of the bricks, the handle of the
hod swung around like a helicopter blade and killed another two.
Before the police arrived, Henry was fired.
#18
The Unlived Life Of Tom Scruple
"Is that a smudge?" Mr Arfwick went quite pink. His jowls
trembled.
"Erm...," Tom stammered for a response.
His boss didn’t wait for one.
"Here at Nitpicker & Scruple we believe in fastidious
accounting. It may only be your second day, but as heir to the
Scruple name I expect you to know better. Start again!"
Tom trudged away. Hours of work wasted, and all for a blot of
ink. His life could have held so much excitement, but that ship
had sailed, quite literally.
Why on earth had he let his father talk him out of being a
pirate?
#19
A Deal in the Desert
A fierce wind blows through the Arizona wastelands, rocking the
dilapidated trailer. A sharp, chemical smell hangs heavy as I
dip a finger in the white crystals and rub my gums.
“Walter White couldn’t do any better,” Kush says.
“Very nice,” I say, thinking of the commendation I’ll get for
the bust.
“I’m strictly cash up front.”
“No problem.”
“How much do you want?”
I give Kush a grin. “All of it. I’m Special Agent Summers. My
colleagues from the DEA are right outside.”
Kush laughs. “They sent a rookie. How cute. You guys always give
me the best prices.”
#20
Sentence
He wanted to escape but he knew that the policeman standing
outside the door, a silent brute of a man, would just follow
him. What should he tell them? The whole story and be done with
it, or a half truth? His whole life seemed to have been based on
half truths, and he smiled, albeit a wry one. What was truth?
What was true? He wanted true friends he could talk to, but his
last visitor had merely brought his lunch.
Then the inevitable knock came at the door.
“Yes?”
“The press are ready for you now, Prime Minister.”
#21
The Cat Burgler
Gently, he eased his head and shoulders through the open window,
careful not to touch the frame with its deadly squeaky hinge.
Earlier, from his hiding place, he surveilled the little
princess go out for the night. Providing he was quiet, the
parents would sleep on and the booty would be his.
One foot in front of the other, he crept across the linoleum
floor, guided by his special night vision equipment.
There it was, tucked into the corner: the treasure was here.
He lowered his head and started to eat.
Next door’s biscuits were so much yummier than his.
#23
Lost to Me
Grains of sand slip through my fingers. I stare into the rising
sun, glimpse an image so clear tears sting my eyes. Waves lap
against gold-red rocks. A ferry bound for somewhere hogs the
horizon.
So much left to say.
The smell of your fragrance on the breeze. Subtle. Sweet.
Tempting. Footprints swirl and merge until there is no
beginning, no end. Music. Dancing. Laughter.
Will I ever laugh like that again?
We talked. Not long enough. Memories, thoughts, haunt me. To
hold you once more. To feel your breath upon my face. To
remember how you made me feel.
#24
Lace Glove
Old world looked at old man, and the man, stared back.
Both knew each other well, companions you might say, of a sort.
His world was forgotten after Fran. Rude, really, for old world
wasn’t a bad chap.
Wouldn’t be hard to say goodbye, more excited, than scared.
Why world revealed himself now was a mystery?
Perhaps, he still had things to share, and needed old man.
Time, slow, then quick, lace glove dropped by delicate hands,
open tram, warm kiss.
Old world smiled.
Old man’s eyes closed, but his journey to return the lace glove,
had only just begun.
#25
I'll Never Forget Your Service
I look rough; my panda eyes bloodshot and weary, on my fifth
night shift as we swim against the inevitable current in the
Emergency Department.
He looks worse; forlornly dipped head, wrists slashed open,
dirty aside from the wheelchair’s sheen, strapping in his
wasted, camouflaged khaki-adorned legs which haven’t worked
since his last attempt. He cries, lamenting the wife who left,
the country who forgot, the tours that haunt his dreams nightly.
I console him, tending to his deep wounds as best I can. He asks
me where I’m from. I answer quietly: Iraq, as his sobs grow ever
louder.
#26
Home
I moved the bodies before the others arrived. Four of them in
total; soldiers by the looks of things. Three already frozen and
one, a young Sergeant, that had needed finishing. I dragged them
outside and buried them in the snow. We will leave before it
thaws. The Sergeant had been messy; I am not a killer. Those
blood-stains that couldn’t be scrubbed clean I covered with
carpets from the bedrooms. I washed my coat with melted snow and
built a fresh fire in the kitchen. I will make this place a home
for the children. For now, at least.
#27
Bleak
The tapping repeated, echoing throughout the room, as a bleak
screen illuminated the room. Infront sat a figure, wearing a
pair of worn out pyjamas. Strands of hair blocked the figure’s
vision, as he attempted to stay conscious. Surrounding the
figure stood towers upon towers of clutter, populating the
entire room.
The screen changed - blank. The computer had crashed, in
response he gritted his teeth, his hands balled. Slowly he rose,
his hands also rose above his head. Suddenly his hands came
crashing down, hitting the keyboard, the action being repeated
multiple times. Overall, there stood a broken computer.
#28
What We Wanted
We all got what we wanted that year. I got my new experiences.
Dad got more attention, more love. Mum got more trips out in the
car, more time on her own.
The only trouble was: my new experiences were blue light
journeys, a new vocabulary, witnessing terrible things. Dad got
more attention than he bargained for: all those invasive tests
and procedures, unmitigated by us holding his hand. Mum got her
car trips – all to the same place, except this last time. And
now she has all the time in the world to rattle round the empty
house alone.
#29
A GrandDaughters Love
Guests milled around the hall awaiting Lucy’s arrival.Then as
the whispered shush died down Lucy entered the room, eyes
shielded by her mother’s hands.
“Surpriiiise” shouted everyone in unison.
A shocked Lucy looked around , finally fixing her gaze in my
direction and screamed.
“Granddaaaad”
As she raced towards me I dropped to one knee and closed my eyes
with arms wide open in anticipation of the love bundle that was
about to engulf me.
But there was no impact.
Confused I turned around and my heart sank as I watched Lucy
swing in the arms of her Granddad Joe.
[move]VOTING IS NOW CLOSED[/move]
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