Ask anyone,
if they can see the sun
At night,
with little light,
to guide the way
through the rest of the day.
Destruction plays its part,
on the soul and the heart.
Destruction makes a hole.
Well it takes its toll.
Ask a drunk to guard your door,
when they can't stand on their feet.
You won't be able to sit safely in your seat.
The drunk will be destructive and unsure.
Destruction plays its part,
on the soul and the heart.
Destruction makes a hole.
Well it takes its toll.
So don't let destruction have it's say.
Keep the destructive words to yourself;
You'll keep your health,
you won't drown in the rain
Don't let destruction cause any more pain.
Destruction plays its part,
on the soul and the heart.
Destruction makes a hole.
well it takes its toll
Wednesday 29 October 2014
You Keep Me Anchored
If a boat is in trouble,
what does it do?
What would you do?
If it were up to you?
Would you struggle too?
I don't know what I would do without you.
I wouldn't know what to do.
Its great you keep my feet on the ground,
whenever you're around.
You keep me anchored.
You give me the cure,
To my misfortunes.
You keep me anchored.
I feel like i'm living with a curse.
Forever searching in my purse,
For something that will never be there.
I live with the curse of not knowing what to do.
Without you.
I don't know what I would do without you.
I wouldn't know what to do.
It's great you keep me feet on the ground.
Whenever you're around.
You keep me anchored.
You give me the cure,
to my misfortunes.
Yoy keep me anchored.
No matter how strong the current is,
the anchor won't be moved.
You keep me anchored.
You keep me anchored.
what does it do?
What would you do?
If it were up to you?
Would you struggle too?
I don't know what I would do without you.
I wouldn't know what to do.
Its great you keep my feet on the ground,
whenever you're around.
You keep me anchored.
You give me the cure,
To my misfortunes.
You keep me anchored.
I feel like i'm living with a curse.
Forever searching in my purse,
For something that will never be there.
I live with the curse of not knowing what to do.
Without you.
I don't know what I would do without you.
I wouldn't know what to do.
It's great you keep me feet on the ground.
Whenever you're around.
You keep me anchored.
You give me the cure,
to my misfortunes.
Yoy keep me anchored.
No matter how strong the current is,
the anchor won't be moved.
You keep me anchored.
You keep me anchored.
Tuesday 28 October 2014
Do Your Best
Inspired by Hall Of Fame by The Script I wrote this song.
You could do so well in life
get a husband or a wife.
You could earn your wealth,
drink to your health.
Be the brainiest in the class.
You could raise a glass.
All you've got to do is ...
Do your best.
Earn your treasure chest.
Decide whether to go east or west,
just do you best.
So try and run a marathon.
Have fun.
Remember what is important to you.
Represent someone too.
All you've got to do is ...
Do your best.
Earn your treasure chest.
Decide whether to go east or west.
Just do your best.
So get to work you busy bee.
Go for anything you want to be.
Aim high.
Go and fly,
as high as the space ships in the sky.
All you've got to do is ...
Do your best.
Earn your treasure chest.
Decide whether to go east or west.
Just do your best.
All you have got to do is do your best.
You could do so well in life
get a husband or a wife.
You could earn your wealth,
drink to your health.
Be the brainiest in the class.
You could raise a glass.
All you've got to do is ...
Do your best.
Earn your treasure chest.
Decide whether to go east or west,
just do you best.
So try and run a marathon.
Have fun.
Remember what is important to you.
Represent someone too.
All you've got to do is ...
Do your best.
Earn your treasure chest.
Decide whether to go east or west.
Just do your best.
So get to work you busy bee.
Go for anything you want to be.
Aim high.
Go and fly,
as high as the space ships in the sky.
All you've got to do is ...
Do your best.
Earn your treasure chest.
Decide whether to go east or west.
Just do your best.
All you have got to do is do your best.
The Stealth Attack Of The Killer Wasps
The Stealth Attack of the Killer Wasps:
Imagine my surprise when
A wasp flew through Granddad’s window
Granddad batted it out and then
We drove through the most spectacular show
Up ahead, along the road
Frenzy gone into overload
Grandma and Granddad exchange a look
I think they were a little shook
So for the first time
Out in the sunshine
I saw a swarm
And the air transform
Into a thousand or more
Flying wasps
Their angry wings fluttering, barging against my car door
I bet their stings would leave me sore
I cower in my seat
If someone bought these beasts
Then where is the receipt
Can we not retreat?
I have never been scared of wasps
But after the stealth attack of the killer wasps
I’ve been scared ever since
Did I mention I was only six.
Imagine my surprise when
A wasp flew through Granddad’s window
Granddad batted it out and then
We drove through the most spectacular show
Up ahead, along the road
Frenzy gone into overload
Grandma and Granddad exchange a look
I think they were a little shook
So for the first time
Out in the sunshine
I saw a swarm
And the air transform
Into a thousand or more
Flying wasps
Their angry wings fluttering, barging against my car door
I bet their stings would leave me sore
I cower in my seat
If someone bought these beasts
Then where is the receipt
Can we not retreat?
I have never been scared of wasps
But after the stealth attack of the killer wasps
I’ve been scared ever since
Did I mention I was only six.
Thursday 23 October 2014
A Chandelier and her brother
A chandelier. An open sign of poshness and upper class. Many people would walk in and out of the room and admire her beauty. She hangs loud and proud from the ceiling. People forget that someone once hang themselve's from that chandelier. That person's will was lost yet they were proud. Proud because they have the guts to do what most do not. Be loud.
Her beauty is tainted. Bloodstained. Not that manu people remember. The chandelier lives on. The person is still alive in her memory.
What bugs her the most is how easily she could be replaced. What if they get bored of her and want a new more modern model. How will she survive without her brother?
Her brother being the lightbulb that she covers. She brightens the room with her beauty yet he brightens the room everytime someone walks in. Light is needed to see his sister's beauty. Yet she masks the lightbulb's light with her own.
The light bulb looks up to his sister. He adores her. She has everything he wants. Beauty and attention. People would soon pay attention if he suddenly decided to stop working. Only it is the wrong type of attention.
The chandelier's brother does not realise this but she too looks up to her brother. He gives light willingly to anyone and everyone. He does not hold grudges. She could always drop one of her diamonds on one's head if she did not like them. Bombs away she would cackle. That would always make the chandelier's brother flicker with laughter. Her brother does not hold such grudges.
A light bulb is nessecary.
A chandelier is not.
Her beauty is tainted. Bloodstained. Not that manu people remember. The chandelier lives on. The person is still alive in her memory.
What bugs her the most is how easily she could be replaced. What if they get bored of her and want a new more modern model. How will she survive without her brother?
Her brother being the lightbulb that she covers. She brightens the room with her beauty yet he brightens the room everytime someone walks in. Light is needed to see his sister's beauty. Yet she masks the lightbulb's light with her own.
The light bulb looks up to his sister. He adores her. She has everything he wants. Beauty and attention. People would soon pay attention if he suddenly decided to stop working. Only it is the wrong type of attention.
The chandelier's brother does not realise this but she too looks up to her brother. He gives light willingly to anyone and everyone. He does not hold grudges. She could always drop one of her diamonds on one's head if she did not like them. Bombs away she would cackle. That would always make the chandelier's brother flicker with laughter. Her brother does not hold such grudges.
A light bulb is nessecary.
A chandelier is not.
Wednesday 22 October 2014
Coffee
Coffee .... pure black like the unkown darkness? With just a dash of milk in an attempt to brighten the darkness within. Or with a lot of milk .... completely brightening the darkness in this world.
Are you the person that creates the darkness in this world and does nothing to brighten it.
Are you the type to shine a light in and look then step back out and walk away fearing the darkness within.
Or are you the type that will go in head first and brighten any bit of darkness. The type that will help anyone in need?
At the end of the day .... i think there should be more milky coffees around.
Are you the person that creates the darkness in this world and does nothing to brighten it.
Are you the type to shine a light in and look then step back out and walk away fearing the darkness within.
Or are you the type that will go in head first and brighten any bit of darkness. The type that will help anyone in need?
At the end of the day .... i think there should be more milky coffees around.
Tuesday 21 October 2014
Chapter Seven - Reincarnation
Hey all, this is a story that I am writing outside of college.
Sorry for the cliffhanger.
My answer comes with the reappearance of the Prime Minister's, Daniel Frampton's, face.
"You have completed the mandatory test that every single citizen has to take. Your brain scan has revealed residual matter from another source. This means, and I can say this with complete confidence, that you are indeed a Reincarnation and not a New Soul," Daniel says.
No surprise there then!
"Do not get disheartened, fellow citizen, the next test will determine which area of work your past life worked in. We will then commence another brain scan and you will participate in one more final test. Once again, good luck," Daniel said and his face disappeared once more.
"Looking at your strengths and weaknesses, Jessica Zel, we can confirm that your past life did not work in the research, music or teaching industries. Your past life could have worked in: Journalism, in an office, politics, retail or counseling. In order to narrow this list down we must test you on these professions," The Voice says.
"Ok," I say.
Five icons appear on the screan, one for each profession. My past life probably worked in retail so I click the retail so I click the retail button.
"In olden times there used to be shops. Who were the people who ran the tills?" The voice asks.
Father told me about those people. He said my Great Grandfather was one.
"A cashier," I answer.
"Correct," The Voice says.
The retail icon disappears. I could maybe be a journalist like my Father. Inspired by this I click the journalist icon.
Unfortunately I got that question wrong along with the office question. However I got politics and councilling right. I had to put name to face in politics and describe what systematic desensitization is for councilling. I got three out of five.
"Jessica Zel, your test has shown that your past life did not work in journalism or in a office. This leaves three options and we will now perform a deep brain scan on the residual matter left in your brain based on this information. Please stand still," The Voice says.
Awhite light erupts from the same place that the red light came from. The process did not take very long. The white light disappears.
"Jessica Zel, we can now say that your past life worked in ..." The Voice trails off.
Instead of saying it the word comes onto the panel in front of me. There in black font is what my past life did.
Thousands of jobs narrowed down until only one remains.
P O L I T I C S
Sorry for the cliffhanger.
My answer comes with the reappearance of the Prime Minister's, Daniel Frampton's, face.
"You have completed the mandatory test that every single citizen has to take. Your brain scan has revealed residual matter from another source. This means, and I can say this with complete confidence, that you are indeed a Reincarnation and not a New Soul," Daniel says.
No surprise there then!
"Do not get disheartened, fellow citizen, the next test will determine which area of work your past life worked in. We will then commence another brain scan and you will participate in one more final test. Once again, good luck," Daniel said and his face disappeared once more.
"Looking at your strengths and weaknesses, Jessica Zel, we can confirm that your past life did not work in the research, music or teaching industries. Your past life could have worked in: Journalism, in an office, politics, retail or counseling. In order to narrow this list down we must test you on these professions," The Voice says.
"Ok," I say.
Five icons appear on the screan, one for each profession. My past life probably worked in retail so I click the retail so I click the retail button.
"In olden times there used to be shops. Who were the people who ran the tills?" The voice asks.
Father told me about those people. He said my Great Grandfather was one.
"A cashier," I answer.
"Correct," The Voice says.
The retail icon disappears. I could maybe be a journalist like my Father. Inspired by this I click the journalist icon.
Unfortunately I got that question wrong along with the office question. However I got politics and councilling right. I had to put name to face in politics and describe what systematic desensitization is for councilling. I got three out of five.
"Jessica Zel, your test has shown that your past life did not work in journalism or in a office. This leaves three options and we will now perform a deep brain scan on the residual matter left in your brain based on this information. Please stand still," The Voice says.
Awhite light erupts from the same place that the red light came from. The process did not take very long. The white light disappears.
"Jessica Zel, we can now say that your past life worked in ..." The Voice trails off.
Instead of saying it the word comes onto the panel in front of me. There in black font is what my past life did.
Thousands of jobs narrowed down until only one remains.
P O L I T I C S
Chapter Six - Reincarnation
This is a story I have been writing outside of college.
Enjoy.
Chapter Six:
I raise a finger and click the test icon.
"Jessica Zel, you are about to commence the test but first, do you have any questions?" The Voice asks.
There were no icons for yes or no or not sure so I just said:
'No.'
I wait a few seconds before The Voice says:
'The test will now begin.'
The questions differentiate between strength and weakness.
For example: 'English - Who wrote A Streetcar Named Desire?" The Voice asks.
"Tennessee Williams," I answer.
"Correct," The Voice says.
"Answer this quadratic equation," The Voice asks.
"4x + 3y + 17 = 27 whereby X = 1 and Y = 2," I answer.
"Correct," The Voice says.
"What, according to the behaviorist approach in psychology, is classical conditioning?" The Voice asks.
I pause for a few seconds and try to think of an answer. I have never had a lesson in psychology before but I seem to remember my Mother saying something about learning through reinforcements and punishments.
"Is it learning through reinforcements and punishments. Like rewards or praise and a scolding or having something taken from you?" I ask.
A buzz fills the cylinder.
"Incorrect," The Voice says.
I sigh.
"However you were on the right lines. What you described is the other conditioning assumption in the behaviorist approach called Operant Conditioning. Classical Conditioning, according to the American behaviorist - Watson and the Russian behaviorist - Pavlov, is learning through association. For example learning to associate good behaviour with praise," The Voice says.
I nod.
The test goes on and I get the rest of my strengths questions right and most of the weakness questions wrong. The last question was music. In this question they played a song and told me to name it. This band has long since gone but I still recognise their music. They were an international phenomenon at one stage. I name the song and the band for good measure.
"Correct," The Voice says.
That is it.
Test over.
"You got six out of seven in the strengths section and two out of six in the weakness section," The Voice informs me.
Is that good? I ponder to myself. The screen goes blank and for a couple of seconds my heart races.
I am not a New Soul ... Am I?
Surely not!
Enjoy.
Chapter Six:
I raise a finger and click the test icon.
"Jessica Zel, you are about to commence the test but first, do you have any questions?" The Voice asks.
There were no icons for yes or no or not sure so I just said:
'No.'
I wait a few seconds before The Voice says:
'The test will now begin.'
The questions differentiate between strength and weakness.
For example: 'English - Who wrote A Streetcar Named Desire?" The Voice asks.
"Tennessee Williams," I answer.
"Correct," The Voice says.
"Answer this quadratic equation," The Voice asks.
"4x + 3y + 17 = 27 whereby X = 1 and Y = 2," I answer.
"Correct," The Voice says.
"What, according to the behaviorist approach in psychology, is classical conditioning?" The Voice asks.
I pause for a few seconds and try to think of an answer. I have never had a lesson in psychology before but I seem to remember my Mother saying something about learning through reinforcements and punishments.
"Is it learning through reinforcements and punishments. Like rewards or praise and a scolding or having something taken from you?" I ask.
A buzz fills the cylinder.
"Incorrect," The Voice says.
I sigh.
"However you were on the right lines. What you described is the other conditioning assumption in the behaviorist approach called Operant Conditioning. Classical Conditioning, according to the American behaviorist - Watson and the Russian behaviorist - Pavlov, is learning through association. For example learning to associate good behaviour with praise," The Voice says.
I nod.
The test goes on and I get the rest of my strengths questions right and most of the weakness questions wrong. The last question was music. In this question they played a song and told me to name it. This band has long since gone but I still recognise their music. They were an international phenomenon at one stage. I name the song and the band for good measure.
"Correct," The Voice says.
That is it.
Test over.
"You got six out of seven in the strengths section and two out of six in the weakness section," The Voice informs me.
Is that good? I ponder to myself. The screen goes blank and for a couple of seconds my heart races.
I am not a New Soul ... Am I?
Surely not!
Sunday 19 October 2014
What Did You Do?
What Did You Do?
You try to sleep all day.
Sleep all night.
But try as you might,
You can’t do it;
You say your chest feels tight.
What did you do to deserve this?
Every day you have a near miss.
You knock politely on Death’s door,
You say you can’t take anymore.
What would I do without you Mum?
What did you do?
What did you do?
It’s making me go numb.
You shower the bed with your morning pills,
Never knowing how bad this makes me feel.
I want to take away the pain.
All I see is how fed up you are.
Doctors constantly keep lowering the bar.
You’ve dealt with so much from such a young age.
You keep telling me to turn the next page,
And see what’s going to happen in the book of life.
Whether it’s the last or beginning page,
Just strive.
For so long you’ve been my shield.
No matter how ill,
You feel.
No matter how hot the flames go,
You have never ever left me alone.
Even though I worry every single night,
You’re the angel that never leaves my side.
When you go into hospital.
I’m the one to make that call.
With you fighting the pain,
And me fighting the shame.
I think I am to blame.
I’m not able to help you.
Oh I know you feel it too.
You want to help me,
But for now I say ‘let it be’.
You’re the one whimpering,
And hoping to stop suffering.
So even though I want you to stay,
I’ll be your little angel and never stray.
I’ll get you the help and make you well.
Now you need me as much as I need you.
Now I see all the pain I caused you.
What did you do?
You don’t deserve all of this.
I wish I could dismiss,
All the pain,
Coursing through your veins.
Or just make it tame.
All my life, I have never seen you,
Without Death gliding behind you too.
What did you do Mum?
It’s made me numb.
You try to sleep all day.
Sleep all night.
But try as you might,
You can’t do it;
You say your chest feels tight.
What did you do to deserve this?
Every day you have a near miss.
You knock politely on Death’s door,
You say you can’t take anymore.
What would I do without you Mum?
What did you do?
What did you do?
It’s making me go numb.
You shower the bed with your morning pills,
Never knowing how bad this makes me feel.
I want to take away the pain.
All I see is how fed up you are.
Doctors constantly keep lowering the bar.
You’ve dealt with so much from such a young age.
You keep telling me to turn the next page,
And see what’s going to happen in the book of life.
Whether it’s the last or beginning page,
Just strive.
For so long you’ve been my shield.
No matter how ill,
You feel.
No matter how hot the flames go,
You have never ever left me alone.
Even though I worry every single night,
You’re the angel that never leaves my side.
When you go into hospital.
I’m the one to make that call.
With you fighting the pain,
And me fighting the shame.
I think I am to blame.
I’m not able to help you.
Oh I know you feel it too.
You want to help me,
But for now I say ‘let it be’.
You’re the one whimpering,
And hoping to stop suffering.
So even though I want you to stay,
I’ll be your little angel and never stray.
I’ll get you the help and make you well.
Now you need me as much as I need you.
Now I see all the pain I caused you.
What did you do?
You don’t deserve all of this.
I wish I could dismiss,
All the pain,
Coursing through your veins.
Or just make it tame.
All my life, I have never seen you,
Without Death gliding behind you too.
What did you do Mum?
It’s made me numb.
What Matters To Me?
So this poem was published in an anthology in 2011. I hope you like it.
What matters to me is simple,
Its not even a dimple.
what matters to me is family.
I live very happily.
Nothing else matters,
Not even clothes in tatters.
They make the light,
or a Turkish Delight.
They give you a good telling off,
For pretending to be a sloth.
they play a game
but always stay tame.
They can be good fun
like staying out in the sun.
They sometimes ground,
but never pound
Although they are serious,
They can never be delirious.
Remember the puddings,
and all the good things.
What matters to me is simple,
Its not even a dimple.
what matters to me is family.
I live very happily.
Nothing else matters,
Not even clothes in tatters.
They make the light,
or a Turkish Delight.
They give you a good telling off,
For pretending to be a sloth.
they play a game
but always stay tame.
They can be good fun
like staying out in the sun.
They sometimes ground,
but never pound
Although they are serious,
They can never be delirious.
Remember the puddings,
and all the good things.
P!nk song story
Where have you been where have you gone and have I done something wrong. Are you hiding in the closet are you underneath the bed? Since I met you I've been a victim of disaster. How many times have I kicked you out of here or said something insulting? I'm crying here what have you done?
Your taunting smirk behind the glass. This museum full of ash once a tickle now a rash. This used to be a fun house but now it's full of evil clowns. Come take a walk with with me lets pretend we're two people and you're not better than me.
You took my hand you showed me how. You promised me you'll be around. I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me. I can hear planes flying over my head.
We are the people that you never get the best of never get the rest of. Where there is a fire there is gunna be a flame. Where there is a flame someone's bound to get burned. But just because it burns doesn't mean you're going to die you gotta get up and try.
Songs in order.
Song - album
How Come You're Not Here - The Truth About Love.
Heartbreak Down - Greatest Hits ... So Far
Please Don't Leave Me - Greatest Hits ... So Far
Just Like A Pill - Greatest Hits ... So Far
Funhouse - Greatest Hits ... So Far
Dear Mr President - Greatest Hits ... So Far
Who Knew - Greatest Hits ... So Far
Where Did The Beat Go? - The Truth About Love
All We All We Are - The Truth About Love
Try - The Truth About Love
Kaiser Chief Song Story.
My Script Song Story went down well so now I have dons a Kaiser Chiefs story using extracts from their songs. Enjoy.
What did you learn today? I learnt nothing. What did you do today? I did nothing. What did you learn at school? I didn't go. Why didn't you go to school. I don't know. Watching the people get lary is not very pretty i tell thee walking through town is quite scary and not very sensible either. A friend of a friend he got beaten he looked unaware to the policeman it would never have happened to Sleaton. I know that you're tensing it. Everyday I love you less and less. I only wanna see. I only wanna see the kind of girl you are.
Picture yourself on a rocket. Picture yourself in a glittering silver suit. Picture yourself getting on it. Saluting the news crew you're the new recruit. So this age of the train all aboard for the labour exchange. My mind is running away with me. They tell you day after day to make your way through the factory gates. Till they can't break your will anymore you are contractionally tied to Death's door.
Hold on to your hearts if you can its been the coldest year since records began and now the sun is coming up again in no mans land. Look alive. Pick a side. Draw a line in the sand you're just a band. I study millitary maths. It helps me relax. Roll the dice keep em guessing asking questions one more time. Hey now watcha do that for? Keep your head down I told you less is more. I know 'cause i've seen it. It was great and I won it. There's no point in going crazy on your own.
Its time to believe that i smile in my sleep because everyone leaves me. It's so hard to keep company. I'm misery company. All the people all of those awful lives building on the outskirts of my mind and it all comes flooding back to me like a forgotten melody from a dream. I walk across the sand with my shoes in my hand to the daylight and the real life.
Songs in order:
Song - album
Never Miss A Beat - Unemployment
I Predict A Riot - I Predict A Riot
Kind Of Girl You Are - Employment
Every Day I Love You Less And Less - I Predict A Riot
Meanwhile Up In Heaven - Education Education Education & War
The Factory Gates - Education Education Education & War
Bows & Arrows - Education Education Education & War
Cannons - Education Education Education And War
Ruffians On The Parade - Education Education Education & War
One More Last Song - Education Education Education & War
Less Is More - I Predict A Riot
Modern Way - Employment
Misery Company - Education Education Education & War
Roses - Education Education Education & War
Coming Home - Education Education Education & War
My Life - Education Education Education & War
What did you learn today? I learnt nothing. What did you do today? I did nothing. What did you learn at school? I didn't go. Why didn't you go to school. I don't know. Watching the people get lary is not very pretty i tell thee walking through town is quite scary and not very sensible either. A friend of a friend he got beaten he looked unaware to the policeman it would never have happened to Sleaton. I know that you're tensing it. Everyday I love you less and less. I only wanna see. I only wanna see the kind of girl you are.
Picture yourself on a rocket. Picture yourself in a glittering silver suit. Picture yourself getting on it. Saluting the news crew you're the new recruit. So this age of the train all aboard for the labour exchange. My mind is running away with me. They tell you day after day to make your way through the factory gates. Till they can't break your will anymore you are contractionally tied to Death's door.
Hold on to your hearts if you can its been the coldest year since records began and now the sun is coming up again in no mans land. Look alive. Pick a side. Draw a line in the sand you're just a band. I study millitary maths. It helps me relax. Roll the dice keep em guessing asking questions one more time. Hey now watcha do that for? Keep your head down I told you less is more. I know 'cause i've seen it. It was great and I won it. There's no point in going crazy on your own.
Its time to believe that i smile in my sleep because everyone leaves me. It's so hard to keep company. I'm misery company. All the people all of those awful lives building on the outskirts of my mind and it all comes flooding back to me like a forgotten melody from a dream. I walk across the sand with my shoes in my hand to the daylight and the real life.
Songs in order:
Song - album
Never Miss A Beat - Unemployment
I Predict A Riot - I Predict A Riot
Kind Of Girl You Are - Employment
Every Day I Love You Less And Less - I Predict A Riot
Meanwhile Up In Heaven - Education Education Education & War
The Factory Gates - Education Education Education & War
Bows & Arrows - Education Education Education & War
Cannons - Education Education Education And War
Ruffians On The Parade - Education Education Education & War
One More Last Song - Education Education Education & War
Less Is More - I Predict A Riot
Modern Way - Employment
Misery Company - Education Education Education & War
Roses - Education Education Education & War
Coming Home - Education Education Education & War
My Life - Education Education Education & War
Saturday 18 October 2014
Outside - Place
Wind teases a strand of hair from behind a young lady's ear and battles with the trees. The trees fight back wanting their trunks to remain intact. Papers flutter across the ground and grass blades collide with one another. Water ripples across the fountain. It wants to escape. If the bench nearby is anything to go by. Which is speckled with water where those cheeky Hydrogen and Oxygen compounds have tried to jump from the fountain to the bench. The patio on the ground is a maze. For us humans it is very easy to decipher which way to go but for those poor ants ... well how do they know where to go? Unless they have wings and therefore they can cheat ... In that case we should feel no pity for them.
The sun rays are trying to battle their way through the shield of clouds. However their swords must be blunt as the rays are not making any difference. Unlike the wind which is raging it's battle cries and declares it's war on the leaves of the trees in the distance. At first the leaves put up a fight but in the end they surrender and end up falling limply to the ground. Death waits for nature to take it's course before coming to pick up the poor leaves' souls.
A circling of birds above make some students' heads turn skywards.
Target acquired.
Three
Two
One
FIRE.
Mayonnaise on chips anyone?
The sun rays are trying to battle their way through the shield of clouds. However their swords must be blunt as the rays are not making any difference. Unlike the wind which is raging it's battle cries and declares it's war on the leaves of the trees in the distance. At first the leaves put up a fight but in the end they surrender and end up falling limply to the ground. Death waits for nature to take it's course before coming to pick up the poor leaves' souls.
A circling of birds above make some students' heads turn skywards.
Target acquired.
Three
Two
One
FIRE.
Mayonnaise on chips anyone?
Library - Place
Tip Tap. Tip tap on the keyboards. Ideas swimming from student's minds down their nerves, sizzling through their synapses and ending at their fingertips, but that is okay because the ideas ending at their fingertips will transfer from odd nail endings to the computer screen. Imagination grows with every turn of a page. Pens stutter as ideas fail to express themselves to those students stuck in the wooden prison cells. They won't be able to leave that area until those pens stop stuttering and they become brave enough to make those bold strokes on paper.
Chapter Five - Reincarnation
The woman leads me to the glass cubical. As I step into, what I am calling, the transparent cylinder of doom, I turn my head slightly to see my Mother giving me a thumbs up and a grin. The red curtain of gloom cuts off my view of my Mother sharply. I have no choice but to turn my attention back to the transparent cubical or, more precisely, my future.
The woman shuts the door behind me and presses a button on the outside of the cylinder. She then steps back by the red curtain and gives me a nod. I'm hoping it was meant to encourage me.
"Jessica Zel, welcome to the annual Finding Your Soul test brought to you by Danny Frampton, our current leader in Government," A voice through a speaker formally says.
A panel comes up on one side of the cubical. It is a video.
"Hello young citizen of this fine society. You may recognise me. If you do not then I am Daniel Frampton, but please, call me Danny," A man on the screen says.
He has extremely dark hair. One might call it jet black hair, styled professionally, of course. Hazel eyes. So uncommon nowadays yet he has them. Mine are like dark chocolate, His is like caramel.
"Shortly, you will be have a brain scan and a short test in order to pin point your exact strengths and weaknesses and to determine whether you are a New Soul or an Reincarnation. If at the end of the test, should this screen go blank, you are free to go. If, however, the screen does not go blank, you will have the fortune of seeing this gorgeous face again and I shall guide you through the next steps should you need to take them," Danny says formally.
I nod in understanding.
"Before you take this test you have the right to know why it has become a necessity to do this process. Over one hundred years ago we were in a state of desperation. Thousands upon thousands of citizens were either unemployed or in jobs that did not physically or psychologically suit them. Only ten percent of the population was in a job that truly suited them. It affected the government a lot, as I am sure you can imagine. Many people who were not truly suited for Government were elected to represent our country. Even the Prime Minister at the time was not truly suited to his job. He got us into many wars across the world. Thousands of soldiers, air militants and navy sailors were killed. All for a pointless war. Debates became out of control. Full on arguments occurred and they caused many more wars. Eventually this Government stepped in and proposed a new idea and a new world. The world that you are currently living in. Now, to make sure that everyone is in the job that suits them we ask that every sixteen year old in the country takes the Finding Your Soul test. Good luck, young citizen of this fine country," Danny says and his face disappears off of the screen.
"Preparing for brain scan, please stand still," The voice from the speaker says.
A red light appears from where Daniel Frampton's face was and covers my face. My eyes narrow as all I see is red. Red alludes my vision for about thirty seconds and then the brain scan is over.
A panel appears again.
"Touch strengths to see strengths and touch weaknesses to see weakness. After doing so click on the test button for the short test," The voice says.
I raise my index finger and touch the strengths icon.
"Jessica Elizabeth Zel, your strengths are ..." The Voice says.
On the screen is a list of my strengths.
Debating
English
History
PE
Orating
Psychology
Geography.
I stand there, confused. Geography? Since when was I good at that? I put my finger on Weaknesses.
"Jessica Elizabeth Zel, your weaknesses are...." The voice says.
Once again a list comes up.
Maths
Chemistry
Physics
Biology
Sociology
Music
I nod taking in all of this information. Not a single one of the weaknesses surprised me.
Seven strengths.
Six weaknesses,
One test.
One result.
The woman shuts the door behind me and presses a button on the outside of the cylinder. She then steps back by the red curtain and gives me a nod. I'm hoping it was meant to encourage me.
"Jessica Zel, welcome to the annual Finding Your Soul test brought to you by Danny Frampton, our current leader in Government," A voice through a speaker formally says.
A panel comes up on one side of the cubical. It is a video.
"Hello young citizen of this fine society. You may recognise me. If you do not then I am Daniel Frampton, but please, call me Danny," A man on the screen says.
He has extremely dark hair. One might call it jet black hair, styled professionally, of course. Hazel eyes. So uncommon nowadays yet he has them. Mine are like dark chocolate, His is like caramel.
"Shortly, you will be have a brain scan and a short test in order to pin point your exact strengths and weaknesses and to determine whether you are a New Soul or an Reincarnation. If at the end of the test, should this screen go blank, you are free to go. If, however, the screen does not go blank, you will have the fortune of seeing this gorgeous face again and I shall guide you through the next steps should you need to take them," Danny says formally.
I nod in understanding.
"Before you take this test you have the right to know why it has become a necessity to do this process. Over one hundred years ago we were in a state of desperation. Thousands upon thousands of citizens were either unemployed or in jobs that did not physically or psychologically suit them. Only ten percent of the population was in a job that truly suited them. It affected the government a lot, as I am sure you can imagine. Many people who were not truly suited for Government were elected to represent our country. Even the Prime Minister at the time was not truly suited to his job. He got us into many wars across the world. Thousands of soldiers, air militants and navy sailors were killed. All for a pointless war. Debates became out of control. Full on arguments occurred and they caused many more wars. Eventually this Government stepped in and proposed a new idea and a new world. The world that you are currently living in. Now, to make sure that everyone is in the job that suits them we ask that every sixteen year old in the country takes the Finding Your Soul test. Good luck, young citizen of this fine country," Danny says and his face disappears off of the screen.
"Preparing for brain scan, please stand still," The voice from the speaker says.
A red light appears from where Daniel Frampton's face was and covers my face. My eyes narrow as all I see is red. Red alludes my vision for about thirty seconds and then the brain scan is over.
A panel appears again.
"Touch strengths to see strengths and touch weaknesses to see weakness. After doing so click on the test button for the short test," The voice says.
I raise my index finger and touch the strengths icon.
"Jessica Elizabeth Zel, your strengths are ..." The Voice says.
On the screen is a list of my strengths.
Debating
English
History
PE
Orating
Psychology
Geography.
I stand there, confused. Geography? Since when was I good at that? I put my finger on Weaknesses.
"Jessica Elizabeth Zel, your weaknesses are...." The voice says.
Once again a list comes up.
Maths
Chemistry
Physics
Biology
Sociology
Music
I nod taking in all of this information. Not a single one of the weaknesses surprised me.
Seven strengths.
Six weaknesses,
One test.
One result.
Twitter Fiction
We had to write a piece of fiction but in the twitter style using only 140 characters. Here's mine:
Geese. I hate them. Don't laugh. I'm a little yellow duckie. They chase me. #meanies #nowduckiechasesback be afraid geese. Be afraid.
Tears slip down her face. Alone. That's what she is, but she is determined not to be. Determined. She will not stand for bullying any more.
Geese. I hate them. Don't laugh. I'm a little yellow duckie. They chase me. #meanies #nowduckiechasesback be afraid geese. Be afraid.
Tears slip down her face. Alone. That's what she is, but she is determined not to be. Determined. She will not stand for bullying any more.
A Roadie On The Road - Creative Non - Fiction
This will be an assessed piece of Creative Non-Fiction. Not quite sure if I have a firm grasp on the concept of this yet as to me Non-Fiction is hard solid facts and nothing creative to add but that's me.
Being a roadie is a good laugh sometimes. Oh who am I kidding it's nearly always a laugh, if I am frank. Which I am not called Frank by the way. We had just come back from Romania and the band had a gig at the Bristol O2 arena the next day. I, myself, am I massive fan of Bristol. It's culture. The history. The landscapes. The architecture. The boys, however, were not so sure.
"Couldn't we stay in Cardiff, then head over to Bristol in time for the gig?" Daniel asked.
"No. We're here now. I know what would convince you to stay. A pint of Guinness in the Cartwheel," I offered and yanked his arm out of the tour bus. The other two band members reluctantly followed. The lads brightened up when they saw the pub. Now they have been to many pubs over the years and this one was probably the same as any old pub they had been to. I know that Mark, however, cannot resist a good ol' Guinness and can down a pint of that murky black stuff in four seconds flat. This pub was probably the same as any old pub that they had been to. Or not.
We stepped inside and instantly got a whiff of unpleasant body odour that filled the atmosphere whilst the disgusting stench of cigarettes wafted from the leather seats and hit us like a bulldozer. A corpulent being struggled in through the back door. His sweaty hands smothered the cream wallpaper. To be honest he could have done with one less spare tyre. Layers of fat from his colossal stomach hung over his jogging bottoms. He wiped his hands over his stubbly chin and greeted his friends with a groan and a moan that came from deep within. His friends looked worn and weathered, possibly due to a tsunami of work. Having said that, the lads do not look like that and they never get a break. They gathered around the glowing remains of a fire that sat opposite the bar, whilst the flames cast grotesque shadows of the men on the cracked and broken, maroon ceiling.
At the bar, an old barmaid pulled a pint of Guinness for a hefty biker type that had large, artistic and brightly coloured tattoos slithering up his muscular arms. His leather jacket lay forgotten on the seat next to him and he let out a vociferous sound after gulping down his Guinness in five seconds. Mark still holds the record.
The chattering among the drinkers was shattered as a screech from a wannabe pop star took the stage in an attempt to provide the crowd with some entertainment.
"I half want to go up there and show her how it's done myself," Daniel said. He seemed in awe that someone could even sound that bad.
With the shock of the sound, everyone turned their heads momentarily towards the singer and the commotion that came with her entrance. They all soon ignored the bellowing singer, taking more interest in the various assortment of drinks.
The lights were switched off and the daylight did its best to filter in through the layers of filth that had amalgamated onto the window. The distorted sunlight hit people's faces at strange angles and we can see the indents on their faces.
In a corner of the pub is a battered pool table that shows its antiquity. A couple of middle aged blokes stood around the table and it seemed as if they had pool balls in their eyes from staring at them so much. One of the guys took a shot with the speckled cue ball and the balls hit each other with such ferocity that they pinged away from each other like the slightest touch burned their skins.
To the side of the pool table was a bunch of arcade games which stood proudly. Their gleam invites people in, like a meat to a pack of wolves, to have a go and rid them of the jackpot inside which is causing them constipation.
This was different to the many pubs that the lads had been to. Other pubs had pine tables, bright halogen spotlights, fake ornamental plants, cool air conditioning and a smell of coffee that hit you as soon as you set foot in the pub. Not the smell of body odour and foul cigarettes.
"What were you saying about convincing us to stay?" Daniel asked.
I felt my face go crimson with embarrassment.
"Next stop ... Cardiff," I said grimly and led the boys out of the atrocious pub.
Being a roadie is a good laugh sometimes. Oh who am I kidding it's nearly always a laugh, if I am frank. Which I am not called Frank by the way. We had just come back from Romania and the band had a gig at the Bristol O2 arena the next day. I, myself, am I massive fan of Bristol. It's culture. The history. The landscapes. The architecture. The boys, however, were not so sure.
"Couldn't we stay in Cardiff, then head over to Bristol in time for the gig?" Daniel asked.
"No. We're here now. I know what would convince you to stay. A pint of Guinness in the Cartwheel," I offered and yanked his arm out of the tour bus. The other two band members reluctantly followed. The lads brightened up when they saw the pub. Now they have been to many pubs over the years and this one was probably the same as any old pub they had been to. I know that Mark, however, cannot resist a good ol' Guinness and can down a pint of that murky black stuff in four seconds flat. This pub was probably the same as any old pub that they had been to. Or not.
We stepped inside and instantly got a whiff of unpleasant body odour that filled the atmosphere whilst the disgusting stench of cigarettes wafted from the leather seats and hit us like a bulldozer. A corpulent being struggled in through the back door. His sweaty hands smothered the cream wallpaper. To be honest he could have done with one less spare tyre. Layers of fat from his colossal stomach hung over his jogging bottoms. He wiped his hands over his stubbly chin and greeted his friends with a groan and a moan that came from deep within. His friends looked worn and weathered, possibly due to a tsunami of work. Having said that, the lads do not look like that and they never get a break. They gathered around the glowing remains of a fire that sat opposite the bar, whilst the flames cast grotesque shadows of the men on the cracked and broken, maroon ceiling.
At the bar, an old barmaid pulled a pint of Guinness for a hefty biker type that had large, artistic and brightly coloured tattoos slithering up his muscular arms. His leather jacket lay forgotten on the seat next to him and he let out a vociferous sound after gulping down his Guinness in five seconds. Mark still holds the record.
The chattering among the drinkers was shattered as a screech from a wannabe pop star took the stage in an attempt to provide the crowd with some entertainment.
"I half want to go up there and show her how it's done myself," Daniel said. He seemed in awe that someone could even sound that bad.
With the shock of the sound, everyone turned their heads momentarily towards the singer and the commotion that came with her entrance. They all soon ignored the bellowing singer, taking more interest in the various assortment of drinks.
The lights were switched off and the daylight did its best to filter in through the layers of filth that had amalgamated onto the window. The distorted sunlight hit people's faces at strange angles and we can see the indents on their faces.
In a corner of the pub is a battered pool table that shows its antiquity. A couple of middle aged blokes stood around the table and it seemed as if they had pool balls in their eyes from staring at them so much. One of the guys took a shot with the speckled cue ball and the balls hit each other with such ferocity that they pinged away from each other like the slightest touch burned their skins.
To the side of the pool table was a bunch of arcade games which stood proudly. Their gleam invites people in, like a meat to a pack of wolves, to have a go and rid them of the jackpot inside which is causing them constipation.
This was different to the many pubs that the lads had been to. Other pubs had pine tables, bright halogen spotlights, fake ornamental plants, cool air conditioning and a smell of coffee that hit you as soon as you set foot in the pub. Not the smell of body odour and foul cigarettes.
"What were you saying about convincing us to stay?" Daniel asked.
I felt my face go crimson with embarrassment.
"Next stop ... Cardiff," I said grimly and led the boys out of the atrocious pub.
Script Song Story
I put all of my songs that I have bought by The Script onto shuffle and this is what I came up with.
This time he is going to wear an iron suit, this time she's going to fix her heart and make it bullet proof. My head is saying no but my heart keeps giving in. All the things that we've lost, breaking off comes at a cost. Tried to break love to a science in an act of pure defiance I broke his heart and now I miss this mistake. Give me highs, give me lows, give me thorns with my rose, I want everything. I think I want you more than want and know I need you more than need. Going back to the corner where I first saw you gonna camp in my sleeping bag. I'm not gonna move.
Would Dylan be just a poet? Would Bono ever know it? Without those songs. My hands are cold, my body's numb, I'm still in shock, what have you done? I don't know why he's with me. It's in the eyes of the children as they leave for the very first time and it's in the heart of a soldier as they take a bullet on the front line. When love's a battle and life's a war, I'll take it on the chin, you won't ever feel a thing. I could talk all day long about the news, giving you the current affairs and my views.
My head, my head is full of things I should have done. Don't live your life that way of course he's gunna say anything you want. What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you? You touch these tired eyes of mine and map my face out line by line.
Am I better off dead? Am I better off a quitter? Dedicate yourself and you'll find yourself - Standing in the hall of fame.
To your brother, to your sister, to your missus to your mister. To your friends. To your foes. Give the love around and back around it goes. It's been a while since the two of us talked. About a week since the day that you walked. They're kicking us out saying it's time to close. We're leaning on each other trying to beat the cold, carry our shoes and I give you my coat. When I was younger, I'd pray for thunder, a thousand angels banging on their chairs, all of the lightening was never that frightening like cameras all flashing in the air.
Sometimes tears say all there is to say and sometimes your first scars won't ever fade away. You've read the books, you've watched the shows. What's the best way, no one knows. When's the day you start again and when the hell does you'll get over it begin?
Late to bed, we're early to rise, wipe the sleep from our eyes. That's how a superhero learns to fly. Every day every hour turn that pain into power. It's been a long time coming. Up in the bar all smoking cigars we were drinking Irish whiskey straight from the jar. Talking about them better days that are not that far. Whoever's coming back to mine you better bring the guitar. You sing a sad song yeah sing it from the heart. Tell a sad story yeah tell it from the start. Who's have thought about the cause and effect? No one cares. There's no one there. But did you see the flares in the sky? Were you blinded by the light did you feel the smoke in your eyes did you? Did you? Did you feel the sparks filled with hope. You are not alone because someone's out there sending out flares. I still look for your face in the crowd oh if you could see me now and we don't even know how we got into this situation only doing things out of frustration, and we don't even know how we got into this mess, is it God's test? Tryna make it work but man these times are hard. There comes a time that every bird has to fly at some point every rose has to die.
Now my head is sore, if I try to sail back in she's gunna push me from the shore. There's no end, there's no end, 'cause this love transcends. I found you before and I'll find you again.
I asked him why he's running away. He said he was born to live this way. Now I know you're missing home it's been so long since you've been and that life you had in Dublin now ain't nothing but a dream. To be right there in the moment you'd give anything to be. It's al-right 'cause tonight we're going to paint the town green. Paint the town green. Just like home.
Songs in order:
Song - Album
Broken Arrow - #3
Anybody there - The Script
No Good In Goodbye - No Sound Without Silence
Science And Faith - Science And Faith
No Good In Goodbye - No Sound Without Silence
Kaleidoscope - #3
Never Seen Anything 'Quite Like You' - No Sound Without Silence.
The Man Who Can't Be Moved - The Script
Without Those Songs - No Sound Without Silence
Exit Wounds - Science And Faith
Walk Away - Science And Faith
This = Love - Science And Faith
Army Of Angels - No Sound Without Silence.
You Won't Feel A Thing - Science And Faith
No Words - #3
It's Not Right For You - No Sound Without Silence
Fall For Anything - The Script
Breakeven - The Script
I'm Yours - The Script
Nothing - Science And Faith
Hall Of Fame - #3
Give The Love Around - #3
Before The Worst - The Script
Millionaires - #3
Howl At The Moon - No Sound Without Silence
The End Where I Begin - The Script
Six Degrees Of Separation - #3
Long Gone And Moved On - Science And Faith
Hail Rain Or Sunshine - No Sound Without Silence
Superheroes - No Sound Without Silence
Rusty Halo - The Script
Good Ol' Days - #3
Man On A Wire - No Sound Without Silence
Flares - No Sound Without Silence
If You Could See Me Now - #3
For The First Time - Science And Faith
We Cry - The Script
If You See Kay - The Script
The Energy Never Dies - No Sound Without Silence
Glowing - #3
Paint The Town Green - No Sound Without Silence
This time he is going to wear an iron suit, this time she's going to fix her heart and make it bullet proof. My head is saying no but my heart keeps giving in. All the things that we've lost, breaking off comes at a cost. Tried to break love to a science in an act of pure defiance I broke his heart and now I miss this mistake. Give me highs, give me lows, give me thorns with my rose, I want everything. I think I want you more than want and know I need you more than need. Going back to the corner where I first saw you gonna camp in my sleeping bag. I'm not gonna move.
Would Dylan be just a poet? Would Bono ever know it? Without those songs. My hands are cold, my body's numb, I'm still in shock, what have you done? I don't know why he's with me. It's in the eyes of the children as they leave for the very first time and it's in the heart of a soldier as they take a bullet on the front line. When love's a battle and life's a war, I'll take it on the chin, you won't ever feel a thing. I could talk all day long about the news, giving you the current affairs and my views.
My head, my head is full of things I should have done. Don't live your life that way of course he's gunna say anything you want. What am I supposed to do when the best part of me was always you? You touch these tired eyes of mine and map my face out line by line.
Am I better off dead? Am I better off a quitter? Dedicate yourself and you'll find yourself - Standing in the hall of fame.
To your brother, to your sister, to your missus to your mister. To your friends. To your foes. Give the love around and back around it goes. It's been a while since the two of us talked. About a week since the day that you walked. They're kicking us out saying it's time to close. We're leaning on each other trying to beat the cold, carry our shoes and I give you my coat. When I was younger, I'd pray for thunder, a thousand angels banging on their chairs, all of the lightening was never that frightening like cameras all flashing in the air.
Sometimes tears say all there is to say and sometimes your first scars won't ever fade away. You've read the books, you've watched the shows. What's the best way, no one knows. When's the day you start again and when the hell does you'll get over it begin?
Late to bed, we're early to rise, wipe the sleep from our eyes. That's how a superhero learns to fly. Every day every hour turn that pain into power. It's been a long time coming. Up in the bar all smoking cigars we were drinking Irish whiskey straight from the jar. Talking about them better days that are not that far. Whoever's coming back to mine you better bring the guitar. You sing a sad song yeah sing it from the heart. Tell a sad story yeah tell it from the start. Who's have thought about the cause and effect? No one cares. There's no one there. But did you see the flares in the sky? Were you blinded by the light did you feel the smoke in your eyes did you? Did you? Did you feel the sparks filled with hope. You are not alone because someone's out there sending out flares. I still look for your face in the crowd oh if you could see me now and we don't even know how we got into this situation only doing things out of frustration, and we don't even know how we got into this mess, is it God's test? Tryna make it work but man these times are hard. There comes a time that every bird has to fly at some point every rose has to die.
Now my head is sore, if I try to sail back in she's gunna push me from the shore. There's no end, there's no end, 'cause this love transcends. I found you before and I'll find you again.
I asked him why he's running away. He said he was born to live this way. Now I know you're missing home it's been so long since you've been and that life you had in Dublin now ain't nothing but a dream. To be right there in the moment you'd give anything to be. It's al-right 'cause tonight we're going to paint the town green. Paint the town green. Just like home.
Songs in order:
Song - Album
Broken Arrow - #3
Anybody there - The Script
No Good In Goodbye - No Sound Without Silence
Science And Faith - Science And Faith
No Good In Goodbye - No Sound Without Silence
Kaleidoscope - #3
Never Seen Anything 'Quite Like You' - No Sound Without Silence.
The Man Who Can't Be Moved - The Script
Without Those Songs - No Sound Without Silence
Exit Wounds - Science And Faith
Walk Away - Science And Faith
This = Love - Science And Faith
Army Of Angels - No Sound Without Silence.
You Won't Feel A Thing - Science And Faith
No Words - #3
It's Not Right For You - No Sound Without Silence
Fall For Anything - The Script
Breakeven - The Script
I'm Yours - The Script
Nothing - Science And Faith
Hall Of Fame - #3
Give The Love Around - #3
Before The Worst - The Script
Millionaires - #3
Howl At The Moon - No Sound Without Silence
The End Where I Begin - The Script
Six Degrees Of Separation - #3
Long Gone And Moved On - Science And Faith
Hail Rain Or Sunshine - No Sound Without Silence
Superheroes - No Sound Without Silence
Rusty Halo - The Script
Good Ol' Days - #3
Man On A Wire - No Sound Without Silence
Flares - No Sound Without Silence
If You Could See Me Now - #3
For The First Time - Science And Faith
We Cry - The Script
If You See Kay - The Script
The Energy Never Dies - No Sound Without Silence
Glowing - #3
Paint The Town Green - No Sound Without Silence
Friday 17 October 2014
Chapter Four
Hey all. This is a story that I am writing outside of class. Enjoy. Comment praise and criticism please.
Reincarnation
Chapter Four:
The walk towards the hall is a short one and one I will always remember. The way it was silent all the way through. The way i kept wiping my hands on my school trousers to remove the sweat that had accumulated during the short walk. The way Mother's back subconsciously straightened when we neared the automatic doors. I hate automatic doors; you cannot escape them. By that I mean when you get close enough for the sensors to know of your existence then you have to go through the open doors. If anyone is in the next room then the sound of the doors opening alerts them and they expect someone to walk through. If no one does walk through then it arouses suspicion and suspicion in this world is very dangerous.
Mother and I walk through the automatic doors. Both of us have been here many a time. Obviously I have beeen here more than Mother has. This hall holds anything from debating and parents evenings to concerts and examinations. I never took part in concerts as i cannot sing to savw my life. Think of the most disgusting type of music you can think of. Proliferate the disgusting factor by one hundred and make sure that it's out of tune and you might just might have the gist.
Debating is what i spent most of my time in the hall doing. Mother always came to my debates. No matter ehat subject i was debating about she was there. Parents evening was always interesting. Various debates teachers have all said that 'Miss Zel has quite a mouth on her when it comes to debating.' Mother would always smile at that.
The hall looked the same as usual. The wooden flor had patches where some of the panels had not been varnished or where the varnish had been scuffed by shoes and worn off. There are several examination tables set up with a teacher sat behind them. I halt in my tracks when i see the curtain rise and a student stepping out of a glass cubical. Mother pulls me to one side and studies me closely.
"Whatever happens, handle it like an adult," She says.
"What is going to happen Mother? In that cubical i mean," I demand to know.
Mother looks at the stage quickly and then turns her attention back to me.
"They scan your brain, look for strengths and weaknesses and test them," Mother tells me.
There has to be more; this information alone cannot be enough to tell whether soneone has had a past life or not.
"Ok. What else?" I ask.
Mother looks at me with confusion in her face.
"That's it," She says.
"It's too simple," I state.
"Well i got my results with just that tested," Mother says.
Mother got her New Soul result by just having her brain scanned and a short test. So what happens if you are not a New Soul? What happens if you are an Reincarnation?
"Come on Jessica, that lady over there is staring at us so i think we had better get your test done sooner rather than later," Mother says and i look instinctly over at a woman who had her eyes trained on me and my Mother. The woman beckons me over with her hand. I sigh.
"Ok. If i have to," I say.
I walk over to the woman who beckoned me over and smile at her as i approach the desk.
"Hello and who do I have here?" The woman asks.
"Jessica Elizabeth Zel," I answer.
Mother places her hand on my back.
"I am her Mother," She says.
The woman looks up and looks astounded that we are even related. I can see where she is coming from. I inherrited all of Father's looks. We do not look related at all.
"If you would like to come this way, Miss Zel?" The woman asks rhetorically and she gets up and walks towards the stage where the glass cubical is.
I have no choice but to follow her.
You cannot risk suspscion in a world like this.
Reincarnation
Chapter Four:
The walk towards the hall is a short one and one I will always remember. The way it was silent all the way through. The way i kept wiping my hands on my school trousers to remove the sweat that had accumulated during the short walk. The way Mother's back subconsciously straightened when we neared the automatic doors. I hate automatic doors; you cannot escape them. By that I mean when you get close enough for the sensors to know of your existence then you have to go through the open doors. If anyone is in the next room then the sound of the doors opening alerts them and they expect someone to walk through. If no one does walk through then it arouses suspicion and suspicion in this world is very dangerous.
Mother and I walk through the automatic doors. Both of us have been here many a time. Obviously I have beeen here more than Mother has. This hall holds anything from debating and parents evenings to concerts and examinations. I never took part in concerts as i cannot sing to savw my life. Think of the most disgusting type of music you can think of. Proliferate the disgusting factor by one hundred and make sure that it's out of tune and you might just might have the gist.
Debating is what i spent most of my time in the hall doing. Mother always came to my debates. No matter ehat subject i was debating about she was there. Parents evening was always interesting. Various debates teachers have all said that 'Miss Zel has quite a mouth on her when it comes to debating.' Mother would always smile at that.
The hall looked the same as usual. The wooden flor had patches where some of the panels had not been varnished or where the varnish had been scuffed by shoes and worn off. There are several examination tables set up with a teacher sat behind them. I halt in my tracks when i see the curtain rise and a student stepping out of a glass cubical. Mother pulls me to one side and studies me closely.
"Whatever happens, handle it like an adult," She says.
"What is going to happen Mother? In that cubical i mean," I demand to know.
Mother looks at the stage quickly and then turns her attention back to me.
"They scan your brain, look for strengths and weaknesses and test them," Mother tells me.
There has to be more; this information alone cannot be enough to tell whether soneone has had a past life or not.
"Ok. What else?" I ask.
Mother looks at me with confusion in her face.
"That's it," She says.
"It's too simple," I state.
"Well i got my results with just that tested," Mother says.
Mother got her New Soul result by just having her brain scanned and a short test. So what happens if you are not a New Soul? What happens if you are an Reincarnation?
"Come on Jessica, that lady over there is staring at us so i think we had better get your test done sooner rather than later," Mother says and i look instinctly over at a woman who had her eyes trained on me and my Mother. The woman beckons me over with her hand. I sigh.
"Ok. If i have to," I say.
I walk over to the woman who beckoned me over and smile at her as i approach the desk.
"Hello and who do I have here?" The woman asks.
"Jessica Elizabeth Zel," I answer.
Mother places her hand on my back.
"I am her Mother," She says.
The woman looks up and looks astounded that we are even related. I can see where she is coming from. I inherrited all of Father's looks. We do not look related at all.
"If you would like to come this way, Miss Zel?" The woman asks rhetorically and she gets up and walks towards the stage where the glass cubical is.
I have no choice but to follow her.
You cannot risk suspscion in a world like this.
Socks
They were hung on two lines, forced from going anywhere, left out on two lines to dry. Whatthey really wanted was to be alive. They had dreams of flying amongst the birds and yet, here they are hanging for dear life with only some wooden pegs supporting them. To stop them from falling. Those who are scared of heights would not like to be left hanging here. But what can they do? They cannot make their much desired escape. They cannot leave for they are trapped.
They await torture. This terrible torture involved being folded up into what tueir oeners believe to be neat and tidy piles but imagine it from their point of view. They are being folded into positions that do not suit them at all.
Some are lucky. Some do not get folded. Instead they are hung up in that wardrobe of theirs crushed amongst others. They await that horrible ordeal of being worn again. I pity those socks; humans' feet are most disgusting and potent snelling too.
Then of course after they have been worn they are washed. They are spun over and over again. Poor souls must get ever so dizzy. People do not hear their screams for help or their whimpers as they realise that there is nothing they can do but put up with being spun and having soap forced in and out ofbtheir mouths. Once they have been washed they start out where this story started. Spread across two lines.
Poor, poor souls.
That was a story i wrote where i was not allowed to use the definite or indefinite article.
They await torture. This terrible torture involved being folded up into what tueir oeners believe to be neat and tidy piles but imagine it from their point of view. They are being folded into positions that do not suit them at all.
Some are lucky. Some do not get folded. Instead they are hung up in that wardrobe of theirs crushed amongst others. They await that horrible ordeal of being worn again. I pity those socks; humans' feet are most disgusting and potent snelling too.
Then of course after they have been worn they are washed. They are spun over and over again. Poor souls must get ever so dizzy. People do not hear their screams for help or their whimpers as they realise that there is nothing they can do but put up with being spun and having soap forced in and out ofbtheir mouths. Once they have been washed they start out where this story started. Spread across two lines.
Poor, poor souls.
That was a story i wrote where i was not allowed to use the definite or indefinite article.
An ordinary street - Place
Sunlight pours down on my world. My world. What do i call my world? Now that is a good question.
We live in a world where everything is the same. Day in, day out. Grey concrete roads. No markings. Cars parked on both sides of the road. All the same colour, like Ford's Tin Lizzie. One van sticks out. Pure black. The other cars are blue, like fingertips in danger of being frostbitten. A sad sight. The black van is unkown yet known. Everyone knows what it is but it is the unkown that comes with the known that terrifies people. Apart from the slight difference in cars the houses are all the same. Twenty houses per street. No more. No less. Triangular roofs. Very easy to fall off of, not so easy to get to the top of. Lovely that isn't it? It seems so hard to climb yet so easy to fall.
The windows are too small. Too small to clamber out of. Although they are very easy to break. I wouldn't try it myself. It seems too painful. Each window has a black rim around the edge. A border so to speak. They love setting borders and making sure we don't overstep the line. Two windows on either side of the house. I'm lucky to have a window in my bedroom. I can see what is happening in this world. So, does that make me unlucky then? Maybe it does. I can see through this world like it is as transparent as the glass in my window.
A wooden door. Standard issue. Everyone has one. We open and close it every day. Well, I try to open my door but it is forever slammed in my face. Oops! Wrong door. Or so they tell me. Try again they tell me.
Same old.
Same new.
Daily.
We live in a world where everything is the same. Day in, day out. Grey concrete roads. No markings. Cars parked on both sides of the road. All the same colour, like Ford's Tin Lizzie. One van sticks out. Pure black. The other cars are blue, like fingertips in danger of being frostbitten. A sad sight. The black van is unkown yet known. Everyone knows what it is but it is the unkown that comes with the known that terrifies people. Apart from the slight difference in cars the houses are all the same. Twenty houses per street. No more. No less. Triangular roofs. Very easy to fall off of, not so easy to get to the top of. Lovely that isn't it? It seems so hard to climb yet so easy to fall.
The windows are too small. Too small to clamber out of. Although they are very easy to break. I wouldn't try it myself. It seems too painful. Each window has a black rim around the edge. A border so to speak. They love setting borders and making sure we don't overstep the line. Two windows on either side of the house. I'm lucky to have a window in my bedroom. I can see what is happening in this world. So, does that make me unlucky then? Maybe it does. I can see through this world like it is as transparent as the glass in my window.
A wooden door. Standard issue. Everyone has one. We open and close it every day. Well, I try to open my door but it is forever slammed in my face. Oops! Wrong door. Or so they tell me. Try again they tell me.
Same old.
Same new.
Daily.
Thursday 16 October 2014
Sunday Night Dinner - Script
A script that I wrote in English Lit and Language class.
Characters:
Mother
Father
Christina
Helen
Father Two
[It is a warm Sunday afternoon in Fall. The hands on the clock point towards the miniature four. A family of four sit on a garden bench with a black table cloth covering the large table set between the two benches of which the family of four have spread themselves out upon. The makeshift dinning table is set between two patios an the legs of the table have been hammered into the grass so that the table will not move when pressure is applied. There is a slight wind which makes the edges of the table cloth flutter and the little blades of grass collide with one another. The sky is an array of blues, yellows and reds all swirling together like an experiment on an artist's pallet. A soft rock album called No Sound Without Silence by The Script plays in the background. The older male in the family brings out a chicken and hands it to his wife to carve. She starts to carve as the two sister animatedly talk.]
Helen: I manage to secure my A in biology after all. You know how I was ever so worried about it. I needn't have worried one bit. A bit of worrying is good, I say; it shows that you care but there comes a line when you worry too much that you become ill. I know that I stepped over that line. I believe Mother was extremely worried.
Christina: Yeah, well I managed an A* in English, I am mega chuffed with myself on that one.
Helen: Oh? Well done you! Congrats Hun. So whilst one of us is going to become a pathologist the other is going to become an English teacher or journalist. Isn't that what you said to Father that you wanted to do?
[Christina shrugs]
Christina: Uh. Yeah. I did.I guess I could become either really. Watcha want to become a pathologist for anyway? Don't you have to take a degree in biology for that?
Helen: Yes you do and why? Well, I find it interesting.
Christina: Bloody disgusting. Get it? Bloody ....
[Christina laughs at her own joke but stops when she sees the look on her father's face]
Father: [Snaps] Don't you dare start dissing your sister like that!
Christina [Sheepishly] Sorry Dad, sorry Hel.
Father: Your sister's name is Helen not Hel. Do not shorten it, Chris.
[Christina and Helen exchange a knowing glance]
Mother: Come on darling sit down, I have your chicken right here.
[The Mother hands over the Father's plate loaded with chicken]
Father: Thank the Lord, about time.
[The Mother goes back to carving the chicken]
Father: So, well done to both of you on your results.
Helen: Oh! I also got a B+ in History, the highest in the class.
Christina: My friend said that you gotta make sure that the chicken is flavoured properly otherwise it's just going to taste like cardboard.
Mother: Why yes Christina that is why we flavour our chicken; to give it some flavour and add a bit of extravagance to our meals.
[The Father eyes Christina suspiciously and then diverts his attention to chasing a stranded pea around his plate.]
Christina: I know that Mum, I was only repeating what my mate said.
Mother: Very well Christina. Here is your chicken, darling angel.
[Christina takes her chicken and places her bright red plate upon the black table cloth. She looks to the sky and the sky has darkened somewhat. It looks like an artist is experimenting with different colours and is now mixing a darker blue among with the reds and blues. The cheerful yellow that was once in the sky has now been eradicated. The Mother hands Helen her food and sets the knife on the place mat next to the striped chicken corpse.]
Father: [To Christina] Eat your food Chris, you have English finals tomorrow and you need your strength.
Christina: Yes Daddy. [She starts to eat]
Father: [He spears a piece of chicken] Time is a ticking bomb.
[Everyone stares at him. The mother reaches out and touches his hand gently with her fingertips. He yanks his hand back with such ferocity that it seemed like her touch burnt him physically.]
Mother: What do you mean, honey?
Father: What I mean is that time will be the end of us all eventually and no one cares. There is no one there that can stop time from ticking away. We all have a set number of days, hours, minutes, seconds until our time is up. Then the time bomb detonates and destruction consumes us all. Until one stops breathing, a heart stops beating. Family and friends cry so so much that they can barely even see. They let the smoke, from infernos in their hearts, infect their minds. [He pauses and takes a swig of cider] They lose what will never return to them and they let those fires in their hearts burn away until there is nothing left. No one helps and no one cares, not one single person. There is no sparks, no hope. People lose their hearts over time bombs and at the end of the day ... what are we destined for hm?
[Everyone stares at the Father]
Father: Well?
Christina: [Timidly] What are we destined for, Daddy.
Father: [Bellowing] Dust you stupid girl!
Mother: Now now darling, even if that is what we are destined for, which we do not know, scientifically we do know something.
Father: What?
Mother: That the energy never dies. Our love will never die. Everywhere we go we leave little sentiments. Little particles of energy that will still be here until the sun swallows the Earth in fifty million years time. I have always said that if hate is the poison in this world then love is definitely the cure.
[The Father takes the Mother's hand in his and gently runs his thumb across her knuckles.]
Father: I never need to worry when I have you by my side. I would jump into the fire for you.
Mother: You are not alone darling. We are in this together.
[Christina still is not eating even though everyone else has started once more]
Father; [Sternly] Eat!
Christina: I'm not hungry.
[The Father springs up and strides over to Christina and flings her food across the garden. The red plate smashes and spreads amongst the grass blades]
Father; There! Now you don't have to eat it!
Mother: Honey, please calm down.
[She gets up and crosses the lawn to where the Father stands. She starts drawing patterns on the Father's arms and you could see him visibly calm down]
Mother: There you go, darling, you need to breathe and calm down.
Father: Sorry Christina, I flipped.
Helen: It happens to us all Dad, I wouldn't worry about it.
Christina: I didn't want it anyway. No offence Dad but your food and cooking suck. You don't ever flavour the chicken.
[The Father's face looks contorted, like he is trying to hold something back but is failing epically.]
Father: That is not a nice thing to say at all.
[His head snaps to one side]
Father Two: No it wasn't but what are you going to do about it? Me? I would punish her and punish her good.
[The Father's head snaps back]Father: Punish her ... but how?Father Two: Up to you.
Mother: [Whispers] Oh crap! Crap, crap, crap!
[Helen and Christina exchange worried glances]
Father: Oh I wonder...
Christina: I'm sorry, I was so worried about my English final tomorrow, I didn't wanna eat.
Father: Why are you worried, Chris?
Christina: I lied about my grades. ... I'm really getting E's and at my best D's.
Father: [Yells] ... You ... You ... WHAT??!!!
Father Two: PUNISH HER AND PUNISH HER NOW GO ON! DO IT! SHE DESERVES IT!!!
[The Father climbs across the table and transfers the knife, used to carve the chicken, from the mat to his hand. He hurtles himself at Christina, who lets out a strangled yell for help. Helen and the Mother are frozen to the spot. The Father raises the knife high in the air and with a flash he cuts through the air and buries the deep within Christina. The air is filled with Christina's cries full of: pain, anguish and late apologies. The Father raises the knife and lowers it again and again, until he had created a hole in his daughter's torso. Her blood seeps out of her body. The crimson fluid joins the shattered pieces of her red plate. Her blood creates a beautiful dot pattern amongst the green grass blades. To anyone else green and red swirled together creates a sickening feeling, but not to the Father. The sky had now turned purple and black. The artist is trying to make something of such dark colours]
Christina: [Whispers faintly] If I could turn back time and rewrite those lies then I would.
Father Two: It's too late you little scum bag. I have punished you for what you did. I do not tolerate liars, Chris.
Christina: It's Christina, not Chris, Father.
[The Father kicks his daughter as she takes her last shake-y breath.]
Mother: You ... You're a monster. You've just killed our daughter.
Father: [Claps] Oh well done Hun. Congrats for stating the obvious. You're so good at that.
Helen [Hesitantly] Dad? What's wrong with you?
Father: No! I will not kill the other child. I am so sorry darling. I should have told you earlier. I ... I ... I ...
Mother: Your Father has a split personality Helen, sweetie. A psychopath and his normal self. We had him on medication but it looks like he has not been taking it and because of that foolish behaviour you have lost a sister and I, a daughter and he has lost a daughter ... and a wife.
[The Mother grabs Helen and sprints into the house, The Father looks at the emptying corpse of his daughter and screams. The sky is now a shade of pure black like the artist has stopped swirling colours on his pallet, trying to make things bright and bold. The artist has given up completely and painted the whole canvas black, ignoring the impulse to brighten the painting by sprinkling white and yellow onto the canvas to create stars. There is no brightness in this painting. No hope. Christina's time bomb has detonated and she is in a world of darkness. There is no brightness ... not any more. The soft rock album finishes. Silence and darkness reigns supreme.]
Characters:
Mother
Father
Christina
Helen
Father Two
[It is a warm Sunday afternoon in Fall. The hands on the clock point towards the miniature four. A family of four sit on a garden bench with a black table cloth covering the large table set between the two benches of which the family of four have spread themselves out upon. The makeshift dinning table is set between two patios an the legs of the table have been hammered into the grass so that the table will not move when pressure is applied. There is a slight wind which makes the edges of the table cloth flutter and the little blades of grass collide with one another. The sky is an array of blues, yellows and reds all swirling together like an experiment on an artist's pallet. A soft rock album called No Sound Without Silence by The Script plays in the background. The older male in the family brings out a chicken and hands it to his wife to carve. She starts to carve as the two sister animatedly talk.]
Helen: I manage to secure my A in biology after all. You know how I was ever so worried about it. I needn't have worried one bit. A bit of worrying is good, I say; it shows that you care but there comes a line when you worry too much that you become ill. I know that I stepped over that line. I believe Mother was extremely worried.
Christina: Yeah, well I managed an A* in English, I am mega chuffed with myself on that one.
Helen: Oh? Well done you! Congrats Hun. So whilst one of us is going to become a pathologist the other is going to become an English teacher or journalist. Isn't that what you said to Father that you wanted to do?
[Christina shrugs]
Christina: Uh. Yeah. I did.I guess I could become either really. Watcha want to become a pathologist for anyway? Don't you have to take a degree in biology for that?
Helen: Yes you do and why? Well, I find it interesting.
Christina: Bloody disgusting. Get it? Bloody ....
[Christina laughs at her own joke but stops when she sees the look on her father's face]
Father: [Snaps] Don't you dare start dissing your sister like that!
Christina [Sheepishly] Sorry Dad, sorry Hel.
Father: Your sister's name is Helen not Hel. Do not shorten it, Chris.
[Christina and Helen exchange a knowing glance]
Mother: Come on darling sit down, I have your chicken right here.
[The Mother hands over the Father's plate loaded with chicken]
Father: Thank the Lord, about time.
[The Mother goes back to carving the chicken]
Father: So, well done to both of you on your results.
Helen: Oh! I also got a B+ in History, the highest in the class.
Christina: My friend said that you gotta make sure that the chicken is flavoured properly otherwise it's just going to taste like cardboard.
Mother: Why yes Christina that is why we flavour our chicken; to give it some flavour and add a bit of extravagance to our meals.
[The Father eyes Christina suspiciously and then diverts his attention to chasing a stranded pea around his plate.]
Christina: I know that Mum, I was only repeating what my mate said.
Mother: Very well Christina. Here is your chicken, darling angel.
[Christina takes her chicken and places her bright red plate upon the black table cloth. She looks to the sky and the sky has darkened somewhat. It looks like an artist is experimenting with different colours and is now mixing a darker blue among with the reds and blues. The cheerful yellow that was once in the sky has now been eradicated. The Mother hands Helen her food and sets the knife on the place mat next to the striped chicken corpse.]
Father: [To Christina] Eat your food Chris, you have English finals tomorrow and you need your strength.
Christina: Yes Daddy. [She starts to eat]
Father: [He spears a piece of chicken] Time is a ticking bomb.
[Everyone stares at him. The mother reaches out and touches his hand gently with her fingertips. He yanks his hand back with such ferocity that it seemed like her touch burnt him physically.]
Mother: What do you mean, honey?
Father: What I mean is that time will be the end of us all eventually and no one cares. There is no one there that can stop time from ticking away. We all have a set number of days, hours, minutes, seconds until our time is up. Then the time bomb detonates and destruction consumes us all. Until one stops breathing, a heart stops beating. Family and friends cry so so much that they can barely even see. They let the smoke, from infernos in their hearts, infect their minds. [He pauses and takes a swig of cider] They lose what will never return to them and they let those fires in their hearts burn away until there is nothing left. No one helps and no one cares, not one single person. There is no sparks, no hope. People lose their hearts over time bombs and at the end of the day ... what are we destined for hm?
[Everyone stares at the Father]
Father: Well?
Christina: [Timidly] What are we destined for, Daddy.
Father: [Bellowing] Dust you stupid girl!
Mother: Now now darling, even if that is what we are destined for, which we do not know, scientifically we do know something.
Father: What?
Mother: That the energy never dies. Our love will never die. Everywhere we go we leave little sentiments. Little particles of energy that will still be here until the sun swallows the Earth in fifty million years time. I have always said that if hate is the poison in this world then love is definitely the cure.
[The Father takes the Mother's hand in his and gently runs his thumb across her knuckles.]
Father: I never need to worry when I have you by my side. I would jump into the fire for you.
Mother: You are not alone darling. We are in this together.
[Christina still is not eating even though everyone else has started once more]
Father; [Sternly] Eat!
Christina: I'm not hungry.
[The Father springs up and strides over to Christina and flings her food across the garden. The red plate smashes and spreads amongst the grass blades]
Father; There! Now you don't have to eat it!
Mother: Honey, please calm down.
[She gets up and crosses the lawn to where the Father stands. She starts drawing patterns on the Father's arms and you could see him visibly calm down]
Mother: There you go, darling, you need to breathe and calm down.
Father: Sorry Christina, I flipped.
Helen: It happens to us all Dad, I wouldn't worry about it.
Christina: I didn't want it anyway. No offence Dad but your food and cooking suck. You don't ever flavour the chicken.
[The Father's face looks contorted, like he is trying to hold something back but is failing epically.]
Father: That is not a nice thing to say at all.
[His head snaps to one side]
Father Two: No it wasn't but what are you going to do about it? Me? I would punish her and punish her good.
[The Father's head snaps back]Father: Punish her ... but how?Father Two: Up to you.
Mother: [Whispers] Oh crap! Crap, crap, crap!
[Helen and Christina exchange worried glances]
Father: Oh I wonder...
Christina: I'm sorry, I was so worried about my English final tomorrow, I didn't wanna eat.
Father: Why are you worried, Chris?
Christina: I lied about my grades. ... I'm really getting E's and at my best D's.
Father: [Yells] ... You ... You ... WHAT??!!!
Father Two: PUNISH HER AND PUNISH HER NOW GO ON! DO IT! SHE DESERVES IT!!!
[The Father climbs across the table and transfers the knife, used to carve the chicken, from the mat to his hand. He hurtles himself at Christina, who lets out a strangled yell for help. Helen and the Mother are frozen to the spot. The Father raises the knife high in the air and with a flash he cuts through the air and buries the deep within Christina. The air is filled with Christina's cries full of: pain, anguish and late apologies. The Father raises the knife and lowers it again and again, until he had created a hole in his daughter's torso. Her blood seeps out of her body. The crimson fluid joins the shattered pieces of her red plate. Her blood creates a beautiful dot pattern amongst the green grass blades. To anyone else green and red swirled together creates a sickening feeling, but not to the Father. The sky had now turned purple and black. The artist is trying to make something of such dark colours]
Christina: [Whispers faintly] If I could turn back time and rewrite those lies then I would.
Father Two: It's too late you little scum bag. I have punished you for what you did. I do not tolerate liars, Chris.
Christina: It's Christina, not Chris, Father.
[The Father kicks his daughter as she takes her last shake-y breath.]
Mother: You ... You're a monster. You've just killed our daughter.
Father: [Claps] Oh well done Hun. Congrats for stating the obvious. You're so good at that.
Helen [Hesitantly] Dad? What's wrong with you?
Father: No! I will not kill the other child. I am so sorry darling. I should have told you earlier. I ... I ... I ...
Mother: Your Father has a split personality Helen, sweetie. A psychopath and his normal self. We had him on medication but it looks like he has not been taking it and because of that foolish behaviour you have lost a sister and I, a daughter and he has lost a daughter ... and a wife.
[The Mother grabs Helen and sprints into the house, The Father looks at the emptying corpse of his daughter and screams. The sky is now a shade of pure black like the artist has stopped swirling colours on his pallet, trying to make things bright and bold. The artist has given up completely and painted the whole canvas black, ignoring the impulse to brighten the painting by sprinkling white and yellow onto the canvas to create stars. There is no brightness in this painting. No hope. Christina's time bomb has detonated and she is in a world of darkness. There is no brightness ... not any more. The soft rock album finishes. Silence and darkness reigns supreme.]
Tuesday 14 October 2014
Book Recommendation
I would definitely ready The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak.
It is set in Nazi Germany and a young girl is learning how to read and more importantly - how to survive
It is set in Nazi Germany and a young girl is learning how to read and more importantly - how to survive
Market Atmosphere - Place
A piece of prose written on the theme of Place in class.
The atmosphere at a market during the winter is what you may expect. Frenzy. I walk with my Mother and Father down the narrow gravel path to enter the market. The pirate that is normally there to welcome all the small children has sailed away back to the tropics. The winter cold doesn't like him and the feeling is mutual.
Mother likes to stop at every stall, much to my Father's displeasure, and look at everything being sold. I think she likes to have an inside debate about whether or not to buy something and to determine whether or not Father would allow to bring the item back into the house.
Mother starts at a statue stall and I hang back with Father; many years of watching Doctor Who have taught me to be wary of statues of angels and not to go near them. Mother holds up an angel-like statue up to show us and Father shouts:
'No way!'
Whilst I train my eyes on the statue that Mother is holding. I will not blink. I will not allow her to be taken by this evil angel statue.
After coming away, empty handed, from the statue stall, Mother drags me over to a massive clothes stall. I give my Father an apologetic look as he mutters:
'Now come on!'
Mother insists that she buys me some item of clothing. Now, however much I protest and say:
'I will just have a pair of jeans thank you,'
She insists and tells me to close my eyes and for a split second I am enveloped in darkness with the harsh winter wind biting and chipping away at my face and arms. I shiver. I will surely have a deformed face after this. After that split second of darkness, crude images fill my mind of what my Mother could pick me to buy and worse make me wear. I still remember that pink tutu she bought me in year seven and made me wear it to school on a non-school uniform day. This time, when I shiver, it is not due to the cold. A tap on my shoulder brings me out of my dark reverie and I see Mother holding a bag. So she has already bought it. I look past her at Father and see he is biting an already short nail. Cautiously, I look into the bag ... revolted by what I see I snap the bag shut and push it into Mother's hands. Okay, I like purple ... but purple and LIME? In a swirling pattern? That dress is enough to make me sick and I know it already has a place at the back of my wardrobe.
"Thanks, it's lovely," I lie.
Mother grins and we head off to the next stall.
Next was the toy stall. We don't spend long at this stall but Mother likes to look at the toys and reminisce on how I used to use my toys as a boomerang. I must say Suzy, my 3ft bear never made that good of a boomerang. However one toy catches my eye. A panda. I love pandas and I used to have a panda toy. You heard that right. The keywords in that sentence was 'used to'. I won't go into the details. Lets just say add a panda, one sister who wants the panda, one sister who wants to keep the panda and a tug of panda war and what it equals to is a gory upsetting tale and one decapitated panda. I still have not forgiven her for her crimes. I snatch up the panda and plunge my hand into my coat pocket where I find a £2 coin. I hand it over and cuddle the panda into my chest. I am it's defender against the bitter wind.
Darkness
A poem about ... well see if you can figure it out.
Twisted slithers of silk,
Spreading out towards you.
As high as stilts,
blocking the view.
A pounding of the heart,
as loud as a beat on a snare drum.
It's only the start,
and you don't know where it came from.
You've heard the stories,
Of monsters under the bed.
Lets delve into the inventories
and listen to the terrors inside one's head.
Is someone behind you?
Or is it something?
Lets leave the fear to brew.
Hold on tight and cling.
How to explain the things,
that go bump?
It's hard to detain the fear,
hard to swallow the lump.
What was it that made that thing fall?
Was it a spirit, demon or clown?
How far can you crawl,
before you fall down?
Do you feel brave enough,
to sleep with one foot out?
Feel the ropes, nice and tough,
slither around and pull you about.
Drowning in darkness,
the whole room starts to tremble.
Your body as still as a carcass.
The fear cannot dissemble.
Fingers snapping.
Hands out reaching.
Arms wrapping.
Thought-provoking.
This small bedroom,
is an expansive black woods.
Fear in full bloom.
So who knows what should,
happen in the strange dark night?
You're stuck in a cage.
The cold metal bars sticking tight,
not caring about your young age.
Within these corridors,
lurk atrocious creatures.
There are no borders.
Now you're among the demons' features.
Shivering from the merciless cold.
It's a dim and dark world.
Children's screams are sold,
all becoming swirled.
A cold penetrating stare,
coming from a doll.
It's sat over there,
sucking your soul.
So close your eyes.
Someday you're going to die.
Death lies.
Death never asks why.
He glides over to you
and buries you in the darkness.
He steals you from everyone you knew.
Your little light fades into blackness.
Now open your eyes once more.
Hear the floorboard creak,
outside the door?
Death is out there, playing hide and seek.
Sweet dreams,
please don't scream.
Twisted slithers of silk,
Spreading out towards you.
As high as stilts,
blocking the view.
A pounding of the heart,
as loud as a beat on a snare drum.
It's only the start,
and you don't know where it came from.
You've heard the stories,
Of monsters under the bed.
Lets delve into the inventories
and listen to the terrors inside one's head.
Is someone behind you?
Or is it something?
Lets leave the fear to brew.
Hold on tight and cling.
How to explain the things,
that go bump?
It's hard to detain the fear,
hard to swallow the lump.
What was it that made that thing fall?
Was it a spirit, demon or clown?
How far can you crawl,
before you fall down?
Do you feel brave enough,
to sleep with one foot out?
Feel the ropes, nice and tough,
slither around and pull you about.
Drowning in darkness,
the whole room starts to tremble.
Your body as still as a carcass.
The fear cannot dissemble.
Fingers snapping.
Hands out reaching.
Arms wrapping.
Thought-provoking.
This small bedroom,
is an expansive black woods.
Fear in full bloom.
So who knows what should,
happen in the strange dark night?
You're stuck in a cage.
The cold metal bars sticking tight,
not caring about your young age.
Within these corridors,
lurk atrocious creatures.
There are no borders.
Now you're among the demons' features.
Shivering from the merciless cold.
It's a dim and dark world.
Children's screams are sold,
all becoming swirled.
A cold penetrating stare,
coming from a doll.
It's sat over there,
sucking your soul.
So close your eyes.
Someday you're going to die.
Death lies.
Death never asks why.
He glides over to you
and buries you in the darkness.
He steals you from everyone you knew.
Your little light fades into blackness.
Now open your eyes once more.
Hear the floorboard creak,
outside the door?
Death is out there, playing hide and seek.
Sweet dreams,
please don't scream.
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