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.
Saturday, 18 October 2014
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.
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