Wanted (unfinished)

A play:

 

Wanted:

 

A nice outlandish wrist watch

—scene one—

Noo Yolk, Upstate Pembrokeshire

Midsummer’s Day

2000 Hours (8pm, not two thousand hours…)

In a field of sound, and grass, Smáhestur is sat with Nobbily Clive, a man with a notably unusual beard. The sun was low in the sky, a few clouds were in the sky but the weather was fine.

Nobbily Clive:

Some time ago a man named Hákon Sigurðsson was spotted with paint across his upper body dancing foolishly on the north eastern plains. Smáhestur, I want you to find him and extract as much wisdom as possible from him and write it down.

Smáhestur stretches out her arms and adjusts her posture.

Smáhestur:

Was this also the man whose lopi sweater was found used as a flag far over beyond the frosty hills of Dilmah’s archipelago across the causeway of many dooms to the hill overlooking the entrance to the depolarisation chasm?

Nobbily Clive:

Perhaps it was. Perhaps indeed… He certainly wasn’t sweating when we found him, it was a cold day and he probably could have done with a suitable over garment. A lopi sweater would suited him down to the ground, with its water resistant and yet warm fleece-like fibres. There is a chance the sweater in question was his.

Smáhestur:

The depolarisation chasm has never knowingly been entered. Do you think Hákon could have somehow entered the chasm and returned to dance on the north eastern plains?

Nobbily Clive:

That certainly is a possibility.

Smáhestur:

Then I will set off towards the north eastern plains immediately.

Nobbily Clive:

You must not. Please, please, make haste to beyond the frosty hills of Dilmah’s archipelago across the causeway of many dooms to the hill overlooking the entrance to the depolarisation chasm to retrieve the lopi sweater. We can then examine it to see if it truly belonged to Hákon… Besides that, it will keep you warm.

Smáhestur:

It’s a 5 day journey by boat to the archipelago. When will I see you again?

Nobbily Clive ponders this for some time.

Nobbily Clive:

You will see me when you next fall asleep.

Smáhestur:

Huh?

Nobbily Clive:

I’m just kidding you, this isn’t a dream… yet.

Smáhestur:

OK…

Nobbily Clive:

Sorry.

Smáhestur:

Nevermind… I will find a fisherman at the port and persuade him to sail me to the archipelago.

Nobbily Clive:

If you hurry you might find Safish in the tavern there. He has a lot of knowledge of the seas around the archipelago. He also knows some of the fishermen around there. Here, take this bottle of ‘Brennivín’ and this bag of coins. Take care Smáhestur.

Smáhestur:

Thank you.

Smáhestur packs up her belongings and provisions for the first part of the journey and makes her way down towards the tavern at the port.

—End of scene one—

—scene two—

The Mushroom Tavern, Quayside

The tavern is a little more than empty, the grey walls with their grey decoration of grey pictures of the grey sea do little to brighten the scene. The Landlord is stood in silence with a local fisherman, Safish. Until…

Landlord:

Ahahahaha!

Safish:

What’s wrong? Is it me, or you?

Landlord:

No, it’s nothing. You wouldn’t find it funny anyway…

Safish:

Why not? Go on, tell me!

Landlord:

Ok, well, the wife was writing a letter to the brewery and signed it; ‘Lardlord and Landlady’!

Safish:

That’s not very nice, did she mean it? I mean, you’re not fat.

Lardlord:

Well she said it was a typing error. I thought to myself; ‘perhaps she wants rid of me’ or ‘she’s having an affair’ but then I thought; ‘why should I be so paranoid?’ she’s the wife for crying out loud.

Safish:

Yeah, just take it one day at a time. Before my Ólöf died; we used to sail around the sea just the two of us, there was no reason to get paranoid about her running off but I did. I think sometimes the best option is to laugh or just smile.

The Lardlord smiles.

Lardlord:

I suppose that’s what it’s all about.

Safish:

Yeah, well, the secret to always having a smile close to hand is…

Safish is distracted by the noise of shouting people approaching the door, he looks toward the window (which happens to be grey) which is clattering in the wind.

hold up you’ve got customers!

Lardlord:

Customers… yes – you’re right, customers truly are the secret to smiling!

Safish:

The winds are getting up – in more ways than one you might not want to know. I must check on my boat. Please excuse my absence.

Safish leaves the Tavern.

Identical twins Sindri and Gylfi burst through the door with loud voices and big smiles.

Sindri:

Mine’s a pint of your best please Landlord.

Gylfi:

Mines… Mine’s a deep shaft partially surrounded by a vessel suitable to drink beverages from which includes your very best alcoholic drink filled to the brim please.

Sindri:

What? Oh, haha! You’re on form tonight, I’ll give you that.

Landlord:

Here you go gentlemen. Cold out there is it?

Gylfi and Sindri reply at the same time:

Yes.

Gylfi:

The wind travels fast and the temper bites.

Landlord:

Well, I heard there was a fire breathing dragon seen from afar o’er the snow capped mountain they call the star reaching peak in the lands between here and the southern coast. The local militia are giving it a free reign and hoping it moves on.

Sindri:

Crikey! I was planning a sail around the archipelago there off the south coast. Maybe it’ll be gone before I set off in two weeks time. Gylfi, your beard is in my drink.

Gylfi:

Is it? Oh aye, it should be gone by then if they leave it alone. A lingering dragon spells danger for your trip my friend. As you know I saw a dragon kill ‘six and one or half a dozen and the other’ people whilst on my travels in the far north east. It had settled a by a small village killing livestock for food. The farmers were so angry they placed snares and an elaborate trap. The dragon didn’t fall foul; it simply killed the farmers and burnt the village. It stayed in the area to remind those onlookers of its power for many years.

Sindri:

If only it’d burned off your beard, Gylfi. It is a right bedraggled mess.

Gylfi:

Haha! My beard is made from iron mined by the short people of the west! It shall be a fixture on my face for as long as I live.

Landlord:

A likely story, it’s just grey that’s all. More drinks?

Gylfi and Sindri reply together:

Yes.

Making hardly a noise Smáhestur carefully yet assertively steps into the Tavern.

Smáhestur:

I am looking for a man named Safish. Is he here?

Landlord:

He has left not long ago to check on his boat.

Smáhestur:

Which boat is it? I require a favour from him.

Landlord:

It is called Alltígóðulagi, take care out there.

Sindri:

Take care.

Smáhestur:

Thank you.

—end of scene two—

—start of scene three—

A very misted over, foggy location. Gravity isn’t what it seems and the place is recognisable yet strangely different.

Sveinbjörn:

Hahahahaha. Aahahahahahahaha. Mwahahahahaha. Pass the laughing gas, you ugly hulk of a creature. I feel unhappy and it’s your fault.

Önnungur:

Uh, I shall honour your wish. Though there is not one season goes by where-in I am not angry that you summoned me here.

Önnungur gives Sveinbjörn a dirty look but eventually passes him the laughing gas.

Sveinbjörn:

I’ll summon a troll from your rotting corpse one of these days if you don’t shut up.

Önnungur:

Uh.

Sveinbjörn:

Did you hear that?

Önnungur:

Uh, I hear so many things I don’t know which sound you are talking about.

Sveinbjörn:

Shush, listen, someone’s walking towards us.

Mysterious Cloaked Figure:

I have travelled far to find you. O great Svein. I am called Nobbily Clive and soon I will be in possession of a knitted relic of wondrous origin and tremendous power.

Sveinbjörn:

How does this involve me? May I ask… Am I of the understanding that you want me to wield such a relic?

Nobbily Clive:

Indeed. Your foresight impresses me. The knitted relic is currently being used as a flag near the entrance to the depolarisation chasm. I have sent someone to find it for us. You will be able to find her wearing it outside the chasm.

Sveinbjörn:

Wearing it, as in wielding it?

Nobbily Clive:

Well, it’ll keep her as warm as you would be if you were wielding such a powerfully warming relic. She won’t be able to resist it’s temptation.

Sveinbjörn:

You are a bit strange, aren’t you Clive?

Nobbily Clive:

Yes.

Önnungur:

Uh, He does have a point though. It does get cold around here, and you could do with a new ‘look’.

Sveinbjörn:

Did I order you to speak, minion?

Önnungur:

Uh, No.

Nobbily Clive:

Your giant friend is right… Your style is awful.

Sveinbjörn:

I need my anaesthetic. First however I shall kill you for insulting me. You insolent waste of space!

—end of scene three—

—start of scene four—

Smáhestur wakes up suddenly with a sharp intake of breath. She seems to be in a cabin of small sea vessel. It is night, yet the room is well lit with candles. On the floor there is a sword, a dish of smelling salts and a plateful of nuts. After picking up the smelling salts and eating the nuts she exits the cabin to find Safish standing there.

Smáhestur:

Hello, do you know how I got here?

Safish:

Yes. You were unconscious on the Quayside, it was windy and cold, so I carried you aboard my boat.

Smáhestur:

I had a bag, where is it?

Safish points to a bag by his feet.

Oh, well, thank you. What is your name?

Safish:

My name is Safish.

Smáhestur:

Aha! I was seeking you. I believe we have a mutual friend; Nobbily Clive.

Safish:

A man I am greatly indebted to.

Smáhestur:

Why is that?

Safish:

He saved my life.

Smáhestur:

Well, I saved his life once. It seems like boasting now, yet at the time, it felt like nothing.

Safish:

Okay, well, what were you seeking me for?

Smáhestur:

I need to go to the hill overlooking the depolarisation chasm. Do you know where that is?

Safish:

I know the vague direction of it.

Smáhestur:

Good, although I don’t know how fast your vessel is, I would estimate that it will take 2 weeks.

Safish:

If the wind is with us, your guess could be spot on!

Smáhestur:

Sweet. Let’s go!

Safish:

Okay! Do you know how to sail?

Smáhestur:

Yes.

Safish:

Good. Can you help me sort out the sails?

Smáhestur has a distant look in eyes, noticing a flock of pigeons is on the horizon but she can’t quite make them out.

Smáhestur:

No, I want to get more rest.

Safish:

That is understandable. Here is your bag.

Safish passes Smáhestur her bag.

Smáhestur:

Thanks.

Smáhestur walks back to the cabin but before she enters she notices a robin hopping along the top of the mast’s boom. She smiles at it, expecting to fly off. Instead it speaks one word. ‘Doom’. Unmoved Smáhestur goes inside the cabin and lies on a hammock.

—end of scene four—

—start of scene five—

In the place that is recognisable yet strangely different. Sveinbjörn is wiping what looks like blood off his staff.

Sveinbjörn:

Well that was quite gruesome.

Önnungur:

Indeed. I am sorry though.

Sveinbjörn:

Sorry? That’s not even the start of it!

Önnungur:

I only got a bit of it on your staff, the rest went on the food.

Sveinbjörn:

Aaarrrgh.

Önnungur:

You made me jump though, that’s why I got tomato sauce on your staff.

Sveinbjörn:

I sneezed because that oaf Clive threw pepper at my nose and then he got away! Why didn’t you stop him?

Önnungur:

You didn’t tell me to.

Sveinbjörn:

I’ll have you doing my laundry for the next three years now.

Önnungur:

Oh no you won’t.

Sveinbjörn:

What!?

Önnungur:

I said, oh no you won’t.

Sveinbjörn:

How dare you disobey me! How can you disobey me? I summoned you here from the dark realm to be my loyal servant. You are bound by the power of magic!

Önnungur:

Maybe so, but you don’t know who I am yet, do you?

Sveinbjörn:

Okay, who are you?

Önnungur:

I am not your servant. I am not Önnungur the allegiant! My name is Hákon Sigurðsson!

Sveinbjörn reaches for his staff and shouts an enchantment, there is a flash of light but it has no effect on Hákon.

Hákon:

You’ll find that your power is no longer with you. Your knowledge is leaving you and your magic is no longer effective.

Hákon turns his back to Sveinbjörn and walks towards a startling white light that has appeared.

—end of scene five—

—start of scene six—

Smáhestur wakes up with the sun in her eyes. She leaves the cabin and find Safish who seem shocked.

Safish:

You’re awake!

Smáhestur:

And what of it? Did I lie in?

Safish:

Just a bit! You’ve been asleep for a week!

Smáhestur:

Blimey. I’ve never done that before.

Safish:

I was worried!

Smáhestur:

I am worried! A week you say?

Safish:

Yes.

Smáhestur:

I feel fine.

Safish:

Good.

Smáhestur:

What’s that?

Safish looks around to see what Smáhestur means. Flying towards them is a huge dragon.

Safish:

It’s a dragon!

Smáhestur:

Stay calm, we must stay inside the cabin and it might ignore us.

Safish:

Good idea.

As Safish and Smáhestur enter the cabin, the dragon soon flies overhead grabbing the mast in its massive claws. With three almighty flaps of its wings the dragon removes the mast clean from the boat splitting the boat in two.

Smáhestur:

Quick! Set up the life-raft!

Safish:

Okay! Jump on!

Safish and Smáhestur get on the life-raft and watch the boat sink. With just a bag and a bottle of  ‘Brennivín’ as supplies. The dragon flies away.They paddle the raft towards the shore.

—end of scene six—

—start of scene seven—

 

Erglethon

My name is Erglethon the third, I live in a small spacecraft off the coast of Habletonia. This is not a flying spacecraft. It is stationed in the sea. I live with octopus’ and small creatures such as fish. They swim between my toes and are never sick on me. Unless you count Trellip who got fin rot. There are several positive things happening around you at all times. The fish they swim to the beat of slow electronic music that is helping them relax. Fish need relaxation, from feeding and swimming about. Those things can really tire them out. The spaceship is a mass of metal and plastics. It’s pollution powers the imagination of the fish. The fish swim in all sorts of patterns for my amusement. They are different colours.

One day I was looking at one fish in particular. His name was Trellip. He has fin rot, but he copes. He swims around a bit and sometimes looks at the giant orange sea cloud called Jeff. Jeff was often mistaken for a hat but didn’t mind. In fact, he took it to be a complement! He liked hats, he did. There was a sea volcano nearby called the mighty Petekoa mountain. It kept Trellip company when things weren’t going his way. Which in all truth be known wasn’t very often. Trellip was an awfully happy fish.

The lucky 13

The Lucky 13

Handling a garden fork with uneven tines is like speaking with your mouth closed. Four candles burn bright behind your eyes, giving you a golden glow of uncertain silence. The work gets done on a cold, cold night. Glistening is: A large undercoated silver wall; ready for the shining paint. Painting the wall screaming ‘Please garment and I quit’ is one way for the glowing fork walls to reach their destination. As this jazz piano tune rings in my ear, everything stops. Silliness in stillness in silence.

Synthia had started a band, she wanted to play organised music, you know… with an organ. Soon the notes started to flow; through the letter box. ‘Turn that noise down’ they said. Well, Synthia didn’t like this at all. She arranged the musicians into two groups, shouting to one: Start! Stop! Start! Slow down! Stop! Once they started playing she shouted to the other: Start! Stop! Start! Stop! Somehow eventually the music fell into place, in perfect synchrony with each other.

I’ll take the next train, I don’t wanna be your friend anymore, I’ll see you eat foie gras and nothing else – those damn ducks and clucks, they know what’s been going down… I’ll show you the road, mad hat, crab rat. I’ve never seen you looking as luscious as you do with that little… Oh well it was worth it. Banned hands get sharper by hour, no colours and his primary friend, a grey overhung juice, with its small small crashed up nerve. I’ll see you never again, never again without a hearse, the strange tailed faucet crowed.

I have had a cat’s eye face graft operation. The projectile plasmoids which were my eyes look like glass teardrops in the grey metal dish. My new opticals sit in their sockets like the soft silky voice of every tomorrow’s wishful acquisitions. Two who are constant in their stillness capture my lust. In dusts speckled light shines a deep influx of noise. Broken up by, the two; short and tall, extrovert and introvert. The songs of time spoken through a coloured filter. Knowing only what has been before, the future still surprises them.

She sees herself as a fly in an icecube brushed aside by the peripheral society where it sat. A long tube blown away by her mainstream sense of nowhere sang a song that lightened the nights gaze. Her eyes in the merged pillars of what turned out to be a weathered hazel tree. Offering nuts to the bolts that wrapped the front of a sound which turned to rust. Like her hair glistening in the snows pale reflection of lust. A handful of bee’s acid like stings the night to perfection. In smoke water the burden of a few minutes of earth’s grasping vines drips into dust as she utters a moment of silence.

They feed off each other’s misery like monkeys grooming. Their emotions burnt out, their tunnel vision memories never fading away. A grasp of what death could mean. Is mean, as the time ticks away the night’s dawn closes in. Through one way glass they see a reflection of themselves in each other. A couple embrace between double glazed windows. This bright image repeats itself on a screen shown to millions. The gaze of those sat watching wander into the eyes of their caring friends. All this as a man lops off both his arms. Taken for granted without knowledge of how this will affect them now and later.

Being average is difficult because of the ability to aspire to things always out of reach. The easy options that evade the average are mean. If only the average could change their mode of thinking then the aforementioned would be less mean. The average is a mainstream view of: Capitalism isn’t working. More isms are poured into the void left, right, and centre. The void is accessible via senses, every tomorrow. Imagining uncertainties is good because pondering the only certainty in life will get you nowhere but there: The void.

I am a 1 + 1 = 9 type of guy; I see things where they are none. Single figures so very finite, invented expanse with multiple guides. Teaching ways of delusion, the ants sit in their farm. Like somehow barracks for unused numbers want to line upside down and back again. Nature’s a spinning wheel so use the movement to your advantage, the sly digits clicked. Painted letters into words, and rearrange on the canvas; telling the world what they don’t know, that they have known for eternity: the past and previous Zen dance.

Tiny fruit flies aim for my eyes. While a long ponderous moment is taking place, I feel deaths own warm hand on my shoulder. At least I think it is death, maybe it’s you, it is you, and you’ve come to kill me. So I smile at you and you walk away. You walk back to your lonely trail in life, music and love. While I wonder on, fixated with death, in a crowd of one person where the clocks don’t tick. I cannot stand the sound of a ticking clock. The clock ticks on and I realise I am also alone in life, music and love. Happiness in loneliness, this is the time where our paths have crossed, never to meet again. The same direction we walk together, apart we stride towards our goals.

The ignorant are insulting perhaps one of my dearest friends behind her back. While I collapse into myself, I shed a tear for the whole of the world, in sadness, stillness and for the water effect lollipop sticks in the slalom race. The water runs back and forth, up and down for a long time. Maybe an hour or so later, a red telephone box appears by the side of a winding road with a red Royal Mail van driving along it. I then go an epic adventure and rest at a friend’s house and eat ring shaped potato snacks. So salty!

She said I should put my hair in a cake. I think something was lost in translation as a small bird blew a hole in the window too. ‘I think she had the flu.’ Said the Veterinary. Who flew out of the room to take an emergency call. Some people were walking in circles with a purpose in the next room. The slow dancer’s danced and terrific cries were heard from the surrounding area. ‘Give me eyes and ears, feelings to feel.’ Said the sphere, inside a sphere that could speak. A donut shaped life will not see it, when it happens. For its eyes are on the outside. Only the dudes looking inside will see the mirror that shows them the real outside. Like wood with potential to be carved the people read into obsession and ill health.

An ostrich seed dropped from the plant bearing life for the creatures that lived below. We stood there basically asleep to all the sensory delights of the world. He gave a clip ‘round the ear, to the fishes that swim ignorantly. It tried to be the religion that gave itself up when the truth came along and contradicted its own teachings. A pointless pencil drew the universe while three sheep jumped the gate. A crowd of people and animals gathered around and peered down upon the scriptures

Blown noses and slide mucus. I crashed the plane when I sneezed, said the man in green shoes. So much sadness, a whole history erased with a lingering blink of an eye. A spectrum of colour turned to greyscale with a gherkin placed carefully onto a large generic electronic item. It is the worst possible start to the second half of the second where my life changed. ‘Four cats are with me’ or ‘mae pedair cath gyda fi’: you decide. A panda bear, never swears he never cares when he doesn’t share.

Please Stop Ticking Clock

Please Stop Ticking Clock

I began, at last, to see what I could do. With a silent, meaningless, incomprehensible, unreachable god; with no text to pass on or preach, the impossible is at my fingertips. Imagination bubbled up inside of me, like a spring out of the ground. Or, an ever uncoiling helix uncompressing new ideas constantly. Yet, my fingers felt numb; dead, almost.

Realisation of a resting god?

Tick!

I will sleep you off your feet. My words are streaming down your face, dripping onto your toes. You look down and they are clear. I.e. they have no colour. They are totally transparent. You don’t mind though, because it’s not really you.

Day-dreaming of a sexy ghost, who is a long way away?

Tick!

‘A man crying is not to be sniffed at.’ Said the ambiguously gendered voice. ‘Unless you are crying too; or have a common cold; then you can sniff. The rules never can be concise’ continued the argument. ‘Only my infinite length rulebook opens the door to a world of true justice.’

Be confused by some bullshit on an advertisement?

Tick!

Lonely weather, your friends are out of reach across space. There is only one of you. Yet you are so varied and changeable like a wheel travelling over a landscape. Sometimes anger compels me to think I am alone, but compared with you I am not. I am not as angry either. Although, I can feel your rage on hot days.

One sided conversation with a force of nature?

Tick!

We choose children to play games with the lives of the population. Then they try to be so precise with the truth; giving one solution to questions where the answer lies with a wide spectrum. No longer are their leaflets full of joyful ideas, they just poke holes in their enemies. Finding fault where they can.

Doom mongering the political present and future.

Tick!

A single look at the golden girl. A drawing seen of walls; all twirled. I touch your face and I cry; then starve. There’s no doubt that you want to be free. Look at me; I don’t look free to you? I sure hope not. I’m locked inside a box of books. Not reading a single one. See your face and I cry: ‘Stop to look.’

Type to the beat of the music to see what comes out?

Tick!

He knew that he could survive through understanding of a non-religious personal god. The states of universal consciousness which rock quantum suicide. My finger exists here and now on my keyboard but doesn’t exist here and now on my keyboard in other ways such as the future of your final destination. So when my life interpretation machine called my brain dies will I live on in other states of reality?

Wishing I was clever enough to work out or understand some interesting things?

Tick!

The gaps between the very smallest things are perhaps filled by copies of themselves from different histories. Unable to be detected with our three dimensional instruments because they are incompatible. Seemingly invisible these gaps are too dark. Sometimes in my field of view a tiny spot appears so bright yet so small. It’s probably a problem with my retina or brain; still, it provides me with the inspiration to wonder.

Thinking about holes and gaps – not mentioning the worms!?

Tick!

Why do I do things I do? For you? Is it only you? All of you? Or just you. Mr U knows that his name can be confusing. ‘Me?’ People say. ‘No, U’ he says. ‘How do you spell your name?’ They reply. ‘U’ he says. ‘No, you don’t understand, look, just write it down.’ It could of been Yew, Yu, Yiw, or Ewe but no, it was U. Must be crazy having a name like Horseshoe thought Mr U. Get it?

Noticing shapes in letters?

Tick!

O to be tubby is to be fat. I’m 15 and half stone and losing weight fast. I aspire to continue the trend. For once, there is a light, a far away light. Is this the white light of death? Or is it the green light of hope? I’m colour blind, but surely I’ll find out soon enough. Another year before I go back to a place I have been but not like this, not like how I felt before. Back then it felt as though I wasn’t there not even really knowing what to wear. In the future my mindset will have changed, I’ll think do I care? Well, I do, somewhere.

Token ‘personals’ ad?

Tick!

As the blood drips from my nose, she can see me bleeding and unusually she can feel it. I move her hand from under my nose, placing it to my palm. I notice her look over my shoulder, I don’t turn to look because she doesn’t look concerned. It is man who slowly enters into the room in a sharp suit. Not that I know this yet but I did earlier when I cut my nose on his suit.

Is it enough to dream what others can see?

Tick!

I’ll write sixteen love songs for you. It’s just that I’d never let you know. Some days I look around, head held high, wondering why? Oh, why? I never told you. Then I realised, ‘I have pride in my depression damn it! It’s my big squeezy hug teddy bear. Except it doesn’t have the warm fuzzy feeling.’ Blame me if I draw you in then disappoint to change the way you want. I’m as stubborn as a mule and end up just using you.

Things that disappoint me about myself?

Tick!

Thinking fast into the future. I don’t know what counts as the present anymore, it seems like nothing much happens there, so I just sit and think about the future, and sometimes the past. When I think about the future it is now through rose-tinted glasses. While the past is a regret. This is the present. This, is the present.

Georgia

Georgia was on the train. She had been sitting thinking about a conversation she’d had years ago, with a young man named Sajid. Rather than reliving the conversation she actually had, she was thinking about what she should’ve said.

The train stopped at a small village. A street with a few shops and the lush gardens of what was a vicarage were in view. There were some young children, each with a handful of worms, placing them in a small pile on the ground.

A house in the village with candles in the window and ivy growing over it then exploded. This made Georgia remember she had been dancing a long forgotten dance, in a green dress she had bought from the charity shop.

In the train there was a cold chill, blowing slightly through the window. Georgia was thinking about a couple that were getting married, in a large spherical building. They each said their vows quietly and picked up frogs off the floor.

Her thoughts suddenly came alive, Sajid was there in front of her holding a long golden ribbon. ‘I’ve got this for your hair,’ he said. She quickly wondered if they would get married, then soon dismissed that thought.

Getting restless with her mind, she asked a man sitting opposite if he had the time. He looked at his watch, and said ‘no.’ So she looked out the window. Several rabbits were eating lettuce in a field. Then as the train moved along, a few women with axes were felling a tree.

‘Trees have been falling all along this line recently,’ murmured the man sitting opposite. ‘The trees perceive gold dust caverns, *cough* *cough* where no one can breathe. Only through windows of silver frames do the rabbits eat lettuce!’

Moving to another seat Georgia knocked over a cup of coffee, it melted the table it was on. She got to another seat and pondered ponds. Ponds as deep as the oceans, teeming with life. A fish jumped from the pond and landed on her table.

‘Hello,’ said the child opposite. ‘I noticed you have a fish on your table, is it yours?’ he asked. His voice was raspy, also sounding like he had just seen a ghost. He was shaking vigorously like he was frightened.

‘No, it somehow jumped out of my thoughts.’ replied Georgia thinking that she rather should have said “yes”. Georgia now had a headache and did not want to hear the quivering child speak again.

‘What’s that mean… how?’ queried the child. The child was old, he had seen many winters and lived a long time. How he managed to be a child, only a man who lived in a far away, in a hut, beneath the mountains knew.

In a pleasant voice the fish spoke. ‘The seas are rising. So I rose with them, converting my gills into lungs along the way. I am Georgia’s, yes, however far I can flop about.’ The fish then played a tune on the trumpet sitting next the child.

Rice red obstacle is an object of mighty intrigue. It has legendary status among all peoples and animals. It belonged to a wealthy landowner called Hafunda. It was growing, never ceasing, always surprising. ‘What ever next?’ he mumbled.

A flip-flop tree house flew across a far yonder lake creating habitats for lost animals when it landed in the middle. ‘Oh. That’s what was next!’ screamed Hafunda while he had his leg amputated.

Hafunda sat in his cottage with his rice red obstacle, as there was a knock at the door. He answered it. ‘Erm… hello,’ sounded Georgia all hush-hush. ‘I’ve just been on the train, can I see it… can I see rice red obstacle?’

‘Of course,’ hummed Hafunda. ‘Please enter my humble abode.’ Georgia walked in *clomp* *clomp*. She looked around her, and to her surprise she was in a field of mint. The letters, O, f, c, o, u, r, s, and e, floated out of Hafunda’s mouth.

The letter’s fell to the ground and made a path towards the rice red obstacle. Hafunda knelt down and started eating the cake-like path, garnishing it with mint he offered some to Georgia. She frowned… then she smiled… then she refused.

Sajid appeared in front of them. He was covered in soil from the planet below him. He stared at her for 12 minutes 34 seconds, she stared back, and tilted her head to show the ribbon he had got her.

‘I’ve got a sickening carpet at home, would you like to see it?’ finally uttered Sajid. ‘The wallpaper isn’t very nice either.’ His faced suddenly morphed into lion’s head. It roared out loud and afterwards softly spoke. ‘Why am I in a field of mint?’

Whooshing by, a small white ball was flying through the air, Hafunda caught it, and it was in two halves so he separated it. Inside were three tiny people, two of which were picking up even tinier frogs. ‘That’s my thought,’ thought Georgia.

It was in this field they encountered The Saurus, the word-helping dinosaur. ‘Hello Sajid-lion, how are you keeping, conserving, preserving, redeeming, sustaining?’ The Sarus looked at Sajid-lion and raised one eyebrow.

‘Quite happy eating this leg,’ said Sajid-lion eating Hafunda’s amputated leg. ‘Though, there is cake for all. Maybe that’s what I should be eating.’ Sajid, suddenly scared by what he was doing, flew off on a smelly vehicle made of mint.

Georgia ran through the field, faster and faster towards the rice red obstacle. However far she ran she could not catch up with it. Not that it was moving at all. It was merely unreachable. Georgia slowed down and stopped.

She turned back to Hafunda and The Saurus and asked to leave the field. She turned around and walked back out through the door, and into the road outside. There was Sajid who accompanied her down the spiral road that leads to nowhere.

A long time ago, Ejersy and Szerig journeyed along the Elkside. The Elkside was an organ of an ancient creature that most people who knew of it, feared. This creature was there in the beginning, no, long before that.

Then there was a nuclear explosion. It blew away houses, trees, mountains and the elderly. All the people that existed were no more. A few worms survived but they were soon to die of worm cancer. Before that however, they would create wormholes!

It was three years since the disaster, the Elkside looked different now. ‘Bingo!’ Said Georgia. She looked around. It was a barren landscape with nothing in sight apart from Sajid. The air smelt like cats.

‘Where are we?’ Questioned Sajid. Unluckily for him and Georgia, the isotope the bomb used had a half-life of 4.2 billion years. If they didn’t get out of here quick they would start mutating and die.

Fortunately Georgia had undergone an accident at a particle accelerator and had several heavy ions sent into her body at near the speed of light and thus had learnt to control quarks and gluons with her mind to create a stable Unupentium force field.

Together they walked on soon to encounter an evil being that had mutated from a common earthworm. Georgia threw a piece of rubble at the worm. It hit the worm causing it to fall backwards through a wormhole it created.

The skies darkened and an eerie chill surrounded them. ‘I am so scared. I feel as frail as a leaf quivering away on a tree. I never thought a snowflake like me would have been able to go on such an adventure.’ Mumbled Georgia.

Hand in hand they wandered about, not a noise in sight however then there was a loud crack, which transported them to Abergwaun, Cymru. ‘Rwyn gallu clywed cryndod yn dy lais. Gosh! I didn’t know I spoke Cymraeg.’ Said Sajid.

An elongated circular shadow passed over. Suddenly there was a break in the clouds the shadow turned into the shape of a large bear, possibly a panda. This was left unnoticed as Georgia and Sajid went to Y Pantri for some gingerbread men.

They stayed the night at Hamilton backpackers. This was an enchanting cottage in a dark street in the town. Hafunda, crutches and all, was waiting for them here. ‘Come, fly away on my giant ladybirds.’ Muttered he.

The ladybirds took Georgia, Sajid and Hafunda to Cantref-y-Gwaelod a land of sixteen cities. All the cities were deserted now the land had been reclaimed and raised up from the sea.

‘Why have you taken us here?’ Asked Sajid. As two great waves crashed onto the beach, washing up food and drinking water. A dragon flew down from the upper reaches of the sky and danced an ancient dance.

After the entertainment from the dragon, and the food and drink from the waves, they walked up to the city above. Buildings of many shapes were there. It was as though they entered a silvery twilight that knew no greatness or downfall.

A great towering inferno increased in space and time started getting faster, slowing down and getting faster again. The dragon, which was a dragon of the sea, put out the fire. Slowly bubbles started to fall from the sky in different colours.

Increasingly other factors joined the equation, obviously erroneous events such as a harvest mouse jokingly referred to in this case by Hafunda as “pen carth bochdew” built a house of bricks. Bricks from where? Who can say.

‘Hello.’ Said Who. Who was a ghostly face that kept his domain in the sky. ‘Twas I, Who, that made the bricks for the harvest mouse.’ Who then disappeared from the sky.

The next day, gravity decided to have a day off. They floated around like peas in an empty pan with no gravity. Hafunda shouted to Sajid. ‘Why not!’ Sajid thought he and the place he loved might fall into a black hole and be lost forever.

Georgia gave Sajid a reassuring hug, then set about breakdancing on the floor. The ground gave way from under her. It had turned to quicksand. Georgia escaped easily enough. Sajid broke into song. ‘We’re living in a world of quicksand…’

They woke early, the rising sun waved a friendly hello. The clouds were all different bright colours and interesting shapes. There, in the sky was a cleaner falling at a rapid pace. Breathless, the three people fled from the vacuum.

‘By Jove it’s a wall!’ Cried Hafunda in a childish voice. Indeed there was a wall there. It was an old crumbly wall. Then and there it fell down. It revealed a tiny forest of bonsai trees.

Sajid, Georgia and Hafunda journeyed through the forest, which was inhabited by friendly creatures, which guarded the fish of the surrounding oceans. The day was hot, rainbow sweat poured down the traveller’s faces.

By now it was night, the fireflies glowed in the distance. There was a mosaic of a fish on the floor, lit only by moonlight, which was quite bright in these parts. Cosmic rays blew a gap in the mosaic and created a burning ring of fire.

Out of the fire rose some techno music, expressed as something you could see. The bass was pulsating away distorting the trees around it, the moog was a cool blue haze that seemed to be dancing with the fire.

Then out of blue came a mighty monster. It was the kind that smoked a pipe and played a hurdy gurdy. The three danced to the techno folk hybrid until Sajid broke his ankle. The pain was so great that he felt perfectly at one with the universe.

Sajid looked down at his ankle, he noticed it was not broken but ants had bit him several times. The bites spelled out a message. It read “Hello there, Universe.” He ignored this because he had a more important matter at hand. Ghost fish transistor.

In his hand was ghost fish transistor, a device that could open a tunnel from Cantref-y-Gwaelod back to Wales. Before he could use the device a yellow fellow appeared. Sajid then got a cold shiver down his spine like he had never felt before.

Georgia looked deeply into the yellow fellow’s eyes, while the yellow fellow himself proceeded to get eaten by the hurdy gurdy playing monster. A loud scream went up as Hafunda realised his shoelaces were undone.

A turkey with a jug of rhubarb juice appeared; it made some noises before producing an eel from its beak. This was an electric eel that triggered ghost fish transistor and opened the tunnel back to Wales.

Small lights glowed at the end of the tunnel; this was a blue light that spiralled out of the entrance. Hafunda vanished. ‘Step aboard the light train.’ a voice announced. The light train was a train made of light.

The two companions ventured forth onto the light train and started playing cards. The planet then started to reverse its rotation so the sun started to set in the east from where it rose.

Two bees flew in through a window of the light train. Hafunda reappeared and said. ‘Hey, Lucky, I’ve got this fully functioning miniature beehive.’ Lucky was one of the bee’s names.

‘Buzz.’ Fuzzed Lucky as he and his pal flew into Hafunda’s beehive. The beehive lit up flashing different colours, sparks like fireworks came from the top of the little bee box. As though the bees were having a celebration inside.

Three cats came along, and ate all the bees, ‘That’s some good bees.’ They thought in unison. Suddenly haunting violins started playing in the background. Our heroes had reached their destination, Fishguard.

After stepping off the light train down by the harbour, they noticed it was raining. This endless rain, pittered and pattered down on their foreheads as they looked up a giant rainbow in the sky.

His voice hushed Hafunda spoke; ‘Glowing orange the apples fall down, all around people flock compass and map around, the world points the way to our prey, the chops and cuts of our film, heat, red flame, white flame, blue skies bright.’

Then the rain stopped, trees shook in the wind, Georgia’s teeth chattered in the crisp, cold daylight. ‘Back on land, over time, over lords, ladies and baroness’ a voice in my head goes round a round, messes, forever, messes.

The adventurers looked out to see, the sea was rough, and on it bobbing up and down on the waves was a little rubber duck. Sajid’s voice went low. ‘Today was my unlucky day, some bees got in the way when I was about to, talk.’

Under fluffy white clouds they lay, Georgia’s spirit floated far away and Hafunda spilt his tea. Following that slight delay, Hafunda then began to pay, before dancing and going to say. ‘Georgia your spirit’s getting away.’

So it was Time to chase. Space was in the lead but Time was gaining fast. There was an explosion in the galaxy. Georgia’s spirit drifted towards a giant red star that then exploded, throwing her spirit past Space and Time back towards Georgia.

Sajid looked at Georgia, he raised his eyebrows so high they fell off the top of his head. Hafunda spoke. ‘Shu-u-u-u-ucks, I-It’s the ice cream may’n.’ A crow flew down from the sky and scavenged Sajid’s eyebrows off the floor. It then flew off.

Just while the ice cream van pulled the sea’s plug out of the sea bed with a big rope, Sajid ran after the crow. He tripped and found a penny swirling in a pool of multicoloured liquid.

Looking at the penny, he noticed the face on it pulsating, throbbing in time to some nearby techno sounds. It started nodding in time to the beat. Then its profiled head turned towards Sajid, and spoke. ‘I think you’re cool <insert YOUR NAME here>.’

Light Hearted

Every time I let out a sigh,

I begin to see little birds fly.

Yet, I can catch one if I move quick.

Or is it about choosing one to pick?

Too late! My chance has gone.

Now there is night where the sun shone.

If they were dozing by day and sleeping at nightfall…

I’d just pick one up and then I’d walk tall.

But no, awake, and with wings they fly.

Every time I let out a sigh.

Behind a stare

What goes on behind a stare?

I don’t know but it’s hardly fair,

To blame me for your lousy mood.

I just can’t help looking at you.

What can I do to cheer you up?

Should I smile at you as I look?

It occurs to me that you are free.

So help me see what puzzles thee.

Once I knew a girl whose hair was curled.

Kind and smiled like she owned the world.

But she only made me bitter and twisted.

Like an ale mixed with lemons or something…

Write: Wrong or Left

Write: wrong or left.

Wrong or left. I wrote.

The ramblings of a so called addled brain.

Controlled by medication not to go insane.

You have good looks and knowledge deep.

Counts for nothing when you’re asleep.

Certain that there’s no perfection. Things seem mundane.

In the absence of this, there’s a aroma so sweet. These things from the void light up his face. The light, the everlasting glow. The love, the fountain of original gifts.

So remember Miss, when he approaches the lamppost, he cannot decide which way to walk around. He’s stood, just waiting.

Emotional Pain

Felt like I was getting stabbed by invisible daggers through the heart whilst gently having my throat slashed last night. If anyone says to me ever that emotions are all in the mind I will proceed to call them a fool.

When I was 6

Between the ages of three and six years old I had a reason not to give up, an ambition for life, a purpose. A future.

I wanted more than anything, to be, when I grew up, an apple tree. I wanted to live in the corner of a beautiful garden getting visits from the birds and the bees. I wanted the wind to blow my branches to provide hugs and to drop my delicious apples to feed those who were hungry. I liked the idea of being stationary. I had moved from a large bed in my own room to the attic. It was the first night after we got the latest in roof windows installed, which were the fashion at the time.

I had had a pleasant day talking to the old plasterer. I only remember he was old so he was about 16 – 90+. He had an old hat. Possibly a flat cap, a popular accessory among the pensioners of the area. He had done a good job with a smooth finish, so much so i would stroke the wall around the window just to appriciate the smoothness.

It was later that day it happened… Night came as I lay in my bed. It used to be bunk beds but my Dad had sawed them in two to become two single beds. Mine was the bottom bunk. Anyway, I couldn’t sleep that night. I had been awake for hours. Lying there, just looking through the roof window, the light pollution of the city bled darkness into the sky. The stars were out…

My earliest favourite reading books were about counting to ten and basic science for children. They were mostly published by Penguin or Puffin. One of the books said stars were giant burning balls of gas just like the sun. I must have been read this book recently because it was then it dawned on me.

Never before had I contemplated what I was. What life was. What I was doing here. I was the sort of child whose main sad thought up until that moment was ‘other people can’t have been around before me… I would’ve remembered them.’ And that was only sad because people would laugh and dismiss this truth. It was soon to come when a moment in time happened, where I would become disappointed. Too scared. Too afraid of what was. I felt reality’s full force. All its fierce flames and its endless meaning.

I no longer could accept my future would be being an apple tree. I felt my branches had fallen off and my apples were rotten on the ground. All my hopes and dreams faded into darkness in that second. Into the space between the supposedly giant balls of burning gas, my mind was lost. I was a dead tree’s stump in a great wasteland where nothing was alive. I was null and void. I was minute. Smaller than the smallest speck of dirt on the new glass of the roof window. Against these giant balls of burning gas the size of dots against the deep, ongoing, pure black of space. I was insignificant…

And so, it had happened… So, I reacted, I ran down the attic stairs, across the landing past the door of room, I did a hair-pin turn like a frantic rally car on a tight muddy track, down the stairs again I ran, I reached the bottom and without losing any momentum I took a quick right into the brightness of the front room. My mum was there, stood hands on her skirt, warming her arse by the fire. I had slowed down by now and was pacing slowly towards her, under the headache inducing light. It was then I bent my neck back, looking up at her face, a formidable five foot and half an inch off the ground. She looked back down at me. Her pale face, no make up, pointing down at me, crushing her chin in two. She looked as she had seen a ghost… “Mum! Its all too big! I can’t cope!” I said. “What is?” She replied, her voice quivering. “Everything. Everything is.”