The Road (100 words)

 The Road  (100 words)

By John Abbott

You will begin your journey as either a male or a female. (or other complexities)

You will be able to learn fast and no doubt, you will also encounter different challenges depending on your location, beliefs, health, and probably wealth as well.

You will have opportunities and trials aplenty, however, these will vary enormously dependant upon how you are taught, how much you choose to take on board, your character, your choices and pure random luck. 

I wish you the best during your trip.

Please remember, the Road is very hard, however, it is even harder if you are stupid!

 

Copyright John Abbott

A character that isn’t there

 A character that isn’t there

By Jane Goodhew

Sat on a secluded beach watching the sunrise and imagining that you were there with me I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know there is a stranger talking away to me.  He is younger than me, extremely animated in his speech and waves his arms around so much he almost hits me in the face.  His smile could melt the Arctic Circle and his eyes are warm like hot chocolate but deep with a sparkle like a thousand stars.  What is the matter with me I’m no longer a teenager yet here I am looking at him through puppy dog eyes as if I had never spoken to a man before let alone a handsome one.  He continues to talk but I don’t seem able to hear him it as if someone has pressed the mute button, I can see his mouth opening and closing yet no sound?  I ask him to speak up and lean forward thinking this might help but still his words fall on deaf ears. He gets up and I realise he is extremely tall and dressed as if he were going to the theatre rather than to wander along the shore. He starts to walk towards the sea and I think surely he’s not going to go in dressed in those clothes they will be ruined? As if he could read my thoughts he suddenly stripped off everything and ran into the cool water and swam off into the distance leaving just his neatly piled clothes behind.

I jumped up, rushed to the clothes to see if they at least were real, they were, which means so was the man yet there was no one to be seen in the sea!  I rummaged through his pockets; there might be a wallet or something that would identify him.  I came up blank, not so much as parking ticket, no wallet so no money or drivers licence.  This man did not want to be found which implied he had swum off to die?  No, why would he come over and talk if that was his intention, stop being so morbid and go and get help or call the life guard anything but standing there looking gormless.  The beach was deserted and the nearest phone was at least a mile down the road near where she had parked her car.  This was supposed to be a relaxing evening to sit and watch the sun go down over the ocean not watch a man perhaps swim out to his death.

I ran as fast as I could and collided with a policeman who happened to be along the promenade as there had been reports of strange behaviour near the beach.  Quickly, through gasps for breath I told him what had taken place.  He looked at me, asked if I had been drinking which made me glare at him and turn away before I said something I might regret. He agreed to at least go back to the spot where the clothes were, obviously not just mine, and  apologise for his wrong assumptions or at least that is what I thought. Well, we know where thought got me, cautioned for wasting police time because apart from my towel and other belongings there was nothing and no sign there ever had been.  Not even a footprint in the damp sand.  I gave up the idea of relaxing, watching the sun set over the horizon and dream of you, picking up my things I made my way back home to open up a much needed bottle of wine.                             

                                                    Copyright Jane Goodhew

 THE TOWER OF BABEL 

By Peter Woodgate 

Tier upon tier towering triumphantly

Bricks and mortar moulded magnificently

Fulcrum and pulley powered to precision

Mankind’s ego elegantly elevated.

 

Surely this structure would signal his significance

Give him a chance to chat to the creator

God would be pleased and impressed by his power

Invite him to sit on a seat by his side.

 

But the plan fell to pieces and plummeted

God was angry and his wrath wreaked ruination

Souls were scattered upon seas and sands

Shipwrecked ln torment with tear upon tear.

 

Copyright Peter Woodgate

Memories (300 Words)

 Memories (300 Words) 

By Jane Scoggins 

    I am drinking tea with my dad. Someone I have looked up to all my life. An engineer, he had a workshop in the garden where he made, repaired and sometimes invented things. If he was using sharp tools my sister Karen and I would stand at the open door to watch. He would describe what he was making. I learned a lot. He would sing silly songs and tell jokes as we stood watching. He was entertaining and fun. When I was very small he made a box on wheels that he attached to his bicycle so I could accompany him on rides down country lanes. He would tell me the names of trees and birds as we went. Later he made us a tree house with a little ladder and a basket on a rope so we could haul a picnic  up to the platform. At the seaside he created such wonderful intricate sand castles all the children nearby would come and watch and admire. I was so proud to have such a clever dad. He helped with school homework, giving me confidence. Just like him I loved to learn. He and Mum proudly drove me to Uni and I was thrilled to be going.

  When mum got cancer, dad took early retirement and saw her through successful treatment. At dad’s suggestion they celebrated by travelling through Europe in a camper van.

   ‘How long will your mum be do you think, is she shopping?’ he asks.

     Mum’s cancer returned. She died four years ago. Dad is 73, a clever man, diagnosed with Alzheimers two years ago. He is in rapid decline now and gets distressed if we tell him his beloved wife has died. He goes out looking for her. It's heartbreaking. 

Copyright Jane Scoggins

 

 

 

 

 

The Grave Girl (300 words)

 The Grave Girl   (300 words)

By John Abbott  

Some boys and girls were at a party one night. They were all teenagers of a sort. There was a graveyard down the street, and they were talking and discussing about how scary it was. 

“Be careful, don’t ever stand on a grave after dark,” one of the boys said.

“The person inside will grab you. He’ll pull you under.” 

“That’s can’t be true,” one of the girls said. “It’s just a superstition.” 

“I’ll give you a dollar if you stand on a grave,” said the boy.

“A little old grave doesn’t scare me,” said the girl. “I’ll do it right now.” 

The boy handed her his knife. “Stick this knife in one of the graves,” he said. “Then we’ll know you were there.” 

The graveyard was filled with shadows and was as cold and quiet as death.

“There is nothing to be scared of,” the girl constantly told herself, but she was scared anyway. 

She picked out a grave and stood on it. Then quickly she bent over and plunged the knife into the soil, and she started to leave. But she couldn’t get away. 

Something was holding her back! She tried a second time to leave, but she could move but did not seem to be able to escape. She was filled with terror.

“Aarrrggghhh, Aarrrggghhh, something has got me!” she screamed, and she fell to the ground.

An hour passed, when she didn’t come back, the others went to look for her. 

They found her body sprawled across the grave. Without realising it, she had plunged the knife through her skirt and had pinned it to the ground. It was only the knife that held her. Her eyes were wide open, she had died of fright.

 So, ensure that you never stand on a grave after dark!

 

Copyright John Abbott

FORGET-ME-NOT & WHY

 FORGET-ME-NOT

By John Abbott

I know that life's no picnic,

I said that things were bad

I never dreamt that meeting you

Would make me feel so sad.

I thought I'd better tell you

You've made me so confused

I hope you don't feel that your feelings I've abused. 

I never meant to hurt you

Perhaps time is what I need

With all your persistence

You may in time succeed.

 

I don't think that I'm worth it

But a friend is what you've got I've painted you a picture

So you forget-me-not. 

 

WHY?

By John Abbott 

Why is life so terrible ? Why do I feel so sad ?

Why, with all my children do I feel I'm going mad ?

Why have I no money ?

Why is everything going wrong?

Why am I in debt?

Where has it all gone?

Where is all the love?

Why am I so lonely ?

What did I do to deserve all this?

Why, oh why, if only .......

Copyright John Abbott

The woodpecker and the carpenter

 The woodpecker and the carpenter

By Chris Mathews

Long ago the carpenter said to the woodpecker,

“I need holes, lots of holes - drilled in these great planks of wood.”

“I love to make holes, how many holes?” the woodpecker asked eagerly.

“Many thousands,” he replied, “enough to build a giant house.

“You must be building a very big house sir. Do you have a very large family.”

“No, just me and seven others, but I will have lots of guests who will be joining me. Some will be very large and some very small, as small as a dormouse. And each one needs just the right room, for, ‘In my father's house there are many rooms,’”

“Your job is to make all the holes for the wooden pegs that will hold my house together. You must make the holes good, and round, and strong so my house can weather the fiercest storm, because my house must float on the oceans of the world.”

“What oceans, I have flown over this whole earth but have never seen an ocean!” Said the little woodpecker. Mrs Woodpecker came and perched along side her husband and said,

“Don’t you know all the people of the town are laughing at you! People come from miles around, point and Look, ‘Come and see the HMS Carpenter’s Folly!’”

“I was told to build the house, and God himself would provide the ocean, so Mrs woodpecker have a little faith! There is room enough for all, including you.”

“How long will we be gone?”

“Until the world is made clean.”

“Why would you choose me,” said the woodpecker. “I'm only a very small bird there are plenty of bigger, stronger, faster and smarter animals.”

“Yes, they have their part to play too, but only you can make such beautiful holes even in the hardest wood. Don't you know that God has appointed each one to the things they are best at. The elephants can uproot trees and drag logs. The giraffe can reach to the top deck. The Oxen, with his great strength can drive the sawmill. The bevers will cut down the trees with their strong teeth. Even the moles can mine the earth to find copper to make the nails. But only you could make such beautiful holes. Each one must do the thing he is good at. So gather your friends, you will need plenty of help.”

Copyright Chris Mathews