Valentine Surprise

Jane Goodhew

                                                                

As Naomi looked out of the window, she could see the mist close over the hill in the distance and wondered if her visitors would be able to find their way if it changed to a thick fog. Just as quickly as the negative thought entered her mind, she turned it around and told herself it would be the best event that Woodward Hall had ever known and would ever be likely to. Her sisters had all married and she was the last of the line yet she was the oldest but she had saved herself for the one who she had always known was her soul mate.  He was just slow in realising it or the time was never right, always some excuse, tonight he would be amongst the guests and she would make herself irresistible and charm personified.

Time stood still as it does when you want it to fly past but this evening, she wished for the reverse for it to speed up and be over before it had even begun, figurately speaking of course. The servants had been busy decorating the hall and preparing the food and all the bedrooms for the many guests who were expected to attend. The penultimate hour had arrived and then the phone rang, who could be ringing at this point she thought but nonetheless had no alternative but to answer it as strangely no one else had.

“Hello, 743”, a voice she did not recognise at the end of the line said “Naomi Page?”. “Yes” she replied, “can I help you?”  “Yes, if you would fetch your coat and get into the waiting car.”  “Surely you cannot be serious, I am having a party this evening and the guests are due shortly is this someone’s idea of a joke and under whose instructions are you working?”

The line went dead and so did all the lights in the house and everywhere seemed as silent as the grave, what was happening and where were all the staff they seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth. Bright headlights shone through the French windows into the hall and she realised that the car was outside; curiosity got the better of her and she grabbed her coat and went towards the tall man who was dressed as a chauffeur and held the door to the Austin Sidley open and stepped in, thinking that perhaps she was being rather rash and far too trusting as she had no idea who he was or who had organised this?

When they arrived at the hotel it also was in darkness, had they too had a power cut, surely not as the other homes seemed to be lit up, so what was happening? The chauffeur opened the door and taking her hand, led her through the entrance and then he placed hers into a hand that was small and soft, and she realised was that of her younger sister Rebecca, what was going on?  Rebecca turned on a small torch and they walked in silence to one of the ground floor bedrooms. The room was dimly lit but, on the bed, she saw a beautiful midnight blue evening dress with matching shoes and in the comfortable looking armchairs were her other sisters. Why were they all there when they were supposed to be at hers, nothing made sense, but she loved adventure and went along with it without asking any questions as she too also liked surprises?

Once she had changed into the dress, they took her in silence to the banqueting hall and when the double doors were opened, she saw that the room was full of all her guests and staff and in the centre was the man of her dreams. He looked at her and smiled taking a step towards

 

her he whispered in her ear “ You look lovely tonight my beautiful one.” Then in a voice that could be heard by all, he said “Will you do the honour of becoming my wife”  and once again taking her hand he produced from his inner pocket the most sparkling sapphire and diamond ring she had ever seen, her eyes glistened with tears as she could hardly believe what was being said and moving as close as she could she kissed him gently and said “I would love to, just say when”.

The room filled with music and as if by magic and military precision,  all her friends and family moved into rows leaving space in the middle for them to walk down and from behind the partition appeared the Reverend Parsons and as her best friend and husband stepped into view the music changed to here comes the bride.  Naomi looked totally dumbfounded, it had all been organised without her knowledge, he had obtained a special licence, and bought not just an engagement ring but also his and hers matching platinum wedding bands, was there anything he had forgotten?       

           

                                                                        

The marriage took place, the meal, dancing and then the clock struck midnight and the chauffeur appeared again.  This time Mr and Mrs Jasper Rice set off to start their life together, first they went to the airport to fly out to Venice to spend their honeymoon and have a blessing at St Mark’s Square which had always been her dream.

The evening had been perfect and more than she could ever have imagined, certainly more than she had only 6 hours earlier presumed would happen. She had hoped that he would finally ask her to move in with him but never this, never happy ever as his wife and would be for life.  This really had been the best Valentine's Surprise ever  x       

                                                                                                                       

Copyright Jane Goodhew

 Valentines Dilemma

By Sis Unsworth 

Coming up to Valentines, the birds began to sing

indicating nature was preparing now for spring.

Mary felt quite lonely, it really seemed so hard,

she wished like all the others, to get a Valentines card.

She knew the girls at work, would bring all their cards in,

to show them round the office, but she’d have none to bring.

She remembered back last year, it made her feel quite sore,

when Lucy from reception, proudly brought in four.

Valentines day was looming, so she had to think real quick,

to stop humiliation, she’d take a day off sick.

She confided in a close friend, who told her what to do,

She began to feel more confident, now that Valentines was due.

Her friend spoke quite softly, that it wasn’t a disgrace

there are ways of coping, with fear and losing face.

Like you never got cards, while others they got plenty

Her post box on Valentines day, was always bare and empty

Then she whispered in my ear, “it did affect my health

So now I take the easy way, I send them to myself!”

Copyright Sis Unsworth

 THE VALENTINE’S DAY DANCE 

By Richard Banks

When Mrs Miller returned home from the PTA meeting at Middleton High with news of their latest fundraising event her son, Nigel, was thrice smitten by the unmitigated awfulness of it all. He had never been to a dance before, and didn’t know the latest moves, although, knowing his mother, felt sure she would want to include the waltzes and foxtrots that his parents sometimes practised at home. Either way he couldn’t do it and didn’t want to. Secondly, it involved dancing with a girl and being in an all boys class he didn’t know any girls, and they didn’t know him and had never shown any sign of wanting to. And, thirdly, his name was Nigel which was a social embarrassment that precluded him from any activity, even with the boys, that could be regarded as cool, or even normal.

         His horror at the impending disaster was compounded by his mother’s next revelation that it was to be a Saint Valentine’s Day dance for the year tens and that he was to ask Ethel to be his partner. The consequences for himself rested like a heavy yoke about his shoulders. Ethel was even more of an outcast than himself. Not that this was entirely her fault. After all no one called Ethel could possibly be expected to take their place as a normal person in the 21^st century. If she had been an Isabel she could have called herself Issie or Bel, but Ethel lent itself to nothing more than Eth or Hel. The hopelessness of her predicament told clearly in her heavily freckled face which seldom registered an expression more animated than sad resignation. Not being a member of the after-school clubs favoured by the other girls she had reluctantly settled for the stamp club where she had been sat next to Nigel in the hope, if not the expectation, that their outsider status might provide the common ground for an unlikely friendship. It was, of course, no coincidence that the teacher in charge of the stamp club and Mrs Miller were as one in this endeavour. As PTA committee members of long standing they knew each other well and although Ethel’s mother, Mrs Bailey, was at first unknown to them they wasted no time in making her acquaintance and drawing her into the social experiment that, if unsuccessful, would at least save the two young people from the embarrassment of not having a ‘date’ for the dance.

         Whether this reasoning was ever communicated to Nigel is unlikely. Mrs Miller had decided long ago that her son was blind, but mostly deaf, to the good advice she felt well able to provide. Her approach to parenthood was therefore to tell him what he must do and the sanctions that would apply if he didn’t. And, when the sanctions were raised to a two week grounding, the non-payment of his pocket money and the cancellation of his subscription to ‘Goth City Weekly’ Nigel accepted that the asking of Ethel to the dance could not be avoided. However, he thought, she might say no and, if she did, no one could say that he didn’t try, and the unimaginable awfulness of being her date would never happen. He therefore endeavoured to ask her in such a way that a refusal would almost certainly be the outcome.

         A half hour into stamp club during which time they had not exchanged a single word he summoned up his courage to ask: “I suppose you won’t be wanting to go to the dance with me?” Ethel’s face convulsed into a horrified grimace, and a deep intake of breath was followed by an audible groan.

         Although she had not yet responded with the single word needed to put an end to his mother’s plan Nigel felt certain that his stratagem was about to have the desired effect. He was preparing himself to say, “oh, all right then” when Ethel with no expression of pleasure or enthusiasm replied, “yes.”

         “Yes,” repeated Nigel, his voice somewhat louder than he intended.

         “Yes,” she confirmed, her gaze firmly set on the textbook image of a penny black from which the solemn, unamused face of Queen Victoria stared back at her.

         As no further words were spoken, Nigel was completely unable to process what had happened. Had he misheard her, or was this a nightmare from which he would soon be waking? He stabbed his fingernails into the back of his hand and winced with pain, but when the awakening didn’t happen was forced to accept the awful truth that he was awake and she had definitely said, “yes.”

          As he was later to learn, Ethel had been given an ultimatum by her mother that if she did not say yes to Nigel she would be escorted to the dance by her brother, two years younger than herself and, in her opinion, the worst brother that any long-suffering sister had ever had to endure. Forced to choose between Nigel or Bertie there could be only one winner and, as Nigel was no more repulsive than the other boys in her year, she reluctantly accepted her fate. In doing so she extracted a single concession from her mother which was that she should not be made to wear a party dress, preferring instead to choose something from her existing wardrobe.

         Mrs Bailey sighed but managed not to groan. Unlike Mrs Miller she did not demand ‘unconditional surrender’ and, as negotiated settlements went, this one was as good as she was likely to get. Indeed, Ethel’s declared intention of walking to the school hall instead of being conveyed there in a limousine had the unlooked for benefit of reducing the cost of the evening to the twenty-pound note her father would be giving her for refreshments at the non-alcohol bar.

         No doubt Nigel’s father would have been equally approving of such cost-cutting measures but not being required to busy himself in the arrangements for the dance accepted, without protest, the financial disadvantage that went with his non-involvement. Besides, he was thinking of buying a new set of golf clubs and from past experience knew that for such expenditure to go unopposed it was necessary to dispense a little largess in the direction of his wife, or her latest project. As for Nigel, he would have to grin and bear it. Life was never free from obligation and there would be far worse than this to come.

         Not having access to his father’s thoughts, and therefore not being consoled by them, Nigel continued to find much to be dissatisfied with. Had his date with Ethel been in the dark interior of the Roxy Cinema he might have got away without them being seen together but for it to take place at a dance in full view of everyone in his year was the modern-day equivalent of being put in the stocks and pelted with gunge. Not only that but he was being forced to give up some of his precious Saturday time to be fitted out for a monkey suit that was on no ones list of cool. His only consolation was that he would be conveyed to school in an American limousine often featured in Goth City Weekly.

         Determined to make the most of this one and only pleasure he directed Bert, the chauffeur, to drive him three times around the town before yielding to his demand that they should actually arrive. Having by then confided his predicament to Bert and received the advice that he should go to the bar and get rat-arsed, Nigel found himself delivered to the front entrance of the school where he pushed through the swing doors into the admin /reception area. Taking a deep breath and wishing it was all over he proceeded a few metres down one of the adjoining corridors to the locked door of the caretaker’s office where they had arranged to meet.

         Being at least five minutes late and finding her not there he debated with himself whether he was pleased by her non-appearance or humiliated at the prospect of being stood-up. He had resolved to wait five minutes more and return home, when the nearby door of the girls’ toilet opened and a green-faced entity, dressed head to foot in black, marched assertively into the corridor. In one unblinking stare he took in the entire vista, before focusing on the face and head: the wild hair, the black eye shadow, the long eyelash extensions and the Edge motifs on both her earlobes. Something wonderful, verging on the miraculous, had happened and the object of his veneration was now halted in front of him and about to speak. He observed the parting of her lips and the stirring of her dark green tongue over which her words, no doubt prophetic and heroic, were about to flow.

         “Close your mouth, Nige, it’s me, Eth.”

         “No, no, you’re Elvira Edge, Protector of Goth City and the Kingdom of the Seven Shadows. Why didn’t you tell me this when we were at Stamp Club? How come I didn’t realise; I must have been blind. You’re the hottest babe in the universe. Wow! I’ve had every copy of Goth City Weekly since the second generation metamorphosis, I’ve seen you stop earthquakes, do battle with Zombie hoards and out-magic the wicked witch of the North. Is there anything you can’t do?”

         “Well now, - what about making a surprisingly nice boy green? How do you fancy being Lord Vortigern of the Emerald Hinterland? There’s still some green roll-on in my bag. Would you like me to give it a try? There should be more than enough left to green-up your face, and if you get rid of that silly tie and unbutton your shirt a few inches there may also be enough to do the same to your neck and chest. This is getting to feel like a real date. What say you?”

         “Take me to the Edge, Elvira! Make me yours, all yours!”   

 

  Copyright Richard Banks                                     

 THE FINAL DECISION

By Bob French

We had expected them to return, but did not know when.  They had landed on the planet in their period called 1969; danced around like children, planted a flag, then left.  Since then, our intelligence systems have monitored five further landings where they attempted to remove rocks of no scientific value. Each time, we closely monitored their behavior and distorted any research and samples they attempted to remove from the surface, to preserve the integrity of the planet we observed from, named Moon. 

There have also been many machines aimed at the Moon, with no man on board.  Those that made a successful landing were intercepted and treated in the same way by our scientists as those machines that were manned. Those that crashed into the surface, we studied the remains and found them to be poor quality and inferior to our technology.

It took over a hundred-man years, since their period of 1510, when we first set up our observation platform on Moon, for the Elders, who guided and directed our mission from many solar systems back into the cosmos, to decide to infiltrate the planet named Earth with our own people to increase the gathering of intelligence.  

Our original findings found that the atmosphere on Earth was poisonous to our people, though the behavior of the weather pattern was perfect for our way of life.  After receiving instructions from our Elders, we began to slowly dissipate the Nitrogen Dioxide from the atmosphere then gradually thin the protective layer of ozone gas that protected Earth from the star they called Sun. We knew from experience that if this process was done slowly and carefully, no harm would come to the construction and environment of Earth.  Once Earth has been cleansed, we would start the process of occupation by our people.

When we reported our scientific findings to the Elders in the man period of 2003, we were informed to stop the operation and await their decision before continuing the final stages of the cleansing process. Our Mission Chief protested that if we stopped the operation halfway through its course, Earth would suffer greatly and the mission would be a failure.

The communication we received from the Elders was full and to the point and covered many facts about the planet Earth.  It was not what we expected. 

Unbeknown to our scientific research team on Moon, those of our people who had been sent to occupy Earth had been reporting back to the Elders on the behavior of man.  Their report began in the year of 1760, when man had discovered machinery causing over two-hundred-man years in which the cleanliness of their atmosphere had been badly compromised.  Whilst we noted this at the time, it did not interfere with our cleansing process, ignored it.

However, the Elders chose to highlight the fact that as this unexpected man-made pollution had unbalanced the climate and distorted our programme findings. They stated that the process of our thinning of the ozone layer surrounding Earth and the depletion of nitrogen oxide, the temperature of the planet had increased each year, it had started to cause adverse effects to the environment.  The surface of the planet was heating up causing great cracks in its surface, the sea levels were increasing as the ice caps on the planet were melting and the rains and winds were intensifying, causing much destruction on the planet.

According to our programmed research findings we are just inside the safety parameters for the completion of phase one of the process, and would soon start to replace the ozone with melphodite gas and the Nitrogen Oxide with Chloride Methane.  But they seemed to ignore this in our report.

The final part of the report, which covered the period of 1870 to 2023 told of man as a primitive being, choosing violence to solve problems rather than negotiation; Of ignoring those who daily struggled with survival.  Greed and corruption seemed to be the tool of advancement in their species and lastly, which the Elders could not understand, was that man waged war in the belief that a higher being, which no one had seen or heard speak, guides them to do such things. They consider that man will not change their ways, so all attempts at colonizing Moon by them must be discouraged.

The final decision was on a separate page to the report.  All it said was

LET THEM BURN. 

Copyright Bob French

 Riddles 12

By the Riddler

The Riddler has two puzzles for us today:

No 1.   Hanging from the side of a tied-up boat is a rope ladder.

The ladder is 10 feet long with the final rung on the surface of the water.

The rungs are 1 foot apart.

The tide rises by 6 inches an hour.

How long will it take 3 rungs of the ladder to be covered?

 

No 2.    3, 3, 5, 4, 4, 3, 5, 5, 4, (What comes next ?)

 

Keep em coming Riddler

 

 THE MYSTERIOUS MISS MARY BUCKINGHAM.

By Bob French

Hatfield Paverel Station

It was late Thursday afternoon as James Clayton stood staring out across the village playing fields of Hatfield Peverel.  It had started snowing and people around him seemed to be hurrying home to prepare for the New Year celebrations, but James ignored them. He just stood staring out over the slowly changing countryside. It was New Year’s Eve, 1885 and he felt glad that the year had ended. 

Minutes passed before he turned, brushed the snow from the bench and sat down, thrusting his hands deep into his coat pockets. His eyes never leaving the now, snow-covered playing field.

His concentration was interrupted by an elderly woman who had walked past him, stopped, and returned to stand in front of him.

“Ay love, you can’t stay here.  It’ll be dark soon and the wind’ll pick-up.  You’ll catch your death.  Do you want me to give you a hand home lad?”  But James smiled and quietly thanked her.

The snow slowly started to cover his cap and overcoat as he began to go back over the days and weeks he had met and courted Mary; a dark haired, rather beautiful young woman who had been out shopping in Chelmsford, where he worked as a bank clerk. 

They had met by chance, well he thought so, on a Friday.  He had just delivered the days mail to the Post Office, when a motor bicycle back-fired, causing everyone to turn and look. At that moment they had collided on the pavement and after helping her to her feet, apologized to her and asked after her health.

“My sincere apologies Miss, please forgive me, I was not looking where I was going.”

She thanked him and explained that she was not hurt.  But James, not used to encountering young women panicked, and blurted out that “after an accident, one should drink a sweet cup of tea.”

It was her large brown eyes that suddenly made James feel strangely different. 

“There’s a tea house just around the corner on Duke Street.  I would be honoured if you’d allow me to make sure that you are alright Miss.”

They stood in the middle of the pavement just staring at each other, then she seemed to come to a decision, smiled, and took back one of her packages James had picked up. 

“Thank you, Sir, I would like that.”

They sat in the crowded tea shop for nearly an hour and talked about nothing and everything until a rather grumpy serving maid asked if they wanted another tea in a tone that suggested they had overstayed their welcome. 

James suddenly realized that his boss back at the bank, would be wondering where he had been.

“Look, I am so sorry Miss, but I must get back to work, but would you think it impertinent if I asked to see you again?”

“I’d like that very much.  Thank you.  When?”

“Would this Sunday be suitable, say 2 o’clock in the grounds of the cathedral here in Chelmsford?”

He remembered how, as he held open the door for her. He had blurted out that he did not know her name.

She seemed to hesitate at first.  “Mary Buckingham, and yours Sir?”

“James, James Clayton Miss, and I very much look forward to Sunday…. Mary.”

The temperature in October was near freezing but it did not bother them. They met outside the cathedral's West Door and held hands as they strolled through the grounds and out into the town.  This time he recalled they spoke of where they lived; their families and what they did for a living.

“Papa works in Whitehall, and I have two brothers and two sisters.  Sadly, I’m the youngest and so must keep Mama company.”

James, realising that his newfound lady-friend was part of the gentry and if things become serious between them, it may become a problem, but said nothing, allowing her to tell him her past, rather than bombard her with questions.

“And you, my love?”

“I work in a bank and have a sister who is five years older than me.  She used to care for me until I reached the age of twenty-one, then she moved up north, Carlisle I understand, and married a farmer.”

“And what does your Papa do?”

“He was a librarian.”

“Was?”

“Yes. My Ma and Pa were killed in a train crash six years back.”

It dawned upon him as he sat on the bench covered in snow, that their relationship had grown quickly, as did the questions about where he worked and the daily routine of the banking staff, but realized that when you were in love, the obvious didn’t always become clear.

They would always meet in Chelmsford, and after spending three or four hours enjoying the town and each other's company, she would insist that she would take a handsome cab back home after seeing him safely on the train back to Hatfield Peverel. 

Sometimes they would meet on a Saturday, when she would visit various shops to pick-up parcels for her Mama.  James didn’t mind, as long as he spent time with his Mary.

He gradually became aware of the cold wind that had picked up around him as he sat on the bench.  His thoughts settled on Saturday 17^th November.  They had decided to go to the music hall on Waterloo Lane. To watch the 2 o’clock matinee.  When the matinee had finished, Mary explained that she had to pick up a package from a tobacco shop, about a hundred yards down from his bank. 

When they turned the corner, they were stopped by a police constable and after questioning the officer, discovered that his bank had just been robbed and the area was cordoned off.  James quickly explained that he worked at the bank and demanded that he be permitted to pass, but the constable refused. 

Mary had insisted that as he could do nothing, they proceeded to the tobacco shop to pick up her mother’s parcel before it closed. 

Mary became concerned that the shop would be closed and that her mother would scold her, but as they approached the shop, the tobacconist quickly opened the shop door, handed her two parcels, and then closed the door, without saying a word.  James thought this behavior strange but didn’t question it. Then, as they walked to Liverpool Street station, he noticed that she kept looking over her shoulder, and again, though strange, didn’t question her.

It was as they approached the barrier to the platform that things became confused.  James, who had been carrying the two parcels was stopped by one of the station masters and asked where he and the young lady had been.

As James started to answer the man’s questions, the whistle blew on their platform.  Instantly Mary grabbed the two parcels from James and ran for the moving train. The station master and James stood bewildered at Mary’s behavior, then a police constable came rushing up.

“Was that her Fred?”

“Could be, but don’t worry, we can board the train at Hatfield Peverel.  Excuse me while I make a telephone call.  I’ll get my boys to call your chaps and they can board the train and arrest her and her ill-gotten gains.”

The police surrounded the train as it pulled into Hatfield Peverel and stayed on it until they had searched the train, but they never found her.

At an inquiry, it was discovered that the thieves had a thorough knowledge of the layout of the bank and what type of safe it had.  Then the damming indictment came out, that James had been identified as an accomplice to the robbery. Even though he pleaded his innocence, the inquiry still found him guilty by association.  He lost his job and the woman he had fallen in love with.

The snow was falling heavier now, and the bench he sat on was totally covered in a deep soft layer of snow. As James slowly glanced around at his surroundings, a figure moved in front of him.  Thinking it was the kind old woman returning, he looked up at her and realized that it was Mary.

“Mary my love, what are you doing here?”

“I had to come and see you.  To explain what happened.”

“It’s alright. I’m fine, but the police could not find you.  The newspapers said that you simply vanished. What happened?”

“Not a lot of people know, but just before Hatfield Peverel, there is a private stop for the folk who work at Boreham House. That was where I got off the train, met Mama and gave her the money we stole from your bank.  That is why they never found me. I’m so sorry I got you into trouble.”

He tried to reach out to her but found that he could not move his arm.

Mary realized that he was close to death, sat down next to him took his hand, and held it.  “Don’t worry my love, I will stay with you forever.

The following morning, James was found dead on the bench.  Frozen to death.  Beside him was an imprint where someone had sat with him for most of the night.  After an extensive search, no one could remember seeing this person, who seemed to have simply vanished in the night.

Copyright Bob French

 The Year is 2224

By Jane Goodhew

 

No-one thought this year would come because back in 2024 the world was in a deeply sorry state. Most countries were at war blaming religion when usually it was greed for more land, oil, minerals, or plain power. Those that were not at war had to let in the refugees who poured in like water through a sieve, but resources were becoming short as were the locals’ tempers. There seemed to be no end to the grief as those that just wanted to have a better life flocked like sheep across the sea heading towards Europe and the soft centred or guilt-ridden UK. They were not all from war torn countries some just jumped on the band wagon hoping to better themselves and escape a life of poverty. In the UK the weather was changing and winters were now milder than records had ever known and that meant rain and floods as greed had allowed people to build on flood plains and too close to rivers or streams so they could have scenic views instead of overcrowding and being overlooked like those in the city.  Over the years the government and local councils had stopped draining the rivers or cleaning out the ditches, drains over filled with debris, leaves, and obstacles that should never have been put into the system. Meetings took place throughout the world with each leader promising this that and the other as they discussed global warming and ways to combat it but still the winds grew stronger, and the USA had more snow than they had ever seen, the UK was blasted with gales and heavy rain that caused more flooding and destruction.

The councils kept on building more even on green belt and uprooting woodlands to make room for homes to keep the refugees from living in tents and shanty towns and to house those who could no longer live in their beautiful homes for fear of more floods or insurance companies refusing to cover them. Certain areas were becoming overcrowded and civil war broke out between the have and have nots. Looting was commonplace and homes were more like fortresses with bars at the windows and so many locks and bolts that Fort Knox would have been easier to enter.

People were becoming ill with flu like symptoms that went on for months; mothers were giving birth to deformed children as Zika adapted itself to live happily in the mosquito and therefore spread rapidly throughout South America and beyond. Young women were asked not to get pregnant but Brazil where the latest outbreak had been found were mostly Catholic so were you going to tell the Pope not to pray? Pharmaceutical companies desperately raced against time to produce vaccines but none were found and soon it became a pandemic and it looked as if the world would come to an end if they could not find a cure as the babies being born would not be able to look after themselves as their brains were too small and many would die soon after birth.  Those that lived were dependent on others to survive but worse was to come as all childhood illnesses returned with a vengeance.  Diseases that they thought had been wiped out began to reappear but this time there was no getting rid of them, measles, typhoid, smallpox, diphtheria, polio, even the bubonic plague. Those that did not die often wished they had as gigantic size rats roamed the streets living off rotting corpses as the undertakers could not keep up with the demand.  The crematorium was stock piling bodies and working 24/7 trying to cope with the ever-increasing flow. There was extraordinarily little land now as everything had become a concrete jungle of roads and houses or offices, the rivers were polluted, the air filled with smog and people who had to venture out gasped and struggled to breath

The government sent out warnings for those with health problems to stay indoors but by now that was the majority.  Death suddenly seemed preferable to life and as if in answer to their prayer the earth was hit by a meteorite which set off a tsunami that destroyed everything and everyone in its path.  Volcanoes that had lain dormant for centuries began to erupt;  earthquakes killed thousands as the land shook and buildings that had stood for centuries toppled, nature was finishing off what humans had begun.

Total annihilation of planet Earth or so it would appear but as I am writing this in the year 2224 there were a few that had survived and began again.  Life is simpler now, we no longer have all the utilities that you all took for granted, no labour saving devices to help keep the house clean or cooking easier.  We own small holdings and grow our own fruit and vegetables and keep a few animals for milk and eggs.  We work by bartering with the neighbour for what we want and have done such as building or making clothes, each putting their own skills to good use.  People seem to be happier now that the stress of modern living is gone and unlikely to return as much of the earth is uninhabitable now and travel virtually a thing of the past.  No aeroplanes certainly no space ships.  We thought that by now instead of holidays in the Caribbean we would be zooming off to Venus or Mars and robots would be doing all the work whilst we just swanned around enjoying our freedom of the planets.  So much for progress and futuristic dreams of living like the Jetsons or even going to the Caribbean.

 

Copyright Jane Goodhew