I, Writer, Page 2

  Eventually, the floating stopped, and he opened his eyes …

  THE RECIPE

  Chef was feeling mystical, and whenever this happened he decided to cook one of his special recipes.

  The other chefs watched as he began to include the ingredients. Sauces, vegetables and even stranger concoctions went into the pot. ‘What are you looking at?’ snapped Chef, followed by a profusion of insults.

  This began an argument between two of the other chefs. Chef said, from memory:

  This tasty dish needs plenty of fish,

  a modicum of meat, and garlic’s a treat

  Then he goaded the others some more; suggested maybe one knew the secret ingredient. The argument became more heated, stopping only momentarily as Chef said:

  A plant’s secret node, a leg of toad,

  stir by moonlight, quite a sight

  Coming back in from the rain, he placed the pot back on the stove. The argument turned into a fight. Chef stirred on, in more ways than one, before saying:

  The secret addition, to bring it to fruition …

  He left the words standing, as if a question. Tension heightened, chefs will be chefs, and implements were drawn ….

  Finally, a hushed silence. Chef bent down by one his colleagues. Said: ‘…The blood of a chef, close to death …’

  FINGER OF SUSPICION

  Oh, life can be such fun – at times. Well, in this ‘time’, at least. You see, I’m a bit of a rogue – okay, some would call me a vindictive super-criminal, but I deny that. Although that didn’t stop the Time Directorate pronouncing sentence once they caught me. I gave them a good run for their money, escaping into century after century, but when they did, I was banished to the early 21st century – you know, close to the end of the Age of Barbarism.

  They often sent us back to this time, locking us out of the future, ‘cos they argued there was so much mischief going on, our own antics would hardly be noticed. Except, that is, for Dixon. Now Dixon was one smart cop, even for this age. And always he was on my tail. No matter what I tried to do, there he was, and to be honest with you, I’d had enough. I tried to fix him several times, but the reality was he was too smart to be fixed in his time. And that’s when I hatched the plan.

  I still had enough tech and know how for brief jumps into the past, and it was this I was going to manipulate. And sure enough, I planned it just perfect, arriving exactly 42 years, 243 days back in time. The mother was asleep, and as I looked at the new born child, I took out the surgi-knife …

  Well, that was me off the hook – although I had quite a shock soon afterwards when I bumped into Dixon. We got talking. He was a salesman, but had always wanted to be a cop. Which he would have been if he hadn’t been born with a finger missing.

  A PERECT CHRISTMAS

  I look over the world and what do I see?

  I see battlefields where no weapons are fired, where no soldier is killed, where no one makes war, and where everyone feels imbued with hope.

  I see people all over the Third World with plenty, with multi-nats in decline, and sensible government thinking of the people instead of personal greed.

  I look at our thinkers and I see toleration between religions, people and lifestyles. I see an explosion of diversity as cultures are reborn, yet without hatreds and everyone loves their neighbour.

  I see families, together, their differences forgotten, their eyes full of hope for the future. I see them as part of solid communities where everyone looks out for everyone else, and crime and poverty are banished.

  I see a thriving planet, where species are unthreatened, where the atmosphere is pure and nature explodes in perfect delight.

  I see a possible future, but at present I write fiction.

  Stories 13 – 18

  (13) Got the Bug? (14) It's Good To See You (15) Scandalous (16) The Return (17) Too Much Reality (18) I Knew Instantly

  GOT THE BUG?

  ‘So has he got it, doctor?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. He’s got the bug.’

  The parent looks apprehensive. ‘And what does that mean, exactly?’

  ‘Well,’ says the doctor as he leans back in his chair, ‘it seems to attack the neural pathways in the brain. The first noticeable symptom is a reduced attention span. This can lead to acute speech impairment. But then, it gets worse.

  ‘There seems to be a change in learning patterns. Due to short attention span, concentration seems to change to quick bursts of fact learning, rather than rationalizing what you actually take in. And as the person grows, another factor seems to take over. Because of the rigidity of the symptoms, and the environment the sufferer is forced to exist in, initiative becomes impaired, and there is a danger of becoming an automaton in the work place.’

  ‘I see,’ said the worried parent. ‘It’s quite a problem.’

  ‘Indeed,’ the doctor agreed. ‘I understand it’s about to be declared a pandemic.’

  ‘And is there any treatment?’

  ‘Oh yes! I recommend three doses of books per day.’

  ‘And this will help?’

  As the doctor was about to reply, there was an involuntary spasm from the patient …‘Log on!’

  ‘Bless you,’ they said in unison.

  IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU

  ‘It’s good to see you …’

  I stand by the mirror, a survivor. And as far as I can tell, I am the last man alive. Of all men who ever were, I am the last …

  I stand by the mirror. Observe my many faces in the cracked glass, a paranoid image reflecting a paranoid species. But I survived the megalomaniacs. Fractured? Yes. Disjointed? Yes. But I am the last man alive …

  How did it happen? Does it matter? Does it matter if it was rockets, genes or climate change? If it was rockets, the fallout would affect the genes. As to climate change, did the rockets tilt it over the edge, or did its tilt cause the scrabble for less land, sending the rockets?

  It is irrelevant. All that is important is the lesson – that the weapon is ignorance and the motive greed.

  I am the last man alive. I am hopeful.

  ‘It’s good to see you, too,’ says the last woman alive.

  I turn to kiss her. We prevail.

  SCANDALOUS

  ‘Fame is good,’ said the celebrity. She cast her eye at her audience. She felt like a lecturer, disclosing the secret of life.

  ‘It began for me when I was a contestant on the reality show, and I knew this was my big chance. And I starred – boy, did I star!’

  A question: ‘You mean you had sex with a fellow competitor on camera?’

  ‘So what? That was my talent – my notoriety. Who the hell ever said you had to be a great film star or musician to be a celebrity? We live in a world of equal opportunity now, not elitism!’

  She removed the venom from her expression – assumed a posture of sweetness and light. ‘And after that, the contracts came in. I was photographed everywhere and the whole country was talking about me, and I was famous, and I felt complete …’

  A question: ‘But it would only have been 15 minutes of fame if not for …’

  ‘I know what you’re going say. Yes, it seemed to be lessening, and it was then that the wolves began to gather …’

  A question: ‘And did you feel complete with THAT?’

  ‘It was horrible. There was one journalist in particular who really had it in for me. It was him who was tipped off about the cocaine, and then he started stalking me, and he took pictures of me falling over drunk, and he wrote stories about my three-in-a-bed antics, and he caught me talking all that garbage about what other celebrities had done, and the whole media turned …’

  A question: ‘But you turned the tables on them?’

  ‘Of course I did – ‘cos once you have fame you never really lose it, and the less mainstream channels took me on, and I was outrageous, and from then on, I was always in the papers again, and my life was complete and I was whole, and I could be who I wanted to be …’
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  A Question: ‘But at what cost?’

  ‘Look, any publicity is better than none.’ The celebrity smiled. ‘As for the cost? About £20,000. At least, that’s what I paid the journalist.’

  The psychiatrist had asked the last question for the day. But he already knew the cost was far greater than that.

  THE RETURN

  It was hard to live in a post-Apocalyptic world. How it was before the cataclysm seemed like a parallel universe. Oh, I could remember how it was, but now, as we scrapped a living from the land and attempted to rebuild a society, it seemed so alien.

  And HOW we had tried to rebuild. But every time we did, the Marauders would appear. We’d try to fight them, but it was impossible, now that he was no longer here.

  We began to dream of his return.

  Indeed, I thought about him always – what he would do, how heroically he would fight. But, as he taught us, we never gave up, and began to build again, yet every time it was knocked down.

  The Marauders finally came back for the last time. As they came over the hill, fear gripped us, but picking up our weapons, we began the fight.

  It was in the midst of the battle that he returned. It seemed surreal to watch him, as if he was ‘other’ than us. He wielded his weapons magnificently, and the point came in the battle when the Marauders realized we were touched by the gods. And then it was them who were fearful.

  They withdrew, blooded, never to appear again.

  After the battle, I went to his grave. And thanked him for inspiring me to be as he would have been.

  TOO MUCH REALITY

  Reality sucks. I always knew that, but today I just feel it all the more.

  He was stood in front of me, I remember. ‘So you DID do it,’ he said.

  ‘Well,’ I countered, ‘I suppose that depends on your view of reality.’

  ‘How’s that work, then?’

  ‘Well, its relative, you know. What you think happened, and what you think may have happened can often get confused.’

  ‘So you didn’t do it?’

  ‘Well, I suppose in some parallel universe I must have. And it just COULD have been this one.’

  ‘So you DID do it?’

  ‘As long as we don’t take the probability of quantum theory into account.’

  ‘A real wise guy, huh.’

  ‘In a relative kind of way …’

  I never got to finish the rest. Reality hit me all at once. And then Dad sent me to my room. And I’m just not gonna listen to them wise-ass teachers any more.

  I KNEW INSTANTLY

  I knew instantly I began to write that nothing would come. Why I knew, I didn’t know. I remember thinking, I should know, but I didn’t.

  Flashes of memory came to me. They suggested it had never happened before. Writers’ block was unknown to me. They told me that throughout my life I’d written, incessantly, prolifically. I’d written through illness, through heartache, through war, as well as the more joyous times. Somehow I knew that. But now …

  I sat back, wondering why I couldn’t write. I looked across the room. I noticed a woman who seemed vaguely familiar, and she gave me a sweet smile, and I knew there was love in that smile, and I knew I maybe loved her, but I wish I knew who she was.

  I knew instantly that I couldn’t remember what I had just thought, why I was by this computer, why I was in this strange room with pictures of me around it.

  At least, I think it was me. Then another flash of memory came and I remembered what I was – for an instant; and a tear rolled down my cheek, and the word ‘Alzheimer’s’ came into my mind before …

  Damn it to hell! The only thing, bar death, that finishes a writer off.

  Stories 19 – 24

  (19) Watching Closely (20) The Candle (21) A Daddy Story (22) A Vision Thing (23) Planet Zero (24) The Formula

  WATCHING CLOSELY

  I watch them. I watch them all the time. I watch them closely – intently. We can learn so much from them.

  A pair approach – male and female. The male is a definite alpha male, protective of his mate - as becomes obvious as another male approaches. Will it end in a confrontation?

  Tension builds. They stare at each other. The female seems uncomfortable – makes strange guttural sounds. But eventually the alpha male wins the day and the other departs.

  Others approach, go their way. It is a strange society and pecking order I observe. Sometimes a social hierarchy can be seen, whilst at others, there seems no society at all – only chaos. Or is it that I just don’t understand their ways, no matter how long I watch them.

  I suspect this may well be the case. After all, I notice how carefree and self-assured they can appear. Which is totally at odds with their need to keep me locked up in this zoo, watching.

  THE CANDLE

  I looked at the candle again. It all depended on the candle. If it went out, that was it. I knew it would be the end …

  The images flashed through my mind. Mallory was chasing the demon. He’d already foiled its plans once, but now he was heading towards the castle, the seat of his magic – and he knew that if he reached there, the world could never be the same again. Ideas flashed through my own mind – how could I help him? What could I do?!!!

  But I knew I could do nothing. What was is written, despite my intent to try and change it. And anyway, I had further problems of my own. The lady, you see, she was coming, prophesying the end.

  If I could only keep her away from the candle …

  The demon was approaching the castle, now, and somehow I was sure the lady was with him, helping him, delaying my hoped for conclusion. I willed Mallory to hurry, get there in time, and as the demon approached the drawbridge, Mallory came round the corner, a Herculean effort spurring him on and on, the gap closing, the demon beginning to perspire, Mallory drawing his ….

  The lady reached the candle then. Blew it out.

  I sighed, closed the book and wished my mother goodnight.

  A DADDY STORY

  A Daddy story?

  Huh! That’s a laugh. I thought he was mine – I really did. I was never told he was mine. After all, why would I be? I married, she got pregnant – he was mine!

  I brought him up for all those years as mine. And it was only when he was sixteen, and my marriage came to an end, that she told me.

  He wasn’t mine.

  My whole attitude to him changed. My old ways returned – the arrogance, the determination, the unwillingness to accept other views. And he wasn’t mine.

  He’d come and see me, shout at me, cry at my refusals to accept him! He’d stalk me. He’d goad me! He’d infuriate me!!!

  But he wasn’t mine. He wasn’t. He was someone else’s.

  ‘No I’m not!’ he’d declare. But facts were facts. He was someone else’s biological offspring. ‘But that means nothing!’ he’d demand.

  Never a respite. Never!

  His arrogance, his determination, his unwillingness to accept other views!

  Damn him. We hug.

  He’s mine.

  A VISION THING

  Mother and son had finished the shopping and decided to go to the zoo. ‘Yea! Great!’ said the son. Then a frown. ‘Now you’re sure you’ll find it. You know your vision’s blurred and you need glasses.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said the mother, who knew her vision was a match for anyone.

  Predictably, following a few wrong turns, they made it to the zoo. Stopping for a snack, the huge bird in the cage caught the mother’s attention. She walked over. Watched it. Then she noticed the sign: ‘To feed this eagle.’

  Pulling a piece off her snack she held her hand out to the eagle.

  The son looked on in shock. And as the eagle took it, the son advised if that was wise.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she said, ‘a hamburger never hurt anyone.’

  Consequently, the eagle adopted a rather strange look, fell off the perch, somersaulted a couple of times on the ground before vomiting.
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br />   ‘Oh, look, dear, he liked it,’ said the mother. She took some more, held it in her hand, which just passed into the cage.

  The eagle approached slowly, cautiously. Jumping onto the perch, it thrust a bulging eye in her direction. Then, moving a beak slowly towards the hand, the eagle dived, taking off a finger at the lower knuckle.

  The son said ‘yuck’ as the blood spurted everywhere. The eagle flapped its wings and squarked in triumph as it spat out the finger.

  Seconds later the zoo attendants pounced, carting the mother off, first, to the hospital, and second to the optician, before placing a £100 fine upon her. The finger followed later, the eagle showing a vindictive attitude and refusing to give it back. But at least, with a brand new pair of glasses, the mother was safe in the knowledge that next time she saw a sign saying ‘to feed is illegal,’ she’d eat the hamburger herself.

  PLANET ZERO

  The Explorer looked down upon the battle-scarred planet. He could see all the signs of high civilization. Cities, highways, everything an advanced culture required. Yet, it had all been reduced to rubble years ago.

  The thought entered his head that he should pass this planet by, but the insatiable curiosity of the human got the better of him. What had brought a civilization to this? And could it teach us anything about ourselves?

  He had not landed long when he found himself surrounded by heavily armed humanoids. Immediately suspicious of him, their aggression was obvious. Indeed, he thought he was going to die there and then. And no doubt would have if another group of humanoids had not approached and opened fire.

  The battle didn’t last long.

  There were casualties on both sides, but the first group withdrew, leaving the Explorer with the second.

  He asked why they fought, and the answer was typical. Something in their deep past had happened – they could not remember what – and the god-form, Consensus, demanded the battle carried on. Indeed, the only thing he could definitely find out was that the enemy was ‘different’.