Seasonal offering

It must be a year since I last posted anything here, because I suspect that the last thing I posted was a Christmas ditty.

Here is another Seasonal ditty which owes a bit to Charles Dickens:

Master of the Universe

Mark’s seven figure bonus burned the pockets of his jeans

Another Aston Martin now came well within his means.

His penthouse flat deposit came from last year’s bonus pack

His options and his pension fund kept future plans on track.

“Life is good this Christmas”, thought the banker looking down

From off his lofty balcony upon the dirty town.

“Tonight I’ll worship Mammon and give thanks for all my gains

And toast the banking system in plentiful champagnes”

The night was cold and wet and grey, but Mark just didn’t care

He’d spent a fortune getting drunk and barely had the fare

To catch a taxi home to bed to sleep the night away

And dream of all the stuff to buy with his inflated pay.

The bar had closed, his friends had gone, and now he stood again

Weaving gently on the kerb of this deserted lane

As if to make his night complete he saw with bleary sight

A taxi cab approaching him, “For Hire” sign alight

He slumped himself into the seat and gently closed his eyes,

Opened up his eyes again and there to his surprise

Sat Jacob, friend from student days, who’d made a pile in Law

But had succumbed to early death, but now sat there before

The puzzled and bewildered Mark who couldn’t quite recall

If he had asked this ghost along, he wasn’t sure at all

What actually was going on until the spectre spoke

And reassured his banker chum that this was not a joke

“I died” he said “before I could enjoy the fruits of wealth

“My sole concern was money; I cared not for my health

“And so it was one day as I was thinking what to buy

“The reaper came with sharpened scythe and told me I would die

“And now I am condemned to ride in this my ghostly cab

“Until I can convince one more that life is more than grab

“Up all the money and the things that it can get.

“I sit here ev’ry Christmas but I haven’t done it yet”

“Don’t think I’m the one to change” said Mark “what’s mine stays mine”

“And anyway I’ve set my sights upon a DB9”

The cab came to a stop beside a place Mark didn’t know

A wasteland by the riverside where desp’rate people go.

Figures shuffled aimlessly or simply stood around

Their clothes were ragged, pride had gone; they stared upon the ground

Having seen more than enough Mark slowly turned his head

To speak to Jacob opposite but, shockingly, instead

An image of himself stared back, unwashed and dressed in rags

A bottle clutched in dirty hands, his stuff in plastic bags.

“Hi Mark” this vision said at last and took another drink

“You don’t know me yet” he said “but just in case you think

“That bankers only give it out and are themselves immune

“I’ll draw you a scenario that hums a diff’rent tune.

“Your bank collapsed from dodgy deals and you were thus deposed.

“You couldn’t pay your debts and so your creditors foreclosed

“And here you are a year ahead, you’re homeless and bereft

“You’ve taken to the bottle ‘cos there’s simply nothing left”

He paused and stared at Mark awhile then spoke again at last

“You know they say when going up take care of those you pass

“‘cause when you’re going down you may be grateful for their aid,

“Well here I am already down and you’re already made.

“You never gave a single thought beyond your greedy self”

He winked and then ironic’lly he drank the banker’s health.

In guilt Mark closed his eyes to shut his other self away

And when he opened them again the night had turned to day

“Just a nasty dream” he thought.  He was lying in his bed

But he couldn’t lose the awful feeling running through his head.

Hungover from the night before, he turned the TV on

To idly watch the news unfold but knowing all along

That Masters of the Universe like him could not be caught

By pestilence or poverty, that all things could be bought;

But then upon the screen appeared a face he’d seen before

Looking from a taxi parked before his own front door.

“I’ve come to take you back” he said “there’s very little time

For you to make amends for greed before the church bells chime

The blessings of the Christmastide, and peace, goodwill to all.

Or wallow in your cosy bed and see what will befall

You when you’re on your way to gutter land and begging in the streets

And cardboard packing keeps you warm instead of silken sheets.

The screen then switched to show the place the scene so desolate

That Mark had seen the night before depicting what his fate

Would be if he should not give up his greedy selfish ways;

The likelihood was that this could be how he ends his days.

What thoughts went through Mark’s mind just then will never now be known

But soon he turned the TV off and reached out for his ‘phone,

Speed dialled the Aston Martin sales and when they came on line

“Enquiring for my order for my bright red DB9

“I’ve come to a decision and I thought I’d let you know

“That I’m cancelling the order and instead will now bestow

“My yearly bonus from the bank upon those most in need

“Christmas is a time to give and not for selfish greed”

Trainers

I must have started this story many months ago, in an attempt to write something to match the popularity of "Screamer", but it just wouldn't write.  In fact I have revisited it so many times that I'm not sure if it is the same story I originally envisaged.  The strange thing is that I had the story fixed firmly in my head.  I knew exactly what was going to happen and I felt the fear, panic and (worst of all) the hope that Johnny Sillitoe felt.  It just wouldn't get itself down on the paper.

Anyway I have finally finished it so maybe I can get on with something else now.

Trainers

Johnny Sillitoe knelt down in the hallway to lace up his brand new trainers.  This was going to be their very first outing; just a gentle run to break them in.  They had cost him a lot of money, but he hoped they would be worth it in the end.  They felt comfortable and he was really rather proud of them. 

This was a perfect day for the run.  It was early spring and the sun was bright but not particularly warm.  It hadn’t rained for a few days, so the ground was soft but not soggy.  No one was likely to want to contact him and he intended to leave his phone at home.  This was going to be between him and nature; exactly how he liked it. 

He performed a few stretches in front of the mirror in the hallway watching himself critically as he did so.  Not bad he thought, but then a pretty abstemious life had led to a pretty fit body and one that his last girlfriend had found desirable.  It was a shame that Sarah had been so clingy; if she had simply enjoyed his company for what it was and what it offered, they might still be together instead of breaking up as they had last weekend.  There were tears of course but they couldn’t be helped and now he had this wonderful day to break in his new trainers with no worries about anyone getting in his way.

He stepped outside the front door, turned his face towards the sun feeling its gentle heat on him and started to run towards the nearby woods.

By the time he had reached the edge of the woods he was already in rhythm.  He could hear his breathing in time with the pad of his new trainers.  They were feeling good on his feet.  

He paused at the edge of the wood to fix his MP3 player earphones into his ears, selected a rock playlist and set it to loud.  Right, he thought, here we go, let’s see how the shoes manage off road.  He entered the wood following the rutted track into the heart of this 30 acre patch of greenery.  He became totally absorbed in his running and his thoughts.  The music shut out the rest of the world and he was only vaguely aware of his surroundings.  His thoughts flitted to the relationship that he had just ended.  It was for the best.  People just got in the way.  He hardly got in touch with anyone these days except electronically and even email and the social networking sites got on his nerves now.  He was happiest working from home on his computer and only meeting with real people when he absolutely had to, and at the end of a day with his computer, his nightly runs were the perfect relaxation.

He was really into his rhythm now and hardly felt the ground beneath his feet.  The gentle breeze blew against his face cooling his sweat before it had time to gather on his brow.  His feet seemed to automatically jump over the ruts in the dirt track through the woods landing perfectly on the other side.  He had run this way many times in his old trainers but they had become so worn that they had begun to hurt his feet.  It was with great reluctance that he had gone to buy new trainers, hoping that he could buy an identical pair but inevitably finding that the manufacturers had stopped making that design.  The specialist shop had recommended a pair at a considerable cost, but the assistant had reminded him that they would be worth every penny if they worked well.  The thought had crossed his mind that they would be a waste of every penny if they hadn’t worked but they had felt very good on his feet in the shop and he was secretly proud of the fact that he was such a committed runner that he needed to buy such an expensive pair.

As he ran his thoughts were interrupted by a niggling irritation in his right trainer.  He had somehow picked up a stone and it was grinding against his heel.  He ran on for a while hoping that it would somehow dislodge, but it was no good, it had ruined his mood.  He stopped by the road, crouched down and took his trainer off.

*******

Mary was really taken with Jake.  She’d been twocking with other guys, but that had usually been at night and all they had done was drive around the estate in some beat up Escort or Fiesta or something.  Jake was different, he knew how to drive fast; he could even handbrake turn.  The last car before this one was a BMW and that could really travel.  She loved the buzz of going fast and racing round corners.  Jake always had some great stuff with him as well.  When they’d finished with the car Jake always torched it in some out of the way place so that the law couldn’t identify them.  That meant a bit of a walk back but with Jake that was OK. 

Mary had skipped out of school today and met up with Jake in the town.  They had taken some stuff and hung around for a bit until Jake had suddenly said he was bored and that they should do something different.  We need to nick a car he said, but not the usual crap, something else.  He must have been thinking about it for a while because he said he knew what he wanted and where he could get it.  He led her out of town a short way until they came to a tree lined street with cars parked all along it.  There was no one about and he walked up the middle of the road in that confident way he had.  Mary walked on the pavement keeping pace with him saying nothing.  She’d done this before.  She kept an eye open for anyone coming up the pavement.  Jake stopped opposite what looked like an old Land Rover that had been stripped of some of its body panels.  It had an exhaust that pointed into the air and had very fat chunky tyres.  Almost before she knew it, Jake was in the car with the engine running.  She climbed up into the passenger seat and Jake let in the clutch and sped away down the road.

This was so different to the other cars that they had ridden in.  It was very high off the ground and the ride was uncomfortably bouncy.  Jake drove out of town towards the woods in the distance.  He said that this car needed to be off road.  Mary sat in the passenger seat mesmerised by Jake’s handling of this strange vehicle.  They drove along until they came to a ninety degree bend in the road beyond which were the woods.  Instead of following the road Jake carried on at the same speed and crashed through the old wooden fence that bordered the wood.  Mary screamed in delight and glanced over at Jake.  He was grinning madly and fighting the steering wheel as the car bucked over the rough ground.  He tried to maintain the speed, but realised that he could not manoeuvre round the trees unless he slowed down a bit.  After a few minutes he came upon a track and steered the Land Rover onto it.  He could get his speed up now and pushed the car as fast as he could, crashing through undergrowth and breaking saplings as he went.  The car hit a large tree a glancing blow and shook them both about a bit but they weren’t hurt.  Mary took out two cigarettes and lit one of them with a lot of difficulty, partly because of the bouncing of the car and partly because she couldn’t stop giggling.  When she had managed to light the first cigarette she leaned over to place it in Jake’s mouth, but just as he opened his mouth for it, the car gave a huge jolt and she dropped the cigarette in his lap.  Jake took his hands of the wheel and patted at his lap to knock the burning cigarette onto the floor.  Mary joined in, giggling.  Without Jake’s hands on the wheel the car bucked and weaved all over the track bouncing off trees and throwing them all over the cabin of the car.  Jake managed to get a grip on the wildly spinning steering wheel and slowed the Land Rover to a stop.  He clambered out of the cab and looked back where they had been.  They had rutted the soft earth and there were signs of damage on a number of the trees and rather absurdly, a single trainer lying by the side of the track.  He got back into the Land Rover and joined Mary who was still giggling.  He drove more carefully out of the woods and headed for a country lane not far from the town.  He set fire to the car and they started to walk back.

******

Johnny never heard the Land Rover coming and never felt the impact as it flung him through the trees and scrub to lie half in and half out of a ditch some ten feet from the edge of the track.  When he came to, he felt the pain in his head but couldn’t seem to move.  He passed out again.

When he came round again darkness had fallen.  He felt no real pain, but was cold and frightened.  He was thirsty.  How long was it you could live without water?  Someone would find him.  This was the UK for goodness sake; people didn’t have accidents and then not get found.  But how will anyone know he was here.  He wasn’t on the track and there may be no sign that he had ever been in these woods. There was his trainer.  He remembered.  He had stopped to shake a stone from his shoe.  He had taken his shoe off and then whatever happened had happened.  His trainer will be out there; a brand new expensive trainer.  Someone will notice it and investigate.  He drifted off into unconsciousness again.

When he came round again it was day.  He was aware of how dry his mouth felt, and how disorientated he felt.  His mind wandered into the most bizarre daydreams.  All he could see was the branches of the trees above him.  He watched the birds and could hear them talking to each other.  He could see two magpies talking to each other.  Was it two for joy?  Someone would come.  He could hear the rooks in the trees above him cawing as if they were a concert orchestra.  He imagined that he could hear the melody as it washed over him.  They were all calling for help for him.  Why was no one listening?  The magpies had come down from the tree and were walking towards him.  Magpies have such purposeful walks.  One came right up to his head.  He could just see him if he turned his eyes to the extreme left.  The other one hopped onto his chest and cocked his head sideways to look at him.  He couldn’t watch both of them together.  He felt a sharp peck on his left ear.  He turned his eyes to the left again and the magpie moved away cautiously.  He felt a peck on his chin.  He turned his eyes on the magpie on his chest which moved to the right side of his head.  This wasn’t really happening, he was just imagining it.  A peck on his left ear, then on his right ear.  Moving his eyes kept them back.  He must keep moving his eyes.  They were afraid to attack him while he was alive.  He kept his eyes open and watched the magpies.

*******

He was found a few hours later by a man walking his dog who called for an ambulance.  He was still alive, but died later in hospital of multiple wounds consistent with being struck by a vehicle.   Two things puzzled the paramedics who attended him: how unlikely it was to have been run over by a vehicle in the woods, and how and why both eyes had been removed.

Kings

Sorry for the considerable delay in getting anything onto this blog, I simply couldn't manage to finish anything, and then couldn't start.  This was mostly because I was determined to write a horror story and had one all mapped out in my head, but it just wouldn't write.  I'll get back to it sometime and see if it has improved at all.

I know from the stats I get from you guys reading my blog (thank you for that), that you prefer my stories to my poems, but I wonder whether in fact you are simply put off by the fact that the story is in verse and that each line rhymes.  Personally I rather like what this does to the story, although it does lend itself  more to performance than to reading, and anyway I would say that wouldn't I.

Anyway, here it is, a story in rhyme to tell the tale of the festive season.

Kings

When I was young I earned my keep as servant to a lord

He worked me more and paid me less than he could well afford.

I tended to his clothing and his food and to his drink,

And left him on his own a lot so he could sit and think.

He said his wealth was in his mind; a wealth you cannot hold,

But I know best his wealth was real and counted out in gold.

My wealthy lord had wealthy friends and they too thought a lot

(So much to learn when you’re a have and not a poor have not).

They’d call upon my master’s house and join him in his thought

Or study manuscripts they’d found or papers that they’d brought.

“Ahmed” they’d call (for that’s my name), “bring us some food and drink.

“We need to be sustained with wine, and sweetmeats help us think”

Of course I served my master well, I had no other choice

But none of it fulfilled my mind or made my soul rejoice.

And so these pampered learned lords would while away the day

With reading and with thinking and with nothing much to say

Until my master Melchior one day called out to me

“Go saddle up the camels; you’d better make it three.

“Victual up the caravan we’ll be away a while

“And pack a bag yourself” he said “We’re travelling in style”

That meant of course that I‘d be there to dress and preen these fops

As well as feed the camels at our, no doubt frequent, stops.

Earlier that afternoon around came Balthazar

Who huddled up with Melchior to chat about some star.

Then Gaspar rushed excited in and gabbled out the news

That Dan’el and Balaam had both foretold that all the Jews

Would get a new Messiah or at least a brand new King;

That this, tied in with this new star, was really just the thing

They’d all been waiting for so long and time was now quite tight

And they must all be saddled up and set to go tonight.

Of course the preparations took me very many days

And all my lords would do at night was hang around and gaze

Up in the sky into the west and stand around like fools

Until at last I’d packed our bags and loaded all the mules.

Lord Gaspar and Lord Balthazar were very fancy friends

Who’d show off all their fine new gowns and follow fashion trends

And oh they loved their unctuants, their perfumes and pomade

Unlike my own Lord Melchior, his tastes were rather staid.

His pref’rences could trace their roots way back to times of old

Like many more before and since he kept his wealth in gold.

A mule was set aside for each of these three lords to load

With treasures of their choice alone before we hit the road.

Thus it was that Balthazar with frankincense did weigh

His mule to nearly breaking point, but who am I to say

That this was any worse than that of Gaspar who did pack

His mule with jars of Myrrh, while quite concealed inside a sack

Lord Melchior hid bars of gold and strapped them to a beast.

And thus our caravan was set from greatest and to least

In spite of camels and of mules not one was I to ride;

My Lords climbed up upon their steeds and I walked on beside.

We travelled on at nights and sat to eat at break of dawn

And journeyed on awhile until the brightening sun had worn

A path to highest heavens then, beneath our shelt’ring tent,

We slept until the sun declined and once again had bent

His head below the earth and then we travelled on

Until the sun rose up again and all the night had gone.

Before we slept these worthy lords would check their treasure trove

Ensuring that their wealth was there and that no sneaky cove

Had dipped a thieving hand inside and scooped some myrrh or gold

Or frankincense, though truth be known they would have needs been bold

To get away with such a crime and realise it’s worth

For these lords worshipped nought so well in heaven or on earth.

And so we travelled on until the star (it seemed to them)

Rested near a little town that’s known as Bethlehem.

My lords consulted all their books, then thought and talked a bit

And came to the conclusion that considering that it

Portended a new ruler for the kingdom, then the thing

To do most properly was tell the current king.

So (after checking on their wealth) we trudged a further night

And then far in the distance and by daybreak’s softest light

Jerusalem, King Herod’s seat, appeared as silhouette

It’s mighty temple still half built, the scaffold round it yet.

The caravan is called to halt, my lords they then dismount

They talk awhile and then decide there’s time enough to count

Their wealth again, and so each bag is lifted from its beast

The contents emptied out and back from greatest and to least

And then when it’s accounted for and none has disappeared

They call me to their side and just as I had feared

They tell me they would go alone and I must guard the loot

And woe betide if any ounce or drop or strip or shoot

Should be astray when they returned from meeting with the king

And be assured that they would check by counting ev’rything.

So much for trusting me I thought.  These wise old fools have need

Of simple kindly sentiments to overcome their greed.

Enough of all my bitterness, suffice to say I burned

With anger at their attitudes, but then when they returned

They checked their wealth again and finding it all there

They lay down in their tent to chat and ordered me prepare

A fine repast while they discussed the meeting with the King

Who’d greeted them all friendly like and asked them please to bring

The news of where the new King lay so Herod could perforce

Pay homage to his substitute, preparing in due course

A fitting place for him to dwell and rule the lands around,

But asked them not to tell a soul about what they had found.

Well I’m not wise or learned in books and lack the very things

You need to understand the thoughts of rulers and of kings

But nonetheless I didn’t think that any good would come

Of telling Herod what he asked; instead I just played dumb.

When night fell we were up again and following that star

A few more hours ride they said.  It wasn’t very far.

Not so far on camel’s back I thought.  That’s fine for them

But once more I stayed silent till we came to Bethlehem.

We came upon a humble house, on which the star shone down

The same as many other humble houses in this town.

No battlements upon its roof, no guards beside the door

And yet this was the house foretold, of that we were quite sure.

Lord Gaspar and Lord Balthazar quite lost their dignity

They climbed down from their camels and laughed immod’rately

Outside this little dwelling place wherein was meant to be

The prophesied new Jewish King that they had come to see.

Lord Melchior frowned down on them and in his quiet way

Admonished them to calm themselves; consider how to pay

The rightful homage to a King whose birth had been foretold.

His own intent was to present a humble gift of gold.

The other two could not contain their shock at this proposed

Donation of his worldly wealth and both were quite opposed

To giving up their unctuants and scents so dearly bought

To one whose humble dwelling wasn’t quite a Royal Court

They flounced and sulked and minced about; they just could not be sure,

Till Melchior with firm resolve just knocked upon the door.

Out came a lady, babe in arms, and both looked so serene

That all the lords dropped to their knees as if before a queen.

Nothing came to mind to do and nothing to be said

So I too fell upon my knees and humbly bowed my head.

As if upon a gesture giv’n or at a sound unheard

My lords arose and turned about and then without a word

Approached their mules, still laden down with what they’d valued most

Unhitched them from the caravan and led them to our host.

Each lord unslung the treasure bags to each mule’s great relief

And then to my amazement and my utter disbelief

The frankincense and myrrh and gold were laid before the Child

Who looking down from mother’s arms just raised his hands and smiled.

Well I was still on bended knee when She with holy grace

Asked me to rise and I too saw the Baby’s smiling face.

We said no more but as one man we slowly left that scene

And none of us, not even I, forgot where we had been

King Herod never learned from us where’er the baby lay

And I heard that the family left Judah on that day.

My lords still think a lot it seems and study hard to learn

But now they give away a lot of ev’rything they earn

Melchior no longer hoards his heavy bags of gold,

Lord Gaspar and lord Balthazar unlike the days of old

No longer crave their unctuants and incense as before

Though they still love their finery and keep that all in store.

Myself I still serve Melchior, but he has set me free

And when they all come round to ours I treat them all to tea.