There is nothing to touch in here, and it blisters my fingertips.
There is nothing to hear, and its shriek is deafening.
There is nothing to see, and it's image is burned deep into my retinae.
There is nothing to smell, and the stench of it clogs my nostrils.
There is nothing to taste, and it sits vile upon my tongue.
There is nothing in here.
Wherever here is.
Won't somebody help me …..?
Please …..?
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 8 June 2012
Friday, 1 June 2012
On the rocks
I lay across the rocks at the bottom of the cliff, broken and smashed, and although there was no pain, I was acutely aware that physically all was not good with me.
“Did you fall, or were you pushed?”
The Genie's face swam above me, looking perplexed, and not a little amused.
“Actually, neither, I jumped.”
I had so many broken bones I would be willing to bet that I couldn't count them on my fingers and toes, and most of those were in more than one piece now, so that in itself would up the numbers a bit.
“Why did you jump?
“Why? What a stupid question, to kill myself of course.”
“But you are immortal, you can't die, so don't you think it was a bit of a daft thing to do? You were the one that asked for immortality in the first place, so I don't really understand where you are coming from.”
“Yeah, well... if I'd known how boring immortality was gonna be I would have asked for riches or fame instead. So, if it's all the same to you, I'd like you to cancel the wish, and give me my life... err, or death back.”
“Sorry buddy, one wish per lamp-rubber, that's the rules.”
“I thought you guys were supposed to grant three wishes, where's my other two?”
“Well, yeah, we used to, but haven't you heard? There's a recession on just now, cutbacks have to be made.”
“Well, okay then, in that case how long will it take for my body to heal?”
“Oh, never. Well, the bones WILL repair themselves, but only in the shape they're in now, unless you get medical treatment anyway, splints and such, and since you chose such an isolated spot I think that's pretty unlikely. You just didn't think this through, did you?”
I took a good look at the shape I was in, all unfamiliar angles and new, multiple joints, all of it draped over the rock formation, following the contours as though it had been poured there.
“Yeah I guess it was pretty dumb, so, what happens now?”
“I suppose you've heard the phrase 'Decide in haste, repent at leisure'?”
“Yeah, sure, who hasn't?”
“Well my stupid friend, you're gonna have lots of leisure time to repent in, forever in fact. Now if you'll excuse me I have other lamp-rubbers to attend to. Ciao baby.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
“Did you fall, or were you pushed?”
The Genie's face swam above me, looking perplexed, and not a little amused.
“Actually, neither, I jumped.”
I had so many broken bones I would be willing to bet that I couldn't count them on my fingers and toes, and most of those were in more than one piece now, so that in itself would up the numbers a bit.
“Why did you jump?
“Why? What a stupid question, to kill myself of course.”
“But you are immortal, you can't die, so don't you think it was a bit of a daft thing to do? You were the one that asked for immortality in the first place, so I don't really understand where you are coming from.”
“Yeah, well... if I'd known how boring immortality was gonna be I would have asked for riches or fame instead. So, if it's all the same to you, I'd like you to cancel the wish, and give me my life... err, or death back.”
“Sorry buddy, one wish per lamp-rubber, that's the rules.”
“I thought you guys were supposed to grant three wishes, where's my other two?”
“Well, yeah, we used to, but haven't you heard? There's a recession on just now, cutbacks have to be made.”
“Well, okay then, in that case how long will it take for my body to heal?”
“Oh, never. Well, the bones WILL repair themselves, but only in the shape they're in now, unless you get medical treatment anyway, splints and such, and since you chose such an isolated spot I think that's pretty unlikely. You just didn't think this through, did you?”
I took a good look at the shape I was in, all unfamiliar angles and new, multiple joints, all of it draped over the rock formation, following the contours as though it had been poured there.
“Yeah I guess it was pretty dumb, so, what happens now?”
“I suppose you've heard the phrase 'Decide in haste, repent at leisure'?”
“Yeah, sure, who hasn't?”
“Well my stupid friend, you're gonna have lots of leisure time to repent in, forever in fact. Now if you'll excuse me I have other lamp-rubbers to attend to. Ciao baby.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 25 May 2012
A diamond for Beverley
She would have her diamond ring, to propose without one was unthinkable.
I scrubbed hard at the old brass curtain ring, spat on my threadbare shirt cuff and scrubbed some more. The metal began to un-dull, the gleam deepened, the shine began to shimmy.
Poor man's gold, but gold still the same, to me anyway.
A piece of glass, bright enough to catch the eye, to snatch the light, to capture a heart.
A smidgen of gum from the wad.
I had my offering.
* * * * * * * * * *
Beverley was beautiful, and I loved her. The princess of cardboard city, the dirt-encrusted duchess of the homeless.
This was our palace. I no longer saw the peeling wallpaper or the skeletal wall laths, the piles of rubbish and rubble meant nothing to me.
A squat is a squat is a squat.
But I saw Beverley, and loved her.
I sank to one knee and stretched my hand out towards her, hope sparkling between my thumb and forefinger.
I daren't speak for fear my voice would crack.
She looked at the ring, then into my eyes.
Gossamer wings fluttered my heart as I awaited her answer.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
I scrubbed hard at the old brass curtain ring, spat on my threadbare shirt cuff and scrubbed some more. The metal began to un-dull, the gleam deepened, the shine began to shimmy.
Poor man's gold, but gold still the same, to me anyway.
A piece of glass, bright enough to catch the eye, to snatch the light, to capture a heart.
A smidgen of gum from the wad.
I had my offering.
* * * * * * * * * *
Beverley was beautiful, and I loved her. The princess of cardboard city, the dirt-encrusted duchess of the homeless.
This was our palace. I no longer saw the peeling wallpaper or the skeletal wall laths, the piles of rubbish and rubble meant nothing to me.
A squat is a squat is a squat.
But I saw Beverley, and loved her.
I sank to one knee and stretched my hand out towards her, hope sparkling between my thumb and forefinger.
I daren't speak for fear my voice would crack.
She looked at the ring, then into my eyes.
Gossamer wings fluttered my heart as I awaited her answer.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Tuesday, 8 May 2012
42 The meaning of life
I wrote this very short piece for the competition that Alison Wells hosted to celebrate the launch of her novel:- Housewife with a Half-Life.
The challenge was to write a story of exactly 42 words, prompted by - “The meaning of Life, The Universe, and Everything.” - from Douglas Adams' - The Hitch-hiker's guide to the galaxy.
The competition received a very good response of fifty submissions, and you can check out all of the entries, and the competition results here:-
Competition entries:-
Competition results:-
* * * * * * * * * *
42 The meaning of life.
In my prison, life has no meaning.
Forty two goddamn centuries they gave me.
You've heard the story of the man who sold the world?
An amateur.
I stole the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.
Trouble is, I got caught.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
The challenge was to write a story of exactly 42 words, prompted by - “The meaning of Life, The Universe, and Everything.” - from Douglas Adams' - The Hitch-hiker's guide to the galaxy.
The competition received a very good response of fifty submissions, and you can check out all of the entries, and the competition results here:-
Competition entries:-
Competition results:-
* * * * * * * * * *
42 The meaning of life.
In my prison, life has no meaning.
Forty two goddamn centuries they gave me.
You've heard the story of the man who sold the world?
An amateur.
I stole the meaning of life, the universe, and everything.
Trouble is, I got caught.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 4 May 2012
Slice of life
It's been long time since I opened this tiny shop, over forty years now, and I wouldn't have swapped a single day of it, even if I could.
I provide a service you see, to the local community, keep them provided with things, so to speak. Things that no-one else can provide.
It took a while for the locals to accept me, and my wares, but once word got around I became the most successful shop in the village, and a jealously guarded secret from any outsiders, which was fine by me. I wasn't in it for the money you see, I was sent here as a kind of experiment, from them up there.
Today has been much of a typical one. Mrs Furlong popped in just after I flipped the sign to OPEN, her twin daughters in tow. “Half a pound of Interest please, Mister Godfrey. I'm feeling a bit lack-lustre today.”
Mister Godfrey, that's me, not my real name, but then again, what's in a name?
We chatted amiably as I weighed out the Interest, wrapped it, and took her money.
“You use that as soon as you can, dear.” I told her as she was leaving, she did look as though she needed it.
And so the day went on, and the sales were regular and frequent. A jar of happiness, a tin of self esteem, two sticks of determination, an ounce of kindness, a bottle of love, a sprig of sympathy, a packet of inspiration. The usual stuff.
Sometimes a small queue grew whilst I served some unfortunate with a long list, and occasionally I had time for a breather when the shop was empty for a few minutes.
The doorbell jangled, and in walked Martha Blessingham. Now Martha had been one of my very first customers, she had been a pensioner when I first came here and was well over a hundred years old now.
“Hiya Martha, lovely to see you my dear, your smile always brings the sunshine to my day. Will it be the usual?”
“Yes please Mister Godfrey, a slice of life please.” Her eyes twinkled and her mouth smiled its natural smile, she was a truly lovely, and lovable person.
“I've got a nice new piece, fresh in today.” I told her, as I reached under the counter and hefted the heavy slab of life up onto the cutting board. I placed the carving knife an inch or so along the slab, then glanced at Martha flirtatiously, twitching my eyebrows rapidly, smiling broadly.
“Oh, you are such a tease, Mister Godfrey.” She chuckled, as she waggled her finger, indicating that I should move the knife up a bit.
“A thicker slice than usual today then Martha? You must be ravenous.”
“Oh I am, Mister Godfrey, I am indeed, I just can't seem to get enough of it”
“There you go Martha.” I said, handing her the wrapped slice of life. “You'll enjoy that, it's prime quality, nothing but the best for you my dear.”
“Why thank you kindly Mister Godfrey, must dash now, I have all sorts of things to do today. See you again tomorrow.”
“Bye dear.” I called after her. Lovely lady.
I love the life that they have given me, and like I said, I wouldn't swap a single day of it, even if I could.
I'm hoping that this experiment is a success, and that them up there decide to expand it to a global level, I think it could be a real winner.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
I provide a service you see, to the local community, keep them provided with things, so to speak. Things that no-one else can provide.
It took a while for the locals to accept me, and my wares, but once word got around I became the most successful shop in the village, and a jealously guarded secret from any outsiders, which was fine by me. I wasn't in it for the money you see, I was sent here as a kind of experiment, from them up there.
Today has been much of a typical one. Mrs Furlong popped in just after I flipped the sign to OPEN, her twin daughters in tow. “Half a pound of Interest please, Mister Godfrey. I'm feeling a bit lack-lustre today.”
Mister Godfrey, that's me, not my real name, but then again, what's in a name?
We chatted amiably as I weighed out the Interest, wrapped it, and took her money.
“You use that as soon as you can, dear.” I told her as she was leaving, she did look as though she needed it.
And so the day went on, and the sales were regular and frequent. A jar of happiness, a tin of self esteem, two sticks of determination, an ounce of kindness, a bottle of love, a sprig of sympathy, a packet of inspiration. The usual stuff.
Sometimes a small queue grew whilst I served some unfortunate with a long list, and occasionally I had time for a breather when the shop was empty for a few minutes.
The doorbell jangled, and in walked Martha Blessingham. Now Martha had been one of my very first customers, she had been a pensioner when I first came here and was well over a hundred years old now.
“Hiya Martha, lovely to see you my dear, your smile always brings the sunshine to my day. Will it be the usual?”
“Yes please Mister Godfrey, a slice of life please.” Her eyes twinkled and her mouth smiled its natural smile, she was a truly lovely, and lovable person.
“I've got a nice new piece, fresh in today.” I told her, as I reached under the counter and hefted the heavy slab of life up onto the cutting board. I placed the carving knife an inch or so along the slab, then glanced at Martha flirtatiously, twitching my eyebrows rapidly, smiling broadly.
“Oh, you are such a tease, Mister Godfrey.” She chuckled, as she waggled her finger, indicating that I should move the knife up a bit.
“A thicker slice than usual today then Martha? You must be ravenous.”
“Oh I am, Mister Godfrey, I am indeed, I just can't seem to get enough of it”
“There you go Martha.” I said, handing her the wrapped slice of life. “You'll enjoy that, it's prime quality, nothing but the best for you my dear.”
“Why thank you kindly Mister Godfrey, must dash now, I have all sorts of things to do today. See you again tomorrow.”
“Bye dear.” I called after her. Lovely lady.
I love the life that they have given me, and like I said, I wouldn't swap a single day of it, even if I could.
I'm hoping that this experiment is a success, and that them up there decide to expand it to a global level, I think it could be a real winner.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Thursday, 26 April 2012
Killing fields
Last week I came across the #SatSun Tails on Rebecca Clare Smith's Journal, a weekly competition of 150 words, including a photo prompt and a written prompt. On impulse, and just for the fun of the involvement I wrote this short piece and posted it.
Accompanied by this photo was the written prompt :-
“Forget what they plant in the killing fields.”
I didn't manage to earn a place, but did qualify for a constructive critique, which is always appreciated, and I did enjoy taking part in the competition too.
The overall winner this week was Jeffrey Hollar at “The Latinum Vault”. His entry was a beautifully written piece entitled “Her absent lover.”
You can find Jeffrey's story and all the other entries here:-
10th #SatSun Tails. Competition entries.
10th #SatSun Tails. Competition results.
* * * * * * * * * *
KILLING FIELDS.
“Forget what they plant in the killing fields.” An order, not a request.
Forget indeed!
I hefted the heavy axe high above my head, then brought it down as hard as I could, burying it deep into his skull.
“How the hell can I forget when they come to visit me every full moon?” I shrieked at the falling form.
I dragged him outside and buried him alongside the others, fashioning a wreath of fern over his grave, adding the willow branch fetish.
“I'll be seeing you again, at the next rising, let's see what advice you can give me then, huh?
Looking over my shoulder at the house, I noticed a flicker of shadow pass the upstairs window.
I walked back inside, grabbing the axe before setting off up the stairs.
“Now we will see who gets to do the planting in future.” I whispered to myself.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Author's note:- After reading the critique I decided to edit the ending slightly from the original story, hopefully it reads a little better now. :-)
Steve.
Monday, 16 April 2012
Broken road
I don't usually do writing or photo prompts, but I saw this one on Icy Sedgwick's site, “Icy's Blunt Pencil” and thought “Why not?”
The photo of the broken road, and the name of the prompt are Icy's work. The picture of Albert is courtesy of Fotosearch.com.
* * * * * *
Broken road.
After pushing the letter into the post box I set off up the hill in the direction of the village chip shop, I was really looking forward to a nice bit of haddock for tea . My pension doesn't run to too many treats, but I just wouldn't get through the week without my Tuesday fish'n'chips. It was a tradition of mine really, Tuesday is fish'n'chip day, everyone in the village knew that 'Old Albert' had fish'n'chips for tea on Tuesdays.
I'd only gone a few paces when the ground beneath my feet heaved, sending me sprawling.
Earthquake? I thought. Here? This is England not bloody Turkey.
I rose shakily to my feet, pushing myself up with the walking stick, my ceramic hip complaining at the unaccustomed stress. The ground continued heaving and shaking.
I watched with horror as a huge chunk of the road suddenly leapt upwards several inches.
The ground continued to rise inch by inch as it was slammed repeatedly from below. The screeching and rending noises almost drowned out the angry growls coming from below... Almost.
"Sod this!" I thought. I wasn't going to hang around to see what was going to come out of there...
I threw my walking stick to one side and set off running as fast as my arthritic legs would carry me, all thoughts of fish'n'chips forgotten now.
I was still going strong when I passed Mrs Lowbottom just before I got to the village green.
“Albert?” She shouted to me. “Albert, slow down for God's sake, the chippy doesn't close for another half hour yet.”
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Friday, 13 April 2012
Stolen kisses
The strange phenomenon was slowly permeating the village, as the days passed more and more people fell victim. Doctors and scientists were baffled, there was not one positive response to any type of treatment, either medicinal or psychological, even hypnosis was tried, and failed.
No one had any answers.
Mothers no longer comforted their babies. Husbands no longer kissed their wives goodbye before they left for work. Lovers no longer strolled hand in hand through the park, or canoodled in shop doorways.
The village was becoming an emotional wasteland.
* * * * * *
The entity knew nothing of divorce rates, or broken homes, or shattered families. It was a being driven by instinct, by hunger. It was a predator, a hunter.
It came in the night, silent, invisible, intangible.
It seeped under doors or through air vents, and fed on the sleeping forms.
It stole their kisses and devoured them. It absorbed their cuddles and embraces. It drank their touches and caresses. It glutted itself on their love, their tenderness, and their joy, then moved on to the next house leaving behind the sleeping husks.
And it gained strength, and grew.
By the time it had reached the nearby town it had grown strong enough to divide, and a few days later again, then again...
When it left the town behind, the entity had grown over a thousandfold, and it was ravenous.
Gathering speed, and ferocity, it hurtled across the open countryside towards the nearest city.
And the feast.
The first of many.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
No one had any answers.
Mothers no longer comforted their babies. Husbands no longer kissed their wives goodbye before they left for work. Lovers no longer strolled hand in hand through the park, or canoodled in shop doorways.
The village was becoming an emotional wasteland.
* * * * * *
The entity knew nothing of divorce rates, or broken homes, or shattered families. It was a being driven by instinct, by hunger. It was a predator, a hunter.
It came in the night, silent, invisible, intangible.
It seeped under doors or through air vents, and fed on the sleeping forms.
It stole their kisses and devoured them. It absorbed their cuddles and embraces. It drank their touches and caresses. It glutted itself on their love, their tenderness, and their joy, then moved on to the next house leaving behind the sleeping husks.
And it gained strength, and grew.
By the time it had reached the nearby town it had grown strong enough to divide, and a few days later again, then again...
When it left the town behind, the entity had grown over a thousandfold, and it was ravenous.
Gathering speed, and ferocity, it hurtled across the open countryside towards the nearest city.
And the feast.
The first of many.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
Saturday, 7 April 2012
Versatile Blogger
The lovely, and very talented lady Susan May James who blogs over at Scribble & Scatter has very kindly included me in her Awesome 15, and awarded me The Versatile Blogger Award. Thank you so much Susan, it is very much appreciated.
Now, according to the rules I must choose my own Awesome 15, not an easy task as there are so many good writers and bloggers out there.
After much thought and deliberation, here are the fifteen awesome writers I have chosen. Most of them are fiction writers, a couple of them have not been active for a while, but they are only resting, not retired. Meanwhile check out their blogs and their archives, there is some brilliant stuff in there.
John Xero: - Xeroverse: Missing Pieces.
Aidan Fritz: - Aidan Writes.
Nickie O'Hara: - Typecast.
Stephen Hewitt: - Cafe Shorts.
Colin James: - The I-10 Blog.
Helen A Howell: - Helen Scribbles.
John Wiswell: - The Bathroom Monologues.
Harry B Sanderford: - Harry B Sanderford.
Icy Sedgwick: - Icy's Blunt Pencil.
Tim VanSant: - otoh.
Stephen Book: - Powder Burns & Bullets.
Larry Kollar: - Tale From FAR Manor.
Marc Nash: - Sulci Collective.
Richard Bon: - Liminal Fiction.
Justin Davies: - The Flyingscribbler.
Peter Newman:- Run Pete, Write.
It wasn't easy choosing writers for the list, it would be nice to just link to all of the writers that I read, but sadly I'm only allowed fifteen.
PS. I've just noticed that somehow I've missed out Peter Newman, how on earth did that happen? Oh well, it will have to be my awesome sixteen then.
Best wishes with all your future works guys.
Steve Green.
Friday, 6 April 2012
Inner beauty
Men were superficial creatures, Stella knew this, and she had known plenty of men in her time.
As each new one came into her life she took the time to discover the person beneath the facade, to look for the inner beauty.
Sometimes it could be hard work getting to know the deeper person, working ones way through the outer layers.
She wiped the back of her hand across her damp brow, smearing clear salt liquid with red, she was exhausted, and he hadn't really been worth the effort after all.
She glanced at the remains on the table, Marcus had a certain inner beauty, but she'd seen much better.
What she needed right now was a shower and some sleep. She tossed the dripping knife into the sink and set off towards the bathroom. She would clear the mess up in the morning.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
As each new one came into her life she took the time to discover the person beneath the facade, to look for the inner beauty.
Sometimes it could be hard work getting to know the deeper person, working ones way through the outer layers.
She wiped the back of her hand across her damp brow, smearing clear salt liquid with red, she was exhausted, and he hadn't really been worth the effort after all.
She glanced at the remains on the table, Marcus had a certain inner beauty, but she'd seen much better.
What she needed right now was a shower and some sleep. She tossed the dripping knife into the sink and set off towards the bathroom. She would clear the mess up in the morning.
©2012 Stephen. J. Green.
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