Writing

Avery Rackell, deceased, was in a high ranking management position, within the corporatocracy of MOW. He married a co-worker, Tayla Sarez, and had two children, Brianna and Asuka, both daughters, with her. When the children were 5 and 1 Tayla’s parent’s decreed their three children, spouses and various grandchildren should all become freelancers and join the Organisation, an anti-MOW ‘criminal’ organisation. Avery declined the move and tried to convince his wife to do the same. However loyalty to her family overcame loyalty to him and she tried to take both the children with her. In the end Tayla only partly succeeded and left with Brianna, the older of the girls, leaving Asuka in her father’s care.

Asuka was brought up by a wet nurse and a nanny until the age of 8 when her father attained the position he held until his death, and they moved from Devocha, Mars, to London, Earth. She had no knowledge of having a mother or sister until a series of events when she was 25 and she returned to Devocha after her Father’s death a year previous to collect on her inheritance. It was at this time her lawyer revealed their existence, at the late Avery’s request, and the existence of an apartment in New York she was previously unaware of. In the apartment she found a message from her father…

why would he have kept this a secret for so long, and why would he not tell her outright in the message what occurred? Did Avery kill Tayla, either by mistake or design? he would be capable of such an act in the heat of passion. Was he embarrassed at Tayla’s lack of loyalty to him, or her apparent philosophies? In the message Avery points Asuka towards MOW’s archives for explanations, is he afraid someone other than her will find the info and use it against her? Or could he have hidden the truth someplace else if this was the case. Where in the hell does Jarett Tepper, the father of Gurn her business partner, who is apparently a MOW deep cover operative, fit in to this, and how does he know her parents?

This is a short short story, inspired by the keyword ‘camel’.

Sammy stopped and gripped the bars of the animal enclosure.

“Wow Dad! What’s that?”

Sam’s dad sighed and looked at the sign on the pen.

“A camel. Oh Gloria!” he said tiredly, attention switching back to Sammy’s little sister. “No, don’t take of your shoes, I said… Look come here…” But Sammy had stopped listening to his dad and was staring intently at the strange creature in front of him. It sorta looked like a funny horse, but was massive, taller than even his dad, and had pale yellow hair all over. Strangest of all where the two lumps on it’s back. Just then it opened it’s thick lipped mouth at him and made a sound sort of like a honk, and sort of like a bark.

“Wow dad, did you-” Sammy aid turning, but his dad was occupied with his little sister still. They had moved over to a bench, and his dad was sat with the push chair in front of him. Sammy huffed to himself; Gloria was always distracting their dad.

“I really like camels,” came a voice to his side. Sammy looked up to see an man, older than his dad, but younger than his Grandpa stood next to him with an ice cream. “Fantastic creatures, aren’t they?” the man continued. “One saved my life once.” Sammy started at the man. His face was heavily tanned and lined, but his voice was that of an American.

“Wow, really?”

“Yup.” The man licked his ice cream.

“Uh, mister?” Sammy said after a moment.

“Yeah?”

“What’re the lumps on it’s back for? Is it sick?” The man laughed and smiled.

“It’s not sick,” he said with his husky voice. “They’re so it can travel for weeks across the desert without dying.

“Wow,” said Sammy, looking again at the camel. “That’s so cool!”

“Yup.”

“Sammy!” his dad suddenly called. “Come on, we’re going now.” Sammy glanced up at the man.

“That your Dad?” the man asked. Sammy nodded. “Don’t keep him waiting then.”

“Thanks mister!” Sammy said, running over to his dad, hand waving.

“Sure thing kid,” said Indy, waving back.

As we approach Christmas and the new year, I’ve been reminiscing on the things I’ve been up to over the year, and naturally that includes some of the purchases I’ve made. Without a doubt the prize for the best purchase I’ve made this year goes to: Lifeventure Dry Wash Gel.

Basically it’s a coloured antibacterial hand wash – akin to the stuff you find in hospitals - that smells faintly of mint. It comes in a handy rigid tube of 50ml and the applicator/ lid while easy to open with one hand, never seems to come open in my bag.

This stuff is so useful! I bought it before I went to the Cropready musical festival this year, and it saw a lot of use by more than just Dark and I. I’ve taken it out on hikes, and when I’m out shopping. It’s been passed around and everyone I’ve spoken to has said it’s a good idea, and I would imagine it’d be indispensable with a small family.

The only downside is the slightly sticky feeling you get after an application, but that soon goes off

I gave it for value, usefulness and conversation starter!

Empty store,
and lame music,
inoffensive;
Lights too bright and
bored out of my mind.

Just another day at work.

Slow day,
oh slow day.
When wilt thou end?

An hour and thirty
- with nothing to do -
Providence!
Send customers my way,
I beg thee,
or I fear I shall die of this tedium…

I saw a man today.
I thought he was a friend,
one I had not seen in…
such a long time.

I walked up to greet him,
a smile ready on my face,
but he looked up at me,
and I saw
[with embarrassment]
it was not my friend at all.

The smile lingered thought,
and he smiled back
[though he must have been confused]
and in my awkward British way,
to cover the mistake,
I asked him for the time.

But as I walked away,
a thing I once heard someone say came to mind:
Strangers are friends waiting to happen.
I paused in mid step,
turned back,
[with a bigger smile]
and handed him my card.

Maybe he’ll e-mail.
Maybe he’ll call.
Maybe he’ll not.
Either way, I made a new friend today.

I loved my Aunt Polly dearly. She was always so eccentric living out in the country, her little cottage always festooned inside and out with bright colours. I loved that she always had the most interesting sweets and jams, the oddest collection of nick-nacks. It seemed a shame now that she had to had to move into a home. My mother told me that she’d had a fall and broke her hip and so she wasn’t spry enough to bound up and down her stairs, or to even walk the small hill to Whitchurch to collect the daily paper.

So here we stood, in her little room at the home. They told me that the cottage was going to be sold to a wealthy Londoner, who would do it up ‘properly’. All the nick-nacks would be gone, sold for a few bob at auction to people we’d never meet. And now here was my Aunt Polly, seeming small and shrunken and sapped of life in this tiny room with it’s white walls, and pale brown bed-stead and white covers, and the pale, pine brown dresser. In fact it seemed the whole room was furnished in sterile white, except for Polly herself. My little Aunt, with her gammy hip, sat in the corner of the room [on a white arm chair] dressed in the most fabulous purple dress, with a bright red hat and orange boa. She flashed me a wicked grin.
“When I am old,” she said, quoting from a famous poem, “I shall wear purple with a red hat which doesn’t go.”

We stood like two strangers on the rain platform. Which, I suppose we were. Never mind that I was his daughter. Never mind that he was my father. We didn’t know each other, and we hadn’t, not for a long time. Not since Mama passed. I looked at him, his greying hair, the corduroy jacket. At one glance even I, a stranger, could tell the academic life suited him. The life of Oxford; stuffy rooms, bulging books and papers, large dinners at long tables, old boys. Especially those large dinners. Under the jacket he wore the same stripy knit jumper his mama, my Grandmama, had made for him. It strained now though to cover his rather ample bely. And what about me? How had I changed to him? A young woman standing on the edge of Platform 2, taking the place of the rebellious teen who thought she knew it all. The old Victorian style canopy does not lend it’s self well to keeping the rain from our heads, but it manages gamely.
“Father,” I greet him.
He takes a swift step forwards. I am unprepared for his embrace.

—-
I think the tense in this changes from past to present, but I’m not sure where exactly…

She awoke suddenly, taken from the dream-state as though a rope had pulled her physically away. She automatically breathed in the cold morning air, a great stuttering breath, but instantly hacked it back up again, the cough sending tremors through her whole being. When she had recovered, the young woman sat up and looked around, clutching at her bed with taut fingers. It was the same as when she had gone to sleep – the desk, the chair, her clothes – all exactly as she had left them. She drew her legs up under herself and rubbed at her face. The feelings of disorientation and change must have been from the dream. The Dream.

In the dim light allowed through her blinds, the woman brushed back long copper curls with her hands, before reaching for the pen and notepad kept by the bed for just such an occasion. The dreams had been getting worse, she was sure. The illness was making them more vibrant, more real and harder to wake from. She was afraid that one day she’d never wake up and be stuck in the horrifying dream-world forever. Opening the book, she found a fresh page and began to write about what she had seen.

[Unfinished]

Two real moments merged to the fictitious

They walked, the lake to one side, in the gathering twilight. The sky was a beautiful riot of purples, blues, reds and oranges as the sun sunk into the water at their left.
“Duck!” he said, needlessly pointing to the gathering of waterfowl. The compulsion to quote was so strong, she didn’t even try to resist.
“Behold the duck. It does not cluck,” she said. “A cluck it lacks; it quacks. It’s especially fond of a puddle or pond. When it dines or sups, it’s bottom’s up.” He stopped and turned to her, green eyes vibrant in the last of the day’s light.
“I love you,” he said, the sentiment warm and sincere. She smiled at him in bemusement.
“Why?”
“Because,” he paused, trying to find the words. “Because you quote poetry like it was the most natural thing in the world.”
“That’s because it is!” she said laughing, and the smile turned from bemusement to endearment.
They embraced and stood as the last sun-rays dipped below the horizon, before walking on.

[NB: In honour of my lover, who suggested the prompt]

Andy stood in the kitchen, pondering. The sun shone down through the small window creating a super heated square of light on the work top in front of him. To anyone observing, the scene would look quite odd. For there, in the centre of the light, Andy had placed a block of cheese. Fortunately for Andy, there was no one to observe, for he was alone in the house and his mother and brother weren’t expected for a while.

Andy, not yet quite 7, stood on a kitchen stool as he pondered his block of cheese. While the reasons of his observation might not be apparent to any said watcher they were crystal clear to the boy. That morning, at 6am before their mother had been awake to tell them off, Andy and his brother, Ian, had watched a cartoon in which a genetically altered block of cheese had, after being heated to super high temperatures, begun to mutate into an evil cheese monster to be controlled by the super villain. Before being taken out by the boys’ mother, Ian had dared Andy to experiment with a block of their own cheese, to see if it would do the same as in the cartoon.

So now Andy was continuing his observation of the cheese, but as yet, it didn’t seem to be doing anything. Well, except maybe melting slightly. He shook his brown curls. It seemed obvious now – the cheese had to be from genetically modified cows for this to work properly. As he picked up the soggy cheese, slipping it back into it’s wrapper and putting it back in the fridge, Andy wondered where he’d be able to get some of that from.

It’s quiet today. And cold. The mist seems to wrap around everything and dampen the sound it makes. Trees stand as dark sentinels to the park. I imagine, as I walk through them, that during the night they’ve been talking, strategizing like military generals, against the coming day. In the pale dawn light, my breath huffs out in clouds of water drops that cling again to my face as I walk forward. Further on now, and those majestic giants are replaced with shrubs and bushes - foot soldiers to the oak general. The mist has collected in their low twigs and drips as my feet tap by on the frozen asphalt.

In that ethereal space that is known as the realm of inspiration and Ideas, the gate opens and the gate keeper dispatches another good idea to some unsuspecting writer, poet, film maker, or journalist. In this case the idea is coming to me, wired directly to my brain. I’m probably dozing in that tween land just before sleep, when it hits me. I’ll think on it, expand it before realising I have a gold mine right there. I’ll toss and turn, think I should get back to sleep but the idea keeps nagging. Eventually I’ll get up, switch on the light, find a pad and pen and note it down before turning the light off and going back to bed.
In the morning, I’ll look at the pad, try to read the scrawl and start to write. I’ll expand and contact the path I’m writing on, until it forms a real thought, a plot.

Behind her the noise escalated into a thunderous roar. Jessy looked to her left to see Phillip running beside her. To her right was chandler, also running. Jessy glanced behind them, at the rushing water, getting ever closer and ever louder. Her mind was filled with only fear and panic and survival. Soon the water would catch them, she thought, the wave would scoop them up, like a giant watery hand, and carry them further into the caverns. The trio skidded around a corner, their cloaks flying out behind them, packs being flung to the side, almost tipping them off balance, weapons belts chinking under the roar of the rushing water. She couldn’t remember where they’d come in, she couldn’t see the ladder they’d used to come down through the celling. What if they’d passed it, what if they couldn’t get out? She looked behind again, to see the tide come around the corner.
“There it is!” cried out Chandler. Jessy turned back. Chandler was pointing ahead of them, and she could also dimly make out the rope ladder swaying slightly. Phillip put a spurt on and was halfway up the ladder before Jessy reached it. She immediately started climbing. She was halfway up when the water hit.
“Hold on,” Phillip screamed at them from safety. Jessy held on tightly, her arms twisted into the ropes of the ladder as the wave beat at her with cold merciless fist of water. She looked down at Chandler, to see him struggling also. He was up to his neck, desperately trying to hold on, and climb higher.
“No! Chandler! Don’t!” Jessy called to him, even though she knew he probably wouldn’t be able to hear. “Don’t climb! You’ll slip!” He looked up at her and grinned, hand reaching for another rung. Whoosh! Another wave hit them and subsided.
“Chandler!” Jessy screamed as he was wrenched away from them. “Chandler!”
“Game Over,” said a loud ominous voice. The water disappeared, and the trio lay panting on the hollodeck floor.
“Jackass,” Phillip said to Chandler, throwing his arm out in an attempt to hit him. “You made us loose again.”
“Sorry,”

After the noise of the street, the silence of the church was deafening, Richard thought. As he stood on the threshold, he considered briefly the chill and that vacuous silence, and how it lent sincerity and sanctity. Richard took a step off the prickly mat and listened to how the hard leather sole rang out against the tiled floor. He took another, and then another until the silence was filled with his ringing footfalls and he was stood before the alter.

He looked up, over the golden chalices and candle stick holders, past the stone depictions of St Paul, St Mary and the others, to the rosary window. He gazed at it, his eye moving along the leadened lines, picking out the detail of each scene. As he gazed, outside the sun came out, sending spots of colour dancing across the floor, the alter steps and Richard. In reverence for the spectacle he knelt, and as he did so, the sun shone brighter, sending the yellow halo of Christ to rest upon Richard’s own brow.

Richard sighed. He’d asked for a sign, and a sign he had received.

I'm really bored. I would like to do some writing, but what on? is the question I can seem to answer. So I'd love for y'all to leave me a comment with an idea for something I could write on. I don't really have any specialized subjects, and I don't even mind what sort of writing you suggest, be it a story or an essay/ article. Just give me something to write on, please?

Joss Whedon is a writer, mostly. He's also directed and produced three very famous TV shows: one about a cheerleader who kills vampires; one about a good, if broody, vampire and one about a little ship trying to keep flying. So, more accurately, Joss Whedon might be known as a creator.

Unknowingly at the time, I first came across Whedon's work while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a rave new sci-fi/ fantasy/ thriller/ horror TV show that my brother and his girlfriend where obsessing about. I liked the show, but didn't really become hooked until the last few seasons when I watched it with said girlfriend. Time passed and I'd heard some mention of a spin-off series, Angel, but it was always on at an annoying time so I never got to see much of it. Then, in 2003, a year after it was canceled, Firefly came to the UK and I fell instantly and completely in love with it. Also unbeknownst to me until I started researching for this article, I'd found his work in other places as well, notably Titan A.E. and Atlantis: The Lost Empire - both firm favorites with me, especially Titan A.E., a film I could watch forever.

What does Joss and his work mean to me?
First the man: From what I've read [and since I got a little obsessed with this article I've read a fair amount] Whedon is a nice guy. He's honest about what he's done and modest about what he's achieved and he's a feminist involved with Equality Now, which is a double plus. Whedon is also a great source of inspiration to me. His energy and humor and, well, Joss-ness make me feel I can do anything with what I write. I'll admit that sometimes I fulfill the stereotypical angst-y struggling writer, but when I think of his work, I get filled with a great sense of hope and achievement.
His work, mainly with Firefly and Serenity, also makes me feel good. The sense of family and comradeship that emanates from the TV screen when I watch the episodes or movie makes me feel happy, privileged and, in some strange way, included.

But mostly I feel enthused by him and what he's done, and it makes me think 'If he can do it, so can I'

Links:
IMDB Profile
Equality Now
Whedonesque

Year: 2006
Genre: Sci-Fi/ Animation/ Thriller

This film basically covers the day-to-day activities of an LA narcotics cop who takes the very drug he's trying to stop others from getting hooked on, and his loss of identity he experiences as a result.

I didn't like this film. While the 'graphic novel' style was intriguing, it didn't really do much to alleviate the confusing plot, nor the slow build up to what was actually turned out to be an interesting conclusion. I haven't read the book of the same name [written by Phillip K Dick] but I think I would like to now, to see how the film compares or if the plot is explained fuller.

Also, after reading a great many comments on this film on IMDB.com, I would have to admit that maybe I don't like this film as much as I could do, because I simply don't 'get' the drug related undertones. Even so, I'd still give it just

Year: 2006
Genre: Teen flick/ Pop

Accepted is the story of a student who, after being rejected from every college he applied to, creates a fake college to fool his parents, but things go a little wrong when over a hundred teens turn up, having been 'accepted' to the fake college.

I absolutely loved the film. It's very funny, and I just love the base concept. The characters are realistic and you really feel for them. It's just an awesome film.

I give it

Year: 2006
Genre: Adventure/ Religion/ Mystery

The DaVinci code is based on the book of the same name by Dan Brown, and follows the adventures of American symbologist Robert Langdon and French cryptologist Sophie Neveu, as they struggle to understand the situation they find themselves flung into, a situation that challenges the very way Christianity works.

While I've not read the book, I would still say this was a cool film to watch, simply because of the main premise. The acting, as well as the way the pair get out of each situation that's thrown at them makes for good watching, and I was left with an overall 'cool' feeling. While I admit this probably isn't one of the best movies out there, and there might have been some points missing from the film that are in the book, I still enjoyed it.
I give it

Year: 2004
Genre: Childrens'/ Animation/ Adventure/ Fantasy

This film is about a little boy who doubts whether Santa actually exists, and on Christmas Eve is taken by steam train on a magical adventure to see Santa at the north pole.

I quite like this film. It has the classical elements of a feel-good Christmas story, with singing and dancing, newly forged friendships, more unusually a train, and a small child overcoming numerous adversities to live happily ever after. Okay, well it's not quite that clichéd, but very close. Even so, it's a good enjoyable family film.
I give it

A lot of people seem to think that being a Lollipop Lady is easy and consists of walking in and out of a road. To a certain extent those people would be right, but it's no where near that simple.

I've been a lollipop lady for just about 4 months now, and it's been pretty much nothing like I expected. I originally took the job as a stop-gap measure until I could get myself a full time job. I'm still working on getting that full time job, but I wouldn't have passed this experience up for anything.

Duties
My duties are to help all pedestrians cross the road outside my school safely. It sounds very simple, but lets look deeper.

As well as the simple act of crossing pedestrians [and the occasional cyclist], I have to keep an eye on the children. In the mornings, due to insurance issues, they aren't allowed to go onto school grounds before 0830h. As a consequence they collect beside the foot entrance and by my designated crossing. I have to keep an eye out that no one is directly behind me or I might hit them with my stick, as well as stopping them/ traffic if, for whatever reason, they run into the road. I also have to keep my eyes open, when crossing other children, for the ones who will see you are crossing and run to try and cross as well. In the afternoons, all the children come out at roughly the same time, and [seemingly] all from the same foot entrance, so I have to make sure that the pavement doesn't get too overcrowded.

Then there is traffic. Stopping cars going at 30mph isn't as easy as it sounds, especially when you get the idiots who think it's fun to speed up just as you display the sign. Unless the traffic is crawling along it can be pretty daunting to step out into the path of a moving vehicle and trust that the driver is good enough and a decent enough person to stop. I've had people serve around me when I've been walking to the middle of the road before. As well as stopping traffic, you also have to try and keep it flowing. This is hard, especially when you are dealing with the fickle minds of children.

The keeping an eye on the children and the traffic are the main constituents of my job, but there are always those fun little hidden extras. The lights, for example. Because of the position of my crossing, there are hazard lights at either side of my crossing that I have to turn on. This isn't required by the job per se, but the Headmistress has asked me to inform the children when it's 0830h so they can go in [if it's raining, I'm nice and let them in 5 mins early]. Then there are 'drive through's. This is where a driver completely disregards the fact there is a florescent human being stood in the road with a great big metal pole and drives past them anyway. When this happens, you're supposed to get the licence plate, but it's very very difficult. I've only had this happen to me twice but both times it was very scary.

I think that's mostly it with the duties. See, not so simple eh?

Uniform/ Equipment

As previously noted, I have a great big metal pole. It's about 3 inches taller than me and I'm supposed to use it to stop traffic. What I like to do with it, however is almost decapitate cyclists and almost scratch paintwork of cars who's drivers are not the kind, considerate, stopping type.

I also have to wear a florescent yellow coat [waterproof during winter and cloth during summer – both like dresses on me] and a florescent yellow hat. We get two choices of hat: a baseball style cap and a peaked hat. I wear the baseball cap because it makes me feel marginally less silly. I also have a pair of florescent waterproof trousers to wear, but thankfully the weather has only required them once. I found being bright florescent yellow needed quite a lot of getting use to – it made me feel quite vulnerable.

It was the best of times; it was the worst of times

One of the main things I like about my job are the pretty cars I get to see. The school I work at is in a pretty affluent area so there are always Ferraris, BMWs, Mazdas and the like going by. The other things I like are that it forces me to wake up early, and, when it's nice, being outside. The confidence it brings [dealing with children, public and stepping into traffic] is an added extra, as is the money. I think two of the best moments have been stopping a white coach with four horses that was on it's way to pick up a coffin, and some guy pulling up to the crossing leaning out his window and saying 'you do a thankless job, so thank you!'

The things I don't like mostly include obvious things, like asshole drivers [an incident stands out in my mind: it was late, the road was empty except for this one car that was far away. I held up my stick and the twat must've decided to speed up, because I was almost to the centre of the road when he almost hit me], and bad weather [standing around for half an hour in freezing fog is not my idea of fun]. My pet peeve though, is drivers who are trying to be helpful. There'll be one child waiting to cross and a whole gaggle a few yards away, but not close enough to make crossing worth it. A driver will see the one child waiting to cross, but not the gaggle, so they stop and look at me impatiently, then when I motion them on, they scowl at me like I'm the source of all the world's ills and drive off. But then, though, the gaggle has reached the crossing and it's impossible to stop the traffic. That's a very *headdesk* type moment.

Conclusion
I really like my job. All right it sucks occasionally and I hate being wet and they pay isn't even enough to live on, but it's cool and fun. You don't need any qualifications, and from what I can tell, School Crossing Patrols are always in demand. People are generally nice to you when you're on duty, and I've certainly never had any problems with either the children or the general public. I wouldn't exactly say it's a career job, but I know of at least 3 retired people and 2 mothers who find the work useful for their way of life. Even if you only plan on doing a year, I'd say do it just for the experience

[Originally posted at Spacefem]

Year: 2006
Genre: Fantasy/ Drama/ Horror
Language: Spanish with English subtitles

This is the story of a young girl, Ophelia, and her pregnant mother who travel to live in a rural area of Spain with the mother's new Nazi husband. Ophelia's new Father doesn't seem to care much for her or her mother, only the child growing inside the mother. Ophelia uses fairy stories to escape the horrible world she lives in, and descends, with the help of an imaginary faun, into a much darker one.

This film is reminiscent of the Brothers Grimm style of fairy story, rather than what we are use to today, and actually quite scary in some places. I wouldn't recommend taking children to see it. Aside from that, it was a very beautiful film, well acted by Ivana Baquero [Ophelia], and quite sad towards the end.

I didn't enjoy this film because it was so sad, but I would watch it again, because it's very well done.

Year: 1996
Genre: Action/ Fantasy/ Adventure

Dragonheart is the story of the last Dragon, Draco, and Bowen, a knight disillusioned when the boy he taught to be benevolent becomes king and a tyrant. Tired of chasing each other and always ending up at stalemate Bowen and Draco team up to scam villagers by Bowen 'killing' Draco. However when a young woman, Kara, turns up she convinces both Bowen and Draco to aid her in taking back the kingdom from the tyrannical King.

I sort of liked this. It was a nice happy film and a Scottish accented dragon is highly amusing, but the premise and characters were pretty mediocre over all.