Soul Mates

Angry man observes young couple

Michael closed the door of his adoptive parents house for the last time.  Now was the time to make his way in the world. 

He was to transfer to his firm’s sister company in South Wales.  It was a long way from Scotland but he felt that he needed his own space.

As far as he was aware, he had never been to Wales before, but he felt that he had come home.  He knew that he was adopted when he was three.  His birth parents had been killed in a car crash, which he had survived, but had been left with both physical and mental scarring.  He couldn’t remember anything else.

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Will She Never Learn?

Felicity handed the wine bottle around. The girls had decided on a quiet weekend, nibbles and wine, relaxing in their pyjamas, the usual banter – who did what to whom and how their romantic lives were. The subject of Kelly came up when Jodie asked why she wasn’t there.

          Felicity laughed, ”Have you not heard? She has a new infatuation.”

          Groans and laughter spread across the room. Jodie looked towards the heavens. ”Who is it this time? Thought she was still chasing Simon?”

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A stranger

A faceless man stands with the universe behind him

It was a ghastly sight, twisted and unnatural. To look upon it was to feel your brain revolt as some deep-rooted and primal instinct urged you to turn away.

And Jamie, against all judgement, stood his ground, wincing in terror and disgust as the figure, no eyes, no hair, no nose or lips, but a smooth spherical face, stood opposite him.

This white matchstick seemed to move with a faux gracefulness, well maintained of course but never suggesting anything close to a homo sapiens, nothing close to organic in truth. Instead, its motions recalled a marionette’s imitation of life.

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A Cyborg Visits

It was the talk of the office. When the number missing reached 15, Robert as Lead-Informant knew decisive remedial action was needed to ensure the Department’s survival. It would not be easy to persuade The Council to employ an intergalactic military psychic. In times of austerity for the masses, how could such fiscal extravagance be justified? Fortunately, Supreme Commander Shand of Joint Forces was an ally. Anything that affected the continuity and security of the Colonisation Expansion Programme would naturally silence the naysayers.

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Going Back

Kelleher was struggling to remember. He’d been walking for ages. Days? There’d been a wide river, a bridge, cars strewn across it, some in flames. Or had he dreamt that? There’d been towns, wrecked, as if a colossal foot had stamped on them. Fields, miles of them, just cinders. And his brain had just kept saying: go west.

            Was he in shock? He’d hunger pangs, felt as numb as a corpse, and his mouth was dry, aching for a drop of water. And now before him a road with a line of stationary lorries, some kind of building, and the sea. Was it a ferry port?

            At the entrance was a gaggle of humanity: fearful eyes, pinched faces, everybody seemingly distracted. Was that how he looked?

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Unwelcome Visitors

Friday afternoon and Billy Thomas was daydreaming of all the things he and the gang had to do over the weekend. He was jerked back to reality by a piece of chalk hitting him squarely on the forehead. Mr. Jenkins was bellowing at him, ”Pay attention boy. ”

            A knocking at the door and a head poked around. A groan rippled around the class. It was Nitty Nora who had come to look for nits; always bad news. No one wanted the pink note telling their parents they had nits.

            One by one they trudged into the hall for inspection. Nearly all of the class had pink notes. Disaster! Nora came into class declaring an epidemic and sent them all home. The boys huddled together, scratching as they walked, knowing their plans would come to nothing, each knowing what the weekend held.

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Destiny’s child

Reluctantly I made my way to bed. I ask you, bed at 8.00 at my age, how archaic is that? My mother believed in the outdated style of nurturing, feed, bath and bed. My sister tried to reason with her, explaining that that was meant for infants, not young people of our ages. That was the last time I ever protested at having to go to bed, listen carefully and I’ll let you in on my eternal secret.

That night I drifted off to sleep quickly, a wonderful sense of peace washed over me as I realised that I was leaving my body and slowly floating, towards another dimension. Soon I approached the impressive entrance marked “visitors only”. I glided calmly through the gates and was reassured by a silent and gleaming white world full of serene souls where all communication was done by a sophisticated means of telepathy. As I navigated around my new world, I saw that the central square was where souls went to find answers from the wise and knowledgeable. Elders to our worldly problems. Eventually I was brave enough to approach them and unburden the secret of my sister Gails’ behaviour, only to be told that it was too late. She was obsessed with fire, given the chance she would set fire to anything. Matches, lighters all had to be hidden from her, which was very difficult because both my parents were regular smokers. Gail was a very sad and confused soul, resenting me. I was the youngest child and her nemesis; she was constantly accusing me of stealing our parents love and attention.

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The End

Nestling deeper into her bedding Valentina sighed pleasantly tired. It had been a busy day but she was sure the end of her journey was at hand.

She remembered the stories her mother had captivated them with as babies. Ivan the terrible was a folk hero to them. Fighting for the territory around them, often returning bloodied from battle: that was her great grandfather. Romance of how he met his wife in the tunnels they inhabited, love at first sight – so her mother told them. How he fought for her hand, paying a heavy price, losing territory but Ivan was elated to have his beloved Sasha by his side.

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And he didn’t live happily ever after

“That’s,” Mrs Lupin said in her soothing tone, “the end.”

Five faces of varying comprehension looked up from their slender copies of Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, rewritten for the under fifteens. One kid was interested, two were indifferent, another was confused, and the last was… well…

This classroom was nick-named the Retard Ward, or Spaz Town by the normal kids, and to be sure, some pupils were hopeless. Jake Mears, for instance. Fourteen years old but already in trouble with the police for hot-wiring a motorbike.

Other kids were struggling with Asperger’s or dyslexia, and a few were… not that bright. They’d probably slide through the school system to start work at the local firestone factory because who else would take them?

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Will It Never End?

I hadn’t meant to do it. I guess I’d just had enough.

Looking back over the years we were married, it’s hard to pinpoint when it all started. He’d always been a bit of a moaner, it’s just that I didn’t know that he would turn into a professional one.

Nothing was ever really good enough for him. That included anything and everybody. He could find fault where there was none.

I really don’t know why I went along with it for all those years. I suppose I thought I could change him, eventually bring him around to my point of view. I was wrong.

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From the Beginning to the End

Thursday the 21st of April, my 6th birthday. A day indelibly etched on my brain. It was the day that I received 2 tickets to go to the circus with my friend Susan.

On the morning of that momentous day I was bubbling with anticipation at what my gift would be. My curiosity was soon satisfied when I opened my birthday card and discovered the tickets.

That was the beginning of an arduous but long and exciting journey that led me all over the world.

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Chancer

A group of boys were pouring over the local paper, gasping as they read the article. ‘Local Boy Jailed For Armed Robbery.’

            Reminiscing, the boys thought back to their school days. Owen had always been a chancer. Selling cigarettes to anyone behind the bike shed for tuppence for one, nicking them from his brothers’ hoard in the shed. He unscrewed the clasp on the door, bypassing the padlock put on after an unfortunate incident with some mushrooms.

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THE PERFECT MURDER

Dead body with baseball bat and name written in blood

Two words sprang to mind. Fat Chance.  What were the odds on a crime scene being this neat?  The victim, a message written in his own blood, and the murder weapon all within a few yards of each other.   My gut told me something was wrong.

The boys in blue were happy enough to sign off on it. Even though the accused had a cast iron alibi, but I smelt a rat. 

I went over the evidence again.  There was only one fatal blow to the victim’s head.  He’d have been dead before he hit the floor.  The baseball bat had been wiped clean.  The question was how could a dead man write his killer’s name in his own blood?

“Follow the money”, my instincts shouted. “Who was set to gain by this murder?”

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Serendipity

We had a game where we would set up prompts and build stories together, sometimes wild, crazy stories.  ‘It could so easily have been me….’ was one opener and

complicated, fantasy travel plans was another favourite. It made us laugh, and the dafter, the better.  In fact we enjoyed doing most things together and even doing nothing together was better than doing nothing separately.

The ‘easily have been me’ one was a rich vat of story opportunities. We often returned to it.

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Blown It

In the stroke ward were a dentist, a heavy-metal bass player, an underwater welder, a politician, and Nat Wharton, bigshot drug dealer, whose bed was surrounded by a posse of gun-toting cops, each of them as large as a truck laden with opium.

            The bass player didn’t know if she was in Carnegie Hall or a hall of mirrors. She listened to the faint boom ba boom of her hapless heart, trying to detect the backbeat and ascertain if the instrument was in four-four time.

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It’s Only a Little One

‘Aspen?’ Bill spat out the letter ‘p’ like it was a bitter pill. ‘What sort of name is that?’

I stroked my swollen abdomen and gazed out the window for added wistfulness. ‘Mum would have loved it.’

‘Hazel still rules our lives from beyond the grave,’ he muttered into his tea.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I stood up, losing my balance. In an instant he was easing me back onto the sofa, my vulnerability softening him.

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You were always telling me to take a chance!

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Martha laughed “but first, close your eyes.”

What was this little surprise? Martha would probably hold up a deformed jumper, which she had knitted over many nights, and Chris would force herself to wear the itchy ill-fitting thing with a “Oh it’s just what I wanted!” kind of smile. That was typical Martha. A trait Chris still found rather charming.

Her birthday surprise as it turned out was much more alarming, for as Chris sat cross legged upon her lavender sofa, she felt the warm sensation of something soft pressing against her lips. Her eyes bolted open to find Martha, her BFF, kissing her.

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Nine Times

Mam was in a jumpy phase. Carl had been hoping her new boyfriend would bring her some calmness. After all, Astro had been patient with him. He’d taught him songs, and school stuff like showing him how to remember his tables.

            ‘If you feel that way about me, you can go!’ Mam was saying. Her face was red, her eyes wild like that panicking horse he’d see on tv, and which he kept thinking about in bed when the light was off.

            There were days when Mam seemed to be in a hurry like a racing car round a circuit. Other days she was quiet, didn’t want to go out, was touchy. She took medication to help her condition, but she was still a different person from one week to the next. Was her medicine worsening things? He worried about that sometimes.

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Behind the scenes

I met with my hero twice a day, everyday. Morning and night. He wasn’t your average hero, he didn’t wear a cape, or fly, nor did he have highly advanced technology. He was small, white, round and tasted of talcum powder. He did have superpowers, he could fight against illness, look after me and was very strong.

Yes, he was a tablet. My hero was a tablet.

We first met when his fellow tablets couldn’t handle me. He was recommended by the doctor because he was so strong. I did some research on him. Found out what his strengths and weakness were. If I were to work with this fella, let him into my life, I needed to know who he was.

He seemed suitable.

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