The car park was cold, and dripping could be heard coming from the roof of the top floor, Kirsty looking up was expecting to see a gaping hole and rain pouring in but there wasn’t, just pipes and concrete.

Kirsty didn’t have a habit of walking in a dark creepy car park after dark but her car wouldn’t start and she was on edge. lonely and hungry she kept wondering close to the car to keep the circulation going, and thinking should she leave to get food or is the car breakdown person going to turn up any minute, they said 10 minutes 1 hour ago and she was getting fed up, she wanted to go home. She started to wonder what she was missing on the TV, it was a Saturday night in October so probably missing strictly come dancing, damn she’d forgotten to tape it, she did love losing herself in frivolous glitz and glam, and Giovanni with an open shirt.

She gave in and started walking towards the stairs and shops, at least there was better lighting and chocolate waiting for her. The drawback was she would have to walk down the dank creepy staircase in almost pitch black as they were the only way out, good job she hadn’t just watched a horror film in the cinema with a friend. Her friend Beatrice had decided to drag her to her favourite horror movie sequel, it turned out to be a decent slasher flick with an actress from Eastenders putting on an American accent and Michael Madsen from Reservoir Dogs, this helped as at least she could fancy someone and not come across as a cougar.

Kirsty took a deep breath and descended the concrete staircase with the cobwebs and suspect stains on the walls, she did internally speculate on what the stains were and how the hell they got there, presumably boys thinking it was a good idea and thinking someone else would clear up after them, when actually the council didn’t have the time or the inclination to go anywhere near them, this also included these stairs and this building in general by the look of it. The stairs smelt of something she couldn’t place and she didn’t dare touch the rusty handrail, a noise came from above her, it made her jump – it was probably an animal trying to get out of the rain, she didn’t blame it. As she looked up she looked down the middle of the stairs, and she saw it, only for a minute then it disappeared again, it looked big, like a big hairy dog but on its hind legs, it scuffled about in the dark below her, Kirsty stopped in her tracks and immediately held her breath, so many ideas going around in her head, a figment of her imagination? A werewolf?.

She came to the conclusion that she was just being silly, werewolves weren’t real, and if they were what on earth would they be doing creeping around at the bottom of a car park, surely they had better things to do, like howling at the moon or seducing teenagers. Even so as she kept descending she was a lot more tentative and quieter than before, just in case. As she got to the landing above the ground floor Kirsty looked down again and listened intently for any more noises relating to animals, or humans, there was nothing. Then there was a noise coming from above her, confused she looked up and saw a similar shape of a hairy upright dog disappearing into the level she came out of, she shivered and ran down the stairs and out of the building into the belting rain, she hadn’t realised it had got that bad, but right now she didn’t care. The rain was actually nice, and the noise of the thunderstorm above her was actually quite therapeutic, she was soaked to the skin very quickly, but right now she couldn’t give a toss. Kirsty dared to look through the murky glass on the door she had just come out of and the face of a hairy, scary beast, was staring back at her with crestfallen eyes. Had she denied them dinner? or was it genuinely scared or miserable, she couldn’t tell? She withdrew and decided to get food from the nearest supermarket, there was one around the corner.

The Tesco’s was quite a big one with a separate floor for clothes and a café, she headed for the sandwiches and caffeine, a nice filling chicken salad sandwich, chocolate, and something diet with caffeine soon perked her up. What staff there was past 7pm on a Saturday let her eat them in a dry café with the musac playing. Kirsty knew she had to go back to her car at some point, but she didn’t want to bump into the ‘monsters’ again. She had an idea, maybe they were just hungry, so she went to the meat section grabbed a load of cheap meat and braved the rain again.

Outside the full moon glistened off puddles like they were spotlights coming out of the floor lighting her way. The rain had eased and all the black roads looked like rivers of oil, Kirsty was just glad she couldn’t hear ‘wolves’ howling at the moon.

The doorway was clear so she crept into the dark lobby slowly and as quietly as she could, looking up there was nothing, but that had been deceiving earlier. She left the door open behind her just in case she had to make a quick getaway and slowly ascended the stairs, some noises of bumps and scratches echoed around her, but trying to stay calm and focused she kept going. The outside door slammed shut, it made her jump, and then the growling started, looking around she couldn’t work out where it was coming from, she looked up and down but nothing, weird. On the next landing, there was a message written on the wall, she put this down to graffiti that she didn’t notice on the way down, but then she realised it was fresh, it was red and dripping, it simply said ‘Beware the Dark’. OK now she was past crept out and full-on scared, Kirsty didn’t stop, she ran up to the third floor where her secure car was and closed the door with a loud thud that could almost have vibrated the building, at least she felt a little safer knowing that she was behind a locked door, she sighed with some relief.

Looking out again at the desolate car park she could see those ‘monsters’ by the door to the stairs, they were pointing past her. Looking behind her all she could see was 2 cars in a dark corner, they looked like they had seen better days, one was a beaten up old Ford Fiesta and the other was a scratched VW Polo, looking back the ‘monsters’ had gone. Getting out of the car she pondered this, she also remembered and got the meat that she had brought and threw the bag towards the stairs then walked in the direction of the abandoned cars, the closer she got the more she felt that there was something between the cars, but couldn’t make out what it was. Too close she realised that 2 big red eyes were looking out at her, she turned to run and was swallowed by the dark. She awoke to blackness upside down in the dark, with the sound of heavy breathing in her ear and the smell of rotting meat.

Staring at the painting she sighed, what she wouldn’t give to paint like that, be in that world, alas Sue just looked at it contentedly.

Sue was currently doing her degree in art at Cardiff University, and she was mesmerized at this moment by a new painting in the art gallery, it was about A4 size in a gold-coloured gilded frame and the picture was of a man with a funny little moustache, receding hairline, and a straight posture. It felt like he was staring right at you; and yet it didn’t creep her out, it actually made her feel calm as he looked like her grandfather – without the moustache. The painting was in the main gallery with all the other paintings and yet had no sign next to it as to who painted it, she looked around for an attendant and found one in an adjacent gallery.

‘Hi, I was wondering whether you could help me please?’

‘I can try’ said the girl who looked a good ten years her junior, with big brown eyes and long black hair, it made her stand out more than some of the paintings.

‘The portrait of the gentleman in the other room with the funny moustache and walking stick, it doesn’t say who painted him, any ideas?’

‘No sorry, he is a recent purchase from a local donator, they are still trying to find out, but I’m sure when they have the information it will be put next to the painting’, ‘I find him quite creepy personally’.

‘I actually find him peaceful to look at’, ‘but thanks anyway’. Smiling at the girl Sue wandered off toward the Rubens and Monets.

The next day she found the painting was playing on her mind, she wondered why of all paintings this was affecting her so much, she tried to put it to the back of her mind and get on with her day. A week went by, and the painting was still nagging her, like a bad dream that just won’t shift. By the time she returned to the museum there was a note by it, it said the name of the painter, who was in the painting, and a note of the history of it. It read;

Painter: Otto van Clere in oil on canvas, 1902

The sitter was a man called Samuel Anderson, Sue shivered at this, it was her surname, but there was more. This painting was painted on the eve of Anderson’s death, that was it, nothing more. Sue quickly got out a web search for Samuel Anderson 1902 and it turned out he was hung for murder because he beat a servant to death with a walking stick. Then she noticed the original painting differed from the one in her hand, in the web image she saw he was holding a thin long walking stick with a rose carved on top, whereas in the one in the gallery, the walking stick was different, it was slightly bent out of shape with a knobbly top, looking at the painting closely she thought it looked more like the end of a bone.

The sun scorched the only grass on the edge of the jungle. It was early morning and the 2 suns had just come up; they were bright pink with lavender skies. The grass was now brown and would need rainfall soon.

Jackson a local boy came bounding through the forest, this started a cacophony of sounds from the birds and animals, they rustled in their hidey holes and moved about in the jungle floor’s foliage looking for somewhere to hide from the noise.

He was running from the most enormous four-legged oak tree he’d ever seen, and this thing had it in for him. He hadn’t harmed it and couldn’t understand why it wanted to hurt him.

The tree was getting closer, its leaves were shedding as it powered through the jungle towards him, he tried dodging and weaving but it didn’t help, the tree was doing the literal bull in the China shop routine, and in its bark it’s face was screwed up in rage.

Jackson slowed up as he came nearer to the beach, the suns were up high and the rays picked out parts of the jungle he hadn’t noticed before, he had forgotten how beautiful it could look, then it came, in the distance the tree was racing towards him, it was upsetting the undergrowth and dispersing the animals in various directions, the nearby birds flew towards Jackson away from the commotion, their feathers glistened in the sunshine, and as they swooped past him one left him a parting gift of a blue single feather, he pocketed it, that would go into his collection later. His distraction was short-lived as the tree was getting ever closer, he racked his brains trying to remember what he might have done to anger it, then it occurred to him, his older brother might have done something, as he remembered that they hunt by smell and he would smell the same as his brother, hoping to the universe he was right he stood his ground and centered himself in the soft green sand and waited in defiance for the inevitable.

The tree stopped at the edge of the jungle not wanting to leave the sanctuary of shade and getting bogged down in the sand. Jackson backed off to the edge of the blue sea, which reminded him of an elaborate costume with white ruffles of waves. With trepidation, he stood up, adjusted his posture, and started talking.

‘Hi, I’m Jackson, and I’m sorry someone in my family has clearly wronged you, but it wasn’t me’, he said defiantly.

‘I am not wrong young one, it was you’.

‘OK, but what did I do, I’ don’t remember doing anything to you?’

‘You cracked my bark’, said the tree, looking imploringly and forlorn, it’s face looked disheartened.

‘It wasn’t me, my brother has a habit of deifying nature, not me, I make friends with it’.

‘I have initials carved into my trunk’,

The tree showed Jackson the letters carved into its bark; it said L V ‘HEARTS’ O E.

Jackson had pity for the tree, he knew his brother could be a pain sometimes, but how to put it right.

‘I know who O.E. is her name is Olive Eton, and she’s actually good for him, believe it or not’?

‘I didn’t do this my initials are different mine would be J. V.’ ‘Jackson Viner’.

‘Can I put this right for him, only if I have to ask him, you might be waiting a while’.

‘I can’t undo what he did but maybe I can do something else?’

‘I can now see it wasn’t you, recompense for your brother is a noble thing, why not plant another tree and name it after me’.

‘I can do that, what’s your name?’

‘It’s Greyfriar’

‘Consider it done’.

Jackson walked home via the beach just to be on the safe side, he didn’t fancy a repeat performance. Once home he had words with his delinquent brother who in fairness was sorry in his own way, just not enough to go back to the forest to apologize in person.

Then two moons after he had planted the tree, Greyfriar Junior had shot into the world and Jackson went back to the forest to tell the elder one and he smiled. They talked some more, and a friendship was built, this started a chain reaction amongst the tree community, and eventually, more trees began communicating with the people, the start of a blooming relationship had formed.

The light from the sun almost blinded him, and the intensity in his forehead made him squint against the sun’s rays. The walk to the woods was unadventurous, on the main road past the uniform brick houses and the occasional colourful garden, which he thought would’ve been even more impressive in the height of summer when in bloom, and their colours were intensified. Down past, a new build of houses was a country lane, and the entrance to the woods, he had been once before with a friend, but it had been a while. Inside there were a lot of little winding paths and arrows to follow, supposedly a little more civilized than just an overgrown trail into a wild wood.

Keith couldn’t believe it, he had lived close by for 7 years and had never noticed it, he never even knew it was there. The entrance from this end wasn’t obvious and unless you were looking for the arrow signs you probably would walk straight past them.

The corridor of old trees loomed overhead, the trunks were thick and the branches gnarled, like a tall crooked but proud rugby player, but more tanned with the strong sun. The leaves were bright green and the sun darted through them, making shadow patterns over the path, he couldn’t resist taking photos with his phone of the tree shadows.

Keith had with him all the trappings for a day out hiking, including a picnic, binoculars, and walking shoes, he was going to enjoy himself today, with no work, no distractions. Just peace and quiet, the only sounds he wanted to hear were birdsong, despite the sound of distant cars on the main road. When living on the edge of a city this was a little slice was heaven.

Every so often Keith would stop and take photos or get out his binoculars to spy at birds on branches or a bush. As he was savouring a quiet moment and just listening to the birds, attempting to work out which one was singing a man with a dog came walking towards him, owner like the dog was short and stout, although the owner had a bit more belly on him and a loud Hawaiian shirt and shorts combo, he was also talking loudly on his mobile via blue tooth and not watching where he was going.

Keith smiled a ‘hi’ and was completely ignored by the man as he walked past with the dog tottering at his heels, Keith just sighed, what was the point? As he delved further into the woods more and more paths appeared, going off at funny angles or disappearing completely into hedges and trees.

There was a clearing up ahead which he didn’t notice on his first trip, it was round with a  fire pit in the middle and paths branched off from it, 6 paths in total, strange he thought. Keith thought it was a good time to have a picnic, so he got out his sandwiches and flask and sat on an impressively big flat rock by the fire pit, he tried to see with his binoculars where the paths led but couldn’t, too much foliage.

After his lunch and coffee, he now had to decide which path to take, picking one to his left or his right? he decided left and picked one out at random, he figured at least he would get his cardio in as this one was uphill. Walking he felt like he had made the right choice, with lots of photo opportunities and rare-looking plants to catalogue. The trees were different up here from the main path he came in on, they were more straight up, like a centurion standing to attention, with a busby of green leaves on top. At the top of the hill was a beautiful meadow, it was teaming with life, from bees to butterflies, what fantastic photos he would have. Then something on his phone caught his eye, a photo of the fire pit circle flashed up, that’s weird he thought, he didn’t remember taking that one, after a few seconds it had disappeared and he thought nothing of it.

Looking around the meadow he couldn’t see a way around it so he started to slowly trek back down past the centurions. Back at the ‘circle’, there was something wrong, he could have sworn there were 6 paths, not 4 around the fire pit, odd definitely. Keith checked his phone, that circle photo wasn’t in his gallery, slightly creeped out by this he decided to turn right as if to go straight on from his original path, and he set off at a steady pace. After a while, he noticed that the bird song was absent and the trees had changed again, to big, chunky and mangled, the sort of tree you would see in a horror film, things would either be crawling out of it or be trying to eat you. His imagination was on high alert, no wonder since his environment kept changing around him. He felt on edge as he was tentatively walking into the unknown.

Another clearing loomed up ahead, another ‘circle’. Keith couldn’t stand this, this time there were just 2 paths, the one he was on which went off to the right or one that went left, he decided to go left, slowly. His head was hurting and one of the few things he forgot was to pack painkillers, damn.

There was a stream at the bottom of the hill with a bridge over it, so he filled his empty flask and decided instead of walking over the bridge to follow the stream instead, maybe it came out to civilization. After walking through it for a while he saw a path parallel to it not far from the bank, thinking it would be nice to feel his feet again he walked up and got out of the water when a short stout dog trotted up to say hello, looking up he saw that guy again, still on his phone looking like he was talking to himself, ‘Hey, mate’ Keith yelled startling the man, ‘ Sorry, but where’s the main road, I’m going round in circles?’. The guy stopped talking to himself and looked over at Keith.

‘ Turn round, go back to the bridge, go over it and the main road is on the other side of the museum’

‘Cheers’ Keith yelled back with a thumbs up, glad there were no more circles involved. He followed the man’s instructions and found the museum, with a sign about this one-off exhibition, ‘ The evolution of forests and its effects on the mind’, it even had a map of it. Keith just chuckled to himself as he walked back up the main road home. Checking his phone at his photo he was right he had taken some excellent ones, and yet something was still nagging at him just in that second the fire pit blazed brightly on his phone and his subconscious decided must go back.

I find myself surrounded by mountains like big jagged teeth, and me in the middle feeling very insignificant and tiny in my little tin can of a car. I have a daunting task. I’m currently in one of the most beautiful places in the world, the west Irish coast, my mission: is to drive the width of the country from west to east on my own in a new car that still smells of previously being valeted, and it is still shiny.

Getting up at 4am was a struggle. Packing my cases from a stay in an activity center where I now previously worked was a mission. 5am I’m up and running, the car is full to bursting and I can’t see out of my rear window, thank god for wing mirrors. Feeling relatively confident, apprehensive but still nervous, I start my journey. Driving through the mountains and around bends in the road, I feel so calm. The most spectacular setting you could dream of driving in, it’s just so surreal, there’s literally no one else on the roads: it’s just me in my little shiny red car that from above probably looked like a small red beetle compared to the vastness of the towering mountains around me.

As the sun comes up it illuminates the green trees and shows me for the first time the colours of the countryside, lots of greens, browns, reds, and yellows. The mountains now have halos of bright light on them and the lakes look like pools of blue paint, still and non-moving.

As the landscape changes my mood does too, instead of being in awe of the landscape I feel content now the landscape is flat, not dull as such but the colour pallet has changed to orange shades, fields as far as the eye can see, and the sun still shining down on me. The world is awake now, more cars emerge, life is abundant with wildlife and locals working in the fields. Finding a filling station was problematic but I made it just in time.

The expanse of the country is a lot to take in, but my nerves have subsided and I have been enjoying it in the most. My music tastes have also varied, from big musicals in the mountains to easy listening and country tracks on the flat, and the time just flies by.

After what feels like longer, but was probably only a few hours the landscape changes again to one of an urban one, Dublin approaches. More houses pop up and people are milling outside smoking cigarettes and talking to friends and family.

The unfamiliar city is daunting but confident with my directions I keep going, the industrial and urban look of the city feels like a million miles away to where I’m heading back to, and where I came from. I navigate through a bustling city towards the airport and my destination where my father is waiting, parking was interesting, but eventually, I found a spot. With a text my heart sank, the text reads ‘ meet you at the bar’?!, Dublin, bar, my next question was which one, after a lot of just misses I eventually find him having a lager in one of them. The rest of the trip was seamless, hover boat to Wales and we split the journey driving home to Devon, and to its lush green hills and pebble beaches, the difference between the rolling fields of Devon and the shear mountains in Ireland is one I will never forget.

Oxford Spring

Twas brillig in Oxford on a sunny day

The eagle and child were all cheerful and gay

In spring the universities overflowed

And tourists bustled in the museums and were told  

That authors and poets were the reasons they came

Some budding writers would also descend, who claimed they were different but were actually the same.

Cardiff University

The morning is fresh from the spring-summer breeze

The students that studied were calm and at their ease

Families and tourists alike would come to see

And take stock of future choices and some for high tea

Everywhere around are shops and pubs

Even the punters on the river admired the luscious shrubs

And on a sunny day, the university shone

The glad graduates took stock, and then with a flourish, they were gone.

As I turned around the corner at work I jumped as a moth fluttered past me, what an idiot, deep breath, move on.

The sky outside had turned dark, not black with stars, just dark. The smog from the city meant the sky was devoid of description. I put on my big comfy warm coat and ventured into the night, with my trusty torchlight bouncing off the concrete floors and brick walls, what a night to go ghost hunting.

There were several of us there, all in big coats and ready for the off. Walking to the cemetery on a cold dull night was definitely atmospheric, and a few friends huddled together for warmth.

When we got there was a rather marvelous big old church with big buttresses and it glowed in the moonlight like a fairy-tale castle lit up at Disneyland. We were all very impressed, a bit less impressed when we found out we were going inside first.

Inside the church was cavernous and cold, our voices echoed with the high ceilings, if I was in a choir here you certainly could feel you were singing to god. The wooden pews were old and dented, and the central dais was rickety but functional. I found the stained glass windows to be beautifully full of colour and life, not even being religious I could see the beauty in it.

We began the evening by meeting our guide, he had slicked-back black hair, bright hazel eyes, and a glint in his smirk like he was going to enjoy terrifying us tonight. During the course of the evening we listen to stories about the place and nod along with it, the atmosphere was starting to get creepily worse.

Out into the cemetery now and it’s definitely colder outside than in, and the only noise is an owl in the background hooting at us, or at least that’s what it felt like.

The stories our grisly guide was giving us about ghosts were enjoyable but creepy, and looking around I was waiting for something to leap out and say ‘BOO’.

The evening went well and I left the party of friends around 2am, still spooked from ‘The hunt’ I walked home a little faster than intended, tripping over a paving slab I crashed to my knees in pain as the joint impacted with the concrete, painfully I limped home and as I turned a corner something flashed past my eyes, turning quickly I see a boy, younger than 10 in old clothing with a haze around him, realising he was on of the ghosts that were mentioned earlier I walk into the house, shut the door and didn’t come out until late the next day, with sore knees and dubious of every glint in the sunlight or movement out of the corner of my eye.

It was dusty and overgrown in the lab, the ivy was covering most of the outside of the building, it was pouring in through the boarded up cracks in the wood panels in place of glass, and the whole place smelled musty.

Th laboratory was decimated, equipment was upturned, what was stainless steel was now chard black in places or looked like it was covered in snow.

Bunsen burners were scattered across the floor in pieces and disturbing patched of what could be blood was smeared across what would have been a white polished floor.

What a mess.

The infection grew through the population like wild fire, at first just picking out the weak and vulnerable, then moving on to people who were social in society, that meant retail and care staff, then before you knew it no one was safe, it was like a swarm enveloping the earth, no one escaped.

At one point various vaccines were on trial but nothing came of them, it was quickly found out that no-one was immune. Panic spread. Countries fell under the almighty infection until there was no person left alive, I say person as the animals were left to thrive.  Species that people had never meet before came down from the trees, out of the mountains and popped their heads above the waves of the oceans.

Emissions became less and the air smelt better, no more smog from funnel  chimneys or the smell of diesel from cars, life was appearing everywhere even where you didn’t expect it. Sharks in the Irish sea and confused deer around Edinburgh, it was nice to see nature thrive in that way.

Some animals crossed countries and birds migration patterns were massively disturbed as the weather changed.

With man not able to evolve naturally the animals did instead, and as man predicted, it was the monkeys that were the quickest to develop.

Except now there is a new strain of infection which is spreading through the seas, if the dolphins get it then the world is seriously screwed.

The Beach

The sun was shining warmly making the sand gleam like gold dust.

The rock pools were alive with cockle shells and crabs.

The black, beautifully shining shag sat on the rocky cliffside.

Boats were gliding swiftly on the waves, far out to sea.

A lighthouse far up the clifftop was sparkling In the sun’s warm bright light.

The sky was bright blue with no clouds as far as the eye could see, and the long grasses on the sand dunes were waving madly in the brisk wind.

All was silent until you could hear the faint sound of people shouting from the clifftop, and the cries of the sandwich terns skimming and diving beneath the waves, the smell of the sea salt and seaweed drifted past in the brisk wind.

Sea Journey

As the boat sails along the trail of foam that it has made by the thrashing waves. The sea turns black like charcoal and ripples and glistens, the sun shines a burning ray of light across the still calm sea.

Oh, I wish I was back in England already, because the weather gets misty and dusky as the journey went on, and the sea breezes are cold, and I’m gazing out to sea to see the French cliffs and harbour lights.

The Spell

Liver of a poisoned snake mix it well and boil and bake, in our cauldron stir it well, and that’s our spell for us to sell.

Eye of wolf and tongue of lizard, stir it round and make a blizzard.

Heart of horse and lung of fish goes splashing into our big dish.

Eye of wolf and tongue of lizard stir it round and make a blizzard.

Eels sting and howlets wing, with them, bring the jungle king.

Eye of wolf and tongue of lizard stir it round and make a blizzard.

Frogs legs, a cockroach or two, stir it together and make a perfect brew. Mash it and grill it and serve it up with bugs, then top it off with black slimy slugs.

Eye of wolf and tongue of lizard stir it round and make a blizzard.

Witches

At the witch’s flight at night, everything was dark and the dogs did bark. The wind was blowing and the tap was overflowing, at the witches’ flight at night.

The lightning fell all around me glistening in the moonlight, the witches came out and made their flight, with golden lightning all around them in the still night air.

The forest walk

The forest walk started long and hard, with branches and thistles everywhere, the heat travels through the misty glen.

The middle was the easy bit striding along in front of the others and seeing the cliffs and gorges of the mountains and the rushing tumbling water through the trees.

We find a bird as it flies like a butterfly, flapping its wings and showing its wing-span, showing its slender red wings.

The journey was easy to start back but got slower and longer as the trail goes on. We get to the forest glen where we climb stones and soil to get to the grassy glistening open air where we see trees and habitats of wildlife galore.

Getting lost in a wood as big as this is imaginable with flags for groups of orienteers, it was easy for us to explore off-trail. At last, we find it and follow downhill, fording a stream and climbing more rocks and boulders.

We make our way back to camp where beer and ice cream beckon.

Wildlife

Wildlife everywhere we go in the forest, the dark deep forest, it captures wonderful fast and graceful animals, such as fox, deer, and beautiful birds of prey that circle the sky, and catches fish beneath the water with its great claws and doesn’t let it go.

Animals are wonderful, they live in every place, jungle, desert, and every natural environment such as yours and mine, and when the dinosaurs could roam free.

The River

The river is a smooth-scaled snake slipping down the river to the sea below.

Where the wind does blow, over stones and under trees.

Cunningly the snake has an apportionment to make.

But on a stormy night, he curves his tongue and overflows, like some beast, thinking he’s got a feast.

School

Uncreative

I felt uncreative when I started school I couldn’t do my work

Ugh! I didn’t like my teachers very much yuck.

Creative

I felt creative on the 5^th of November it was a Friday see

Wow! We were writing a poem in class yeah!

Monsters

monsters, monsters everywhere I can see, in the cellar in the attic, everywhere. I can see through the static and every corner of the house, and everywhere around me, while I drink my tea, the great big house which is as silent as a mouse.

The darkest night there ever was for all eternity, so dark in the night air, through all those centuries of death and destruction, he waits, the bogey man waits.

‘Right then sunshine’, the policeman growled, as his gnarled hand clasped around my
shoulder, ‘we’ll be having no more of your fun and games’. I literally felt like I jumped out of
my skin. I looked back at the policeman, he was tall, with slicked back short hair and had a
funny ‘Hitler esque’ moustache, whether he meant to or not.
‘Sorry, wrong person, you haven’t seen another of your kind around here, have you?’ he
said not sounding sorry. ‘No’ I said apologetically. The policeman moved off and I sighed in
huge relief, after the running, slipping and tripping I’d finally lost him. I did think to myself,
what did he mean my kind? I know what I would like to do to ‘his kind’, being dark skinned
in this day and age is not a crime.
The year 1989 and with all the upheaval of moving from a rural town to the cosmopolitan
city, I’m finding it a little hard to adjust. The smells, noise and sights are just overwhelming.
From the fast food to the noisy betting shops, I mean apart from the fact I had to move here
to work, who would come here otherwise?
The job wasn’t much, it was just another office job, but another office job with better
benefits, a company vehicle and my own cubicle, at last, no more having to share a phone
bank with other people’s bad habits and sticky elbows. The manager was alright too, he
would check on your welfare occasionally, but he had a different quirk, unfortunately he
had sticky hands, the ones that would stick to your body, thinking about it is making me
cringe, he is old enough to be my father.
As new to the city I decided to take in the sights of the more cultural aspects and ended up
at the museums and art galleries, loving it so far. Walking down by the Thames after a few
nights getting to know the area I came across what looked like a denim jacket covered in
various badges of the time with a huge blood stain on it, the jacket was worn and the stain
was dark red, my mind is moving fast and my heart almost skips a beat, where’s the jackets
owner? are they still alive? this is a lot of blood.
A noise not far away brings my panicked brain back to reality, looking up, I see in the
distance something floating on the top of the water, going up to see I almost retch, it’s a
body, gnarled and twisted, with wrinkled features and a big chest wound that has congealed
in the water, the smell is vile, like an open sewer. Resisting the urge to be sick I race off to
find someone in authority, clutching the blood-soaked jacket in my hands I run past
homeless crack heads down alley ways, and teenage boys either on BMX bikes or
skateboards, they shout at each other as they rush past me on the pavement.
The police station was crowded, it was a Friday night, lots of people were jockeying for
position, I nearly get crushed by the crowd, eventually reaching the desk sergeant.
‘Help me please, I found this down by the water, and there was a dead person not far from
it.’
Looking desperately into the sergeants’ eyes I realise it was the policeman from earlier, this
is not good.
‘A blood-soaked jacket, I take it this isn’t yours’
‘No, I just brought it for evidence’
‘So, you had nothing to do with the death of this person?’
‘No, I’m new to the area, I’m scared and you really think that’s motivation for killing
someone?’
‘People have been killed for less’
‘Well, I didn’t do it’
Another head appeared from out of the background and spoke up. ‘Knock it off Sergeant’,
‘She clearly didn’t do this’.
I handed it to the other man, who was clearly a detective, as he was wearing plain clothes
with his badge on his belt buckle.
I was asked to show him where I found it and where the body was. The detective was kind
and said I had nothing to worry about. Thank God, my heart had skipped many beats, and I
won’t forget that smell in a hurry. Only problem is that the perpetrator was unknown and
there is someone following me, looking into a shop reflection I pause, is that my new
manager behind me?