The End

Task 1- From Big Sur

I chose Big Sur as i felt it engaged the reader and made them think. This is shown by the main characters own confusion ("...all's well again.i still cant understand it"). I also like the way Kerouac keeps refering to things being golden which encapsulates the thoughts of the characters feelings and optimism. And finally I think the way in which we are always told the characters thoughts and feelings gives us a sense of understanding as to how they think and the reasons behind what they think.

Task 2
It was Valentines day and i had decided to treat my wife to breakfast in bed. Jill hadn't been well recently and i felt now was the perfect time to treat her. I had woken early in order to prepare this, yet somehow the toast was still burnt and there was no milk. Regardless, a collection of cereals and several cartons of fruit juice now meant I had something which resembled a breakfast.

The distinctive smell and brilliant white walls greeted me as I reached the top of the stairs, and gazed into the room infront of me. All appeared calm, yet the breeze still lingered and rippled through my hair as I stood there, steadying my anxiety with a reassuring smile before opening the door. the bed, table I placed the tray of food on the end of her bed before resuming my position beside her, it was then i realised I had forgotten the tea. Leaning over, I kissed her cheek. Her face felt cold, yet i thought nothing of it at the time and returned to the kitchen without a second though. The kettle had just began to howl when a loud scream erupted. I dropped the mug and ran several steps up at a time when nurses from every ward began to scurry into a room, like mice fleeing a deranged woman carrying a mop. When I reached the top I saw them surrounding a lifless body as though mourners at a funeral. It was Jill. My eyes suddenly began to swell as water slowly leaked from them I could no longer hear the crys or smell the disenfectent. My wife was gone. What had meant to be a routine check up was now the end; the end of our marriage, the end of my wife and the end of me. A white screen was now projected in my mind and i suddenly felt the roller-coaster affect as my body tumbled backwards...

When i was told, we would have to live at the hospital while my wife recieved her chemotherapy i never expected that it would be where we would both die for it symbolized hope. Yet clearly the strain of the treatment had been to much for her, and the shock of her death to much for me. It seemed cupid had struck his bow of love directly at my heart as I now had my final wish: to be with my wife. My heart attack was quick and as for the blood from my fall down the stairs, i think some Vanish should get rid of that.

Crime Fiction

Task 1: one good turn by kate atkinson

i think this piece works well as it lulls the reader by describing this feeble character but as you know this is crime fiction, you expect something ominous to take place and although not entirely gruesome or described in much detail,it still manages to shock whilst also being comical ('he was the kind of person who ducked when a ball was thrown in his direction').i also like the way everything is described in such simple terms and proves you dont have to rely on vivid imagery.




Task 2: my piece....
The gentle breeze caresses my neck, waking me from my sleep, still dazed from last nights events yet not concerned with making this mess any clearer. Just then a light filtrates the single window in my room, glancing across all my possessions; the chair, the bed, the toilet, the basin and a souvenir of my mother. I pick it up and study it, occasionally dusting the top and in that moment, I suddenly wondered what it felt to die. Many experience it but none live to tell the tale, like a Sunday roast with great aunt Julie only this time it is visibly served on a plate accompanied by two over-cooked potatoes, lumpy gravy and broccoli which could break your teeth. Dad, Frank and Ian have all experienced it; in very different ways, but dead all the same. And we can’t forget mum. She died in the most painful way out of the four, but if I were her I’d be grateful, I mean how boring must it be to go to sleep and never wake up, or get shot and feel all your nerves begin to spasm? I’d much rather have had someone sever my neck with their fingernails, paying close attention to my jugular vein. Now that’s a way go!I was twelve when mum died, a happy and well-adjusted child considering my dad and two brothers had left the year before. I remember it as though it were this morning, then again its not something I’m likely to forget

* * * *

Rising from my front row seat, I opened the wardrobe door and my mothers face resembled that of a child just been told that Santa doesn’t exist. Her eyes began to fade further into her head, as her lids slowly began to shut. Although she was dead, my job felt slightly incomplete as she still looked happy, so I began to work on her head, slowly clawing away at her flesh of her neck with my fingernails, occasionally scraping the skin cells from underneath to get a deeper cut. After an hour of continuous scratching and digging I could see her trachea, which strangely resembled a hollow sausage. It was at this point I heard the sirens, quietly at first but then it got louder and began to call me and I knew my work was done and pocketed my souvenir. It was a sign.The police and ambulance arrived at the same time, like two uncles competing for the attention of their favourite nephew and in the mist of this, a fat, balding officer ran out of the house and emptied the contents of his stomach on the pavement; a few take-away curries and a full English now lay splattered across the cold stone outside my house. This puzzled me. Surely my mum wasn’t that ugly, not to a guy who had probably seen more cooked meats than Gordon Ramsey. The nice police lady escorted me to the car, still not aware that it was me who was responsible for the blood splattered walls in my mums room owing to my fantastic performance; a double bluff: a distraught youngster whilst also appearing slightly guilty. It was so perfect!Sitting in my cell, I gaze into my mothers eyes. They glare at me and I gaze back smiling at my work.They are still fresh from yesterday, and I feel I have received justice. I mean most youngsters would spend their 13th birthday going paintballing or ice-skating not massacring their mother. Perhaps next time I ask for a bike, she will listen.

From Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson (1995)

From Notes from a Small Island by Bill Bryson (1995)

I love this extract as Bryson's attention to detail is original, comical yet true and therfore makes the reader think about what they have just read. The little facts such as "father ejaculated (and frankly he did it quite a lot) he produced roughly 25 million spermatozoa" are rather comical but also true so it is a very effective way of telling the story. I also like the way it is broken into stages rather than just listed as it gives a structure to the story and works well as it means the author doesnt waffle as much.

Part 2

The sky resembled a giant whale, it was brilliantly blue with endless lines mapping its back. It was the most amazing place, untouched and unseen by most humans yet they had still managed to harm it, although thankfully, this was not visible. The world looked perfect and this was only the begining of my holiday.
The rain still poured, dampening my optimism as I gazed out of the window. It was empty. From here, London was empty, all that remained were those buildings tall enough to stand out from the crowd. The funnels, chimneys and buildings seemed so small in comparison to me. At 5'11 im no giant but I felt like God; like I could flick canary wharf and it would crush the Gherkin as though some giant trail of falling dominoes. Journeying further north, I came across my uncles work place, my school and the Eifel tower...huh? The Eifel tower is in Paris unless it was moved overnight. I am pretty sure it was not outside my school when I left yesterday . However mum is quick to clear up my confusion by reminding me we left the airport 20 minutes ago and were now flying over France.
The journey from London to Barcelona is short, so short that if you fall asleep and happen to gaze out the window having just left england, the masses of buildings, rivers and people all look the same. It is hard to distinguish the accents let alone the country. The sky is a blinker, a filter to my eyes, and from here everything seems the same. In this moment, I was reminded that despite the different nations, different eye colours and different shoe sizes, under the sky; we are all one. And barcelona was great by the way.

Part 1 and Part 2

Task 1
Extract 3
from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix- i felt this extract worked particularly well as it delt with all the emotions of love such as awkwardness, uncertaintly, happyness and sadness yet all in the presence of mistletoe which rather complicates the situation for both characters, harry who is unsure wether to stay or go and cho who is unsure wether to be happy or sad. this is something most teenagers may experience, so it is a cliche but told in a different and fresh way which is really effective and interesting to read.Also the use of "show not tell" at the end is very effective and works well to keep the steady pace built up beforehand, as it is like a train that is becoming closer to its destination and gradually slows down rather than abruptly stopping.


Task 2
Women claim to be special, a special breed, and argue they are the superior sex. I, however fail to see it. I mean, sure they may be more attractive to the eye, but all the moaning and fussing is just too boring. And speaking from experience, women suffering P.M.T should be locked up for the duration, or go into hibernation. It disgusts me they are still allowed to roam free and infect everyone else with bad moods and short tempers, I mean if you want to be all stroppy and angry, that’s fine, but leave everyone else out of it. The selfish breed more like.

The club is full of perfect examples, all closely concealed in little herds. In the far right corner, there’s a hen party; starving, man hungry little women all gathered to celebrate the conviction of one women. To the left we have 3 hookers, or escorts as they prefer to be known as now, either way there’s no mistaking; toddler size skirts, glow in the dark lipstick and heels which were designed to restrict the wearers ability to run away. Bearing further left, we can see a drunk, conscious yet still alive so be careful. Moving on. In the distance we can spot a lady who at distance appears to look presentable yet don’t be fooled, I am sure as she draws nearer the fur on her face shall appear, her nails shall become claws and a distinctive howling will begin.
I…But…How? Surely my eyes are mistaken, this beauty is the work of a devious cupid, he attempts to infect me with love by presenting the most perfect beast I have ever seen. I have never trusted my eyes, and consequently never felt to love yet now they seem to have gained some tyrannical control of my heart, as though it were the control room of my body.

Her eyes bulged out of there sockets, green and blue in colour, almost resembling twin globes. Yet the effects of two world wars and global warming seemed non-existent as they still shimmered in the light, untarnished by human hands. There were no signs of tears or tiredness, just the freshness of light bursting out from within. Her smell revives me before she is in reaching distance, as if it were some antidote to cure my hatred of love. Yet now I am infected, not with a hatred but a craving.

She brushes past me and apologises with a grin, I instinctively follow unsure of my intentions yet as we get closer, they become clear and as I gaze into her eyes, our lips combine in an embrace…This kiss, this moment, this women were nothing less than special.

Task 35

Task 1

I choose "The Rats" by James herbert as it was a fairly ominous begining. We sympathzie with the character to some extent as we are told he worked really hard for the complete bottle of cheap gin and we understand to what extent he craves alchol. this shocks the reader later although we did expect something to happen. this is a good technique which is why i liked it. also the violence is simple and not oversaturated in blood and gore which works well.

Task 2

It's the strangest thing; watching the whole world from down here. Staring up, I gaze into to the eyes of passers by, there shallow faces drained of emotion yet flowing with tears...except one. Mother was never one to show her emotions, she prefered to present herself as an egg; a hard yet thin shell that surpressed a wobbly mess within which, under the right amount of pressure, would surely crack. And who better to penetrate the shell than the chicken whom it hatched?


As she was comforted and consoled by countless friends and family, others spectators slowly retreated back to thier own grief, and it was then I realised she was crying. Yes, my mother was crying. I giggle, a small snigger at first but as my eye lids slowly begin to lift, the realisation no one else is watching releases a uncontrolable chuckle.


However, someone is watching...just as my mouth repositions itself, I hear mother. Her smell reaches me before the large shadow consumes what little light my eyelids allowed to pass its filters. Staring over at me, I feel her breath examining my face and when she is convinced that I am lifeless, Uncle Myers drapes his arm over her shoulder only for her to shrug it off and heads for the toilets. At last, she is alone.


Checking the coast is clear once more, I get out of my box and enter the darkness which momentarily conceals my presence from my unsuspecting mother. Washing her hands in the sink she stares at the hideous thing reflected in the mirror.she bows her head and sobs. I aint surprised, if i looked like her, i'd be comtenplating suicide or plastic surgery at least. But don't sympathise with her, imagine being born into this world and her face being the first thing you see. Truely traumatic!


Now is my chance, exploding from the cubicle, my hand becomes fused with her hair as it presses her head into the basin. My faces is suddenly covered with a scarlet liquid and a loud crack echos rhythmically through the room to which the severd head in my hand slowly begins to sway in time too as though it were a pendulum. Job done!

* * * *

Re-arranging her body in the box, I adjust the lid and kiss my mum one last time. The ushers approach me as though I am the brother of the deceased, asking wether "he" is ready to be taken. A simple nod and a gentle smile both reach the usher and in understanding he lifts my mother into the ground. A wave goodbye and shes gone. it really is the strangest thing to watch your mother be buried in your coffin at your funeral.

Task 34...A Strange Catch

OPENING 8
I feel opening 8 was the most effective as it always kept the reader at arms length and never directly informed them what was happening, leaving it to how they interpreted it. I like this technique of showing and not telling, which I tried to incorporate into my story as well as the gruesome aspect. Also, the way in which something so simple such as a butchers and shopping are changed into a complete opposite of how we usually think of them and this is done by using ominous pathetic fallacy. Finally I like the way nothing seems rushed and the story just flows quite slowly, which symbolizes how relaxed the character is.

A Strange Catch
Fishing at night is a lottery: you either scoop the jackpot, or go home empty handed. I religiously put my money in each week, reassuring myself that this is my week, only to watch some fat, inexperienced geezer haul out a 15kg carp and claim “he just got lucky”. My advice to you is: printout your own ticket, weighing all the odds in your favor and ensuring you win.
There are numerous ways of doing this, such as: making sure you are the only one fishing or even stealing someone else’s line. However my way is surely the best. I mean when you are 5 or 6 the thrill of not knowing what you have caught is almost uncontainable but as you grow older the characteristic tug of a carp and dead weight of an old shoe are easily distinguishable and a physical sedative. By putting your own ‘fish’ in there it makes it easier as you know what your up against; no point stepping in the ring ready to battle an old lady when Ricky Hatton’s standing in front of you.
Setting up my line and attaching my bait, the currents of the river slowly begin to change and I feel the hairs on my neck abruptly salute the chill as I move towards the bank. Staring at his lifeless lonely body, I kiss my brother goodbye then toss him into the river, before hurrying back to my seat to make sure I don’t miss the opportunity. As my numbers are drawn I feel a gentle tug on my line and while a cruel smile floats across my face, I know it’s my game, my set, my catch…

Warmth

It is clear by the look on her face that my life
And its pain, have caused more than the scars
That lay rest on her arm. it is true, as my wife
The gifts she recieves should be more than a car.

And the faith in my heart tells me more than a song
When it heals and controlls all those things that i cant.
As the waves slowly rush i can feel i belong
Like the leaves of the forest and the green of a plant

With the might of a lion, and suave of a dove
I saw light from beyond and felt cold on my back.
Has the ice in my heart been melted by a love;
By a love that was lost in a time that was black.

With the dew on her nose and the snow in her hair
I breathed a warmth, this moment meant so much.
Then a tear dribbled down and i felt my head rise.
So the wind is now chilled and my heart can now touch.

Because i love you (intermediate)

If someone else had met me first, who knows?
Perhaps the lives we know need not have meant
So much to us. Forget the past, suppose
My heart belongs to someone else, content
It lies, now not with you, but in a hand.
a hand, so near to me yet far from you:
Alone and free. I stare and watch it stand.
No longer does it bare the scars, or glue
From our relationship. although it's clear
The cuts you left were worse than those from knives.
You made me love, you made me care. A tear
May fall, but this just compliments our lives.
So babe, if all goes well this bond will break
And you will see our love was true, yet fake.

friendship (intermediate)

A fued takes place within my heart, yet still
The scars seek warmth beneath my skin; its clear
Im sick for love but still not seen as ill
Because we know that love can make us fear.
Sedating time to heal the wounds of life
Will only make the wound grow deep and beat
As though my skin was pierced with my own knife.
Oh how i feel alive yet incomplete
Without my friends; perhaps a life is best
When spent alone to live like the elite
Who left their friends,their life and flew the nest.
My hearts reclaimed its place of pride although
The price to pay makes joy alone: my foe.

Love

Ill always crave the warmth of your embrace
and looks of your bewitching eyes, but then
as time goes by, I hate to see your face
and long to be myself and free, again.
The damage love can do should scare us all
but still we crave such love. It leaves us sick.
Although no cure for love is taught at school
we learn to heal its cuts and scars so quick.
My lust for you it seems I can’t destroy
because when we were bound i felt alive.
but lust is hate when it's deprived of joy
and joy is what we need: need to survive
If life is love then death is hate, I live
to use my love. is all that i can give

task 29

Task 1

1. I wish that summer came all year round, i wish!
2. If time stood still, this life would be so cold.
3. I dont see fear as clear as those who fight.
4. we owe so much to those who fought the war
5. describe how we can help ourselves survive
6. my eyes gaze up in search of strength from god.
7. i gaze at you; your eyes enchant my mind
8.perhaps i dont belong with those i hate.
9. my thoughts survive despite my minds command
10. alot depends on how i stage myself
11. towards the end it felt i'd just begun
12.how time can pass so quick without you here
13.if love can hurt so much, why chase such love
14.i dream of dreams i dreamt when i was youmg
15. suppose we found this life we live werent real
16.a force lies deep within my soul and heart
17.as thoughts flow through my head i feel confused
18.you broke my heart, it's been repaired
19. as yet i feel iambs still cause me trouble
20.i have the strength to fight my fears till death.

Task 2
outside the window
i watch and gaze within. unaware im there,
i see them sad and laugh.if only he saw

what i'd like to eat
at first my eyes were drawn towards the cake
the cream the taste the smell. but then: the fat

a recent dream
i dreamt a dream:of doves and guns it sounds
quite wierd but dreams are meant to be sureal

annoying tasks overdue
my eyes fall down my head hangs low.A task!
a task to hard, to long to do when dead.

my body
my face. it once was seen as art; but now
it bares the scars of youth.And cuts of love

Track 11

His head now lay in the soft patch of grass, as if it were a moss-covered pillow deliberately planted there to cushion the impact. The remains of his body however, lay scattered across the rest of the forest like some impossible jigsaw maliciously prearranged for the police to solve.But with one piece missing.
The trees stood unstirred and untroubled; in perfect harmony with there surrounding neighbours, apart from the strange creature crouched down beside a bright red rock. Slowly rocking back and forth, the creature gently grabbed the rock as if it were some prized possession destined to disintegrate if not grasped swiftly. But as the furry hand moved closer, the rock began to beat and slowly throb, now resembling its previous state rather than the nature inflicted object it had become. The creatures eyes widened at the sight of it; and as the heart began to beat more rapidly, regret was injected to the very same object that lay beside him but was instead embeded in his own chest. His body was anaesthetised by the realisation he finally knew what he was looking for. What he had lost all those years ago: A heart. Essentially, this was the missing part of his puzzle, the puzzle of emotion. The puzzle of his life.

p.s sorry the ending is a bit weak but i couldn't think of something powerfull

track 7

As Ben entered the room, a sea of eyes fell upon him. Nevres fluttered and blood rushed to his cheeks turning them a scarlet red. The familiar strong stench reassuringly rushed throughout his lungs whilst still reminding him why he was thier. It was decision time: Stay and finaly conquer the mountain that had blocked his path for so long or settle at the bottom as he had done for the past 10 years. hands shaking he approach the unfamiliar crowd who were now all fixated on his every move; staring hard as if he was a ghost. The only ghosts present in the room were the suken pale faces of his fellow addicts.

The meeting proceded despite his late arrival with the typical introductions and cheap refreshments (no alcohol).Joe, the leader was aware dealing with recovering alchoholics was lacking any sort of thrill or excitement that the majority of them were accustom to, so he tried a new tactic: retrospection.
Joe: "close you eyes, dont block nothing out. ask yourself why are you here?why?"

* * * *

A teenage boy is walking alone in the streets with a large rucksack, lonely, scared and frightend he squats on a doorway,the cold stone step a chilling reminder he is still alive. He removes his jumper; carefully placing it underneath his head as he settles down for another restless night, his only comfort the bottle of whisky that lies in his pocket.

* * * *

Ben's head rose sharply, like he was viciously awoken from a nightmare to see everyone else was in deep coversation with thier neighbour,except him. Realising this was one reason he didnt want to share he slowly crept out of the building, into the rain lookin for another doorstep to call home.

cape cod evening

(A man and his wife sit in the veranda and silently watch their pet dog Fluffy.)

Harry: can’t believe it’s almost time.
Jill: please Harry, can we not go through this again
Harry: so when do you propose we go through this because as you well know the clock is ticking.
Jill: I don’t propose we go through this at all; I’ve made my decision, end of story.
Harry: so what I don’t get a say, despite the fact I’ve helped build its life.
Jill: it’s not yours you didn’t want him in the first place.
Harry: well he’s been here for 13 weeks now and I already feel like he is a part of the family.
Jill: we move house, acquire a little something on the way and your saying IT’s a part of the family?
Harry: that’s exactly what I’m saying. Just because he can’t tell us how he feels doesn’t give you the right to slaughter him.
Jill: Oh shut up Harry! You and I both know we can’t cope.
Harry: no we don’t because we haven’t even tried.
Jill: (attempts to respond. But stops)
Jill: its getting dark I think we should bring him in now.
Harry: let him savour the last bits of sunlight
Jill: no. (shouts) Fluffy…time for dinner! (Jill heads towards the house with fluffy following close behind her)
Harry: goodnight Fluffy! (Dog barks and exits beside Jill leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.)
Harry: that’s the last I’ll ever see of him: my unborn son. The abortions tomorrow then I guess that’s that (heads off towards the house)Harry: goodnight Flynn, miss you already (a single tear falls from his face)

Scary Mary

Cinderella is sitting on her bed when her Mum comes banging on her door. She anounces that she has found yet another new baby sitter.

Cinederella(on phone): grr bloody parents, when will they learn i can look after my self. (pauses) I'll call you in about half an hour, that should be enough time to scare off mum's latest.(puts phone down and walks towards the door.) What now woman?
Mum: Cinderella this is...
Cinderella: My name is Cindy! geeze mother you named me you'd think you would have got it right by now.
Mum: Fine then. Cindy this is Mary Poppins.(mary poppins steps forwards) She is the woman off the telly,you know on that show...
Mary Poppins: super nanny.
Mum: yeah that one. Well the show got axed so i hired her to whip you into shape.
Cindy(laughs): Oh please mother, we have gone through 36 nannys in the past 4 months and you bring an old lady to my room.(turns hysterical).the only thing she is whipping is the cream for cakes.
Mum(tuts):you see what i have to put up with.
Mary Poppins:its ok mrs Bella,i can handle it.you and your husband have a good time now.
(mum exits)

(Cinderella waits for her mum to go then attempts to shut door in Mary Poppins face. Mary Poppins puts her foot in the way.)

Cindy: Nice try old lady (slams door shut, and retreats to her bed intending to continue phone call)
Mary Poppins (laughs): Who said I was trying? (pulls umberella out of bag and blows open the door cindy's bedroom).
Cindy (sniggers): Do you always carry C4 in your bag, or is your breath really that bad?
Mary Poppins: C4 is convenient but it leaves terrible mess afterwards and i suppose thier are other ways.
Cindy (concerned): other ways for what?
Mary Poppins(advancing towards cindy): Come on now Cindy. I can't stand you little misbehaved, ill-manerd brats or that Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious junk. Its so boring, and at my time of life i need something hmm... entertaining. so I thought what better way to solve a problem than to erase it completely.
Cindy(stuttered):wwhat doo youu mean...
Mary Poppins: killing children dosen't make for good television, not to mention good reviews. so when one moany parent complained her child had been set alight and hit for a home run with a baseball bat, the producer said he felt it best we 'terminate our current contract agrement'. I mean the little thing just slept all day, even when I was talking to him. Thats just plain disrespect if you ask me and besides it wasn't even a full swing; i'd say more a 2nd base shot.
Cindy (shocked): You mean to say it was you that killed Sleepy.
Mary Poppins:And Sneezy, Dopey, Doc, Bashful...oh and Grumpy but i dont think he was too happy about it. besides I prefer to think of it of erasing Britians pest problem.
Cindy: how could you?
Mary Poppins: It's like ridding a bike: at first it seems difficult but after that there's no stopping me.a sort of routine now, every child must have thier own 'medicine'.
Cindy: No! Please not me. I'm just a young girl, it's all down to my hormones, I can change.
Mary Poppins: it's to late to say sorry!
Cindy(sobs): I truly promise i'll never ever be bad again. (sits on floor and begins to rock bak and forward)
(Mary Poppins advances closer towards Cindy. She kneels down beside her. Mary's head moves closser and she wispers)
Mary Poppins (whispers):Job done! now the healing can begin....

Fish and Chips

John: Ahh now that's what I like to see. A delightful plate of traditional British fish and chips served with a nice pint of beer. Top nosh!
Joanne: You make me sick... If only you knew the truth, the truth of how those poor little innocent fish live their lives.
John:The only stage of their life that interests me is when they're lying on my plate surrounded by crispy golden batter, smothered in vinegar and coated in Heinz ketchup.
Joanne: (laughing) Whats next...? (impersonates m&s advert) This is not just fish, this is M&S fish.
(Both start laughing. John begins to tuck in and lets out a satisfied groan)
Joanne: First they take the inculpable illiterate infant away from its mother and put it in an isolated facility.
John: Nice try but i bet you a million pounds that you could never ever put me off my grub. Oh and I prefer the young, as the adults tend to have codworm.
Joanne: Afterwards they continuously force-feed the helpless fish, fattening and plumping it up ready for serving.
John: Well who pays for a fish that's purely skin and bone. Now I know why you sympathise with it. Look at you: you're wasting away.
Joanne: Finally they will kill the fish by a fast, heavy blow to the head and/or spiking (using a narrow-bladed knife to penetrate and then destroy the brain).
(John pauses eating, still with mouthful of fish in his gob. Looks at Joanne. Smiles...and continues eating.)
John: Like I said, nothing you can say can put me off my food.
Joanne: Oh, I forgot to tell you. Seeing as Smelly, our adorable little puppy, is being toilet trained, I haven't had time to get a potty so i used the vinegar pot. I was going to throw it away but seeing as you like your fish soaked in it I might as well not buy one now.
(John spits out his fish and runs towards the bathroom. Joanne laughs)
Joanne: Please make all cheques payable to Joanne Thomas...

crazy old mans monologue

(78 year old guy is lying alone in the darkness of his cell. eyes downcast he stares upwards but just sees the same 4 walls he fell asleep looking at.)


(begins to chuckle to himself)

You wouldn't expect to see a sweet ol' gezzer like me in a cave like this, would ya? In fact the only place you would expect to see me is in a coffin by now. go ahead,laugh! But tell you the truth you wouldnt 'adam and eve' some of the stuff i did back in my day.

(closes his eyes and begins to reminice)

12 years ill have been inside tomorrow. Seems like an eternity though. Heck i can barely remember what happened yesterday, but strangely enough i remeber how i ended in this dump almost as clear as the the jelly they palmed me of with earlier. The disrespect they treat us old codgers with these days. I paid tax all my life for this. Makes me sick!

(pauses)



oh yeah what was i saying?... thats it: it was 23:11 on the 17 of june 1996 when my dear beloved dead wife had decided to arise from her grave,invade my mind and order me to run to 'the filth' and inform them it was me who had killed her the year before. I mean as a farmer you'd expect me to be a dab hand with the butchers knife but to hack off her head and pay specific attention to her juglar vien is puerile.(laughs) although the amount of blood discharged was torrential, i thought i was going to drown.of corse they put it down to me being "a confused old man" and then left me in here.Alone.Disowned.Forgotten!

(sighs)

Oh well. Only another few years left till i die then i can wave bye to my carers ,the other old biddies that live here and that horid smell in my room. Then finally ill be able to see my loving wife again.and you know what they say beauty lies within only with her it has nowhere else to hide.



(sorry the endings disapointing.) oh and its late!

deadly love

our love deserved better than what we gave
deprived we tried to melt the ice around
yet even when we discuss we cannot save
the lust the love achieved when we were bound
so now it seems cupids bewitched my heart
and left my loves, my wifes blood pump switched off
although he knew we were a work of art
and she was ill :love sick ,not just a cough.
its over now and im convinced we hid
the one relationship that i regret
you don't deserve applause for what you did
as now you are asleep,no more a threat
so babe,sorry it had to end in death
but your control led you to your last breath.

the end!

p.s i think that class has helped a bit lol

people and planet

exercise 1
it seems the hunt has only just begun
hunter and pray alike go for their prize
and yet whilst one may want the others flesh
both are determined to finish champs

exercise 2
1.people are the same yet unique
2.by the forest people dance away
3.darkness rose behind the moon

exercise 3
1.picture a life: dark in the light
2.down in the forest seek the lion
3.kidulthood comes before adulthood

exercise 4
1.i want dinner right now.
2.death is murmuring here

exercise 5
the sky is choking on green house gas
and our planet is boiling up inside
heat is there but yet it cannot pass
and if it isn't changed we will be fried

exercise 6
if a partner is unfaithful just deal with it
you think that trust can mend all thats wrong
but it leads to many other issues so quit
yes stand alone, try and just be strong

goodbye greg

The ice splinters beneath his fingers, as he tries to hold himself above the freezing river water. I watch as his eyes slowly roll to the back of his head. Slowly but surely they begin to slip off the ice .I watch as his face turns blue as the strong river currents pulls him to his death.

“Job done,” I coldly say. A sudden feeling of relief is injected into me like an absent painkiller that had left and been replaced with hate. Those vile nights with just the two of us. Alone. Not any more. It was just mum and me again; Greg had just been washed away for good, like a stain removed by a powerful detergent.

It was a chilly dark October evening and the air seemed to have a bit of an icy edge on it. I quickly scrambled into a nearby bush at the rivers side as I heard a young couple walking on their midnight stroll. Minutes later he was found. The screams and wails echoed around the valley. “If only she knew the truth shed be sighing with relief, not crying” I whispered whilst still trying to plan my way back home. The only tear shed for him would be tears of joy.

Later that evening, back at home, there was a knock at the door and as the officer walked in I scrambled upstairs to prolong the inevitable. I heard him tell my mum Greg was dead. Her reaction was surprising to say the least; no laughter, screams of joy or even tears of happiness. She just howled and wailed. Why? She knew what he did to me. She knew he was the reason I was in THIS condition. Why didn’t she want him dead? “It must be an act,” I thought as I heard the officer’s footsteps approach my door.

“Ms James can you please tell me where you where between 7 and 9pm this evening?”

“By the lake” I replied very matter of fact.

“And can you tell me precisely what you were doing there?” he asked fully aware of the answer.

“Killing my step-dad” there was no point denying it. He came here for an answer and I gave it to him.

“Would that be Greg Harminson of this household,” he asked with a short smile that meant “job done”.

“Yep!”.

The rest was like a scene from “The Bill”. They took me to the station, questioned me and sat me in a room alone with my thoughts. They weren’t very comforting but at least I could reflect on my actions. “Mum wasn’t happy? Or relieved at the very least. Why was she pretending? Why?

* * * *

We walked into the pub and found a secluded seating area in the corner. Mum brought me a j20 and herself a Jack Daniels and coke, “Dutch courage” I thought .It was 5 minutes after 7 when a tall muscular figure entered the pub and walked straight towards us. “Sophie, this is Greg, ” she said scanning my face looking for any signs of dislike. My opinion meant the world to my mum so when she found no signs whatsoever, my relief rubbed onto her. “Hi” I replied in a jolly tone. At least this guy was better than the last one. I mean he was balding mid-forties and wore a plastic medallion around his neck so this new guy was definitely an improvement. We spent the rest of the night drinking laughing and chatting. Greg bought drink after drink for us, trying very hard to buy me round, but there was no need as his whole charisma had got my approval already. Hours passed and at 10 o’clock Greg dropped us home in his little red van. “Well what do you think?” mum asked a soon as she heard him drive away. “He seems ok” I said with a small grin on my face. This date was the first of many.

* * * *

I stared out the window longing for mum to get home before him. But all my hopes were crushed when that little red van pulled up on the drive. I jumped away from the window and huddled my self in the corner of the room. I closed my eyes and wished, hoped even prayed that it wouldn’t happen today. The petrol smell from the garage warned me he was home before I heard his footsteps clunk up the stairs towards my room. I thought I had locked the door. The handle turned. He entered the room and I could tell by the evil grin on his face that he wasn’t here to help me with my homework.

* * * *

I sat her down on the sofa. “Mum I‘ve got something to tell you”. She just looked at me and said “its ok darling. I know already” I stared at her in disbelief “its all part of growing up your finally becoming a women” she finished. I knew where she was going with this “mum i'm not on my period I started that years ago, its about Greg” I interrupted.

“Now look darling I know he is not perfect and I know he has cheated on me but I have forgave him now can we please drop it?

“NO we can’t mum. I’m pregnant!” a weight had been lifted off my chest. But the one in my belly remained.

“What?” mum screamed her voice pierced through me like a needle to ma ears. She stared at me in disbelief.

“You heard mother. I…am…pregnant” my voice shaking as I spoke. The thought she couldn’t understand was unbearable but so two was the reply my deluded mother gave.

“You dirty little slut. Pregnant at 15. You’re no daughter of mine” she said. her voice croaking and dry as she knew this was uncalled for.

“Open your eyes mother, who do you think the father is…”

* * * *

He was walking all alone by the frozen lake. I had come here to do a job and this was my one and only chance to finally repay him for all the trouble he caused. All the pain and suffering me and mum had suffered ever since mum went to bingo. The moon lit up the space around him, like a target for me to hit, as I took my place in the bus behind him. He walked further along the bank and as he passed I knew this was the last time that petrol smell would make my stomach jerk as violently as I just had done. I waited patiently and alone, my only comfort the occasional breeze from the cold winter wind that refreshed my numbing body but then my chance came. I think he must have lent over to se a fish but this was irrelevant as I bolted from the bush. Yelling, hollering and screaming as I went, I made sure my run up was as strong as possible then with all my physical power and the added physiological boost I pushed him into the lake. The ice cracked underneath Greg’s flapping body as he tried in vain to clamber back up. His head went under however determined to fight back, it rose up again. But this battle was already won. I kicked his head to make sure there was no way back. The ice splintered beneath his fingers, as he tried to hold himself above the freezing river water. I watched as his eyes slowly rolled to the back of his head…