Human Volcano

She's going to erupt.Any moment now she's going to erupt like a vicious volcano. She's done well though, half an hour and not a single tear; not a single sound; not a single move.Nothing.It's getting to her now,though; you can see it in her face; it's screwing up; it's going red; her eyes are watering.
There she goes: screaming like those little muddy things in Harry Potter 2; beating herself like a mad woman; tearing at her hair-I knew it was going to be like this.
There's no point in trying to calm her down, it's not going to work. She's on fire. How would you feel if you just saw the tiny coffin carrying your baby,your baby that you carried for nine months and had bonded with, be buried before you very eyes? Buried and gone forever. Extinct. You wouldn't be any different to this woman and you wouldn't want all this old hags trying to shut you up , acting as if they now what you must be going through. They should just leave her; she'll calm down when she wants to.



That took long enough; she's calmed down a little. She's still whimpering and whining and weeping but you can expect her to be completely silent and smiling after that spectacle. Poor cow, she'll get over it.

Denied

A man of freedom, peace and equality, he was. Bricked off from the vultures of society for far too long, temptation overrode his irreproachable subliminal being, a fateful decision. Leaving his armoured bunker he perambulated into a cosmos of epic, flawless almost sycophant society.

A life spent obeying orders had left him wanting, needing, begging almost for a premier appearance. He wasn’t scared of anything by now; he didn’t know anything to be afraid of since he hadn’t seen the light of day on his own before, his people were far too protective for that, they had good reason to be too.

As time passed his confidence grew to an extent that, for once in his life, he felt accepted. He could walk down the street without anyone noticing his presence; the contrary of what he had been lectured. Understandably his blood started to boil over, his pace increased, the steps grew louder. The grin tried to enter but was denied such a privilege, a decision that would come back to haunt him.

With heinous proportions, a heartbeat, a click followed by a crisis meeting from lead to skin, to flesh, to bone. As the crimson explosion made its debut, it was greeted by a protest full of irony and false intentions, anarchy reigned, the once tranquil cosmos has been set ablaze by the fiery depths of hell. What was once a cranium had been turned into a pink mess strewn across the flawless tarmac.

His soul was long gone by now, watching down on his assassin quietly fleeing down a dimly lit alleyway, a grin suitably fitted was stretched across his face. Innocence wasn’t what the grin was looking for anyway. Today it wanted a more destructive result and that’s exactly what it got. Temporally nonplussed, the grin sank back into the skull.

Jazz and Liquor.

Mary-Jane. Mary-Jane; the Queen of Fame. We watch her as she sits in her dressing room. Scarlett Lips, Matte, Porcelain skin and Slate painted eyes. She's headlining tonight- the star of the show. She's nervous, we can see it in her eyes but she knows how to calm herself down, she knows the perfect way: Charlie. She looks beautiful as she lines him up on the cold dressing table. She looks angelic as she snorts him up and we see her pretty eyes roll to the back of her head. She is calm and ready. Ready for the show.

Her heart is pounding like a fist make of lead inside her, she feels as if its going to pound right through her breaking her delicate rib bones. She's nervous.No. Exited. She can hear the crowd, she waits for her cue; she's the main attraction. All those people, waiting to see her. She'll be amazing though, she knows it, especially with Charlie for support.She's having doubts...No. Nerves, just the nerves...

"Please put your hands together for Mary-Jane!..."

"Shit" we hear her stutter, she has no time to check her costume or make-up. Before she knows it, she's up...

The audience roar with cheers and applause! They jump out of their seats pronto and whistle for Mary-Jane. The band begins to play, the audience are seated, the lights dim. The cymbals crash like the harsh sea against tough rocks, the piano kicks in with arpeggios and scales and chords! There she goes, doing what she does best. We watch as she parades around the stage, feathers waltzing and the tassels on her dress shaking. Her hair looks beautiful in the spotlight, like a river of liquidized honeycomb and gold. Her voice box blares out the sweetest sound as she twirls about, the spotlight is so bright, it blinds her; but she loves it. Dashing Gentlemen in the audience whistle suggestively at her. The music is so loud its deafening, everything is caught in the moment, her voice, her dance, the band, the applause; its all just so alive.

Halt. She is still, the band is silent the light is shining. Is this part of the act? We don't know. She stares out into the audience, the light is so dim, all she can see is the glistening of their eyes like stars twinkling and shining on her. The audience: silent, of course, they are memorized by her eyes, once so full of life, now, they are dead fossils set in her skull. We wait...whats the surprise? No-one knows. What is she planning? She's a angel set in stone, no movement or sound.

The cymbals suddenly crashes and she falls on her knees, decorating the floor like a colourful woven carpet: all sparkle and colour. The audience gasps, is it part of the show? The lights dim, the atmosphere grows thicker, this is the result of Jazz and Liquor.

Murder

He did it! At last she was gone, and it wasn't even quick and painless, that was too good for her. I made sure Jeff took carefull attention ensuring she suffered for as long as necessary. But now, alone in this cell, all he keeps doing is blaming me. Talking at first but now he's in full flow shouting so much countless drops of spit have thoroughly conditioned my hair. He doesnt realise im there of course, he never does, even now shes out of the way my existence is only acknowledged when he needs to comfort or reassure himself. I didn't individually tear out the strands of her hair, I didn't dislocate her jaw (unfortunatley), I didnt even pull the trigger yet, according to him, its all my fault.

* * * *
She sat there bound to the chair, not just by the tatty ropes tied around her wrists and ankles but by the simultaneous hatred emmited from the both of us. I watched as he began to reconstruct her face ignoring her desperate cries. Starting with her hair Jeff slowly worked his way down this blank canvas recreating a piece of art, designed by me. But by the time he reaches her mouth, guilt and rationality begin to settle in. "NO!!" he screamed, "what am i doing. shes my wife?". Dissapointed he couldnt finish the job alone, I steped in to help, reassuring him she deserved it. Minutes later he was finished and as we stood back to admire our finished product, pride and relief fluttered within my body. This was it now, although still breathing she could no longer do us any harm as her resemblence to freddy kruger even suprised me, not to metion the officer that found her. I can clearly remember what he had eaten for the past week as the contents still lingers on jeffs shoes: porridge followed by garlic chicken kievs topped with hageen dazz.Vanilla flavour...


* * * *
So you see I didnt actually do anything to hurt her. Not phyisicaly anway. I mean I couldnt even if I had wanted to. Jeffs asleep now finally. I am standing over him watching his chest rise then collapse in such perfect rhythm. He says hes goin to blame me, say it was all my fault...bit hard when i am fate,controller of Jeff's destiny.

P.S sorry its 34mins late :)

Task 28; Alone

She was alone. She was always alone and always left by herself; on her own. ET was a long necked freak, yet he still received love and attention and loyalty. She received nothing, nil, zippo. The dreamlike evening moonlight cradled her in its silent beams and welcomed her to the night; a night so filled with wonders and adventure. This was her way out; this was her sanity and its vanity.
She reached over and gently picked up the needle, the glistening liquid potion inside luring and seducing her into its vain reality, calling her. Finding the spot was tricky, there were so many to choose from, so many craving it.
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, catch a tiger by its toe, eeny meeny miny, moe.”
The point pierced her skin, its spark and energy maneuvered and catapulted up her arm, the sensation tingling and travelling around her body. And then she closed her eyes, feeling the high. The room started shaking, moving, taking on a life of its own. Seconds later, she opened her eyes and bolted.

The world was spinning around her. Her quivering hands eventually unlocked the door and she sprinted down the stairs like potassium on water. The sounds of the rambling squat and junkies meant nothing to her, she was on a roll. Every sense in her body was on a sensational high, pricking and poking her; feeding her adrenaline; it was her oxygen. The cold air slapped her paling face and the wind rasped and clutched her naked feet; she ran and ran and continued running. The streets of New Jersey span around her, the lights reached out and punched her, making her giddy. Her small pupils sprang left and right, in a constant dance. Her chocolate brown nightgown dripped and tangled around her thin body, battered by the wind and strangled by beads of her sweat. She started panting, shouting, screaming out for help; but the sounds drained into the suburb.

She dropped to the floor, clutching the crumbling wall behind her, begging the sidewalk for a cushion of support. She clutched and strained her hair, the feeling of the potion slowly draining scared her. She would die without her life support. Eyes widened and mouths tutted as they passed this dying creature lying on the floor, so shaken by reality; they knew she was done for and she did too. She was alone again.

Daddy

Me. Afraid, scared and alone. Or maybe I wasn't really alone. I had my imagination to keep me company. I'd sit there and reminisce on the good times; me frolocking around local fields, making daisy chains with the unattended flowers that lay there in peace. Me so peaceful and serene, watching everything take place in the comfort of my own lonesomeness. Alone. It didn't matter though. I was happiest like this. I remember when it would me just me and Daddy. Good times - as he would put it. Me and him together without a care in the world, to be quite frank - there was no need to care about anything, because I was with Daddy, and that was all that REALLY mattered.

That was then. I remember the night of his murder: closer, Closer, CLOSER. The unknown lurked up on daddy, without giving him room to think - or breathe. He'd edge up towards Daddy pushinig him infact into the dark of the outside world out of the window. I cried. What was I to do? "Come closer Sweetheart, I won't hurt you" he'd mutter. But he did. He hurt me in ways word coudn't describe. He'd hurt my heart, broken it infact; Daddy didn't have a place to live anymore. It was almost like his house had gotton blown away - or in this case, broken and shattered. My heart. I still don't remember his face - that warlock. Yet I'll always remember how te took daddy from me. He was a murderer.

Maybe I should stop all the trash talk - Daddy would call it. Talking about the unneccessaries to life. Almost like his death infact. He'd almost minimize the hugest events in life. That was daddy for you. Oh how I missed him after he left. I'm used to it now. I'm used to being alone. Yet It doesn't bother me. Im happiest like this.

BUT WHY DID DADDY LEAVE ME? The question that wouldn't leave my head. He was horrible. I hate him. He didn't save himself. He doesn't care about me. No one does. Why did he allow it to get this far? Why did daddy leave me? I'm all on my own now, without no one. Daddy didn't care. So why should anyone else? Daddy was always in charge. But I hate him. He left me. Just like everyone else is. I don't mind though. I'm happiest like this.

Past Times

The day had almost come to an end; George spread himself out on his softly padded, king size bed in the middle of his eccentrically decorated Chamber of rest. He was a man who seemed to have had quite a few burgers and kebabs under his belt- plus a few fries as well. The day to allow his beloved offspring who had passed on to a better place, to finally rest was over to his relief. A tear, two no three tears simultaneously yet reluctantly leaked from George’s eyes one after the other. Why? you might be asking, not even I know the answer to that. He shut his eyes tightly so as not to see the truth of his wife’s end at 49, and was soon hallucinating of the last holiday that they had together in the hot, Humid Hawaiian tropics.

He reminisced about the 2 of them exchanging priest pleasing comments on each other’s image whilst also co-ordinating they’re feet to the rhythm of Queen on the stage, whilst Queen carelessly waved each of their precious and reliable instruments of individual harmonic symphonies in the alcohol filled atmosphere. Most of the people were much too intoxicated to even care let alone be aware of what was happening in their surroundings. It may have been this jolly atmosphere that provoked IT to happen, it may have been the atmospheric afternoon that had added petrol to fire, it may have been this atmospheric day that had been the detonator to a bomb. It may have been, George will never know for sure, not truthfully, all he can do is develop theories, they may have been controversial but they were theories none the less.

He heard a Bang! Bang! Bang! That’s when he realised that he had lost the lead connecting him to his beloved one. PANIC, DESPERATION, FEAR: these are what George felt at that moment, THE moment. He was petrified at the sight which was bestowed upon him, he could see a scarlet liquid dripping from the mouth, black and blue lumps of fear littered all around the horrifically battered body. His mouth shuddered at the many thoughts of what may have happened, after the shock of seeing it dangling down from a drain pipe.

A large, cold hand grabbed his shoulder and he immediately awoke from the heavenly dream turned nightmare. Beads of perspiration manoeuvred they’re way around George’s facial features, he was relieved that he was out of that world, but still reminiscing about that singular moment…

Task 28 - Broken Past

He buried the past in my heart; it will always remain as a master piece of true art. It was perfect, no mistake but I now sit in a place where light is forbidden. On my pale face tears dry on my cheeks like ice on top of a mountain. But round me, faces all lit up, looking bright and colourful like fireworks in the haunted sky at midnight. I see him in the middle. Standing where our last dance was meant to be; I see that he is searching for the answer to this riddle.

That’s when the memories of the forgotten, incomplete past came back to life in my deadly thoughts. I feel the warm wind rush round my neck and down to my feet then gone. He wasn’t gone and neither was I though the distance between us is increasing at a fast rate, too fast for me to catch up. I was holding a glass in my right unsteady hand with lemonade that was filled half way through. It was sweet but as soon as it enters my body it was turning into that pure ugly unwanted bitter taste. As I put down the glass on the table, I see him again with a smile on his face, pretending everything was alright when clearly the hurt in his eyes said - it just wasn’t.

Soon the booming music was changing to fit a missing piece of my life, the peaceful, placid side of it all. In my hand, I was holding the blue butterfly necklace he gave me and with it was my necklace that had my name. Both of them was tangle up with each other, I was trying to separate them but fail to and maybe that was a sign of how our lives should be. But fairy tale endings was made to give fake a meaning, with my life slowly speeding down the hill, without him trying to be an obstacle to stop it. I was unseen, unheard, unwanted, sitting there with an image of my broken past going round in my mind like a power point slide show. It was a pleasant feeling of being reminded of what used to be, made it seem that it was possible to get through this night. It didn’t last long, as my eyes saw him once again, a storm made the whole atmosphere shake apart then a sudden burst of silence . It was too late, his taken another path; left our past buried in my heart.

Task 28: FINAL task of 2007/8

This is the FINAL wordvoodoo task of the 2007/8 Academic Year, and for some of you (students and moderators) it will be your last task - so let's make sure you go out with a BANG. And even for those of you (current Y8, Y9 or Y10) who will be carrying on in September, this is still your chance to show off EVERYTHING you have learnt over the course of this year on wordvoodoo.

So think back to all the techniques you have been taught, and make this the most original, memorable, creative (and accurate) piece of writing you have ever produced!

It is another music task - but it is a little different, in that:

• there is not a CHOICE of tracks - you must all use the SAME one;
• it is an ENTIRE track, rather than a 1 minute excerpt - so I will expect your writing to echo the SHAPE of the whole piece of music too.

So listen to the track LOTS of times, and try to understand the structure - maybe as a graph or chart, or perhaps just with words and bulletpoints. How does the mood or emotional climate change/differ? What does the pace or tone of the music suggest at different points in the track? What is interesting about the opening and conclusion of the track? Does it launch straight in or allow some establishment of context? Does it achieve any sort of climax or denouement, or is there 'unfinished business'?

Once you have produced an analysis of the structure of the music, you should close your eyes and listen to it again. This time, you should allow your imagination to concoct the scenario for your piece of writing - even if you have to listen to it several times in order to achieve this.

Then, as last time, begin to draft your piece. When you have finished, please check the following things:

• Does it fit the piece of music when you listen to it again?
• Have you corrected any careless mistakes (spelling/punctuation/grammar) or typos?
  

Could it benefit from any further redrafting, in order to refine or improve the range of stylistic techniques, for example:

• imagery (similes, metaphors and personification);
• sound (rhyme, rhythm and alliterations);
• varied syntax (short, simple and striking sentences and fragments; longer, more complex/compound sentences - and the range of punctuation that goes with it);
• varied vocabulary (sometimes simple and short; sometimes more florid and polysyllabic; everything for a reason...)
• subtlety (i.e. hinting at things rather than shouting them out to your reader);
• tension (mood/atmosphere; sufficient/sustained engagement to retain the reader's interest)
• and anything else you have learned on wordvoodoo this year.

You can listen to the track HERE. I will also email it to all of you shortly.

You should provide a TITLE for your submission; and your submission itself should be between 250-400 words.

You MUST complete this task by midnight on Saturday 19th July. No excuses. No delays. No allowances.

Good luck!

P.S. I will try my very best to post an exemplar over the next couple of days - but don't be afraid to remind me or to ask for help if necessary! :)