Who We Are

A man stands outside the front room, he pinpoints the exact position that he is likely to hit. His wild arm hair bristled in the wet November, whilst his eyes seemed to burn with the lands of Hell, and his figure-blessing jeans remain rigid in the unsteady night. There is no doubt of what he is about to do, and yet like an infant without his mother, he is a tourist without his Baedeker. Crowds shatter in attempts to be spared yet another time, to be forgiven again by the almighty Smiter. But, alas this is human nature. Complicated, Loving, Lonely.

Task 42 Testing the Water

Testing the Water

(Jerry timidly caresses the screen of his computer, revealing the shape of a feminine figure whilst Elisa sits with legs crossed in living room, doors closed)

Jerry: She does like me… doesn’t she? I mean she really does at least pay some sort of attention to me, right?

Elisa: Oh yeah… in the same way that a dog notices the cat its chasing is slightly cross eyed

Jerry: But you don’t understand, I’m absolutely sure that she has an infatuation with me, I mean look at her picture.

(Jerry points to the screen where a socialising website displays the figure posing with chin leant on her palms)

Jerry: That can’t be faked; she’s looking right at me.

Elisa: Hmph… In the same way a harlot smiles at a stranger

Jerry: Your wrong, you don’t-

Elisa: I’m wrong? I’m wrong?! Dear boy I’m only trying to steer you in the right direction, so don’t you go around this god forsaken planet accusing your one and only guardian angel of being “wrong” about this rather blunt, unrespectful and uneducated street licker!

(Jerry Shrivels back, and curls up slightly)
Jerry: No. But-

Elisa: More buts?! Do I have to spell out your life to you? Just in case you haven’t noticed, you are; a middle aged single man, you are balding, you have a beer belly the size of Vesuvius, and to top it all off you have the same angelic looks of a mangled gorilla.

(Jerry hangs his head in disappointment)

Elisa: You see? Even when the tables are turned against you in this world, I’m still here looking after your sorry, unwanted gluteus maximus. I am the only one whom cares for you.

(Door to the room bursts open and shouts of love pierce the thickened inhuman atmosphere that has pervaded the room)

Laura: Jerry! Jerry! What on earth are you doing here on your own?
Jerry: I’m not alone… Elisa is sitting right there

(Jerry points to bed which is empty)

Laura: Elisa? Who the…

(Laura looks around puzzled and bemused)

Laura: Jerry, there really isn’t anybody here, I think you might have imagined her…

Elisa: Don’t listen to her! She can see me perfectly well, she just wants to end close friendship. I’m the only one who truly cares about you.

Laura: Jerry, I think I should take you to the do-

Jerry: No! No! Leave me alone! Elisa and I are discussing some issues and we need our privacy. Just Leave Me Alone!

(Jerry stamps both feet on the floor and shakes his head wildly with what little hair he has left)

Laura: Jerry…

Jerry: Just GO!

What a wonderful world

Photo 5

“He’s a useless thug”, some might say. “He’s trouble, He’s a nuisance, and He’ll just let us down”. What do they know? Quickly judging me for my adolescent façade and branding me a “thug” in my own right, without proper consideration for feelings or thoughts that lay cocooned within my shell. Is this humanity? Is this the extent to which my kind has sunk in order to keep a logical lid on the Jar of all that’s true? Though I probably shouldn’t be surprised, as this tyrannical world I live in cares not for the creativity or imagination of it’s “loyal” disciples, rather it fusses over keeping each and every person’s hair line at a particular angle, or trying rather desperately to hush up the wrong doings of the higher superiority. MP’s, Bankers, Scientists-All Hypocrites! All preaching over what they consider to be the morally right, and lecturing us over what is a “citizens duty”. I can tell you dear people that they drive me Mad! Sorely keeping a tight-piercing eye over on the citizens of this world, whilst we all obliviously pay for their luxurious playboy lifestyles and are still constantly threatened with the risk of being hapless, scavenging street beggars. The pastoral world where freedom was compulsory and pain was a mere scratch obtained from blissful, joy-filled hours is now gone, and now all that is left is a toxic chemical waste land brimmed with damaging technology that leaves us scraping in the pennies from street to street. Though, what would I know, I am a mere statistic in the numbers of the world and would probably be a disturbance in the heavy-authoritarian world that is Planet Earth, yet worst than that is… I’m a teenager.

Pain and Bliss

Pain
The sun may shine throughout this warming day,
And birds may cheap their melancholic notes,
But nothing can replace my soul. I pray
To God, asking for another thick coat
In which I can hide all insecurities.
The Man on Mars must surely understand
What it is like as The Impurity,
To be the one who may as well be banned.
Yet there! The clouds are forming an answer,
The Sun has stopped it’s gleeful shine and joy
And doused with clouds, like sorrow to dancers.
For I can feel there’s no point in rejoice.
Although our Lives seem like a sea of love,
For me it often means spilling my blood.

Bliss
Oh Dear boy, surely your not speaking true?
From what I’ve seen Life is adventurous,
Just take the time and you will see it too.
Do not remain so inconspicuous.
The flowers there are swaying left to right,
The wildlife thrives, it grows off atmosphere.
Just have a look. Quite the eye-candy sight,
Oh wouldn’t you say? Just move into gear
And notice nature’s signs of assured glee.
The Sun, The trees, The Bees, The cats, the dogs,
They’re all the clips that join to make a scene.
As dear boy, I hope you believe in God.
Oh you’re too young to understand the truth,
That beauty is out there, looking for you!

Task 39

Opening 2

“Big Sur”,most of the time, seemed quite unorthodox and unique from many of the writing styles I have witnessed before. Kerouac’s constant switch from present to future tense slightly confuses reader, this effect is then compounded further by his withholding of details about the “City” and “Billie”, and perhaps he does this purposely in order to provoke the reader’s yearning for more feeling. Also within the extract, there are monumental amounts of hyphens, these seem to dictate the direction of the story and reveal his state of mind.

The End
I lay in the slimy, dark trench hoping to god that it would end soon. The sky an impenetrable, thick, smoggy grey with the earth a prominent foul, green vein dug into the field. Larry was on hand, cursing and firing into the misty land of No Man’s, my hand trembled as I aimed into the oblivious fog hoping that it would catch an unsuspecting soldier in the chest-I could only think about that at the time- my eyes were straining out of the tight-fitting sockets to see across but in no succession. The camouflaged battle of Italian and English bullets colliding in such flamboyant fashion proved more than I could handle.
I slouched back down onto the ever damp trench with only my M1 to console my mental wounds, I turned my head to see Miles clutching at his chest in utter desperation to stem the flow of the ever valuable, vital ruby liquid mercilessly gushing out of the 2mm gap. My breath felt heavy, and with each one I could see the soul’s of my comrades floating their way up to this supposed “heaven”. I now awaited the inevitable order of “Charge!” so that I could at last be reunited with my brother in arms Miles. The sky cringed and contracted a deep, jet black touch and with that came the furious thunder bolts of Zeus, the dust settled, we could see our enemies, they could see us, yet we were all helplessly staring at the living, breathing sky. “Charge!”. Our sergeant had made the call, there would be no time for us to think, he says jump we say how high, I clambered over the barriers and made my way manoeuvring round the cups that lay imprinted on the battle field. We could see our foe, I mounted my spear with my right hand, and tightly clenched onto the M1 with the left, meter by meter we were approaching, my mind was a total mess but I had no time to regroup, my body was fully prepared and immediately reacted.

Task 38

1983 by David Peace

Peace’s extract contains some of the vital ingredients needed to make a crime story successful. His metaphoric referrals to the mother’s cries as reminiscent of an “animal” shows the in-born instinct within every (normally) civilised human being, only something horrifying or “hysterical” would be able to challenge their maternal instincts. He also purposely repeats the mother’s actions of “contorted and screaming and howling” on several occasions to portray the true feelings behind the already dehumanising mother, as well as trying to make it much more vivid and shocking to the reader. Perhaps the most interesting thing of his extract is his use of syntax, where from start to end there is no full stop at all until the end, forcing the reader to carry on at pace with the story which conveys the feelings of helplessness and anger radiating from the mother.


Spite
Your day has come, I promised you that old hag! Look at you, with your grizzly, greasy and grotesque serpents of keratin, Your infuriating, blue pierced eye which seems to twitch from side to side at the sight on any movement, your oh so pungent sacks of which you name “socks”, your satanic smile which seems to gleam with a dark green tinge, your outdated drapes of skin which seem to curdle at your very sight, and your apron! Oh your oh so valued apron, beaten and splattered with at least 240 different species of which you deem “food”, and I swear that at least half of them are older than me!

Look at you, with every command of “sweep it clean” and “keep it neat” you knew not the bounds of which you pushed my patience. Your constant cackles at my expense and your unbearably loud trumpeting snores; Dear Woman it drives me Crazy! As even the bible states “we know not what we do”, I do so agree with that phrase, yes…yes I know not what I do.

Just as I knew not what I did when I sent you off to Satan’s harsh demonic arms. Just the same as when I became that oh so desired servant which you so craved all these years, and did nothing ,for the three days you had left, to displease you or allow you to latch on to my cunning scheme. Yet the very moment before I did have you expire, I did have a mere flash of regret, just a flash. But I soon reminded myself of the horrors and tortures of which you expose me to every moment you are awake. Bah! You should not complain though old woman, my carrier bag accomplice did so enjoy contouring to the rough features of your gargoyle ridden face, and it’s ties did so enjoy mimicking the movement of the python’s and allowing you to suffer with your own breath. Yes woman, I had despised you, but please don’t judge me as to weigh me down with you to hell, for I merely Knew Not what I was doing.

Task 37

Opening 2
Adventure and travel, two words that on their own conjure a whole library full of excitement and awe, of which can then spear off into an alternate tangent leaving a protagonist in an impossible position. Silak however, avoids this common structural use by very briefly describing the currents “flowing backwards against the wind”, thus shortening our attention to the wayward waves and funnelling our focus on the “placidity unbroken by wave or eddy”. Silak also makes great use of personification, bringing alive the subtle breeze that is subtly “licking” her “toes”, provoking a gentle, calm and strain-free atmosphere.

Determined
“Number 415 please step onto the mark”

This was it, my time had come. The blades of my ice-skates seemed to quiver in despair, as though they knew that I would inevitably be the last to cross the unforgiving finishing line once more. I had no choice, for if I forfeited-then there would no chance of winning, however if I competed- then there may be the slightest of opportunities that I may win. The wind seemed to barrage me with it’s unmerciful waves, the trees a deep, dark green-from which there branches seemed to emit a low pitched cackle at my dispense.

But before I could have any more time to think, “BANG”, the starting gun had been released and the other 2 competitors had streamed off into lead, leaving an approximate 9 second gap between us. My skates had formed a soft and fragile state, as did my legs. The wind howling in my ear as I gained speed, and the spray from the competitor’s skates freckled upon my face made it a much more demanding task than it already was. Nearly blind and relying purely on instinct alone, I soldiered on, hoping to catch a glimpse of the corner marker, but to no prevail-as my weight seemed to suddenly slip away from me and shifting from head to toe. The wind still howling, my vision worse than ever, the whole world seemed to be spiralling out of my reach yet all I could think about was the dream of finally being able to hold the “Ice-skating rally” cup for 2010. I could no longer defy gravity, and with my skates flailing from side to side I finally made the long anticipated contact of human flesh on ice. My vision still a complete mystery, coupled with the sudden clear hearing lead me to believe that I had come to a halt.

Hair a mess, crowd so strongly discouraging me, I felt it would do no harm to then just put the effort into the race, discarding any worries or thoughts that seemed to be imprisoning me. I dug my right-skate into the ice, making my mark onto the world, and (standing tall) I set my sights onto the leaders jockeying for position.

“You might as well give it up now mate”

“Humph, not for you mate”.

Task36

Extract 2
Forster’s piece is packed full of descriptive and personifying paragraphs, where the “beauty gushed out to water the earth” and the grass is spotted with “azure foam”.
It contains rare inclusions of dialogue which helps to move the scene along, keeping it interesting and hooking us as the reader. The description of “golden plains” conveys a sense of lightness and “beauty” which makes the piece much easier to read.

An Old Flame
He trembled at the mere sight of her sharply dressed physique: the dress a pale blue with dark pinstripes streaming down it, the belt glimmering in her eye as though in recognition of achievement, the zip hanging loosely upon each thread as though inviting someone to rip them off, finally the stiff yet elongated strap tracking his eyes towards the immaculately organised features of her face. It seemed as though an angel had been chiselling at it to get the right angle, complexion and texture. Her eye’s a flawless green with a hint of hazel, her hair full of volume, thickness and bounce, and her skin a smooth, gentle and subtle bronze blending well with the summer sunset.
Yes, it was truly the sight that captured Mike’s attention, he could resist not his lusting temptations to fantasise about her, who seemed to outclass even the love god Aphrodite herself. Her welcoming aroma of rich, humble perfume pervading the whole room, and her unique aura glowing around her petit frame.
She suddenly noticed Mike at the corner of the room, cowering and hunched in shyness. Pasting a wide, thin, generous smile upon her face. She strolled towards him hoping to catch up on the week’s gossip as they used to so many years ago.

“Heeeeey, how have you-”

“Fine! Fine!, feeling real smooth today”, Mike spluttered with hesitation.

“That’s good to know, are you-”

“No no still single, but I’m happy to be”

“Oh”, sighing disappointingly.

She continued to walk away, each step she took felt like an anchor digging and hauling at Mike’s heart, each step weakened that welcoming aroma that Mike so craved, making him feel even more dependant on her presence. Mike ran his fingers through his hair and breathed heavily feeling more and more anxious as she took another step away from him.

“WAIT! I’ve got something to tell you…”

task 35

The Rats
In my opinion, the second opening of “The Rats” by James Herbert was a classic example of a protagonist gaining something of value to them, yet losing something else in its place. The very description of Gulifoyle “saving up his meagre earnings to buy more oblivion” portrays how reliant and controlled Gulifoyle is by Intoxication, and shows the author’s feelings towards Alcohol and its effects. Since we are informed that Gulifoyle has a drinking problem yet cured his very thirst for alcohol for a week to “buy a complete bottle of cheap gin”, it amazes even the reader how determined he was to get a drink. Furthermore, Herbert’s graphic and vivid descriptions of “huge teeth” sinking into “his cheeks” and tearing away “huge flaps” exposes us as a reader to a more gory image of suffering and torture that can do more than force us as a ready to sympathise for him.

Curiosity Killed The Cat
“DING DING DING DING DING”
The familiar sound of my alarm clock showed no signs of gifting me the much needed, invaluable prize of remorse. It never failed to hold me by it’s clutches and jolt me into a state of conscientiousness. It never failed to make me alert and aware that I must rise at 6 o’clock, warning me of the time period I had left before my departure. Yet, what was this? Today it had rung at 3:30…Peculiar, especially for a now questionably reliable clock. Despite this, I felt it my duty to allow my collapsing, drained and dangerously lethargic brain to have it’s required time of slumber. With that perfectly assorted in my mind, I thought it nothing to disable my eyes of it’s vision for the period of slumber that I required.

Yet, before I could achieve this I realised there was a strangely pungent aroma of sweat and skin emulsifying in each others presence. I sat up, shivering, glimpsing at blinding darkness and deafening silence that lay beyond me. There was a sudden creak of the floor boards, as though something of substantial weight had been deployed upon it. Next, a sudden tip-tap of the basement door, and an unexpected Click! Of the light switch which pierced through the unbearable silence.

My mind switched from reality to fantasy, quicker than a BMW engine could switch from On and Off. Then soon, without hesitation of the mind, my body seemed to slowly, surely creep into action. My mind now played no role in the matter, my body had made it’s decision. Each Step it took felt like a step closer to my possible oblivion, despite this my body carried on to traverse into what seemed like that darkest, deepest and mysterious abyss that had not even been ventured to by expert explorers. I was now in clear view of the basement, I could see a silhouette resembling an unfamiliar figure some sort of long, thick s-shaped tool of some sort. The bright orange glow of the basement illumination could even blind a man with sunglasses. I peered in. I had no idea what was to be there, I sniffed only the now familiar smell of sweat and skin. The figure glared at me, his face camouflaged by the white, air-holed mask that hung from ear to ear.

I wasted no time in bolting the door tightly shut, sealing off any means of access from them to me. The furious vibrations of the door forced me into a state of shock. I Hung my head with my arms tightly locking and securing my head in place, whilst my body slithered down to the smooth, cool comforting floor. Alas! The door could take those violent vibrations no more! It flung open. I shrieked back. The figure appeared from beneath the blinding glow of luminance. I now knew my fate was to be settled…

Task 34

Opening 3

In my opinion, the 3rd opening stood prominently in the back of my mind whilst I read the other openings. The full, very detailed descriptions of the area being “hot and brooding”, portraying to the reader how deeply the heat has penetrated into Ayemenem and how insufferable it is, and the high intensity of the heat is made present when the author mentions that the “rivers shrinks” which paints an immovable image of dry, dehydrated parched lands. The author then lifts this insufferable heaviness by saying that night is “clear” , and contrasts a few of the earlier comments of Fruits bursting and ripening (which seems very fast paced) to the slow, calm somber atmosphere, where the author isn’t expecting much to happen.


Betrayal by Contradiction

Bitter, Violent, Miserable. That’s how I would describe The cruelty of the lords. The constant need to stay en pointe and cautious whilst the harsh, rough unforgiving lords of nature stand boldly above the earth with the alveoli of their chest bearing down on (what must seems to be) us insignificant humans. Their thunderous, cruel, overpowering cackles isolate us from them, and soon their endless months of pathological entertainment begin.

The seemingly dominant spears of lightning indiscreetly smashing into one of the Seven Wonders of the World, and striking a nerve within our souls. The shrieking clatter of window panes giving up in vain to the superior weapons of destruction, weapons that we as man thought our most useful companion. The ocean waves crash into the reefs and sea-beds with no remorse, whilst the once brave, bold and daring lions lay in a self-dug burrows cowering at the undeniable abilities of the almighty lords. The bruising of the clouds consolidates the inevitable near future.

Yet now, piercing through the heavy, thick impenetrable smog of gloom and fear, comes a bright light, a light of hope and success. The light stood clear and pure amidst the unsightly destruction to which the cruel lords turn their backs on ,what is regarded as, success. The light said nothing, did nothing, it gave nothing away as to the reason behind it’s presence. To the lords it was a mere nuisance, but to man and nature, it stood for one striking message that would see them through what may come. “The lords are ignorant and have no aspirations, they seek to destroy what is good and cocoon what is bad. I cannot stop him alone, and so need your trust and hope that I will get you through this difficult time. Make no mistake, as it has only just begun”.

A simple Oak

As I watch it’s soft movements, I drool. I can’t stop,
Can’t imagine how simple life is as an Oak.
My roots anchored deep, leaves swaying slow, I don’t know
Why I love it so. As close to me as my folks.

I have only known City life as me, myself.
What fun will I reap from this new empathetic life?
Having zero care, just pure, simple, easy freedom.
I’ll have no need to run, no need to hide, No strife.

My leaves glazed on by the warm, calm, maternal sun.
My thirst constantly quenched by the merciful rain.
Unlike humans I can last over two hundred years,
Like a blip on a map, like a chocolaty stain

Oh if only I were an oak! I would live a
Tranquil, Undisturbed life of “coasting” and “floating”.
I would have the ability to watch over
My disciples, I stand among them. I’m hoping…

Im Sorry (Intermediate)

You slam the door, right in my face it hits.
You say you “can’t take any more of this”,
If you would leave, I might be forced to quit.
My life would spiral in a dark abyss.
My job, my independency would end,
In place of that would be an Icebox heart.
You bid farewell though I will Strive to mend
The damage dealt. I wish we could restart,
Repay you for the trust and love you gave.
Yet now without regret, you walk. Outdoors,
You dare not glance behind you as you pave
The icy floor with graceful steps on floors.
As now, you’re too far gone to turn your back.
I love you so that words can’t say, It’s Fact.

Fear of the Ferrari (Intermediate)

The curves and splendour of the bodywork
Allowing us as drivers to observe.
Whilst underlying mischief crawls and lurks.
On the street it lays, Should I have concern?
It’s plan- it’s strategy, I’m unaware
What horror, pain and torment lie ahead.
I drive it anyway as I don’t care,
Tyres squeal in pain and turn a deep red!
The engine roars as down force gets to work,
An early death bed which of now I head,
The senses in me force a BREAK and JERK!
The chassis twists and writhes from left to right,
Along the long and narrow road, we fight.

Guilt and Anger

It leaves me in a world of no mans land,
It swells up quick and strong within my chest.
My optimisms thin just like a strand,
A witches curse could do less harm at best.
Connections with my conscience truly lost,
The rage, the fury rip my soul to shreds!
I may try to contain it, it’ll cost
Unlucky souls whilst they feel pain and dread.
Alas! I cannot stop it gushing out!
My fist swings wayward as I charge towards
The soon to be unlucky hang-about,
All I can do now is pray to the lord
That the boy’s journey from above to floor,
Did not hurt him at all in face or jaw.

Champion

A Champions hard work never really ends
Most Runners-up will always reach the peak
But both will use performance enhancers,
All work and dedication can pay off
You cannot bear the shame of failing now
Will feelings be the reaper that ends them?
A person hopes to god that they do well
True meanings of skill are put to the test,
They feel the pain and suffer the effects,
Achievement’s when a real champion born,
One injury, one single injury
Is all it takes to ruin all that work,
The bitter aftertaste of pain, begins,
The whirlpool of confusion and delay,
The mind- the soul are all becoming low,
Each drop of perspiration goes to waste,
As it dries so too does my mind and soul
Time to reflect upon careers and life.


Outside the Window
A Harlot stands outside the churches wall
Do holy men dare wonder or to drool?

What I’d like to eat
I see it glistening in the sun’s delight
I’ve got to have that Mars Bar and the Sprite.

3. A Recent Dream
Headlamps of it illuminate my eyes
I’ve but a matter of seconds to avoid it

4. Annoying tasks overdue
My clear head fills with panic and pure fear
My hands an dfeet are frozen as it nears

5. My body
My nose is dripping with each breath I draw
My lungs demand more oxygen, much more.

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…

Track 11, a new society

The barrage of pleasantries from Mother Nature were constant, consistent yet comforting, her soft-silk touch of excellence seemed to carry on throughout the whole area. The trees were heavily laden with blossoms and petals of her younger children, the wind was as welcoming as a family to a newborn. Mother Nature left nobody as a pariah in this neighbourly community, but it seemed that she need not worry as they were all as close as siblings. The proud, pleased and playful parrots conjoined together as one unit to challenge the mighty, mellow and miraculous mice to a game of hide and seek. Whilst the mighty, magnanimous, majestic lion stood proudly as the strongest, fastest, biggest second in command at the top of Kingdom Hill. The hares and rabbits strolled over the constant green grassland and would often come across clumps of beautifully formed roses and camomile that varied in colour changing from the awe-inspiring spectrum of a never ending rainbow.

The trees seemed to make way for passing travellers, as the healthy, thick branches quickly yet carefully opened up respectfully to the pathways that lead to the hidden beauty within. The woodland society often visited this “hidden beauty” and they all say that it is aesthetically pleasing in many assorted ways. They even welcomed us, the tired, weary, smelly, and not jolly travellers searching for an area that would induce our creative juices and hopefully find peace. I think we’ve found it.

Rush: Track 1

(Jeremy a young pianist around the age of 20 is getting ready for an all night performance at the Bingo Gala, it is empty at the moment but as the hours pass the players flock in barbarically. He feels nervous and starts to shiver violently but the Call-out, who seems around the age of 40, hands him some medicine which he claims help him all the time.)

Jeremy: (Shivers Violently from head to toe whilst clenching his arms in a defensive position) OH MY GOD, MY FIRST EVER SHOW! I’D BETTER NOT MUCK THIS UP.

Call-out: (Stands in a complete contrasting stance to Jeremy with his hands folded gently, his arms folded, and he himself leaning on the curtains with his eyes closed.) Ah don’t sweat it kid, I know how you feel now, I remember my first day as well, so much happened that I…errrrm… (the Call-out changes now to a defensive stance embarrassed of the “incident” that had happened to him).

( Jeremy stares at the Call-out in an oblivious manner but soon returns back to his fragile minded state).

(Call-out walks towards Jeremy)

Call-out: Eh Kid, Take it easy. It all gets better in the end.
If you want I can help you “ease” the pain.

Jeremy: W-W-W-Whh-What D-D-Did you have in mind?

Call-Out: Well Kid, in my day we use to have this thing called… Mini-shots.
They’re guaranteed to “KICK” the old jitters if you know what I mean.

Jeremy: W-W-What D-Do TH-TH-THEY do?

Call-out: Listen kid, I’m a busy dealer... I-I-I Mean wheeler…yeah wheeler, I ain’t got time to be goofin’ around with you here. So either take the “shots” and have a great performance or leave them and spend the night a failing disaster.

Jeremy: Well… I do need quite a lot of help right now, and I can’t play at all with my fingers shivering like this…

Call-out: Yeah so…?

Jeremy: All right…How much to make me confident?

Call-out: It’s Cheap, only $50.

( Jeremy seems sceptical at first but eventually hands over the money)

( 2 hours later the time of the all night performance)
( Jeremy has taken the “ Shots” and he is now much more confident and Raring to go, his body has stopped shivering and things seem to look up for the young pianist).

Call-out: And please welcome our new performer, keep in mind he’s only 20 or so ladies and gentlemen, Jeremy Baker!

(The Audience applaud Jeremy as he strolls out from backstage with a smug look on his face)

(Jeremy struts towards the piano in his penguin tux, and starts to play melancholy music from Amadeus Mozart himself.)

Call-out: Number 9! Number 9! Anybody have a number 9! Number 9! Number 9!
Number 9! Number 9! Number 9! Anybody for a number 9!

( There is no answer from the audience, only a few disheartened grunts)

Maggy: OOO AHH, this young lad’s got potential Meera, I think we should watch out for this one in the future.

Meera: I think so too. Good going young man!

(Jeremy smirks confidently)

Jeremy: Ladies, Ladies, there’s really nothing to it.

( 2 hours later and the “shots” start to kick in and Jeremy’s piano skills deteriorate distinctively)

( Speech is also Slurred)

Jeremy: W-wharrsh gooooing ooooonn?!

Call-out: HAH this is where the performance really starts.

Jeremy: wharshh thisshhh finggsshh?

Maggy: Oh dear Meera I think I might have been wrong about our young lad here aren’t I?

Jeremy: whaarsh?

( As Jeremy tries to regain concentration he notices that the world surrounding him seems to be moving at a much faster rate than he is and so tries desperately to concentrate)

Jeremy: Shhhlowwww Down
( Although it was a valiant effort it was to be to no avail)

Jeremy: ARGHHH!!! Arhg!

Call-out: Whoo!!! It’s getting’ started!!!

(eventually the world moves to fast for Jeremy to follow and he eventually trembles to the floor).

Summer evening

(Richard and Amanda, both aged 24, stagger home to their terrace house after a night of heavy partying and switch on the patio light)

Richard: That was a great night Amanda; I could’ve stayed at the club all night.

Amanda: Yeah! That was a night to remember, and did you see John-

(A Loud smash of glass and Debris shower the couple as it interrupts Amanda, The Couple both look up in horror)

Richard: W-W-What on earth was that….?

Amanda: Oh it’s probably next doors baseball practice again, you know they’ve been playing over 6 years now.

Richard: But if it was your neighbours….

Amanda: Yeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah?

Richard: Shouldn’t it be on the other side? Since your neighbours are on the other side…

Amanda: You need to stop worrying so much, you used to be so carefree but now your way too safe.
(Richard folds his arms in a defensive position and prepares to traverse back to his own house)

Amanda; oh now don’t be like that, come in and have drink first.

Richard: Alright fine but I’m not going to get to comfy, I don’t know what could be lurking inside that attic of yours.

( the couple stroll in and Richard constantly checks for any dangers within the household)

Amanda: Oh stop worrying!!! Really, are you really that less of a man? Because if you are I might as well-
( A loud creak of floorboards and slamming of a door interrupts Amanda)

Richard: What the hell was that!

( Amanda shudders with fear but tries not to show it to Richard because of her earlier talks of bravery towards him)

Amanda: I-I-I’m sure its nothing…

CREEEEAAAAAAK!!!

Richard: Oh I don’t like the sound of that!!!!

Amanda: Don’t worry I’ll Check upstairs.

Richard: No Wait!!-

(Before Richard can finish Amanda is already halfway up the staircase)

Richard: Oh dear Oh Dear, I hope she’s o.k.…. COME ON RICHARD GET A GEIP OF YOURSELF, YOU’RE THE MAN, SHES THE WOMAN, YOUR SUPPOSED TO BE PROTECTING HER!!!!! But it is a really scary noise…

(Richard Hears A Loud Scream)

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Richard: AMANDA!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU O.K!!!!?

(There is no Reply)

Richard: AMANDA!!!! IM COMING UP O.K!!

(Richard cautiously traverses up the staircase and turns right into a dark room, there what seems to be a red door but with closer inspection he discovers that the red door is actually made of............BLOOD)

Richard: OH MY GOD!!! AMANDA!!!

( Richard opens the door and there to his horror he finds…………..)

A Strange Reunion

(Hook recognises Sir Croc at the boat yard and both of them are staring into each others eyes with discontent; Mountainous Tension is suffocating the 2 with Fear and Fury in Mind, from the heavy yet humid tension, Hook speaks)

Hook: Arrrrrrrrrr Ww-w-w….Ww-w-wee…W-we-ell Croc, it seems we meet again.

Sir Croc: (Sir Croc snaps his jaws) So it seems……..HOOK.

Hook: Arrrrrrrrrrr don’t be tryin’ to scare me with those marshmallow toothpicks you call teeth.

Hook: I be not scared of those pussycat gnashes

Sir Croc: That’s not what you said last year, as I recall , I remember that you weren’t “scared” of anything….. EXCEPT of course when you encountered ME.

Hook: Arrrrrrrrrrgghhhhhhhhhh! Then Ye recall wrong, and what sort of pirate speak are ye speaking?! I Speak like a real man instead of ye posh talk.

Sir Croc: This is called modern day language my dear Hook, you see one thing that you don’t know about me is that during my year away from “Neverland” I attended Oxford
University and just so happened to learn a very posh, pure and perfect accent whilst also learning to use precise words to express my every deep and emotional feeling, instead of my usual Neanderthal like behaviour.

Hook: What be this “OXFORD” place, I don’t understand half the gibberish floatin’ out ye gob.

Sir Croc: You see my dear Hook, unlike you I have used my time well and learnt many new and fulfilling things, whereas you seem to have procrastinated the whole year on your garbage float, I have nothing more to say to you my dear Hook, except that... GET A LIFE!

Hook: Ay? What be Pro-Pro-Procras-Tin-Ating?

Sir Croc: See what I mean?

Hook: Enough talk ungallant fellow, talk wastes time, time’s for Rampaging and rummaging! En Guard!!!!

Sir Croc: Dear oh Dear, Have you not understand a single noun coming out of my mouth?
(Shakes his head in disappointment)

Hook: EN GUARD!