Caghs' Challenge
Write a story about what safety means to you, without it becoming an ‘essay’
It must flow in natural form, not sound like something you’d hand in as homework.
Safety! When I hear the word I feel that there is some monster around the corner waiting to pounce. I am surprised that the nurse did not drop me when she took me out of my cot in the maternity hospital. That would have at least put me in the picture from the beginning. I must say I do admire my mother by bringing me through my childhood without any spectacular accidents. Well I did nearly fall down a cliff once but just managed to save myself by hanging onto a plant that was growing out of the steep slope. I kept that one to myself otherwise mum might have got worried. I had many falls when training with my roller skates. Even then mum was spared with the actual view of the accident, but that was because she would shut the door and go inside. She just had to clean the blood off of my legs when I ran in crying after falling on the concrete.
So I actually managed to get through childhood in one peace. I did nearly fall off a bus once. It was one of those old London busses with the open deck when you got on it. I jumped on the bus and it started when I was not prepared. I found myself hanging on the pole with one hand with the top half of my body hanging down towards the road. No problem, the bus conductor pulled me up.
I managed to get through married life and the birth of my sons with no great problem as I think I was too preoccupied with making sure that they were safe. The real trouble started when I reached middle age, sort of fifty years old. There was no warning, it just happened. My first “accident” was walking up three steps with a cup in my hand at work. Nothing special you might think, but as I reached the top step I fell and dropped the cup on the floor which broke. OK, you can mend china, but unfortunately I managed to fall cutting my nose on the edges of the broken cup. My work colleague took me straight away to the doctor as an emergency, but a plaster healed all problems, sticking the cut together. Another little problem was when I was cleaning the kitchen machine. The one with the laser edges. I managed cut through the middle of my thumb. It was a straight line and looked perfect, the only problem being that it seemed to have cut through one of the main arteries (do we have arteries in the thumb?). No problem, but it was still bleeding when I got to the doctor. Again, it is amazing what a piece of sticky tape can do to mend an injury. The doc decided there was no need for stitches. He was probably keeping that idea for later.
The things that come to my memory when talking of safety; I was on my way to my car after a visit to the physio therapy. I had problems with a fall that I had in the bath, nothing serious, just broke a piece of bone off my back. I did have some problems afterwards with one of my legs so needed therapy. There again the doc in the emergency department of the hospital decided that the bone could stay as there was no immediate danger from it. So, where was I. Yes I was on my way to the car to go to work, but alas there was street work being done. The lid from a manhole had been removed and …. No, I did not fall down the manhole but tripped on the edge of the cover. Result: I was lying on the floor like a nun that had just given her vows, sort of spread out. It is really amazing the help you get from passers bye when something like that happens. You are ignored; after all you could be an embarrassment. I picked myself up and found that apart from a few dirt stains on the jacket I was wearing I was movable. However, my knee was hurting. Luckily this accident happened just a few doors away from my doctor’s surgery, so I decided to pay him a visit just to make sure. He did not even seem surprised to see me. I was attended to by him and his assistant. Did I see a slight smile on his face as if to say “here she is again”. At least I got a new pair of glasses from the insurance after this accident as they did happen to get broke when I landed on the ground.
Then came the day when I visited my father in England. I was there for only five days, three of which I spent in an English hospital. Yes the jinx was upon me again. I tripped and fell on Tower Bridge in London; a famous landmark, which is now really etched in my mind. Unfortunately I broke the lower half of my left arm and it had to be operated. I returned to Switzerland with my arm in a sling. I think it was then that Mr. Swiss started to get worried about me.
Just to finalise things, I did it again. This year on a memorable day in June, I managed to fall on the concrete floor of our patio and again broke my left arm, but this time it was the top half. I had my first ride in an ambulance and spent a week in hospital accompanied by a three hour operation.
Needless to say my husband now gets worried when I leave the house alone. He is always prepared to hear that some mishap has occurred and I might not come home straight away, making a detour to the local hospital.
And now you expect me to talk about safety. Perhaps if when I leave home I tie a pillow to my back and one at the front, wear a helmet and strong leather boots I might be lucky. I must perhaps avoid walking on streets and stick to a wheelchair, although I am sure a wheel would fall off, or the breaks would not work. The safety laws for me have not yet been written. I do actually belong to our local first aid group in the village, but no longer attend the exercises. I know everything about accidents and how to deal with them, but the problem is they always happen to me.
Extract from Nera the cats diary, Wednesday
Dear Diary
Things are sometimes boring, just no action. Something called summer, hot sultry days (not bad words for a cat diary) so I seek shadow, the cool parts of the garden. Perhaps under my favourite apple tree, amongst the weeds or nicely settled in an earthy part. Mrs. Human does not like it when I lay in an earthy part all day. She has to cut the snails out of my fur. Actually Mr. Human does the cutting work. I think Mrs. Human is frightened that I might scratch. Have achieved my target – I mean making humans fearing my scratching abilities. So where was I. Yes, a hot sultry (I love that word) day and time to sleep. Will be back this evening diary.
So here I am again after my usual ten hour sleep. The heat is less, the sun slowly disappearing and boy am I hungry. I could eat a mouse, or a bird, or anything that creeps. Even a butterfly would be fine, but they are fluttering around all the time. Now if I take a jump I might catch one in my paws, but jumping means using energy and I would rather conserve (another great word) my energy for the night.
Alert, I hear something. What day is it today, my diary tells me Wednesday. Great, I love Wednesdays. It is the day when I willingly succumb to a great temptation. (I got that one from Internet – you know where Mrs. Human always hangs out when she is not cleaning or ironing and cooking, something called Multiply.) Anyhow where was I – ah yes Wednesday the most important day of the week. Even the other cats in this living community have a thorough wash on Wednesday. We all make sure that we are clean from behind the ears to our paws. The answer to the mystery is quite obvious. Wednesday is tuna fish day. It is the day when Mrs. Human makes noises with a tin and its opener. I supposed you have all heard of Pavlov and his experiments with the dogs. Well imagine the same thing happening to cats. The clanking of metal against metal and the reward of our favourite feline meal really starts the stomach juices operating. Dogs are stupid, even if they did not get their food from Pavlov their stomach juices were still being produced and they went hungry. Cats are clever, if we do not get our just reward of tuna fish we just give up and wait, knowing that the look of a hungry cat will soften the heart of our humans. We trained them that way.
Anyhow I must now be going, I can hear the sound of my dinner plate being filled and diary or no diary, I do not want to miss out on that. So, as we say, let us willingly succumb to a tuna fish meal.
This may be a sort of surprise as most people know me as a cat person, but I am sure my cats will not mind me spending a few words about a dog. What did you say Nera - you don't like dogs. Nera my big black long haired furry monster cat seems to have a few objections. Nevertheless I will now spare a few words about Toby.
As already blogged, I spent almost a week in London. I was staying with a friend of mine and yes, she has a dog (see picture). I love dogs, but my cats do not love dogs, and so I have only cats. Anyhow Toby is a really lovable dog. He was found abandoned in park with two other dogs that were tied to a park bench and given to the dogs home where my friend chose him. He is a dog you just have to love, and I cannot imagine why someone would do something like abadoning such a lovable dog. He is very friendly and spent a certain amount of time sitting on my lap. Now and again he drifted into the garden, but he had discovered a hedgehog somewhere in a corner and had problems in deciding how to handle it. Eventually he gave up and came back inside.
So this is just a short blog to say meet Toby. He was also the subject of many photos that I took. He even posed for a close up, which is more than my cats would do. Yes Nera, I know you don't like close-ups, you prefer posing for a serious photo, but Toby was much more co-operative. He even looked into the camera, which is more than you cats do.
Jason’s memory of seeing the little house with the swing remained vividly in his mind. He was six years old and it was the first time he was allowed to visit his grandmother alone. She did not live far away and he had often been there with his mother. Their apple tree had been generous with its fruit and Jason’s mother gave him some to take to his grandmother. He walked carefully along the path, making sure that he did not drop any of the precious fruit and arrived at the house with the swing, wondering if she was there. He had often walked past and there was a girl that would be sitting on the swing, dressed in the plain working clothes of the day moving to and fro. He would watch her and she would watch him, but his mother would call to hurry and there was never time to get to know her. Today was different and he so hoped that the girl would be there. He had his brothers and sisters to play with, but they were all so much younger, and he wanted to play with someone his own age.
As he approached the house he saw her outside. He carefully placed the sack of apples on the ground and stood still, waiting for a signal that he was welcome.
She looked in his direction.
“Where’s your mother” she asked
“At home” was his answer, not really knowing what to say next.
“Then come over and push me on the swing.”
Jason needed no second invitation and so he pushed the girl higher and higher and her laugh was like the water running over the stones in the near bye brook which ran parallel to the path.
“My name is Emily” she said, “but everyone calls me Emmy. I have seen you often with your mother. Are you on your own today?”
“Yes I am taking the apples to my grandmother, she lives just down the path.”
“I know her, the lady with the kind blue eyes that lives at the mill. She always gives me some bread and butter when I see her. That’s your grandmother? Would you like to sit on the swing? She asked and Jason said “Yes” just waiting for the invitation.
After a while Jason said goodbye to Emmy and took the apples to his grandmother. When he got home he told his mother of his new friend and she gave him permission to see Emily during the day. The house was not far. Jason was now growing up and it was time for him to find his own way around.
This meeting was the first of many between Emily and Jason. They both started school together and Jason would often carry Emily’s schoolbooks. At the beginning of the twentieth century, it was only the wealthy that could afford a school bag and the books were usually tied together with string. Emily became Jason’s best friend and Jason was Emily’s. They spent many hours together and although Emily was old enough to make the swing go higher herself, she was often heard to say to Jason “Push me higher” and he would.
Time passed and both Emily and Jason left school. Emily worked in the big house on the hill as a servant, and Jason worked at the local farm as a labourer, as his father before him. They were not rich people but they had each other. Then came the day when his country was at war. It was the year 1914 and Jason served his country as many other patriotic men. He said a long goodbye to Emily, promising that on his return they would always be together.
Jason was sure that he was doing the right thing by fighting for his country. He had visions of brave attacks where his officers would be proud of him and returning to England glad to have fought for his country. What he saw on the battlefields was not what he expected. He had to dig trenches, if it rained, they were full of mud. When the enemy attacked he was deep in the trench and he fought back. He saw many brave men fall, saw many maimed for life, and when they advanced from their positions he passed the trenches on the other side where there were soldiers from another country, but also soldiers that would never see their home or families again. Towards the end of the war Jason was involved in a gas attack where mustard gas was used, the result being that he had lost his sight.
It was a sad sight to see how his parents met him from the train at their local station in the English countryside. His eyes were covered and although he had a stick to help him find the way, he had to rely on help from others. He had been told that after some time he may regain his sight again.
His one thought when he arrived home was to find Emily again. His parents told him to wait until he felt better and could find his way, but Jason was determined and so one day when his parents were busy, he sneaked out of the house and walked along the path once again. The noise of the water babbling over the stones of the brook helped him to find the way. He soon heard the noise of the swing creaking and knew he was there.
“Emmy, Emmy, I am back – are you there.”
“Yes Jason here I am, I have been waiting so long. Come and push me higher on the swing.” And he felt her hand take his and lead him to the swing. He could smell her and he felt he clothes, remembering the long dress that was her favourite, tied at the waist with a large yellow satin band. He was happy and was home again.
“What happened to your eyes Jason? Was it the war?”
“Yes Emmy, but they told me it was only for a time and I would be able to see again.”
Jason was happy; his parents were worried when he told them he had been to see Emmy. They said nothing; they were happy when Jason was happy and were hoping that his sight would return.
One morning after a few weeks, Jason awoke and his eyes were hurting, but the pain was a welcome pain. The sun was shining through the window and he could feel the rays on his face and even see the light through his eyes. He saw no details, but could tell the difference between light and dark. His parents were so happy.
“I must tell Emmy” he said.
“No wait son” said his father. “It would be more of a surprise when your complete sight returns”. His mother and father looked at each other with an unanswered question in their eyes.
Jason still felt quite weak and so he decided to follow his parent’s advice and stayed at home. Each day his sight became stronger and by the end of the week he could see his parents and brothers and sisters again. He even dared to look in a mirror. It was not a pretty site that met him, the war had left its scars, but he was sure that time would heal all wounds. He was now ready to see Emmy.
“No, son, just wait, we have to tell you something” said his father.
“Dad, I have waited so long, and now I must go to Emmy. I love her so much and want to ask her if she will be my wife.” He sprang out of the door and made his way.
“Mother, we cannot let him go” said his father and his mother answered “No, we must go with him” and they both made their way along the path to the neighbour’s cottage. Jason was walking so fast that they could not reach him in time.
Jason stopped in his tracks as he saw the cottage again. The windows were broken, the door hung open on its hinges and the garden was no longer a neat vegetable garden, but overgrown with weeds. And the swing; the swing where he had met his Emmy the first time; it was only hanging on one rope, the other hanging loosely with a frayed end.
“Emmy” he called and again “Emmy”, but the only answer was the wind rustling in the trees and the old house.
His parents arrived at the scene.
“Mum, Dad, tell me what has happened. Where is my Emmy.”
His mother had tears in her eyes and even his father could hardly look his son in the eyes.
“Jason, we tried to tell you, but you were so happy to be at home again. Please listen son. It was the scarlet fever. It carried the complete family away. First of all Emmy’s mother and father had it and then Emmy caught it. They all had a quick death and are buried together in one grave in the village graveyard.”
Jason was so sure he felt Emmy, smelt her, touched her, just a week before. Perhaps he did.
First of all apologies for the poor quality of the photo showing the River thames towards East. It was early evening and I was also probably shaking with a little bit of anger. As most know I was a week in London visiting my father. I was staying with a good friend of mine and in the evening I was lucky enough to be taken out for a look around. One of the trips we did, by car, was to central London. I was living a little bit on the East side. Now this was the centre of London where all the tourists go, the things to see; but I was not so happy. Prince Charles is not my favourite (none of them really) but I must agree when he complains about the way the City of London has been ruined by the modern buildings. If you look at this photo, you can see the higher more modern office buildings in the background, even the so-called Gherkin which was built by the Swiss Re Insurance company. Yes, even the Swiss are to blame. Basically the youngsters growing up today know nothing different, so that is their London of course.
If you look at the front of the photo, the buildings on the bank of the River Thames, they are a bit smaller, neater and a bit more individual. Now if you imagine the tall buildings not being their and just the lower buildings, then you have a bit of an idea of the London I grew up in. Red brick buildings, smaller, but with character. Even the bridge on the right is not the original. London Bridge was rebuilt and the old one sold to one of our colonies and now stands at Lake Havasu City in Arizona in the States. The bridge with so much London history attached to it, even Charles Dickens uses it in his book, Oliver Twist. Now and again I saw some old familiar buildings, but somehow pushed into a corner between the modern glass giants.
I was taken on a drive through to Westminster, passing roads that I knew in my memory, but now hardly recognisable. On every corner a new glass windowed temple of business, two new footbridges and something known as the London eye. The South bank of the Thames has been redeveloped and I found they had done a good job. A couple of years ago I visited the modern Tate Art Gallery, a new gallery rebuilt from an old power station and keeping most of the original architecture. There is now a footbridge over to St. Pauls cathedral from the South bank. I did venture on this bridge half way, but did not feel so secure, although I am sure it is. I just prefer a bit more solid brickwork under my feet and not so much steel skeletons that look like a puff of wind might blow them down. When the bridge was originally built it was a bit unstable and it tended to sway from side to side. It was then closed and stabilised. Now it is firm, but I only went half way across and was glad to feel solid ground under my feet again.
We went for a walk down Regents street and through some of the back turnings, which eventually brought us to Leicester Square. I remember Leicester Square in my teenager years. There was a so-called Mecca Dance Hall there, and I met many young men there on my Saturday night excursions with my friends. They were the days. The afternoon was spent at the hairdressers having a "balloon" hairstyle made and when you were ready with the war paint and the mini you boarded the underground train that took you to the dance hall. Today the only music is on the street - drums, rappers, you name it it is there, but very noisy. I must be getting old. and what do the youngsters do today.
This seems to be the usual Friday evening entertainment on the streets of London today. Pubs on every corner and the youngsters drinking their beer/alcopops or whatever outside on the street. In every side street (I think this was somewhere near Regents street) the pubs are crowded. Where have my teenager days gone?
On the way back we drove through the bank area of London. There I saw a familiar building. I thought it was, as it seemed to be threatened by much taller buildings in the background. It was the Old Lady of Threadneedle Street, as it is known by Londoners, The Bank of England. Still the same old architecture, the large pillars surrounded by concrete and no windows, but you had to search to find it. We drove through Holborn, which had also been slightly changed, but it seemed to be one of the last bastions of old London. Eventually we turned into the part of London where I grew up, East End, Bethnal Green. At least I think it was, I did not recognise one single building in the road.
For those of you that go to London today, I know it is impressive, a wonderful town, but I suppose I am just a little bit nostalgic. I would love to take you to the London I knew, but it no longer exists. If only we had had digital cameras at that time.
Graham was tired, he was so tired that he sat down in a chair to relax. He was feeling so weary that he had not taken the time to put his axe on the work bench. Its weight was pulling his arm down, towards the floor. He sighed and then took his last breath in this world. It went so quickly that he had no time for fright. Death came surprisingly, as if a slight breeze had blown through the room taking his life with it. The oak tree in the garden was still standing. Actually death should have come to this tree, not to Graham. It had grown so tall over the years that his house had become dark inside. The strong branches were starving the rooms of light and Graham had decided the time had come for a radical job. The tree must go.
He knew this would not be an easy job. Graham even had a strong feeling of guilt. He had grown up hearing the story of how the oak tree grew from an acorn, planted by his grandfather when he was a boy, so many years ago. It hurt to destroy something that had been left to him by his ancestor. It was with a heavy heart that he walked out into the garden, the axe in his hand. He looked at the tree and it seemed that the tree was wider and taller than usual as if to defy him. He raised the axe to strike and felt a sharp pain in his arm. A dark shadow seemed to pass before his eyes and he fell to the ground, dropping the axe as he went. “Pull yourself together man” he thought “it’s only a tree”. He picked up the axe, still feeling the pain, and stood again ready to make his first joust, but a strong wind came and the branches seemed to move towards him.
The same words passed through his mind again “it’s only a tree” but somehow it no longer convinced him. He felt unsure about the word “only”. When his grandfather planted his acorn, it might have only been an acorn, but it grew. He had watched the oak develop over the years, making more branches, spreading. It seemed it was even moving towards the house, but it was only a tree. The sun disappeared behind a large threatening black cloud and the tree was standing in an almost ethereal light. Graham felt his flesh creep, he was uncertain and his arm still hurt. He decided to leave the tree job today, perhaps tomorrow. Graham returned to his house. He was so tired that he sat down in a chair to relax, his axe still in his hand.
The oak tree rested. It had been a day full of threats and now it could relax. It had survived many storms, but had never been struck by lightning. Now it had even avoided death by Graham’s axe and Graham......
Mystydragon's Challenge
Write a poem from one of the following formats:
Couplet
Quatrain
Sonnet
Life’s surprises can be not wanted
A slip, a fall, can change all its targets
In one moment fate can take you to another place
Can turn the thread of the screw
All being changed with just one false step
The bed in hospital after
A broken limb, a broken thought, having to face
an accident changing your life for a while
Perhaps for ever, changing your perspective
Being chained to a place with no choice
Is this an unwanted lesson in life with no rhyme?
Or do you learn from the patterns now surrounding
Learn to overcome the pain in time
seeing that others suffer even more
The clear full moon reflected on the house and the lake. The crickets were chirping in the long grass, but there was another noise. A dark figure moved from the house towards the Lake. It stepped into the lake making ripples in the water and seemed to be dragging something causing a squelching noise. The crickets were suddenly silent and all could be heard was the water lapping around the dark shape.
*************************
Lily Jenkins had a lot of patience and understanding for her offspring, but now the cup was full. She got used to her son Giles, aged 17, bringing home tadpoles to watch them develop into frogs. After all he was the clever one of the family and she knew he would go a long way. His school was pleased with him and they told Lily that he would definitely be successful in qualifying for the university. He was the born biology expert they said.
Lily was so proud, but she also had a daughter, Barbara, who had decided to change her name and told people to call her Blood. A strange name you might think, but Barbara, or Blood, had decided to become a Goth. You do not know what a Goth is. If you saw Blood you would know. Pierced ears were ok thought her mother. Lily had also had her ears pierced when she was a girl, but it stayed with her ears. Blood had her nose pierced, her eyebrow and the latest her lower lip. Now Lily was becoming quite disturbed. She was used to her daughter wearing black, as a young lady Lily always wore a black dress when she went to a dance, it looked smart and grown up. Blood even had black pyjamas, not really pyjamas, a long gown tied with a deep red curtain sash at the waist. During the day the venue was long black leather boots, a short silk black dress with chains hanging from the material and of course the make-up was also matched. Black painted finger nails and black lipstick. It was perhaps when Blood brought her boyfriend home that Lily’s last nerve was torn. Devil (actually his name was Donald) had a tattoo on the back of his hand. The letters were in black, of course, saying Hell’s Fire, and the background was red flames. Lily also did not like the two eyes tattooed on the back of his neck, they were red. So Lily decided a change of scenery would be the best for her family and it would be good for Giles who could do some learning for his university entrance examinations. The summer holidays were starting in a few weeks and Lily had managed to find a reasonable house to let, in the flat lands, many miles north of the town where she lived.
She was glad the price was reasonable. Although her divorced husband Charlie always paid regularly, Lily liked to be careful with the money. You never knew when Charlie’s new money grabbing wife might make off with his money and then she would have nothing. Blood, also known as Barbara, was not very happy about going away for the summer holidays. She would have preferred a camping holiday with Donald, but this time Lily was adamant.
“No, Barbara, we are going to the flat lands. We even have a boat in the house and it is near to a Lake.”
“But mum, that sucks. Isolated somewhere in the wilds, I bet there is not even a MacDonald’s near bye.”
“I think it’s a good idea mum” said Giles. “Think of the wild life that will be surrounding us. I am sure there will be a few species that I have never been able to observe on the Lake.”
And that was the reaction of the children. Eventually the day came and Blood said goodbye to Devil. They even bought a set of handcuffs and cut them in half. Devil keeping one half around his wrist and Blood the other. Although Lily thought this strange, she supposed it could even be a sort of affection the two had for each other. Blood did look a bit sad when they left and the tear drops even made her black make-up run on her cheeks. Giles was quite happy to go and made a perfect contrast to Blood with his neat white shirt and clean blue jeans.
After a six hour drive the family Jenkins arrived at their holiday home. Lily was thrilled, the house looked so neat and the Lake was just at the bottom of the garden. She had read in the description that there was even an old well down in the cellar and that the kitchen was fully equipped with the most modern gadgets. Lily turned the key in the door and entered.
“Nice place mum” said Giles, “plenty of space and very clean.”
Yes this was true, although Barbara/Blood found it was not her style.
“Hey mum, this place really sucks. Look at the curtains, all flowery and pink.”
Then suddenly Barbara stopped in her tracks.
“Now this looks great mum, real cool, just look. I think I am going to like this place after all.”
When Barbara liked something you could be sure that Lily would not and this was the case.
“What is it Barbara?”
“In the corner of the kitchen there is a trap door, probably leads to the cellar where the well is.”
“Yes, that’s true Barbara, so what is so cool as you say?”
“The trail from the trap door of course; sort of a green slimy path: at last a bit of life in the place.”
Lily looked closer and was not very pleased.
“No Barbara, that is not cool, just dirty. I will mop it up straight away. Go to the cupboard in the kitchen and bring me a mop and pail of water.”
“But mum, I might break my finger nails.”
“Don’t worry Babs,” said Giles, “I will get it for you mum.”
And Lily scrubbed the floor until the green stain disappeared. It was quite a large stain stretching from the trap door to the kitchen door that led into the garden. When she was finished, Lily decided to have a closer look at the well below the trap door in the cellar and the children went with her. They were confronted by an open well. Giles threw a stone into the well and it was some time until they heard a splash at the bottom.
“Hey mum, that is really deep, I wouldn’t like to fall in that one.”
“Barbara, Giles, I would just like to say that you keep away from that well. It really does not look so safe to me.” And so the family Jenkins unpacked their luggage and made themselves comfortable in the house.
After their long journey they were all feeling tired and so retired quite early to bed. The next morning there was a rude awakening when Lily dropped a plate on the stone floor of the kitchen. The children rushed down to the kitchen to see what had happened.
“Just look at that mum, real cool” said Barbara
and the long green slime trail stretched once again from the entrance to the well to the kitchen door.
“I wonder ... you know mum, I thought I heard some sort of dragging noise last night before I went off to sleep.”
“Come to think of it Giles, so did I” answered Barbara.
Lily cleaned away the slime trail once again, but the next morning it was there again, although not so much it seemed. The slime only reached the middle of the kitchen and then it stopped. There were just muddy footprints leading from the end of the slime to the kitchen door. This picture repeated itself for the first week, the slime trail getting smaller all the time, the footprints also slowly disappearing until it stopped completely at the end of the week.
Lily was just a little bit worried about this whole thing, but was sure there was an explanation somewhere. The house being built on damp ground it was probably sinking a bit and these things could happen.
Giles was sure there was a scientific explanation and Barbara/Blood was thrilled. At least there was a bit of excitement in the place. At the end of the week Lily had to go shopping in the near bye village and the children were alone at home.
“Giles, I heard that dragging noise again last night.”
“So did I Barbara, although it didn’t sound as squelchy as at the beginning.”
“I know what you mean Giles. You know what tonight I am going to creep down to the kitchen and see what it is.”
“I will come as well Barbara, you never know. What time shall we meet.”
“Giles, midnight of course. If anything is going to happen it will be midnight.”
And so the brother and sister met at midnight in the kitchen. It was then that they saw the trap door to the well lift slowly and a dark figure climbed out dragging something behind it. Giles was getting ready to run for it, but Barbara pulled him back.
“Oh no, brother heart, we are in this together. Now we will follow the figure.”
It was a full moonlit night and Giles and Barabara followed the dark figure out of the kitchen door into the garden. The figure plodded on and when it reached the lake it disappeared into the waters with a groan.
“What do we do now Barabara?” asked Giles.
“Nothing of course, unless you want to go for a swim. I would say we don’t tell mum anything but tomorrow evening, same place, and same time.”
“But what is it Barbara?”
“I don’t know you’re the brainy one in the family, but I am sure it would be a hit in our Goth club.”
The next evening they met again and the figure reappeared. Giles and Barbara followed it and just before it sank into the Lake it turned on them both and let out a cry. Not very loud, but it was more like a disappointed sob.
“I think it’s crying Giles” said Barbara.
“I am not sure Barbara, it hasn’t got any eyes, looks like a skull to me with a few remnants of flesh.”
“Hey monster, why are you so sad?” Barbara asked, without any fear. It seemed that after a time of being a Goth, I suppose you do get a little immune to shocking figures.
“I am the monster of the Lake and live in the well and I haunt this house. I scare people. I give them nightmares, and now, now ........ What have you done with my green slime trail, I have run out of slime. Even my feet are no longer making prints on the kitchen floor. Oh, woe is me. I have no purpose anymore in my existence. Other spirits are laughing at me.”
“But monsters do not exist” said Giles. “There must be a reason for your appearance every night.”
“Of course there is. I owned the ground on which this house was built. There was another house here many years ago and we got our water from the well. One evening I was returning from the inn, having drunk many measures of mead of course, and I fell in the well with my cat. We were never found and now it is my destiny to walk from the well to the lake every evening and scare all living humans. And what is that at your side. What sort of monster is accompanying you with holes in the ears, eyes and mouth and metal hanging down on the clothes, clanking with ghostly noises. ”
“Hello monster, I like to be called Blood, but my brother always calls me Barbara. I am a Goth. Hey I find you real cool, you would be a hit in our Goth club. What about joining Mr. Monster. What is that you drag with you when you take your evening walk? Looks like a bundle of fur.”
“Oh monster human, that is my cat Black Knight. He fell into the well with me and I am doomed to take him whereever I go.”
“That’s an interesting bone you have with you. Looks like a leg bone. Do you always carry that?”
“Human, on that memorable evening my last meal was roast beef, and this bone was the remainder of my meal.”
“So what are we going to do with you monster. You have no slime any more, and if I know our mum, she will not rest until everything here is spotlessly clean and she will probably decide to put a lid on the well. She is already complaining that it is unhygienic.”
“I am tired of walking from the well to the lake every evening and so is my cat. I have a wish. Let the well in the kitchen be cleaned and the remains of myself and my cat be found, to bury us on sacred ground. I am tired of walking every evening and it would be so good for me to at last lay at rest.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come to our Goth club monster.”
“You know human child, being a monster is not always fun. It is tiring.”
So what did Giles and Barbara do? The well was cleaned and explored and yes, the bones of the “monster” and his cat were found and laid to rest at the local cemetery. Barbara was no longer Blood, but became Barbara again. She decided that being a Goth was not as interesting as she first thought. She discarded her piercings and dressed like any normal teenager. She even returned her half of the handcuffs to Devil. And Giles: he passed the entrance examination to university and eventually finished his studies, choosing the occupation of a pathologist.
Lily was proud to have two such good children, even if she did have her doubts. Oh and yes, she enjoyed the holiday so much that she decided to go back the following years. Barbara and Giles always stayed with her for a few days, not forgetting to bring some flowers to a certain grave at the cemetery.
I travelled miles, it was hot, it was tiresome
I met other people, met other races
Some of them I had to fight
But I carried on despite the hardship
Despite the regrets I had
I had my orders, I had my beliefs
I entered buildings, forced my way through the door
Some had stairways, some stairways were broken
Broken through destruction
Broken out of revenge
I began to hate my life
Hate taking orders when I knew they were wrong
I wanted to sit on the stairs, just like at home
Just sit down and talk to the people
Try to find a way out of this mess
I remembered the stairway at home
Those cool dark evenings
Meeting the gang on the stairs
Just sitting and talking
No-one telling us to kill, to conquer
We were all different at home
Different colours, different religions
But we could talk without fighting for our rights
Because on the stairway we were all equal
Just the gang, meeting on the stairs
talking, growing up together
I am still travelling
Tell me how long this war lasts
Tell me how many stairs will be destroyed
Before I return
