MULTIPLY Creative Challenge #77: Friends

“Nera cat, please leave Fluffy cat alone, He is not bothering you. He just wants to make friends with you.”

“Forget it Mrs. Human, since when does a cat need a friend? We are independent and can look after ourselves, not like you humans.”

“But Nera, you need friends to get through life, otherwise you would feel very lonely.”

“Mrs. Human have you ever seen me feeling lonely. I am surrounded by food, water, once a week tuna fish, and a few cats living in the neighbourhood that give me the chance of a fight now and again. What more could I want?” That was pure Nera logic.

“Don’t worry about me Mrs. Human” said Fluffy. “I am used to Nera swishing me one with her paw now and again, and I don’t really want to be her friend. She smells different to me.”

“What does smell have to do with being friends Fluffy.”

“Oh a lot Mrs. Human. Have a sniff at Nera, and then have a sniff at me.”

“I don’t think so Fluffy. I smell you cats enough when I clean your waste disposal tray.”

“And you think that your so-called toilet can be compared to a rose garden?” answered Fluffy.

“I like the human toilet. It’s a big room with a bath that I can jump into when it is dry and a nice warm carpet on the floor for a quiet sleep. Closed rooms are ideal for a cat sleep.”

“Thank you Tabby” I said “ we all know how you like to sleep in the bathroom. It is sometimes a little difficult to climb over you when we visit the bathroom, but we have got used to it. But what about you Tabby, don’t you think it is time to accept Fluffy as your friend. I notice that you never play together and now and again you spit at him.”

“It’s like Nera said” answered Tabby “a cat does not need a friend. Think of the advantages, if we don’t speak or like each other from the beginning, then we don’t have any problems. It seems to me, as a plain and simple cat naturally, that you humans have more problems with friends than without them.”

“That is not true Tabby, it is nice to have a friend to share with. You can go out together, visit the cinema or theatre and perhaps go shopping with each other. You can join a club together, or just invite for a coffee for a plain and simple talk. Friends are there to help when you have a problem.”

“What is she dribbling on about now” and Nera joined in again. “Have you ever seen me walking along outside paw in paw with one of those other smelly cats in the neighbourhood? Look at Bobinette next door, I wouldn’t be seen dead with her outside my territory. If I happen to walk through her garden she pounces on me and I have to fight my way back. As far as Roshti is concerned, the ginger cat from the other side, I had to show him how to behave. After he licked his wounds, he decided to keep away from my side of the fence.”

Fluffy joined in “I don’t like Nera, Mrs. Human, but she is right about not trusting other cats. We cats don’t have problems, at least not problems that we cannot solve ourselves. It is only because Nera and Tabby and I eat from the same source, that we don’t have to defend anything.”

“You mean that you don’t consider me as being your friend. I feed you, give you a nice warm place to sleep and even open the door for you when you want to go out in the middle of the night when I am sleeping. Not to mention taking you to the vet when you are ill. That is what friends are for.”

“Mrs. Human, if a cat could laugh I would” said Nera. First of all you feed us because we trained you to feed us. The programme with the tuna fish was a bit slow at the beginning but now you have learnt well. Next the nice warm place to sleep, is where we want to sleep. You did give us those cat cushions. Tabby, Fluffy and I prefer a nice pile of washing ready to be ironed on a sofa. Tabby does prefer the bathroom mat, and Fluffy seems to be happy sleeping in the living room. They are our choices, not yours. Of course you open the door for us in the middle of the night, early in the morning, or even during the day. Our wishes are to be fulfilled constantly. You do not want us to be the joke in the neighbourhood, all the other cats laughing because we have to stay inside when the door is closed. Last but not least, this vet thing. We do not want to go to the vet, we hate the vet and it interferes with our routine, so that is definitely not friendly. Admittedly there were times when we were feeling somewhat under the weather, and the vet helped with his medicine. We do not consider the once a year jabs a pleasant visit, not to mention the famous operations we all had when we were younger. We must admit that those kittens are a nuisance, but we were not asked. Those things are not very friendly.”

I gave up. It seems that cats are the most selfish, egoistic and unfriendly group to be found, but we just accept them. At least you know where you are with them; unfortunately this is not always the case with the humans.

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MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #13; The Disaster

In 1943 little Jimmy Grant found that war could be quite fun, although at the age of six it was all a game to him. His special toy collection were small aircrafts. He had pencilled the three letters RAF on them for the Royal Air Force and they were dropping their bombs everywhere, mostly in his small garden. Jimmy was annoyed. The government had built a shelter in the garden for protection against the night raids. His mum had told him that as soon as he heard the siren sound, it was important to go into the shelter. If he was on the street and his mother was not at home, then he should go to the local subway station.

The station was new, built just before the war, and a train had never passed through its tunnel, but it was useful. When the planes came, and they did, dropping their bombs and destroying everything in their path, the people in the area would crowd into the station and make themselves comfortable on the up-to-now unused platforms and sleep until the “all clear” siren sounded. They would then climb up the stairs and go on their usual daily business. Perhaps first of all going to the homes to see if they had survived the bombing, and wash the grime of the underground off their skin.

Jimmy’s mother worked in one of the local factories. His father was somewhere abroad fighting and the women just took over the men’s work. During the day Jimmy would play with his friends, mostly war games. His grandfather would keep an eye on him whilst his mother was away.

“And don’t forget Jimmy” she would say as she went off to work “if you hear the sirens then run to the nearest shelter.”

“Don’t worry girl” his grandfather would say “I will keep an eye on him, no problem.”

One day Jimmy was bored. His friends had been sent away from London into the country where it was safer, and he was now on his own. Jimmy was also going, but the arrangements were still being made.

“What shall we do today Jimmy?” his grandfather asked him.

“I’m bored granddad, no-one to play with.”

“Let’s go to the films, the cinema around the corner is showing one of those cowboy films.”

Jimmy’s eyes lit up “Oh yes, granddad, that would be great. Can I take one of my aeroplanes with me.”

“Jimmy I don’t know what a plane has to do with a cowboy film, but take it with you all the same.”

So the two of them set off during the afternoon to the cinema. Grandad wrapped a warm scarf around his neck and put his cap on. Jimmy loved that cap,. It was black and white squares, but it was genuine grandad and he could not imagine his grandfather without it.

Films were one of the few entertainments left during the war years. Jimmy and his grandfather found a good seat and the film started. The little boy was fascinated by all the shooting, the bank robbers, and the marshal who seemed to be the hero in the film. Just as the film arrived at the exciting part where the showdown was being held on the main street, the film stopped and a warning flashed over the screen. It told all to leave the cinema as there were enenmy planes approaching. The sirens were already sounding and the people left. Outside there were crowds on the street all moving in the same direction, to the nearest subway station, which was Jimmy’s local station.

“Stay by me Jimmy” said his grandfather “and he held Jimmy’s hand tightly.”

“What about mum?” asked Jimmy

“Don’t worry boy, she will be all right, they have their own shelters where she is working. Now we have to look after each other.”

Everyone on the street seemed to have the same target; to get to the station as soon as possible. They could already hear the guns firing locally; a new anti aircraft battery had been built in a near bye park. The entrance came closer, but to little Jimmy it looked like a swarm of ants all piling into their nest as he had often seen in their garden.

“Grandad, I’m frightened.”

“Everything will be ok Jimmy, just hold on to me.”

As they approached the entrance they saw the people in front all teeming down the stairs, escalators never used up to now. It was then that the worse thing happened that could.

One of the first to go down the stairs was a woman with her little girl, glad to have escaped from the bombs that were being dropped. However, the lady stumbled and the reaction was dreadful. An avalanche of human bodies piled up, each falling on the one in front. Panic broke out.

Jimmy’s had was jerked out of his grandfather’s hand and he started crying.

“Grandad, granddad”

He heard his grandfather’s reply “I am here Jimmy, stay where you are, I will reach you.”

Jimmy looked in the direction of his grandfather and saw his black and white cap moving amongst the hundreds of people, but it was impossible to reach him. At this moment Jimmy found it was difficult to breath. He was being crushed from all directions. He suddenly felt as if he was floating upwards leaving the bodies behind him, there was noise, screams, shouts, everything slowly disappearing into the background.

“Come on boy, wake up, it’s over” were the words he heard suddenly and Jimmy found himself looking into the eyes of a strange woman. "You were lucky, someone pulled you out of the crowd."

“Where’s granddad?” he asked.

“I don’t know boy, but tell me your name, that is important. Then we might be able to find your granddad. Now just lay quiet and rest. I will be back.”

The lady disappeared and reappeared some time afterwards with another lady.

“Jimmy, thank goodness, oh Jimmy you are here.” It was Jimmy’s mother.

“Yes mum, but where is granddad. He was with me and what happened.”

“There was an accident Jimmy, but don’t worry. The main thing is that you are all right.”

Jimmy’s grandfather's cap was found, but piled on a heap of other found objects after the accident. Perhaps he was one of the victims. If he was lucky, he too may have been rescued from the results of a stupid accident, caused by panic.

On that day 173 people were killed in the crush that occurred at Bethnal Green Tube Station, the people thinking there was an air raid and wanting to save themselves from a bomb attack. The first people down the stairs fell and the rest just piled on top of them. At the entrance to the station it was not even known what was happening. They could not see anything in the darkness of the station. The pitiful truth was that the British army were trying out their new defence guns in a near bye park and the people thought they were being attacked, so the sirens started. My story is imaginative, but near to the truth. It happened in the area where I grew up and there is today a plaque in memorial of those that were killed in the Bethnal Green Tube disaster in 1943.

Bethnal Green Tube Disaster

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MULTIPLY United Friends Challenge #194: The Cloak and the Puddle

Sumax’s Challenge

Write a short story about a chivalrous act.

„Believe you me Ann Boleyn, if I had known the consequences, I would have let her walk into the muddy puddle, would have served her right.“

Sir Walter Raleigh would have nodded his head to emphasise the remark, but he was holding it under his arm, as ghosts of the Tower of London were accustomed to do.

“Well at least it was something chivalrous that you were doing Walter. I lost my head just because I got married to a King. He said marry me and I will take you places. He did of course, to the Tower of London on the beheading block.”

Anne Boleyn was convinced that marrying into english royalty in the sixteenth century was a dangerous event and Walter Raleigh was in agreement.

"But tell me Walt, was the whole thing true about the cloak and the puddle or was it just a publicity stunt to earn a bit on the side?”

“Before we continue with our conversation, let us put our heads on our shoulders, then we can look at each other properly. I suppose when you come to think of it the Tudors were fault that we both lost our heads, you because of a husband that wanted to get married again and I happened to meet your daughter on a fateful day.”

“You mean Elizabeth. Who would have thought that she would have become Queen, but Henry did not have any sons that lived to carry the title of King. At least you went places Walter.”

“I suppose it was a publicity stunt. We had a heavy rainfall and I happened to be taking a walk near Hampton Court when a carriage pulled up. I naturally stopped to have a look and who climbed out but Queen Elizabeth I, your daughter.”

“She might have been my daughter, but Henry’s? I never really got to know her. Henry always asked from where she inherited the red hair. I didn’t live long enough to lose my head for that mistake, I lost it before. So carry on Walt.”

“Elizabeth was standing on the bottom step of the carriage and shaking her head at the wet puddle that she would have walked into. I happened to have my old cloak with me. I was on my way to buy a new one and would have thrown it away afterwards, so decided to do myself a favour and throw it on the muddy puddle. Queen Elizabeth stepped onto it and everyone started clapping and cheering. She looked in my direction and gave me a wink. That was the start on my ladder to success.”

“It didn’t end very successfully did it Walt.”

“Not really Anne, but bear in mind I had some good times with Elizabeth.”

“I always thought my daughter was known as the virgin queen.”

“She might have been known by that name, but just don’t believe everything in the history books. There are even some today that say the story about me throwing my cloak on the puddle was just made up. Of course, if it had been a new cloak, I would have had second thoughts.

The only reason I fell out of favour was because she met me on the stairs at the palace just as I was leaving the lady in waiting’s bedroom.”

“So that was why you were beheaded.”

“Well not immediately, but it was the start of my path to doom. You know I was in the Tower a few times, before they actually decided to remove my head on the block.”

“At least you are not alone Walt, there are many of us here. So let’s remove our heads and do a bit of haunting. You never know, we might be included again in one of those television programmes about the ghosts of the tower. Perhaps the next time it rains you could throw your cloak on a puddle and I will walk over it. That will be a sensation for the news.”

“Forget it Anne, this is a new cloak with gold embroidery. I only let people walk over my old cloaks.”

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MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #12: The Chair

There are sometimes things that are not forgotten. A return to a place that had good memories, associated with laughing, joking, perhaps the celebration of a family anniversary. In those far gone days I was too small to climb onto a chair and my mother helped me to overcome its size. The world seemed to be populated by giants at that time, but friendly giants. They could sit on a chair and their feet reached the ground. My legs swung to and fro hovering in space, but with a jump I could find my way back to ground level.

Aunt Pauline’s marriage was one of those occasions not to be forgotten. There was a long table in the yard, just under the old tree. No-one knew what sort of tree, those things were not important; it was just the big tree. After the wedding we all had the wedding food from the table. I think it was then that we had to drag every available chair in the house into the yard to make sure we all had enough room. There was laughing, we children were playing, we were complete, all the family.

After the wedding on the next day everything was put back in the house, but someone forgot one chair. It was just left leaning against the wall, waiting for a new customer. Grandma decided it was just the right thing for summer days to sit in with her knitting. The chair was ideal she said, fitted her body perfectly and had a nice soft seat. She would sit there in the afternoon knitting pullovers and socks. I think we grandchildren were completely clothed nice and warm for the winter. The chair was the centre of operations. She was also very thrifty, and would pull apart old knitted garments that had got too small and transform them into a nice warm covers, making coloured squares and sewing them together in a bright combination, that we could sit covered by the quilt and play guessing games who the pullover belonged to before she unravelled the wool.

Then grandma died, I cannot remember when, but the chair remained. I used to sit there with my babies on my lap and then they were too big. It was their turn to sit in the chair, small spindly child legs dangling backwards and forwards.

“Mum, dinner’s ready. We will have a look at more of those old photos after dinner.” My daughter called from the garden. The weather was warm and we could sit outside and have our meal below the old tree. The chair? It is still there, but torn and broken, somehow no-one wants to throw it away.

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MULTIPLY Rity's "Riting" Challenge #45: Segways for Switzerland

E-Mail from:
Chief Heinz Dubeli
Police Department,
Bernese Alps

Switzerland

To: Segway Human Transporter Company
Somewhere in America

Dear Sirs,

Through a colleague of mine that was shortly on a vacation in the States I saw a photo of your human transport system. It seems to have become very popular with the American police in various states. I have now decided that this would also be very useful for Swiss use but have a few open questions before placing my order.

1. How many gears do they have? Most of our police stations in the Bernese Overland lie at more than one thousand meters above sea level. Up to now our police teams have used the bicycle in summer and skis in the winter. Could we use the Segway to replace these two transport methods? Please bear in mind that steep upward slopes must be overcome. We assume that downhill is no problem.

2. Do they have powerful brakes? Our police teams travel at high speeds, particularly when crossing valleys. Up to now we have had no problem with the bike or ski. We just have to take it slow on the curves. Or perhaps the Segway is so designed that it can easily overcome descents from our alpine mountains crossing mounting streams and climbing boulders without problem.

4. Is there a possibility to transport goats or cows, perhaps with a small trailer that can be fixed to the wheels? Please bear in mind that life in the Swiss mountains relies on co-operation. Some villages are scattered in isolated valleys and our police force is often called for to assist in bringing the animals to the milking stations usually situated at central points.

5. We do have cases of theft where our police must be prepared to partake in a chase. Very often a cow is stolen, or perhaps wedges of cheese and the thieves usually have their own routes of escape, crossing mountain streams and walking through forests. Can your human transporter cope with such problems, at high speeds naturally?

We trust that your company can oblige with our wishes and please rest assured that after receiving your positive comments, we will be prepared to place an order for at least ten segways. One remaining request from our milk collecting stations; is there room on the Segway for transportation of milk churns. This would be very helpful for our farmers that otherwise must put them on a cart pulled by a horse.

Thanking you for your prompt reply

Chief Heinz Dubeli

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MULTIPLY United Friends Challenge #193: This is MY Land

Shadowlight’s Challenge

Use each of the following words in any order in a poem or story, any genre, fiction or non-fiction.
Keep the word count for stories between 500 and 1,500 words and try to use at least two of the five senses.
If you choose to write a poem, keep the piece between four and 20 lines.

Word List
Cat
Fief
Scapegoat
Fortress
Humor

"What was that for a noise, sounded like a heard of horses was charging into the home.”

“It was me coming through the cat flap Mrs. Human,” meowed my chief cat Nera. “I got annoyed with the ginger tom cat next door. We had a small disagreement, but I am sure he has now got the point.”

“The point of what, Nera? There was enough noise when you crashed through the cat flap.”

“It is very logical Mrs. Human. If you examine the land surrounding the cat flap as far as you can see, then who does it belong to?”

“Nera, part of it is my garden, and the rest is for all to use that live here: green meadows and fields. I am not aware that it actually belongs to anyone.”

“Typical human.”

“What rubbish is she talking?” and Tabby cat arrived. “Everything a cat’s eye sees outside is ours.”

“Thank you Tabby, exactly. Mrs. Human it is our fief.”

“Your what?”

“Fief, Mrs Human. We cats, myself, Tabby and our adopted brother Fluffy live here. You pay the money and we make sure it is mouse and rat free, as well as keeping it nicely perfumed with our scent. We are also prepared to defend it against any invaders. We just had an invader so I showed him he was not welcome; he is still licking his wounds and snarling through his teeth.”

“This all sounds a bit mediaeval to me.”

“It might to a human, but to a highly sensitive and intelligent race as we felines, it is one of the principals of our beliefs. After all it is the ginger tom next door that digs holes in your garden for his waste disposal.”

“Just a minute Nera, you don’t have to make him a scapegoat for everything. I definitely saw you marking your territory yesterday evening next to the rose bush. I am not colour blind and can tell the difference between a ginger cat and a long haired black cat. Nera you were burying your organic refuse, not the ginger tom. You don’t have to blame him to justify your misdeeds.”

“Mrs. Human, there is a difference in marking territory and using it as a waste disposal unit.”

“Nera, Mrs. Human is just, well, human. You cannot expect too much from her. Through our careful planning we have made our home comparable to a fortress. No wandering strange tom, or she cat for that matter, can cross our marked boundaries without a fight. We are always ready to protect what we have built up over the many years we have been here.” And Tabby stamped her paw on the ground.

“Cats, you must be joking. This place belongs to me and Mr. Human and we decide who comes and goes.”

“And who guards it through the night. You and Mr. Human just disappear. I have never noticed you searching for mice in the evening when they come out, or chasing rebel cats away from our revere.”

“Yes, Nera” added Tabby “Strange animals humans; they sleep during the night when they should be on guard, and during the day they are awake when nothing happens” Nera nodded in approval of Tabby’s statement and cleaned her whiskers.

“So, stop that whisker cleaning and paw stamping. Up to now I have said nothing, but now I am slowly losing my sense of humour.”

Nera glared at me with her yellow eyes. “This is serious Mrs. Human, we are not joking. We don’t even have the word for humour in our cat language, or have you ever seen a cat laughing? What we do is serious. If it wasn’t for me and my sister Tabby, you would be overrun by other strange cats, all marking their territory in your garden. Think of the smell, just disgusting. Not to mention having mice in your garden cupboard, eating their breakfast, dinner and tea.”

“To be quite honest Nera and Tabby, you do not always smell like a rose either.”

“We are not here to be insulted Mrs. Human. If that is the idea of a human sense of humour, then forget it. Come on Tabby, let’s go to bed, it is daylight outside and we will revise the situation this evening.”

“Yes, Nera, you are right. Unthankful animals, those humans; just do not appreciate all the work we invest in keeping our home protected from smelly, ginger tom cats.”

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MULTIPLY United Friends Challenge #192: The Earthquake

Sassyangelac’s Challenge

Write a story in which your main character goes mad from sleep deprivation. You may write it in the first person. Your character may be choosing sleeplessness if you like that angle better than him/her/you being unwillingly sleepless. The cause(s) of the sleep deprivation is up to you; it (they) may be real or imagined. However the symptoms or side effects your character experiences should be real (hallucinations, paranoia, loss of short-term memory, tantrums, psychosis, etc.) and the ensuing madness should crescendo on Halloween night

I will try to write it down exactly, but my thoughts are still a hazy cloud. They said I should sleep, relax, but how can I, there are things that the human body just cannot cope with.

A normal day’s work, I had two operations in the hospital to perform, each one as complicated as the other and a need for concentration. Perhaps routine, but when a human life hangs on a surgical mistake, there is no such thing as routine any more. I removed my mask, the patients were now being cared for by others on the hospital staff and I made my way to the canteen for a cup of coffee.

It was then that I noticed a noise from outside the hospital. We were on a hill overlooking the city and were used to the sound of the traffic, but this was different. It seemed that all the dogs in the town decided to bark in unison. It frightened me, this brought bad memories. It was not the first time. The windows began to vibrate, as if there was some mighty strength pushing and pulling at an exceptional speed. A few moments of tranquillity, no dog barks, no window shaking, but the floor became independent with a rocking motion. Time to leave, it was an earthquake. Warnings had been given that there would be another coming probably, but as always you just pushed it onto another day. Just forgot that the pendulum was moving over your head.

People rushing in all directions, beds being pushed out into the open and hoping that the lift would still be functioning. I did what I could, prepared patients for a transfer, even managed to get my last operations safely out of the hospital. What does safe mean, you just hope that the earth tremors cease. I looked down from the hill at the town, and my heart was in my mouth. It was then I started running, running. I reached our house, the place where it had been standing.

Yes, the house was there, but transformed into a heap of loose bricks and mortar, nothing really recognisable as a house except for the children’s swing in the garden swaying to and fro, and the remains of the Halloween decorations, torn and collapsed. Suddenly the white plastic skeleton had another meaning. Maria, Angela were my first thoughts. My wife must be somewhere under the rubble and my daughter. I was mad with fright. I began to dig, with my hands. People said we will help, but they had their own trouble. I had no time, just dig. Finger nails breaking, searching and searching, listening, but nothing. The earth trembled again, but I did not notice it. Others said seek refuge, but no-one could tell me where, and without my wife Maria and my child Angela, I could not stop.

Night came, someone passed by and asked if I wanted something to drink. I could have killed that person with my bare hands. You do not drink when you are digging, moving earth, hoping for a sound, a baby crying perhaps. I think someone had placed some oil lamps on the ground, although I did not notice it.

The next morning approached, skies grey with dust clouds that had arisen from the winds blowing across the areas flattened by the earthquake. I heard a voice next to me

“Take a rest, relax, there cannot be anyone under that house. It has been so long and the complete roof collapsed as well as the top floor of the building.”

“Leave me, go, it is not your business. My wife and child are here. Maria, Angela” I called, but heard nothing. Just dig, my hands had no feelings any more, my eyes were staring into an emptiness, but my actions were regular, as if my body had become a machine. One stone after the other, put to one side. Then suddenly as if someone had tied a red bandage around my eyes, I saw something that brought me out of my stupor. Red, red, the material of Maria’s dress. A White arm showed above the mound of rubble. Dig, dig, dig. No time for thoughts. Maria, Maria, Angela I was calling, but no answer and then I heard it. I returned to a realistic world, no longer in the dream of digging for something. A child was crying somewhere in the dirt and grime of a destroyed house.

I felt others around me and I began to remove one stone after the other on Maria’s body. She came out of the destruction, she was complete, but she was dead. I clutched her body to me, my eyes were filled with tears. I was too late for Maria. It was then that I heard the cry of a child. Angela, my Angela. I saw her brown curls, could smell her sweet breath. She was lying in the remains of the house, in the place beneath where he mother was found and she was alive.

I knew no more, I took her in my arms and walked carrying her.

It is now All Souls day, we had found Maria and Angela on the evening of Halloween, perhaps it was fate. They told me I had been digging, stone after stone for near two days without food or sleep. Maria is no longer, but Angela is alive. She was a little dehydrated but alive and now I should sleep, but I could not sleep; visions of my Maria and Angela in a house that collapsed around them. They told me to drink and eat, I could not. It was then I moved my head and saw Angela sleeping peacefully in a cot next to my bed. I closed my eyes. This happened ten years ago. Angela looks so much like her mother. We do not celebrate Halloween any more, but we visit Maria’s grave on All Souls Day. I can now sleep better, but sometime wake bathed in sweat, my fingers and hands numb. My doctor told me it was in the imagination, there was no physical reason why I had no feeling in my hands any more.

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MULTIPLY Images and Words Week 26: Let it flow

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If you want to know more about my local river click here.