MULTIPLY: Wordsmiths Challenge #22: The Cat

Inside looking out, what a wonderful place to be
There was another time and place, was hungry but was free

Roaming the streets, my mother was gone
A cat on its own, no-one cared
I fought for my life against other beasts
For a garbage can where food was spared

Then there arrived a frosty night
The snow made me shake and feel bad
I found a warm place by a door of a house
I was weak and I felt very sad

A meow was the only thing I could say
But it seems that my weak voice was heard
I suddenly felt warm air near the door
I was wrapped in a blanket and stirred

“Oh mummy just look at this poor little cat
So thin and so very weak
It is snowing outside, it is shaking with cold
A warm place by the door it did seek

It is Christmas Eve and it is so alone
Please let us give it to eat
A warm place to sleep and a cuddle or two
And of course a bowl of fresh meat.”

So now you know why I sit on this ledge
With my rescuer still at my side
I am so thankful for the care I now have
And she loves me I know that with pride

So if you find a cat in the cold
Then open the door to your heart
A little girl took me into her arms
She calls me Christmas, that was a good start

MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #21: Helping Neighbours

At last Sarah Jones was retired and had time for all those things she wanted to do instead of her day being filled with things she had to do. She could rise in the morning when she wanted and cook her food at home, not having to take a quick lunch in the supermarket restaurant combining it with shopping. Her days were now filled with twenty-four hours of pleasure and not work. There was a small problem.

Sarah liked working, she liked having a target in front of her eyes and now there was none, so Sarah being how she was decided to explore and find what she could. She liked reading, so the first choice was to find a good book. When the book was finished she had to find another one, this was a trifle boring with time. She had the computer and decided to explore its possibilities. Surfing around on internet was also monotonous until she re-discovered one of those social sites where you could correspond with colleagues. There were enough colleagues and now Sarah had time to connect but there was still something missing - it became boring.

One day Sarah discovered a game on this social site. She suddenly had a farm, was connected with people she knew and started to build it up. This was not really the fulfilment of her needs, so she searched further and found something very interesting. An imaginary town existed on the computer, called Myville. She had a look and found a few colleagues were already there, fully equipped with houses, furniture and to a certain extent even a garden. To finance her life in Myville she could work in a factory, earn money, visit neighbours and it even had a casino. Myville had everything. Now Sarah was occupied and had a purpose. Of course, she realised it all existed in the virtual world, and not in the real one, but this did not bother her. Instead of sitting alone at home watching boring television programmes in the evening she could escape into her world of farms and towns.

One morning the postman brought Sara Jones a letter. She was not really expecting anything special, just the usual invoices for the electricity and perhaps for the income tax. Even this had to be paid if when retired, but Sarah had worked all her life and had enough money to live comfortably. She opened the letter and found it to be from a computer software company.

“Dear Miss Jones

It has come to our attention that you are one of the most successful participants in the Myville computer game. We have noticed the talent you have in making progress. It is for this reason we have decided you would be the ideal person to try our newest game “Neighbourville”. It takes place in the town of Neighbourville and the basic idea is to look after your neighbour, feed him, clothe him and in general take care. Money can be earned by fulfilling these chores and you will have the opportunity to gain rewards for your good work.

Enclosed is a sealed envelope containing the computer link and the code words needed. As this game is still in experimental stages we would ask you to keep these details private at the moment. You will be informed further when the game will be available for the general public .

We thank you for your co-operation and we are sure you will enjoy the game.

With kindest regards
The computer “X” company*

Sarah was both pleased and surprised to receive this letter and found that it would be a welcome change to the normal games she was playing. She had been chosen to play and she was flattered.

That evening she decided to see what the idea was and opened the sealed envelope showing the site www.myneighbour.edu. It was even a .edu site, and she was convinced it must be something intelligent. Her entry code was also supplied. It was quite long, a mixture of twenty letters and signs, but she had no problem. When she entered the game she was in a very comfortable room; a fire was burning and the furniture looked very welcoming.

“Welcome to my home” were words printed on the screen. Sarah searched to see where they were coming from and then suddenly one of the armchairs rotated and there was a nice gentleman sitting in the chair smoking a pipe. The words continued.

“Hello, I am George your neighbour. I am not able to leave my home as I cannot walk very well. Here is a list of items I need from the shops, please fetch them.”

Sarah searched for the way to get to the shops and found it written on a tab above the screen “Shops”. She clicked on the name and suddenly found herself in a greengrocer shop showing various vegetables. Her figure had already been supplied. She was surprised she could not create it herself. It just seemed strange that although she was complete as a woman, her face had no features. She decided this was probably because the game was still in the beginning stages. The list of items to fetch was still showing at the bottom of the screen so she clicked on the items and soon she had a basket put in her virtual arms containing everything. She then clicked on the tab showing neighbour and arrived back to George with the items she bought.

She then saw that George started to unpack everything and on the list the items were ticked off.

“The oranges don’t look very fresh” George said, the words appearing on the screen. “You will have to return them to the shop.”

Sarah decided, enough was enough, she wanted to play, she did not need another stressful job in her life and closed the programme, the problem being that it did not close, but George was still sitting there.

“I want my fresh oranges” George said and this time it was not words written on the screen but a voice coming through the loudspeaker.

Sarah was astonished to say the least, and then it repeated again at least three times, getting louder all the time. “I WANT MY FRESH ORANGES”. Sarah travelled back to the greengrocer shop on the screen and again asked for oranges.

“For George” the words came on the screen.

Sarah typed yes and then the words came “you should have told us that before. George has special oranges.”

Sarah then had oranges put into her basket, twice as big as the last time and returned to George. George clapped his hands and took the oranges. Sarah was about to switch off again, but she could not, try as she wanted to, the programme was fixed on her computer.

“I want my slippers” said George, again over the loudspeaker, and cook my dinner. You bought some meat and potatoes, go to the kitchen and click on the cooker.

Sarah did as George said and she found that the food started cooking. Again she wanted to leave.

“You cannot go yet” said George “you have to serve my dinner and wait until I have eaten it. Then you must wash up the dishes.”

Sarah decided she had enough of George and pulled the plug out of the wall, but the computer continued running.

“I am you neighbour, your job is to look after me and I will say when we are finished. I will go to bed in an hour and then you can switch off. I sleep until eight in the morning and expect you to be here again.”

Sarah decided that George was an annoying neighbour. Somehow she felt that she had to do what George was demanding, and an hour later when George went to his bedroom on the computer, Sara was tired and also went to bed.

The next morning at eight the computer switched itself on again and there was George.

“Where is my breakfast? Go to the kitchen, I want eggs and bacon.”

Sarah went to the kitchen on the computer and found only bacon.

“There are no eggs?” said George. This is not good, go to the shop and bring eggs. I will wait.”

“This is enough” thought Sarah and again wanted to close the programme. As she touched the key on the computer she felt a pain go through her hand.

“Ow” she said “what was that”.

“That was my punishment that you forgot the eggs and are refusing to bring them from the shop. I am an old man and need looking after. I am your neighbour and you have to do what I say.”

And so the days passed and Sarah found that George was in charge of her life. After a week she was surprised that George was not in his armchair on the computer when she switched on. She was actually glad. It was then that she saw words written at the bottom of the screen.

“You have now passed all 10 steps of this programme and have qualified. George no longer needs you. You have progressed to the next level.”

A few days later Kate Simmons received a letter in the post from a computer company introducing her to a new game called “Neighbourville”. Kate’s husband had died a month before and she was organising her life without him. It was difficult at the beginning, but with the help of a social site on the computer she found that the evenings were not so boring when she participated in the various games. Now she had received an introduction to take part in a new game. “This will be fun” she thought. She dialled the web site and entered the complicated code she had received in a sealed envelope.

She found herself in a very comfortable room; a fire was burning and the furniture looked very welcoming.

"Welcome to my home” were words printed on the screen. Kate searched to see where they were coming from and then suddenly one of the armchairs rotated and there was a nice lady sitting in the chair knitting.

If Kate had ever known Sarah Jones she would have been surprised as the nice lady looked exactly like Sara Jones, but Sarah Jones had disappeared. The police had been alarmed. Her neighbours had not seen her for some time. Her house was empty and there was no trace. If you looked back further, you would also have seen the headlines in the newspaper that an elderly man, George ……. had also disappeared in the same way a few months before. The similarity in the two disappearances was that the computers belonging both to Sarah and George were missing, never to be found, but the police and neighbours did not notice this.

MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #19: Thanksgiving

If you ask me this thanksgiving thing is a crime, something I could really do without. As I said to Mavis, the wife, a couple of weeks ago, it is time again for us to go on a diet.

“On a diet” she said with an annoyed voice. “You mean all that nice gobbly stuff the farmer is bringing us to eat, we have to leave alone. What about the children? They will starve.”

You know women just do not seem to understand the importance of the situation. I told her that we turkeys are an endangered species at this time of the year. Of course we get more food, we have to be fattened up for thanksgiving. Thanksgiving, what a word! Are we turkeys thankful for this feast, definitely not. I remember Uncle Fred last year, gobbling all the extra food and getting nice and fat. The last I saw of him was when the farmer’s wife carried him away under her arm. Just a few feathers floating in the air were all that was left as a memory. Sometimes there are even trucks arriving at the farm, and one after the other we birds of a feather are piled in, never to return.

Anyhow, as I say, a turkey should be very careful at this time of the year. Refuse to eat the extra rations. It is difficult, but then you are not one of the chosen few to arrive on a family table. I have heard those humans are even asked if they prefer white meat or dark. What an insult to be reduced to a discussion over my departed remains. Excuse me, but that takes it too far. Anyhow, this year I have managed to find a nice quiet corner in the barn. After making it clear to the wife what this thanksgiving is all about, she has seen the light and has decided follow my advice and stay away from the humans and their extra rations at the moment. We have managed to find enough straw to hide in until this time of the year has gone.

Some of the turkeys are laughing at us. Cousin James started making fun of me. “If you carry on like that, you will be only skin and bone, you are a disgrace to the turkey nation” he said. May cousin James now rest in peace, he stuffed himself so full with those extra rations, he was one of the first to go. I suppose at least he went fully fed. I now go for jogging exercises every morning to make sure that I do not put on one gram of extra fat. If I could fly I can tell you I would hop over the fence and find a nice forest to hide in until it is all over.

“Mavis, quick under the straw the farmer’s wife is coming and that truck has pulled up again at the farm gate. Take the kids with you, I am coming. Sometimes I wish I was a vulture.”

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MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #18: Death on a sunny Afternoon

Superintendent Jack Matthews hated crime scenes, especially when they were messy, and this was a messy one; unbelievable that a husband could stab his wife on a Sunday afternoon for no apparent reason and then shoot himself in the head.

“Jim, any clues as to what happened” he asked one of the medical staff.

“No idea Jack, probably just another marital conflict situation. It’s beyond my understanding. Seems that they were spending a quiet Sunday afternoon in the garden and then something must have lit the spark to start things off.”

Jack had a quick look around; nothing really suspicious, although it seemed strange. Outside in the garden there was a cup of coffee with a biscuit, not even touched, next to a camera poised on the narrow bricks of the garden wall. Jack had an idea and pulled on his thin white rubber gloves, before taking the camera in his hand. It was a digital camera, and perhaps there might be a photo or something to show what happened. He switched it on, but no photo, just a small video, one of those movie videos that you could take with a camera.

“Let’s see what we have here” he said and called his assistant. “Seems we have a small film taken this afternoon, probably the last of the deceased couple.”

Arthur his assistant came over. “That could be the solution to the murder” he said. The two men then watched the film. Although a small camera it was good quality and it even had sound.

First of all they saw the wife

“No, not now, I don’t want you film me” and she put her hands in front of her face.

“Come on” a voice could be heard, probably from the husband “you look so good in this light, and I really want something to remember you by.”

“Don’t be silly Frank” the wife said “I am leaving and that is all there is to say. You do not need anything to remember me by. You should have thought of that some time ago. Now it is too late.”

The film then became quite slurred as if someone was moving the camera around. Then the man’s voice could be heard again.

“I told you I am not sharing you with anyone and if I cannot have you then no-one else will.” It seemed that the camera was getting nearer and a full close up of the wife's face was on the picture.

“No, Frank, what are you doing. Put that knife down.”

It was then that the film came to an end.

“Looks like a closed case sir” said Arthur. “We even have it on film.

“Certainly does Arthur” said the superintendent.

If they had seen more, they would have known that the wife, although bleeding quite heavily from her injuries, managed to stumble into the living room and take a gun out of the cabinet. She pointed it at her husband.

“Now it is your turn Frank”

Frank was quite shocked, not expecting that his wife, Christine, would recover from her injury, and struggled for the gun. He wrestled it away from his wife and made a decision.

In the meanwhile his wife fell, and Frank saw she was dead. He loved her so much. He saw the cup of coffee and chocolate biscuit outside on the garden wall, through the open garden window. He walked over to the cup and looked at it one last time, heart shaped with the words “I love you” on it thinking those were the best days of our life together. He put the camera on the wall next to the cup and walked back to the living room.

“I love you too” he said “more than you will ever know. If I cannot have you, neither will he” and he shot himself in the head. He no longer wanted to live.

Superintendent Jack Mathews decided that this was a clear case in agreement with his assistant. It would disappear in the records as any other marital drama. When he got home that evening, he opened his desk and removed the two flight tickets to Hawaii, tore them up and threw them away. He was sad, he quite liked Christine, Frank’s wife, and was sure they would have had a future together, but she became just another death statistic in marital warfare.

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MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #17: The Resting Place of the Past

On a night when London fog was surrounding the Thames, Johnny Watkins returned to his ship, destined to sail on the next morning. We are in the nineteenth century at the time when cargo ships still sailed into the London docks for discharge of their cargo. Johnny was still a boy, had run away from a stepfather who knew only the rule of the cane. There is a certain innocence that a young lad of sixteen years has. He believes that doing what the others did was the makings of a man. For this reason he had spent the evening in the tavern drinking with the other seamen. It was perhaps his need for belonging somewhere that gave him the encouragement to drink as much as the others. The others were hardened sailors, used to the roughness of a life on a ship, but alas Johnny was still a novice in such things. His steps were not so sure along the quayside on the slippery ground when he left the tavern, and sight was at a minimum. Fate took its reward and Johnny slipped into the murky waters of the River Thames. Perhaps it was due to the alcohol consume, perhaps his swimming talents were not so good, or it may just have been the foolishness of youth, but Johnny never again saw the light of the morning breaking over the murky waters.

He was fished out of the Thames by the police; a sorry end to a young hopeful life. There was no identification on the body, no-one seemed to miss Johnny; his life and death just an episode in London history. His remains were laid to rest in a small cemetery in East London; no grave with flowers and no angel’s statue guarding his bones. The grave diggers just made a hole in the ground, his body unceremoniously thrown in and covered with earth. Thanks to the merciful sisters, a stone was placed on top of his burial place, just a few words “Unknown male death by drowning in the River Thames 1862” and that was the unceremonious end of Johnny Watkins.

*******
Pat never really forgot her childhood in the East End of London. Although now living in another country, married with her own family, she often reflected on the past. There were memories and even dreams, but one memory was always there; a visit to the family grave in one of the older cemeteries in London; a cemetery existing for more than one hundred years.

Some of the older stones were weathered by the elements, and the words hardly readable. The older graves still had wax flowers covered by a more or less transparent glass dome for protection, which made them seem as if the inhabitants were still in the thoughts of their relations, although there were no longer any relations who could remember. It seemed to be a cemetery of the forgotten. Pat entered the cemetery, her mother walking ahead. Memories of the past came flooding back, it was her mother’s side of the family that were lying here in their last resting place. There was a large white stone, with names and dates of people Pat had never known, but it was family. The most recent and last to be buried was the grandfather and now it was finished. The grave was full, no room for more, seven were enough. To arrive at the family grave was not easy. There was no path, unless a path could be called stepping over graves and squeezing behind stones.

One evening Pat awoke in a cold sweat, she had revisited the graveyard in a dream. She wanted to reach the family grave, but had to stop and could not walk any further. It was as if an invisible barrier was stopping her. She looked down and saw it again: it was there. A flat brown stone, showing letters which had once been deeply engraved and were now hardly legible. She knew what the letters were saying, this was not a dream this was real; a reminder from the past of an unknown person, death by drowning. This time it was different; in the dream she saw the letters much clearer and there stood a name on the stone. “John Watkins” followed by the words “death by drowning in the River Thames 1862” and this was what awoke her. The grave stone was in her memory as showing “unknown” and now it had a name. It was many years ago, but she had never forgot this stone that she often walked over to reach the family grave.

“Mum, have you seen that stone” she would ask on the visits she made with her mother.

“Oh yes, just walk over it, it is in a strange place. It has always been there. Probably just some unidentified person they fished out of the Thames” and that was the explanation Pat got from her mother.

Pat never forgot this dream, at last the grave in the path had a name, she thought. Later that year she paid a visit to London and revisited many places where she had grown up. It was then that she made a decision; she must go to the graveyard again.

She arrived at the gates, but everything seemed much smaller than it was when she was a child. She thought probably the dimensions of time, then I was smaller and everything seemed bigger. She remembered there was a quaint old chapel covered with trailing ivy at the entrance, where the services were held before the burials. The chapel was no longer there. At the entrance there was a line of old gravestones with statues of angels gracing them. The statues were no longer as clean and white as Pat remembered them. They had a green cover of the mould which had grown over the years. She tried to remember where the family grave was, and searched for the path that was the way to the grave, but it was an impossible task. Many of the graves were no longer there, a housing estate had taken over part of the cemetery.

It was then that she noticed part of the cemetery looked comparatively new, although the gravestones were not covered with letters as she knew them, but in Arabic writing. There were visitors dressed accordingly in their dark cloaks and hats belonging to the ethnic minorities of this part of the town. It seemed that the dream and the memories had probably confused things over the years and she decided it was better to leave, when she saw a small office at the entrance to the cemetery.

“Hello, is anyone there” she called

“Yes madam, can I help you?”

“Perhaps you could explain what happened to this cemetery. I remember it as being completely different. We have a family grave here which I could no longer find. There was a chapel at the entrance and there were so many graves that you had to walk over some to arrive at your own grave.”

“Well that was many years ago. The graveyard was sold and part of it was demolished. Houses have now been built on that part. The remaining part of the cemetery was converted into a Muslim cemetery.”

“Yes, but there were graves where the Muslim graves now are. What happened to them?”

“Well to be quite honest, they are still there, but somewhere below. Most of the graves were no longer visited, so new graves were just built on top.”

“Where is my family grave? The land was bought and I have a photo of the grave.”

“I can give you a telephone number to call, and if you can give them the plot number, they will find out the details for you.”

“I have one last question. Where is the chapel?”

“Oh, yes, now that was unfortunate. Some kids were playing in the cemetery one evening and they lit a fire. It spread and before it could be stopped it engulfed the complete chapel in flames. It was no longer being used in any case, and the part that was still standing had to be removed for safety reasons.”

Pat thanked the porter, who had been very helpful and prepared to leave. She took one last glance back at the cemetery. She was sad that the past could be so destroyed without any respect to those concerned. It was then she saw a shadow move behind one of the gravestones with the angel on top. A shudder went down her spine, she did not know why, but a figure stepped forward from behind the stone; a young man, dressed in clothes that looked as if they originated in a history book. He looked at Pat and laughed. Pat did not know why, but two words left her lips

“Johnny Watkins?”

The figure nodded and said “Thank you for remembering” and disappeared.

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MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #16: It's a cat's life

Furry moments in furry places
A warm winter fire when is cold without
Just watching the world pass and smelling its life
So nice and tranquil, but then a shout
“No, not on my papers you lazy cat
My favourites to read are full of hair”
“Silly human, it is your very own fault
For sleeping it is my favourite lair.”
So up jumped the cat and left her place
and the human could read her books
The cat was still tired, but found a new bed
But from human she still got bad looks
“Cat I must tell you that is really not nice
You are laying on my bed”
If cat could talk he would say “it is mine”
But the cat just shook his head
So feline friend moved into the bathroom
And rolled himself up on the floor
The human was busy reading her books
But cat felt a draught through the door
He sleeked back to human and jumped on her lap
He found that was warm and fine
He started to purr, he knew what he wanted
He gave the human a sign
Human gave up and the cat had its way
Human replaced the books on the floor
Cat slept on the books and human had peace
A cat you cannot ignore

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MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #15: And the Wall came tumbling down

"And the wall came tumbling down.“

Those words were etched in Karin’s mind; not that she particularly liked the song, but she had been there and done that, as they say today. It was twenty years ago: one of those boring, bleak, grey early evenings. She was doing her homework and the radio was running in the background. Suddenly she heard something that she could hardly believe.

“Mama, Papa, come listen, I don’t believe it.”

And her parents came running. “What is the problem Karin, bad news?”

“No, the best. We are free.”

Fritz and Helga were perplexed. “Free, but we are not in prison. We are free.”

“Mama are we free? Can you take a bus or a go by car and visit your sister in the other half of our country. The border is open.”

Fritz, her father, switched the television on. He saw the politicians of his country talking about free travel and switched to the television canal belonging to the other part of the country, governed by other laws, where people could say what they think and do what they want, without any repercussions. Generally he would not dare to watch the “other” programme. It might be that the secret police were watching them, and then he would find himself and his wife suddenly without work, perhaps even in prison. His daughter would be put into a home never to be seen again. “For her own good” the state would say, but he knew differently. It was “for her own good” that Karin was not allowed to study at the university.

Fritz was a teacher and what he taught his class was not what the state approved. He should have concentrated on the good things in his country and not shown the disadvantages of travel restrictions, marketing strategy in industry and the lack of competition. Above all he was a teacher of foreign languages. His choice of foreign literature was not that of state approval. The writers did not come from the “good” part of the country.

He had been warned, but carried on and the result was that his telephone was tapped, they were not allowed to leave their town and their daughter was not allowed to study for the university entrance examination.

Was this true that he was seeing on the television from the other side? Barriers raised by their border police and people at last being able to cross a bridge separating one part of the country from the other. He was glued to the television.

“Come Helga, look. I cannot believe my eyes.” And Helga came, together with Karin.

“How long do we have to get to the capital by road?” asked Karin.

“Two hours” was her father’s answer.

Helga looked at them both through the tears in her eyes “so what are we waiting for, up and away.”

They packed a few small items and got in their little car; not a luxury model, the same car that all other citizens of their country had, if they could afford it, Fritz expecting to be stopped as soon as they were on the street, but there were no watchers to keep them under control or stop them. They drove off, and soon noticed that the motorway was full with other cars driving in the same direction. The two hour drive took three hours and they arrived at the border around midnight.

“Papa look, there is the other side.”

“I know Karin, but we don’t have passports.”

Helga looked at her husband and said “Fritz, we have waited so long for this, and a piece of worthless paper is not going to be in our way.”

She climbed out of the car and started walking towards the wooden barrier at the border. The guard was standing in a relaxed position and observing her. She got closer and although trembling inside, she knew it was now or never. The guard made a signal to his colleague in the office and the barrier was raised. Helga walked to the other half of her country with no problem.

“Papa, look, Mama is through. Come let us drive over.”

Fritz drove over the border, Helga climbed into the car and with Karin they drove into the capital of their country. They watched the wall dividing the two halves of their capital city being pulled down by the people. They were welcomed and there was laughter and happiness in the air. The family slept in the car, as they had no money for a hotel, but they were happy. Karin of course, joined other youngsters and attended the pop concert given by one of the most well known singers of the country, free of course.

They witnessed welcoming speeches by politicians, and it was the night when two halves of a country became one.

This was twenty years ago, but for Karin it was like yesterday, and a night never to forget. She watched her daughter and son playing together in the garden and was so thankful that they would never have to go through the restrictions she had in her childhood.

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MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #14 The Mystery of the Depths

Night falls on a world of sea shores
the last glow of a sun reflecting
against a lonely figure
stepping on sparkling ruptures of water
reflecting in an orange glow
of a sunset disappearing on the horizon
Where does she come from?
Where is she going?
Lost in time, lost in a glow
She is silent, approaching,
steps of mystery, coming to take
what she wants from the land
She wants something, she needs someone
Perhaps a mysterious nymph
arising from the depths
or just a girl taking a late night swim

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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 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 Wordsmiths Challenge #11: The Best Night of the Year

Dracula decided to spend the evening with the television, a nice comfortable evening at home in the castle. His life story had yet again been made as a film and it was being shown that evening. He always felt rather flattered, each film was something different. This time Flad Gritt had been chosen to play the vampire killer, one of Dracula’s favourite actors.

“What are we doing this evening Dracky?” and Dementia his wife entered the room.

“Dementia I am a count, and would appreciate being called Dracula at least, and this evening we are having a nice comfortable evening in front of the television.”

“Oh no Dracky, this evening is Halloween, it is our evening, everyone on the look out for a few horror film types like us, and we are genuine, just think of the nice fresh blood on the streets.”

“No Dementia, does not come into the question. The fridge is full of blood conserves I collected on my last night out in town. Why go to the effort of biting and sucking, when it is all hygienically packed and ready to use. I don’t like jumping on those living blood conserves these days. The human race is not as it used to be, might get some sort of disease. Deadly Ernest is not even leaving his coffin at the moment, still curing his attack of swine flu; most degrading, a vampire with swine flu.”

Dementia was not satisfied.

“But Dracky, Dracula or whatever, we havn’t been out for so long, and the taste of those blood conserves is just not the same. I even swallowed a piece of plastic packing last week. Come on Dracky, I bought a real nice costume for the occasion.”

“Dementia stop tantalising my neck with your teeth, keep them for a better purpose. I saw a cat outside in the yard. If you want something alive, then go and get it. Give me my warm slippers, my feet are cold; probably bad circulation.”

“Dracula you are becoming a grumpy old undead. If we go out it will do your circulation good, and we might even get a few treats from the living. Look at this dress I bought, isn’t it sexy?”

Dracula froze the picture on the television, it was just getting to the part where the vampire was preparing to plunge his teeth into the victim’s neck and he did not want to miss that part.

“That is a dress? How much did that cost?”

“It was very reasonable, only a couple of hundred.”

“Sorry Dementia you have been had. You paid so much for just a few black rags.”

“It’s a Halloween costume, but you being lazy, I suppose we can only watch that stupid old film on television instead of me wearing it. I don’t know what you see in those films, plastic teeth and tomato ketchup. If we go out we get the real thing and it will do you good, but take those slippers off before we go. Who has seen a vampire wearing slippers.”

OK Dementia, just for the sake of peace and quiet; flying or walking?”

“Walking of course, let’s mix with the living for a change.”

And Dementia and Dracula left the castle, but only after Dracula had dressed properly. Dementia did not like going out with Dracula when he was wearing his blue jeans and a t-shirt. She found it beneath their dignity.

They walked down the street and were soon confronted by some young humans, one dressed as a werewolf and the other with a skeleton costume.

“Trick or treat” the werewolf said.

“Clear off” answered Dracula “I am not in the mood for such stupidity.

“Dracky, be nice to the young men” said Dementia.

“Your should listen to your lady friend” said the skeleton, “otherwise you won’t look like a vampire, we will make some real blood and you will be the genuine thing, so let’s have a treat. Some money will do.”

“Please leave me alone with your threats, I don’t need money and have none.”

It was then that the werewolf and the skeleton pulled out two large knives from under their costume and attacked Dracula. They were not prepared for what happened.

“Did you see that Fred?” said the werewolf to the skeleton, "there is no blood. I stuck my knife into his arm and nothing happened."

“Yea, funny thing Joe.”

“Oh, I see you two want to see blood, Well just let me have your neck, I have the right tools for drawing blood.”

After seeing Dracula’s grin showing his real, genuine teeth, the two yobs ran off.

“Did you have to do that Dracky?”

“What did you expect Dementia, that I would let myself be made a fool of by two dressed up living bodies. When I think of Jacko, my pet werewolf at home, he would have been insulted. Should have taken him with us.”

“Dracula you are a spoil sport. Look there are some children coming.”

“Trick or treat mister.”

Dracula was just preparing to pounce when Dementia pushed him away. "No Dracky, does not come into the question. Come here children here are a few treats for you", and she produce some candy from her handbag and gave it to the children.

“Are you mad Dementia, that was a few helpings of fresh young blood you have sent on their way.”

“Dracky we were all young once. Don’t you remember how your parents always gave you candies at Halloween when you knocked at their door dressed up in a Halloween costume.”

“Well come to think of it Dementia, no not really. Back in the old country we didn’t go in for that sort of thing. We were more for reality.”

And our two brave vampires made their way through town, Dementia giving out her treats where she could, and Dracula trying to be good, suppressing his desire for a nice evening meal at the sight of so much fresh meat. Eventually Dementia gave in and allowed Dracula to fetch some fresh blood conserves from the hospital on the way home.

They arrived home tired and happy. Dementia was happy because she recaptured some of her childhood memories, and Dracula because he could at last see the new vampire film. He was a little bit disappointed at the end of the film. Flad Gritt killed the vampire with a nicely sharpened stake, straight into the heart. Dracula just prefers happy endings, where the vampire retires to his coffin and lives happily ever after and after and after.

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MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #10: The Travel Agency

Moving up, moving up
Head over the clouds
A silky smooth layer of fluff
to overcome and float above
Pilot’s thoughts as he sails
onwards seeking new worlds
The moon overcame
so many years before
Now planets, universes far flung
to be discovered for a holiday

which is all very well, if you look at it on the romantic side of things, but being an agent for universal holidays, you do encounter some problems. I remember when I had my first assignment with our first tourists on Mars; red sand everywhere and two moons. When the first customers arrived I had to be there to show them the ropes. At least we had transformed the atmosphere into something breathable so they did not have to walk around looking like the first pioneers of space shuttle discoveries. They had a nice comfortable hotel on the edge of a crater, but they were not happy.

“Where is the sea?” was the first question they had.

“Madam, you see those pumps just in the distance. There you will find water enough to swim. Mars has no oceans, just the water beneath the surface which is pumped daily. Mars is a holiday planet for walking excursions, there is just no planet in our system with oceans except for earth.”

“No thank you, we tried your artificial swimming pools yesterday, but our skin became red from the water, stained from Mars earth. I still have blotches on my legs. Are you telling me that we paid out a lot of money to spend our holidays on Mars, and we should have remained on earth.”

This was one of many similar complaints, so we had to strike Mars from the list at that time. The moons were also not very popular with our visitors. They had trouble sleeping at night.

We had a big hit with Mercury, but the problem was we could only develop the area laying on the border between hot and cold which was not very wide; a planet that revolves with one side facing the sun all the time and the other facing, well nothing really. There were too many tourists either being burnt or freezing to death and that is no advertisement for a holiday.

Eventually we found the ideal solution. We rediscovered Mars and built towers reaching above the clouds. You say that Mars has no clouds. That was the difficult part. Our designers said that we should have buildings poking through clouds with a view of the two Mars moons which would be ideal for a romantic honeymoon.

Thanks to the man’s progress, the clouds were quickly organised. We built a couple of nuclear power plants on the Mars surface with those large chimneys pouring out water vapour. They were, of course, useful for electricity supplies. It was a success. We naturally designed our high buildings with panorama windows. Our tourists are delighted.

“Look at the view Charles, just fantastic. What a lovely place to spend our honeymoon.”

“Yes darling, we are really living above the clouds; and the moons are so impressive.”

Unfortunately one of our nuclear stations exploded last week, and we lost a few honeymooners when the tower came tumbling down, our engineers are working on it.

Where am I going on holiday this year you ask? We are staying on earth. I was given a tip by a friend on mine working on the earth tours. There is a little place somewhere in Russia called Tschernobyl. A few hundred years ago it was destroyed by a small chemical mistake. My contact told me that it is now the best place to go. The food is good, fruit twice as large as you will find anywhere in the world. Animal life is really interesting. You do not have to visit far off planets for animals with six legs or three eyes, they are all to be found in Tschernobyl. They even have camels with three humps Yes, such is modern science and development. Even the earth has its places to relax.

MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #9: The End of the Dream

It all begun about a week ago, but it has been going on night for night and now she was afraid to close her eyes and succumb to sleep, but she was in a hospital bed. Her fight to hang on to the last threads of life was weakening day by day, but she had to live; live for her daughter’s sake.

“Here’s your medicine for the night” said the nurse as she entered the ward. “Don’t forget to take it, you will be able to sleep and that will do you good.”

“Thank you nurse” was the answer “just put it on the bedside table, I will take it later.”

“Ok Mrs. Buckingham, but don’t forget. It will ease your pain.”

The nurse left and Eliza Buckingham looked at the tablets thinking they might ease the pain, but they will not cure me.

The night came slowly and although Eiza did not want her sleep, she had to succumb and she closed her eyes, breathing regular deep breaths.

At the beginning the dream was harmless. She was walking on a wide path lined with poplar trees. She should have known then that the straight trees pointing upwards might have a meaning. The walk was somehow exciting; in her sleep she felt that there would be something good at the end. Some time during the night she awoke, but the walk was etched in her mind. The following night the dream reoccurred. She was still walking along the avenue but could see large wrought iron gates in the distance. Behind the gates there were thick mists. She was almost looking forward to leaving the long path and reaching the gates, being sure that there would be a surprise awaiting her.

Her daughter Sara paid her a visit on the next day. Sara knew that her mother’s days were numbered, medical science had not yet found a cure for her illness which seemed to be eating her mother away from inside.

“How are you keeping mum” she asked noticing her mother’s eyes which seemed to be surrounded by a grayish ring.

“I am ok dear” was the answer.

“Are you sleeping well, you look so tired.”

“Oh, you know when you are lying in bed all the time, sleep just comes and goes. No, no, I am all right. How are you and the boys? Has Jim found work yet?”.

Sara’s husband had lost his job when the company folded down. He was a good worker, but there were few opportunities to find something new at the present time. Eliza knew that her daughter and the family were having problems making ends meet. They had already sold their car and there was talk of selling their house.

“No mum, no job up to now, but we are managing. I have taken on a cleaning job to help a bit.”

Her daughter left and Eliza was thinking.

“If only I can hang on to life” knowing that when she reached the age of seventy, her daughter’s family would have a right to an insurance policy that she had been paying for. It was one of those policies with many clauses to it. It entitled her family, which would be Sara as the only daughter, to a lot of money when Eliza reached the age of seventy. If Eliza died in the meanwhile the money would be put in a trust fund for Sara’s children when they reached the age of twenty. Sara had twin boys, but they were still at school and Sara and her family could use the money now. Eliza’s seventieth birthday was some time soon, but Eliza knew her chances of survival were dwindling.

And the dream continued. Eliza was still on the path and the gates were closer. She saw what was behind the gates. Rows of stones and a large house in the center. Eliza awoke with a shock.

“No, please let is not be” she thought and she lay back in her bed exhausted, but not able to relax or sleep.

In the meanwhile Sara was becoming more concerned with her mother. She knew that she was dying, but she never imagined that she would look so bad. Her eyes were becoming darker and she looked as if she would not survive another night.

“Nurse, can’t we do anything to help my mother?”

“I wish we could, but we have done all possible. It is a miracle that she is still with us. It is as if she is hanging onto life with the little strength that she still has.

The nurse entered Eliza’s ward with her evening medicine once again.

“Nurse, can you tell me what today’s date is?”

“It is the 20^th August Mrs. Buckingham. I believe it is your seventieth birthday tomorrow. I can see the date on your record sheet.”

“Tomorrow nurse. Thank you.”

And the nurse left the ward. Elisa put her tablets under the mattress as always. There was quite a collection there, but she did not want to be put in a false sleep. Perhaps she would not awake any more. “Just hold on until tomorrow” she thought.

That evening the dream was even more realistic. The stones behind the large iron gates were exactly what she was dreading, tombstones. She saw the name of her husband on a stone. She recognised his grave and moved towards it in her sleep. She awoke again with a shock when she saw that the grave was open, seeing the wooden lid of her husbands coffin below.

The next day arrived and again her daughter paid a visit. This time with her husband and her boys, but when she saw how her mother looked, she told the boys to wait outside.

“They are beautiful flowers you have brought me” said Elisa to her daughter and son-in law.

“Mother today you are seventy years old and you deserve the flowers for everything you have done for us.”

Eliza then spoke to her daughter.

“In my handbag at the side of the bed there is an envelope addressed to you. Please take this and promise it will only be opened when you receive news of my death. It will be soon, I can feel it, and I can at last join your father.”

“No mother, I won’t hear of such things.”

“Sara, take the envelope, it is my last wish and then please leave. I am not such good company for you both. Please do not be sad when I am gone.”

Sarah left with her husband and the boys. Her mother was looking so bad, that she had decided it was no sight for her sons to see.

That evening Eliza had her last dream. This time she wanted to sleep. She had reached her seventieth birthday, she was seventy years old and her daughter would receive the insurance money. She had put the insurance policy in the envelope some time ago. She closed her eyes for the last time and her dream came to an end as she felt herself leaving the last threads of life behind. She was gliding down into her husband’s open grave.

MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #8 Being with Nature

Swishing skirts of whispering grass
Strolling, feeling stalks tickling the skin
Memories of sun soaked days
Striding through meadows
Crickets chirping their invitations
To stay awhile in this luscious growth
A sanctuary of teaming life
Bare feet avoiding butterfly’s wings
Looking heavenwards seeking
the angels and cherubs watching
On such a glorious day as this
Time take a rest, stop the forwarding steps
Preserve such hours of Summer pleasure
And she walks on, absorbing without knowing
A lover waiting, thinks of him
Delights of the meadow slipping away,
only one thought, to lay in his arms
Being one with nature
In the summer of her youth

MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #7: Peggy and Modern Life

Peggy remembered when the first telephone was installed in the family house many years ago. As time went one she grew up and the telephone became just something that everyone had, although they were the first family in the street that had it connected. Everyone that had something to say to others would knock at the door asking if they could possibly used the telephone.

Now things were different. Her children decided to surprise their mother, not a birthday, nor Christmas. There was no real reason, but whether she wanted it or not she was now the proud owner of a mobile, handy, cell phone or whatever. Peggy was not stupid; she even understood the computer and was a member of Facebook. That was also something the children told her to do.

“You know it is really fun mama, you can build a farm, belong to a town and even have a fight with the Mafia or become a vampire.”

Although Peggy found this not absolutely necessary, she did start building a small farm. In the meanwhile it became quite large, and she was a faithful fan of her little plot somewhere in Facebook land. She even had neighbours, people she really only knew by name, but they were neighbours.

Peggy was just not so sure about this new telephone thing. If Dan, her late husband, was still alive, she was sure he would have known exactly what to do.

“Isn’t it expensive to call people Catherine?” Peggy asked her daughter.

“No mum, we have had a card put into it, so you don’t have to register it with the telephone company. Just fill the card up when it is empty with some money. You will soon get the hang of it.”

Catherine gave Peggy a quick course in how to operate the telephone and said that her brother Jeremy would be paying a visit at the week-end and would answer any questions she might have. Catherine left as she had to pick the children up from school and Peggy was left alone with her new toy. Then the worst that could happen, happened. It rang. At first Peggy was sure the music on the radio was too loud, and she never listened to that programme where all the loud modern music was played. She wanted to switch off the radio but was surprised to find that it was not on, although she could still hear the music. She followed the noise and arrived at the new mobile telephone which was laying on the table. She picked it up and dropped it again. Not only did it sound as if a full group of musicians were playing but it was moving. It shook in her hand, real vibrations.

Peggy just did not know what was happening. It seemed that the telephone had a life of its own. She suddenly noticed that the screen was displaying a number and recognised it as belonging to Jeremy.

Peggy was no beginner, she could manage quite well on her own, but she was sure that she had done something wrong and decided to call Jeremy. His phone rang a few times and suddenly she had Sue on the phone, Jeremy’s wife.

“Hello mum, nice to hear from you. Is it ok with Sunday in that case?”

“Sorry Sue” Peggy answered “I don’t quite understand. Is Jeremy there? I saw his name on that new telephone he gave me.”

“That’s right mum, Jeremy is in town, but he said he would call you on the way from his mobile.”

“He did Sue, but I must have done something wrong, that new telephone thing is shaking, so I had to drop it. I am now calling on the normal telephone.”

“Oh, mum, that’s what it does if someone rings. Probably the vibrator is switched on.”

“The what? Sue I am really a bit old for that sort of thing. I really don’t think that at my age I need a vibrator. Tell Jeremy to call me when he is home, but not on that cell phone thing, on the normal telephone.”

“Jeremy called to say he won’t be over at the week-end, but we thought it would be a better idea if you came to Sunday dinner. The kids would love to see you again.”

Sue then continued to explain how to switch the vibrations off. Peggy managed to follow the instructions and hoped that it was now normal. Five minutes later the telephone rang again, but this time it just peeped like a bird and thank goodness did not vibrate. There was a message written on the screen of the telephone with courtesy from the telephone company telling Peggy to send a return SMS as they wanted to know how she was satisfied with her new phone. So while Peggy was looking through the book to see what an SMS was the telephone rang again.

“Hello, hello, hello” said a strange voice with an accent that Peggy did not recognise.

This time she was ready. Catherine had told her to press the green button when someone called. At least the telephone was not shaking this time.

“Hello, who is calling please?”

“This is James, I want to be your friend.”

“Excuse me” answered Peggy “who is calling.”

“James is calling, I want to be your friend.”

“This is strange” she thought, not knowing anyone called James, but her daughter told her you can always see the telephone number on the screen from the person that is calling. Unfortunately Peggy did not recognise the number. She decided she wanted to be no-one’s friend so disconnected after five minutes of “I want to be your friend” and “who are you?”, not without noting the number on paper first of all. She still did not realise that she could trace the numbers on the mobile that had called after cancelling the call; poor Peggy.

Peggy searched in the telephone book and found the first numbers were those belonging to Nigeria. James was in Nigeria and wanted to be her friend. She decided that she would now make an attempt to call Catherine on the phone to ask if she knew anyone in Nigeria. She took the manual and did everything the instructions told her to, but with no result. The telephone then made a strange moan (at least it seemed to be a moan to Peggy) and closed down. It was no longer working.

So what was the next step? Peggy decided to buy some cows and chickens for her Facebook farm and plant some pumpkins. They looked so pretty on the computer.

The week-end soon arrived and Peggy was glad to see Jeremy. She took the mobile thing with her.

“Jeremy, I think I broke it. It doesn’t work any more.”

“What happened mum?” asked Jeremy.

“It was after that man James rang from Nigeria. The telephone went dead. I hope nothing has happened to him, he wanted to be my friend.”

“Mum, you have no money left on your card. I think you paid for James’ call as well as your answer. Looks like you have been tricked.”

“But that never happened with the other telephone.”

“You just have to be careful with that new telephone. If someone calls from a number you don’t recognise then just don’t answer. Cancel it.”

The evening Peggy went home and put her new mobile in the box it was in when she received it from her children. She took a walk up to the attic and put the box next to the box where the video machine was that her departed husband had bought. She remembered sadly back to the days when Dan would record all sorts of films from the television during the night, which they would watch together at a more suitable time. She never really got the hang of that machine and decided that the mobile would be in good company.

She returned to the apartment, went to the computer and bought some crops for the Facebook farm.

MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Writing Challenge #6: Evolution

That is one of the problems being sort of half fish, half human. You just do not know where you really belong. Mum and dad told me it was all in the name of science.

“Penny, what are you saying, I only did it for your own good. At the time when you were a baby it was the best idea your father said. Think of how many children were never lucky enough to learn how to swim properly.”

“Yes mum, but no-one asked me. You just threw me into deep water and let me get on with it.”

And that really was the way it all began. I was just a happy baby, drinking regularly, smiling to please everyone, but mum insisted and before I could say no, she was taking me to the swimming pool every week.

“Penny you were really the best in the group.”

Of course I was the best in the group, the other babies could not breathe the water as well as I could. The first examinations showed that my lungs were changing, I could actually breathe in water or air and it made no difference. It was perhaps the webs that started growing between my toes and fingers that looked a bit strange. I suppose I could have been a champion swimming for our country in the Olympic games, but because of my physical differences I was banned from the beginning; something about having unfair advantages.

“Penny, listen to your father. We scientists call that evolution, the changing of the species and it was working so well with you. Look at you today you can take a walk in water or in air, it makes no difference.”

Now that is easy for a father to say, who also happens to be a marine biologist and just had to try out his ideas on me; so just tell me mum and dad, how am I going to find a normal boy, get married and settle down, when I look like a fish out of water on land, and a human out of land when under water.

“Penny you have so many advantages.”

That was mum and dad talking together. The only advantage I can see is that if I happen to fall into the sea, I can walk back to the shore, or if I live somewhere where floods occur I will survive. Of course, there are perhaps a few things to treasure. Diving for a pearl now and again has made mum and dad quite wealthy.

I am now 25 years old and have never been kissed. The boys avoid me, and at school I was called fishy by everyone. I remember I quite took a like to Jeremy in the class, but when we had swimming lessons and I decided to dive in at the deep end with him, he was very unhappy when I wanted to stay under water with him. He said he almost suffocated and whether I was mad.

“What did you say dad, you want me to meet someone. His name is Neptune and he comes from another part of the world where they have also been using the same programme?”

I suppose I will do them the favour of meeting him, who knows. Perhaps we might be able to breed a couple of mermaids together. The things you do for scientific research these days.

Wordsmiths Challenge #5: Changes

“Ready Bill, time to go.“

Bill looked up at the prison warden, feeling a little uncertain. It was true and not something made up, his twenty-five year prison sentence was now finished. For good behaviour five years had been deducted.

“Not bad” thought Bill “I now have it behind me.”

Bill was not really totally happy about leaving the place that had been his home for many years, but he knew that Her Majesty would one day let him go. He thought back to the beginning of it all. Admittedly he had got his just deserts, he did strangle his wife and it was murder. At the time his lawyer pleaded manslaughter, Bill convincing the lawyer that it was not intended but an accident. The jury did not believe this and neither did public opinion. Bill was not really surprised, but at least they tried. He did decide to strangle his wife after finding that she had been having an affair with his brother. He was a young man at the time, just twenty-five years old, and his feelings were hurt. His nerves just ran away with him. His family naturally disowned him for the crime and he never got one visitor in the twenty-five years of prison life.

Prison life needed some getting used to. Arising every morning at the same time, breakfast, dinner and tea at certain times and doing the same jobs in the workshop. It was all organised and so boring, but with time Bill accepted his fate. He even made a few friends, but most of them were criminals also “doing time” for murder; perhaps a robbery that went wrong, or just killing because there was no other way to do things.

He did not paint a picture of being put into prison under false pretences. Oh yes, he was guilty and now after so many years was again a free man. He was surprised that it happened so quickly, but it seems that a lawyer who had just completed her examinations decided to make a name for herself (yes, it was a lady) and was digging up some old cases with the intention of finding whether things were settled in a proper way. She decided that although Bill had killed his wife, he certainly had a reason for doing it, and it was probably one of those short circuit actions, that he had regretted since. Convinced that here a criminal had suffered enough she brought up his case for revision. Times had changed and the court decided that leniency would be appropriate and Bill was given an early release.

Not only had the law changed, but a lot of other things as well.

Bill left the prison dressed in new clothes given to him for his new start in life. He was surprised to receive blue jeans and a t-shirt, but it seemed that this was now the general fashion. He was even given an address of somewhere he could stay for the first months until he was standing on his own feet again. It was a large building in an area of the town near to a shopping centre. There was a cinema showing the latest films near bye and a few restaurants with the usual fast food. Some of it was familiar to Bill, but not all.

At first he was overwhelmed by the people on the street. There were so many, and he was confronted by people from all countries. Smells wafted in the air of food that he really did not recognise. Where were the places where you could order a plate of fish and chips, or a meat pie? They were gone and replaced with the Curry house, or Mario’s Pizza parlour.

He lived in a tall building and had a small apartment, which was being paid for by the state, until he found work and could pay himself. Just a bedroom, living room and kitchen with shower, but that was enough for Bill. It was sufficient and he was glad to have his own four walls at last. He was somewhat taken aback to find that his rooms were on the twelfth floor of a building which seemed to have another ten floors above. He was surprised by the height of everything he saw on the streets. When he went in (to the prison) houses were houses, two or three floors at the most.

He even had a television, in colour. He switched it on, but soon gave up. There were so many channels and switches to operate; he left that one for the time being. He now had his first evening in front of him and decided to visit the cinema which was just around the corner not really caring what the film was, but being able to move amongst normal people again.

His first shock was paying the entrance fee which to his twenty-five years ago thinking was exorbitant. He eventually found an empty seat, lit up a cigarette, and relaxed. He was confronted with a torch light shining into his eyes.

“Excuse me sir, but here you cannot smoke.”

Bill thought he had probably chosen a wrong seat and there were now no smoking areas.

“Sorry, Miss; can you show me where the seats are for smokers?”

“We have none sir, cinemas are a non smoking area. You must either extinguish your cigarette or leave.”

No, things were really not like they used to be, so Bill left. He walked along the road looking for a place for a bite to eat. It was then he saw a familiar restaurant where they always sold hamburgers and still did. He walked in and went to the counter to place an order. At least this was still working as normal, although it seemed to him that the food just did not have the same taste as it used to. He felt tired and left the restaurant deciding to go home.

It was now dark and there were few people on the street. He was just passing a dark turning when he was confronted by three young men.

“Now, what have we got here. Looks like he might be worth it. What do you think boys?”

Bill was startled “are you talking to me?”

“Don’t see anyone else here, perhaps the gentleman would like to accompany us down this street here.”

“I don’t think......”

Before Bill could answer he felt a strong push and landed on the ground in the dark alley.

“So now let’s see what we have” said one of the boys and they started to search through his pockets.

“Looks like he only has a purse with a few notes in it.”

“Can’t be Fred, look a bit close, he must have a mobile somewhere.”

“OK Mister, where is it?”

Bill still felt sore from fall on the concrete, but decided it was better to give an answer to this pack.

“What mobile, what is a mobile?”

“Hey Fred he is acting stupid, he says he hasn’t got one and don’t know what it is.”

“You mean he has been having us on. Well no-one gets away with that” and the boys decided to teach Bill a lesson for not having something most people would have and even being so stupid as to pretend he did not know what it was supposed to be.

They were not very nice and Bill soon knew what it was like to be beaten up feeling the thuds of heavy boots against his ribs. He eventually lost consciousness. He woke up some time later, no longer in the dark street, but in a hospital.

“How are you feeling” asked the nurse.

“Like I have been run over by a lawn mower” was Bill’s answer.

“Looks like you have been beaten up from one of our street gangs. Did you recognise anyone or anything” asked a policeman who was also in the room.

“It all went so quick officer” Bill said “No, I didn’t recognise anyone. They seemed to have wanted something called a mobile.”

“And you didn’t give it to them. That was a mistake” said the policeman. “It is better to give them what they want; otherwise they can get a bit rough.”

Well Bill was a little surprised, even shocked. What was this world coming to? He had a bad conscience for killing his wife twenty-five years long, although it was partly her fault, he was still sure. Today you get nearly killed by a few teenagers still wet behind the ears because you don’t have something they want and the law tell you that he was wrong and should have given it to them.

After a week Bill was able to leave the hospital. His broken arm was healing slowly and it no longer hurt so much, although he had to visit the doctor once a week to see how it was progressing.

Bill now sat in his room night for night, frightened to go out to a world that he no longer recognised.

He then had an idea. The next day he paid a visit to the office of records to look up details of the proceedings which allowed his release. He found the information he wanted.

“Felicity Chambers, 4 The Rise, Belgravia”; just what I needed. At last he had the name and address of the young lady that was the reason for him being today a free man. A thought crossed his mind “Felicity?” they don’t even give their kids normal names these days.

That evening he spent the remainder of the money donated by Her Majesty’s prison for his fresh start in life on a taxi to Belgravia. He was sure he had no need for money any more. This time he did not strangle the lady that opened the door and invited him in. She thought he had come to thank her. He would have strangled her, but her boyfriend was in the kitchen and heard the commotion, so she was rescued. Actually Bill did not really want to strangle her, he just wanted to return to his nice cosy cell in Her Majesty’s Prison where every day you had the same routine, got three full meals and knew that a walk through the prison exercise yard was less dangerous than walking the streets of London.

MULTIPLY Montgomery and the Spider

The cat stood on its four legs, stretched its body and made a circle in preparation for sleep. First of all he looked around to see that his world was in order. Half way up on the bookshelves between the books History of India and History of Battles he felt secure. He preferred the ancient books, those bound in leather with yellowing pages. They had a good, safe smell, accumulated by the dust of ages gone past. Although he never actually looked inside the books, he knew he was in a safe place. Protected by the wall and the thick volumes surrounding him, with a bird’s eye view of all angles in the room he was satisfied. Before falling into a complete sleep he glanced upwards to the opposite corner between the ceiling and the top books. He was just making sure that the spider was there.

The spider had always lived there since the cat had made its favourite place between the books. The cat did not realise that it was not always the same spider. How many generations of this spider had lived in the top corner of the book shelves, not even the spider knew. There was just always a replacement when the spider’s life came to an end. The cat did not even wonder what the spider ate. There were no flies in this particular room of the book shop, nothing that would keep a spider alive. Of course if the cat had been interested, he might have noticed the spider scattering through a crack in the wall from time to time. That was when she made her way up to the roof to find something to eat.

What did the cat eat? Although the cat would not want to admit it, he did have a human that made sure his needs were attended to. Charles Worthington, the owner of the bookshop, took care of the cat’s life. Every morning and evening he would put a bowl of food on the ground. In the evening the cat would climb down from his perch and roam the book shop on its own, sniffing with its nose between the nooks and crannies. Sometimes he was surprised by smell, when a new delivery of books arrived. A hint of other humans, not those he saw from day to day in the shop, but from other places he did not know.

Charles Worthington would visit book auctions and bought those objects that might be a gem in the seekers’ eye. His shop was something special, clothed in old, solid wooden book shelves and situated in the older part of the town amongst the buildings ,where each one was built differently to the next; a curious shop in a curious corner of the town.

The cat even had a name. Charles’s wife brought the kitten home one day, and they called it Montgomery. No-one really knew why, it might have been a name from the war that was raging at the time. When his wife died Montgomery did not feel so much at home in the living quarters above the shop and he eventually found his favourite shelf in the shop and remained.

One day Montgomery the cat was having a cat snooze on the shelf, with one eye open of course. Nothing particular was happening, but he did sense a sort of tension in the air. As he looked down he saw a human, actually a potential customer, delving amongst the books. Although it was a warm, sunny day he was wearing a gabardine raincoat which seemed at least two sizes too big. Charles Worthington appeared and asked the man in the raincoat if he was searching for something in particular.

“Well, yes and no. I heard that you have some books from the Carrington estate. They were auctioned after Lord Carrington’s death.”

“Yes, I did buy a couple” answered Charles Worthington “you will have to search on the book case over there.”

At that moment the bell rang at the entrance door and Charles excused himself.

“I have another customer, but will leave you to have a look around” he said.

“No problem” was the stranger’s answer.

As soon as Charles left the room the stranger began studying the books from the Carrington estate and suddenly pounced on three of the books, hiding them under his raincoat where he had pouches prepared for the task.

Montgomery was not used to sudden movements and noise in his place of rest, and neither was the spider. The spider decided to have a look, perhaps there was something edible at last in the room and she would not have to go out to find her food. She lowered herself on a strong, silky thread and decided to stop just before the thief’s nose.

It might have been that the book thief did not like spiders. He may have even suffered from arachnophobia. He was startled. It was then that Montgomery decided to explore the disturbance in his sleeping quarters and leaped down from his perch between the history books, pulling two or three with him. Unfortunately these books landed on the thief’s head, knocking him out. Disturbed by the noise Charles Worthington rushed into the room to see what was happening. He was confronted by a stranger lying on the floor, unconscious, his raincoat open showing the books stacked away inside. Montgomery had already taken his position on the stranger’s body, sniffing at him to see what this was for a new smell in his room and there was a glimpse of a retreating spider climbing up his thread back to the safety of the corner between the ceiling and the two walls.

What more is there to explain? The thief was the disowned son of Lord Carrington who knew that his father had some very valuable books in his possession, first editions, and had decided to take what was not rightly his. He had discovered that Charles Worthington had auctioned the books. The attempt to steal them was now thwarted by the spider and Montgomery.

Montgomery received an extra ration of salmon for his meal that evening, but was not really impressed. It was just cat’s curiosity that made him descend from his comfortable, warm perch to see what the spider was doing.

And so life continued in Charles Worthington’s book shop. The wooden bookshelves remained with the old books. Montgomery the cat still slept between the history books and another new generation of the spider arrived.

MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #3: The Killer

Killing is not easy; you have to think it over very carefully. I remember the assignment I had in Dallas; now that was many years ago. I got away with it; some poor old Joe Doe was accused. I had a good group behind me, who planned it in detail from the beginning. They never showed their faces, but I am sure it was something to do with the government. Anyhow after that job, they told me to leave the country otherwise there would be trouble ahead. That was when I decided a trip over the pond would be a good thing. No death sentence there, not that I was out to be caught, but these days you cannot be sure of anyone or anything.

You have to follow certain rules of course; no-one is the born killer. I remember Flashy Jack, that was what we called him. He always wanted to be the best, but you don’t shoot your victim in a restaurant in front of everyone. He was asking to be caught. I soon got known around town, they told me that the gang down in the East was being pushed out of business by Big Fat Lloyd. So what did I do? That was easy. One evening I walked into the Sneaky Rat, the joint that belonged to Fat Lloyd. I naturally wore a tight pink number, showing all my curves and Fat Lloyd just could not resist that.

“Hi, baby, new around here” was his ideal of starting a conversation.

Generally I would have told him where to get off, but I had a mission

“I sure am” was my answer “do you want to show me the routine?”.

Well he did, and his first night spent with me was his last. They never did find his body, but I know how things work. I just phoned the chief of the East gang, and asked what it was worth to him that Fat Lloyd was no longer breathing. He was over the moon, really thrilled, so I told him to get his cleaners down to Fat Lloyd’s place and remove the evidence. I think the remains were finally feeding the fish in the local river. Concrete feet always did stop anything floating to the surface.

I was in, oh yes, Jimmie, the East gang chief just fell in love with me at first sight. It was just too bad that Jimmie started double crossing me. He spent too much time in the Sneaky Rat, which now belonged to Jimmie, thanks to me, and started trying the goods out. Now either he is my man, or he is not. So, I am sorry to say Jimmie had to go. I decided to do this one all official. I just dropped a note to the police to say he was planning to rob a bullion transport. Jimmie told me just everything. I even put blanks in his gun to make sure he would not hurt anyone; too bad that Jimmie got hurt; the police shot him as he opened fire.

So here I am a widow, just don’t have any luck in life. Although things turned to the best when I told the nice policemen how Jimmy had lied to me all his life after I handed over the details I found in his desk of the gang and the jobs they had pulled together. They even gave me a job in Scotland Yard. I started as a normal secretary, but after sleeping my way through a few bosses, I soon got promoted. One of them even died with a heart attack, something to do with the wrong medicine he took.

Anyhow here I am today, one of the best members of the English secret service. Now I always said, if you have a gift, then you should use it. I often get sent on missions abroad. The next job is in Libya, but that will be a difficult one; have not yet worked out how to do it. Advantage is being a lady; I can hide myself under their robes.

MULTIPLY Wordsmiths Challenge #2 A Rainy Afternoon

And the rain kept falling as it if would never end. Roswitha stood at the door being almost mesmerised by the unending threads of water. She looked down at Alpha, her cat and familiar who was also blinking through the raindrops and not looking very enthusiastic about the weather.

“Alpha, what do you think, can we do something about this rain.”

“If cats with my abilities could do something about the rain, we would have abolished it years ago, but it is forbidden for us to play with the elements. You have to make sure that no-one is looking and there is always some old wise cat that sees everything. You know like what’s-his-name in Egypt.”

“Ah, you mean Bast.”

“Yes, that’s the one; so what about you White witches, any bright ideas?”

“No, Alpha, same here. No messing with the elements, just with the exception of fire, and keep your magic on the good side of life. Grandma said I had the gift from her and should use it properly.”

So the rain continued. Roswitha and Alpha were glad there were no old men with long white beards collecting wood and animals two by two. That had happened once and that was boring. Alpha’s ancestor was one of the chosen few on the ark, and he passed the message down through the generations that it was not fun being surrounded by water for weeks on end. He had to sit on the edge of the boat to do his business clinging with his paws on the wood to make sure he did not fall in, but that was an old story, and who knows what really happened. Those legends being handed down over the years loose a lot of reality.

“Life is so boring Alpha, I just wish I had a knight in shining armour to take me away from the monotony; just a little bit of excitement in life.”

It was then that Roswitha heard a strange noise. As if the brass section of an orchestra was approaching the door.

“So, here I am, let me in, my armour is starting to get rusty in this rain. Where shall we go?”

“I beg your pardon, just who are you?”

In front of Roswitha stood the figure of a man, quite tall and clad in metal from head to foot, with just a slit for his eyes. He had a cloth in his hand which was enclosed in a chain mail glove, and was drying the rain drops from his armour quite vigourously.

“You sent for me madam, your knight in shining armour. That is why I am polishing it all the time to make sure it keeps shining.”

“I did not send for you. ALPHA?????? Is this your idea?”

“Well you said how life was boring and you could do with a knight in shining armour, so I organised it. No problem, they had them in stock on the requirements list.”

“Alpha that was metaphorically speaking; I did not really need a knight in shining armour, just something to break the monotony, to help me against this rain.”

“Then my services are not required?” asked the knight “this is a nuisance. There I am polishing my armour, waiting for a chance to be called up for duty, and now I am not needed. You should really keep your familiar under a better control. You witches are all the same, the white ones are the worse. At least you know where you stand with the black witches. They are evil and selfish and it is clear that we are called upon for a purpose. White witches always want to be the do-gooders – just cannot decide and we are sent back and forth all the time. I will have to make a report on this when I get back to the stock room.”

He left Alpha and Roswitha still muttering on the way about his good will being taken advantage of and White Witches being ungrateful.

“So that was not a very good idea Alpha. Just think before conjuring something up in future.”

“Well I was only trying to do you a favour, and it did brighten things up on our rainy afternoon. Now what about this for the help you mentioned.”

There was a whoosh and a strong draft blew into the open door, accompanied by a cataract of water drops caught in the wind. There he was clad in blue tights covering his legs with a long armed blue pullover close fitting to his body, at the front of the pullover a large Superman emblem. To complete the picture he carried a red cape over his shoulders.

“At your service. Are you the lady in distress? How can I help you? Is this cat attacking you?”

“Cough, cough cough, first of all I need a towel to dry my hair and clothes from the rain that has just been swept into my house. ALPHAAAA enough, the last thing I need is Superman. Sorry, but I have no problems for you to help with. Perhaps you could remove my cat, but no, on second thoughts I will deal with him myself.”

“Today I can’t do anything right. Roswitha, just express yourself properly. You said you need something to help you against the rain. Was that metaphorically speaking as well?” said Alpha

“No it was not, Alpha, but I thing that Superman help is more for national catastrophes and not for a shower of rain.”

“Indeed cat and lady. It really seems that I am uncalled for in this situation. Please think before acting the next time, I was just having a coffee break with The Joker and he does not take things so easy when disturbed. Now I have a lot of explaining to do.” And with that he flew off, the rain parting like a curtain as he left.

“Sorry Roswitha, but” and Alpha was interrupted by an angry witch, even if she was one of the white sort.

“Alpha I have had enough, so here is a spell from me. You will be silent for the next hour.” And with that Alpha just sat watching the rain, his voice remaining still.

“Help, please help me” cried a voice coming nearer to Roswitha’s house. It was then that she saw the figure of a man limping and just as he reached the door he collapsed on the ground.

“Alpha, is this your doing again?” she said, but Alpha gave no answer, he had been doomed to silence.

Roswitha bent down and took a closer look. The man was breathing, his eyes open and he stretched his arms out. Roswitha did notice that he had the most beautiful brown eyes as she looked into them. But no, this was again Alpha’s doing, she was convinced. The man spoke further:

“Please help, I was driving down the road at the end of the lane and my car skidded on some mud. It crashed into a tree and I have injured my leg. I just managed to reach your house.”

“Your car skidded on the road. How unfortunate, but there is nothing I can do about it.”

“But perhaps you could have a look at my leg, call a doctor or something.”

Roswitha just did not know what to do. Should she help a complete stranger, who might have been sent by her cat, Alpha, or shut the door and ignore him. She was just about to shut the door when Alpha put his paw on the door and pushed it back. Was this a signal? Was this man genuine? Roswitha made her decision. She helped the stranger onto the settee in her living room and brewed some herbal ointment for the injury on his leg. In no time the wound was no longer so painful and the stranger could stand again on his leg.

“Thank you so much” he said. “Let me introduce myself. My name is John Carruthers and I was on my way to my estate in the next village when this unfortunate accident happened. I am forever in your debt. How lucky I was to have found your house. I must say I have never had such a pretty nurse as you are. How can I replay my debt?”

“No, no, please, it was no problem. I am glad to have been of assistance.”

“Could I perhaps call one of my servants on the telephone to organise the towing away of my car by the local garage. I can also organise someone to pick me up.”

“Of course you can” answered Roswitha, “but perhaps you would like to have something to eat before leaving. I was just preparing dinner.”

“I really don’t want to be of any more bother.”

Roswitha was sure that this charming surprise visitor would be no bother, and so it came to pass that they had dinner together, John Carruthers enjoying the company of his rescuer. Eventually he left, being picked up by one of his servants, and the car was taken to a garage. During this whole episode Alpha remained silent, but the hour had passed some time ago.

“Alpha, your hour of silence has finished. Are you not talking to me any more?”

“Of course, Roswitha, but I thought I would just let you get on with it. It seems your afternoon was quite interesting and eventful.”

“You see Alpha, I managed that all on my own. That is the way we white witches do things. We leave it to coincidence and don’t arrange surprise visitors from the local magical stock room.”

“Yes, of course Roswitha. You are the boss” was the answer from Alpha. Alpha just thought to himself how lucky we cats are to have the gift of telepathy, and thank goodness there was one of those men in distress in the stock room waiting for his chance in real life.