Lit & The Arts Crikey people !

Discussion in 'Literature & The Arts' started by helenheaven, Apr 9, 2005.

  1. helenheaven

    helenheaven Premium Member

    Hello, peeps...popped in for my weekly Sunday look at my favourite site (bit like Church in'it?) and no one's here. Stop the madness and get back to your favourite site now, c'mon, thats it, turn off those dodgy sites (save yourself the $3.99 a minute...)

    Well, now that you're here, unfortunately, I'm going to subject you to two short stories. I recently moved house and in one of my boxes of stuff (read s**t) I found two short stories I wrote 21 years ago. One I got a "C" for (too descriptive) and one an A. I prefer the one I got a "C" for as it is based on true events, a camping trip with a boyfriend that went so horribly wrong he ended up throwing my leather boots onto our, inspired by true events as they say. The other story amazed me as its set in the future....and I wrote it in 1984.

    Now, both of these are a few hundred words so bear with me whilst I type them up for your reading pleasure, or sheer hilarity value.
  2. helenheaven

    helenheaven Premium Member

    A Vision of the Future - Life in 2084

    The children glanced briefly out the window. A glaring artifical light flooded the nearly empty street below. The Director had created another day.

    One by one the children turned their attention back to the meeting. there were seven children gathered in this room. The room was not illuminated and in the dark corners the outline of the unused monitors could be distinguished. The children sat on the floor and spoke quietly.

    Paul spoke first. "We, margaret and me, found out yesterday. We saw saw for ourselves. Rows and rows of test tubes, all fill of, well, embryos. That's why we are not affected by the radiation."

    There was a silence which Paul had not expected. John opened his mouth and closed it again. Paul continued.

    "Our parents, somehow, ordered us. The only safe way to have a family after the blast was to create one artifically."

    "How do you know it's true?", asked Claire.

    "Haven't you ever wondered, ever considered, how we escaped the radiation ? Why our parents are affected but we aren't?"

    Again the dreadful silence filled the room. Sandra who was normally the quietest spoke up. "We will have to find out for ourselves."

    "Margaret and I can show you," Sandra interupted.

    "No. We will have to investigate, we'll have to ask our parents."

    "They aren't going to admit it. No way will they verify it. If we're going to discover how we were conceived we're going to have to keep this secret." Paul looked around at the six faces. They nodded in unison.

    "Now we are going to have to discover the truth. Remember, this is only a theory, even if it is rather conclusive. Telling our parents would be wrong. Before we could investigate properly every opportunity would be abolished. Secrecy is the key to our success. Is everyone agreeable ?"

    A bable of voices confirmed that their move must be secret. They all left the room and began their journey home. Paul's vehicle was parked ouside. He and Margaret sped onto the motoduct and within moments were home. They glanced at each other before the door slid open, acknowledging their secret.

    Later that evening Margraet and Paul rang the other members of their group to schedule an "investigation" for the following morning.

    It was 5 am when Paul awoke and Margaret soon followed him. At 6am they met their peers at the Universal Laboratory Centre. Margaret and Paul had stumbled across the revealing laboratory by accident and had discovered a plan to enable the others their entrance. Julian, acomputer expertr disorientated the computer run laboratories by interfering with the inward flowing electrical waves and destroying the security system. The humans within the centre immediately realised the flaw and contacted their repair consultants. Mark had intercepted the phone call and agreed to arrive immediately to correct the malfunction.

    In their overalls and suits the seven looked convincingly like casual labourers and computer technicians. Within minutes Paul was leading them up the lengthy corridors to the series of laboratories containing the evidence.

    The children stared at the laboratory benches in disbelief. Each bench supported two rows of test tubes and incubators. Infants in different stages of development were being produced within the glass wombs, their disfigured bodies pressing against the opaque confines. The children were aghast. To prove that the developing bodies were human, Julian and Paul searched through the computer files. They were alarmed at what they found. Paul punched in data relating to himself. It read:

    Paul William Smith: Stage 1: July 17 2067
    Stage 2: July 21 2067
    Implanted: Oct 17 2067

    He rapidly punched in Margaret's and his friends birth information. They had all been 'conceived' in this odd way. He had known since their first discovery that somehow this devastating information made sense but was numbe with disbelief. The monitor displayed more data before before Paul turned it off. he faced the others. Their faces were distraught and Sandra's eyes were beginning to swell with her salty tears. Without a word the children left the laboratory and as the door silently closed behind them they all realised that their secret was contained within that room.

    *** Helen, aged 16, 1984....was tempted to doctor it...but no, I didn't.
  3. helenheaven

    helenheaven Premium Member

    A Dark Journey

    The dark stony hills first appeared through the mist before we suddenly discovered we were traversing between the bushy slopes. We followed the winding road cautiously, ironically aware of our fate should we misjudge the narrow roadway. It was bleak, most definitely, bleak. Rain trickled down tirelessly on the windscreen as though seeking a way to get thru the grey glass and saturate us.

    We both sat quietly. I clutched my seat as the car lurched around the hairpins; sometimes emitting an almost inaudible sound when it seemed we were likely to plunge down the gully. Paul peered ahead, his green eyes searching for the path the road followed. On either side we could distinguish dripping, drooping pungas and ferns or wet dark cliffs ominiously guarding the road edge. Eventually we began to climb down the summit proceeding faster and faster, until we sped from the grasp of the hills to the safety of the plains.

    The night journey stetched before us and our silence was becoming painfully obvious. Dirty clouds appeared in the dark morning sky threatening rain, or worse. The car hurried through several small towns; it's urgency, a mystery.

    I threatened Paul with lung cancer as he sealed his lips around a cigarette taking down the dirty smoke. The car filled with smoke, the foul smell saturating my clothes and hair. My remark was not found amusing and the valley of silence was enlarged.

    The car's dim headlights shone upon a possum laying motionless on the bitumen.

    "I one, it, you two it', began Paul. We looked at each other, suddenly, and then away again, as though we both realised the consequences of our inevitable fate, and regretted them.

    My hand found his knee and his strong hands extinguished his cigarette to meet mine. His eyes showed an undertsanding of guilt and regret as I suppose mine may have down. Our moment of emotion was lost as bright streel lights blazed and neon signs blared into our cosy cabin. The road widened and other life was visible. Signs directed us around the North island whils others offered food, discounts, sales and church fetes.

    I secretly wanted some food but knew my admission would anger paul. We didn't have any money regardless and we had promised that neither of us would stop during the journey.

    The road narrowed again almost immediately and we were racing past the dark, mysterious bush once more. The grey clouds suddenly were charged with a brief, bright, light warning us of the roar that echoed around the valley that followed. The annoying trickle of rain became a torrent flooding the windscreen and racing down the hood. I shrunk down in my seat, scared and cold. the rain pounded uopn the roof threatening it's power. Visibility shrunk to a mere five metres. We crawled along the rough road for what seemed like hours but in reality was no more than forty minutes.

    When we reached the beach the sky cleared. Large waves crashed around the rocks throwing water as far as the road. Paul and I crept from the car, scared in the face of this ruthless element. Hand in hand we walked along the wet sand until we reached the path leading to the lighhouse. We began the ascent, stumbling when the lighthouse's strong beam of light reached out beyond the rocks. We crawled under the protective fence onto the rocky area. Below us waves thundered onto the sheer cliffs. We were silent, any noise we may have madee would have been drowned by the roar of the water.

    We crept towards the edge of the cliff. We were guilty and we realised no-one else should bear the pain we had caused.

    We felt free at last as we flew into the welcoming waves.

    ***Helen, 16, 1984. Hell, that deserved an "F", what a piece of tortured writing. But as I said, it was based on a camping trip from hell, and yes Paul W, I don't forgive you for throwing my boots in the fire.

    ***Oh, and I started smoking within a year...bad me.