Beyond the Sphere


As the pianist played, the rain fell.
As the rain fell, the thunder sang.
As the thunder sang, the lightning danced.
As the lightning danced, the pianist played.

Thunder and music.

Lightning and rain.

Harmonious. Togetherness. Nature and sound.
Dancing. And playing. Music abounds.

In tune.

In rhythm.

Inside and out.

The pianist plays as the rains come down.

Thunder. Now birdsong. Raindrops galore.
Both nature and musician need to give more.

Sunlight breaks through the gaps in the cloud.
If bright light was sound, this is very loud.
Competing with birdsong
And the pianists’ keys
And the patter of raindrops
And the rustle of leaves

The pianist continues.

More thunder claps.

More sunshine through the clouds’ many gaps.

The birdsong and chatter continue with glee.
The thunder rumbles on, although distantly.
The raindrops still fall, but now gentle and light.
And the pianist still plays, to his delight.

A rainbow appears to join in the dance

As if by magic

As if by chance.

Each by itself. All as one.

On and on.
And on.
And on.

Into the future. The days ahead.
The pianist will play to the tune in his head.

To sunshine.

To birdsong.

To moonlight.

To life.

To raindrops and thunder.

To daytime and night.

As nature calls, the pianist will play.

Their dance, their togetherness, will be on display.

The dance will continue.

Through sunshine and rain.

Not always different.

Not always the same.

The pianist will play as the rains come to call
Through thunder and lightning.

In fact, through it all.




Another quick cheeky repost for today, but it fits in nicely with September’s theme I had to post it again – a medley of thoughts, nay, a medley of sorts! It all passes the time!



She cast a spell for happiness, using everything she could find.
She got everything prepared and together at the exact right time.
She spoke words of enchantment, making sure she got them right.
She wanted to be happy and would make herself so tonight.

She thought of all the people who’d wronged her in the past.
She thought of those who’d married when she said “they’d never last”.
She thought of the ones she turned away when they came to her for help.
She thought of all the animals that she’d ‘accidentally’ made yelp.
She thought of all the acids that she poured away down the drain.
She thought of all the pedestrians she’d splashed, driving through puddles in the rain.
She thought of all the people stood behind her in the queue, as she complained quite vocally about the price of her shampoo.
She thought of the hungry kitten that she never once fed.
She thought of the single time she’d regretted what she’d said.

She realised she didn’t need anything in order to be truly happy.
She’d looked within and then brought on her own epiphany.
Her happiness had been with her all along, hidden deep beneath her nasty side.
She sat and thought and clearly saw now that her eyes were open wide.


time star
Keep the
where they are
Keep the monsters well away
Keep them from me from this day
I see them when I look around,
but then they’re gone without a sound.
I hear them scuttle across the floor
I hear them tapping on the door
I feel them brush my cheeks at night
they wake me up with such a fright
they whisper words I can not hear
They breathe. They smell.
They push and pull. They
laugh they feed. They
love my fear. They
lift, they drop,

They’re here!


With a rustle of ivy and a whiff of strong smoke
A dazzling bright flash transforms into a long cloak
Where once there was nothing, where no-one stood
Now stands a wizard with a dark cloak and hood
A cackle of laughter reveals one magi’s glee
As the Master of Skeletons holds out a key
The gathered all watch in anticipation and awe
As the purple clad wizard opens the door
Using the key taken from the skeleton’s hand
He opens the door to a vast, wondrous land
The ivy spills out through this large mystic portal
The witches move forward as they snigger and chortle
The skeleton steps back, as this is no place for he
The wizard holds up his hand and shouts “Follow Me!”
One by one they step out into this realm
The passage disguised as a sturdy old elm
The wizard, four witches, a spider, and a cat
Step into a large field – an empty one at that
”Where are the crowds?” asks the Witch for the East
”And,” cries the West Witch, “where’s the food for our feast?”
The Wise Witch says to the wizard “We’re too keen,”
She smiles, and then adds “It’s not yet Halloween”
The Dim Witch stares forward, and looks at the Moon
”We’ve done it again – we’ve come here too soon!”
The wizard looks around at each and everyone
Thinks quickly, and declares “Yes, the test is now done!
Follow me back to our lair where we’ll wait”
And he tapped his watch thinking “At least we weren’t late!”


George was not impressed by the makeover that Gladys-Marie forced upon him…

…but loved the effect when the lights went down…


Halfway across Spooky Acre Meadow, Bert suddenly announced that he felt rain…


Halloween is coming, the pumpkins are getting fat

Please put a penny in the old witch’s hat

If you haven’t got a penny, a ha’penny will do

If you haven’t got a ha’penny, she’ll cast a spell on you!


The one where whispers were shadows

I am still here… I promise! I’m just doing a few… behind the scenes things at present that really do not need writing about. Just to tide things over, here’s a post intended to send you to sleep, unlike my other posts which may have had the same effect without the intention.

Originally posted in 2012, I think you’ve all read it anyway…

Sleep is mere seconds away
Eyelids heavy, arms and legs leaden
Close by sounds are distant
Distant sounds are echoes
Echoes are whispers
Whispers are shadows
Shadows of sound
Breathing is shallow
Shallow… yet deep…
Deep… and slow…
Takes control…
The Silence.
The Darkness.
The Void.

All together


Night night!

Characters Calling: Walpole E. Epstein

They’re jumping on the bandwagon now.

Originally posted June 23rd 2012. Other parts to this tale can be found by clicking on the Storylines menu link above… look for The Road to Meringue…

Sometimes, days are just plain sailing. Up early(ish), breakfasted, dressed, and out and on with the rest of the day, and in what seems like a flash the day is coming to an end once again.

Most days, it could be said, are generally like that.

Some days, however, are so far removed from the truth, they are, well, unbelievable.

The other day started like almost every other. I was about to set out for the day, and, as I was about to open the door, a rapping came from the other side of it.

A strong, vibrant rap… not a simple tap or genteel knock, but a hefty rapping of the knuckles.

As I had to open the door to go out, I had a look to see who was on the other side.

To my surprise, it was a complete stranger. A tall man, possibly aged between thirty and sixty (I’m not very good with ages). And he was wearing a huge hat. Huge!

Before I could utter a word, he spoke.

“Howdy! I’m Walpole E. Epstein. E with a period. I’m from Ayfumuss. Here’s my card.” And he thrust a business card into my hand – I almost dropped my door key receiving the card from him.

On the card were the initials A.I.F.M.S, Walpole’s name (with the period) and a number that was clearly an American telephone number.

“Hi” Walpole smiled, and I cautiously smiled back. “I’m here because I need your help.”

Walpole had a very ‘strong’ American accent. I’m not sure where it was actually from, but I remembered thinking that if anyone had the same accent as him, they too would think he had a strong accent… it was very pronounced.

(I’m not very good at writing in accents, so you’ll have to take my word for it).

“Actually,” Walpole continued, “I can help you as well, Tom.”

I nearly fell through the floor. A complete stranger knowing me wasn’t something I was expecting first thing in the morning.

“I know you wanna know more…” Walpole looked as though he knew something but was hiding it, “But all in good time. First, a bit about li’l ol’ me.”  I looked at my wrist and realised that I didn’t own a watch. I sighed inwardly. “I’m not actually here” he said, subdued.

I thought about closing the door and going back into the Mansion and ignoring him, but I would have had to walk passed him eventually as I had the feeling that he wasn’t going anywhere, so I looked interested instead.

“You’re not here?” I asked, pointedly looking at him – and the business card in my hand.

“Oh, I’m here now alright,” Walpole laughed boisterously, “Only not in body.” He put his hand through one of the stones in the wall around the door.

I was taken aback (and slightly puzzled as to how he rapped on the door so loudly if he could go through things). However, he knew what I was thinking. Typical.

“Your housemate, Dot, was speaking to me the other day and told me the best time to catch you, which is why I’m here now.”

Dot is my friendly ghost who appears every now and then to play with my electrical equipment. She hasn’t appeared to me for a while, so why would she speak to a random stranger?

“Dot hasn’t told me all about you…” Walpole laughed again. “No, I’ve gotten the information I need from your blog, and the blogs you visit.”

Obviously, he had done his homework very well, but unfortunately, not well enough. I had to correct him after almost every blog he quoted incorrectly.

“To prove I know all about you, I know that you visit the Incidental Catchie Mama…”
”Accidental Cootchie Mama”, I corrected.
”Kate Wednesday”
”Lone Adventures”
”Excuse me? Ah, never mind. Susan Shuden Nuden”
”Susan Sheldon Nolen”
”Sue Sleepwalker”

I was starting to get a little tired of correcting him, but still he went on. (And I must apologise to my fellow bloggers who have been so incorrectly named here. Links to all of their blogs are available throughout this site)

“The Hot European Wolf”
”Europa. And Ice Wolf”
”The Laughing Dormouse”
”And all of the other pirates, artists, poets, astrologers, writers, thinkers, dreamers, cooks and storytellers. I could go on… fascinating, the lot of them…”

“Yes, I know” I said, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, nothing really.” Walpole was starting to open a briefcase that I had just realised he was holding. I sighed.

“Nothing,” he went on, “apart from the fact that your mansion may help me to get from this strange zone that I’m trapped in, and back home. I’ve been stuck here for six months now, and desperately need to get back.”

So, he needed help from the Mansion. I know this Mansion is a magical place, but I’m not sure about dragging someone from another dimension.

Walpole had retrieved a handheld computer and was holding it in his left hand. In his right hand was a microphone, and as soon as he switched the computer on it started to squeak and squawk like nobody’s business. In the next instant, he barged passed me and ran up the stairway to the landing. He was heading for the bathroom.

The computer was screeching wildly by the time I’d caught up with him.

“This room” Walpole was very excited, “Is the hub. The central gateway between the many realms. It is my way to freedom.”

A wind suddenly blew by, into the bathroom, and in the centre something appeared. A swirling black and purple mass or something. I knew instantly that it was a black hole.

Walpole E. Epstein had opened a black hole in my bathroom. And it started to draw things into it.

Well, I can now see that these events are going to exceed what should fit into a blog post, especially on this blog, so I think this would be a good place for those immortal words ‘To Be Continued…’ to appear…

I really do wonder what could happen next…

Characters Calling: Lady Salinger-Wallis

Erm… sorry about this.

Originally posted on June 25th 2011:

Lady Salinger-Wallis squealed with delight as she slipped down the artificial ski-slope. She wasn’t standing; she had fallen at the top of the slope trying to attach one of her skis which had become detached from her left foot as she was about to ski for the very first time. She slid head first, from top to bottom, and laughed all the way down.
At the bottom, she stood up, took off the other ski, dusted herself down, and declared to the couple of complete strangers who were milling around, “I think that’s enough skiing for this lifetime!” and hobbled over to the cafe for a hot chocolate. She’d banged her knee in the fall, but the ache had only just been realised.

Still laughing, she ordered her coffee (in the walk, she had changed her mind about the chocolate) and sat in a large leather sofa that looked out onto the slope. A low table was in front of her, and the waitress placed her coffee down on the table.

“Would you like anything else?” the waitress asked, with a kind smile.

“No thank you,” Lady Salinger-Wallis returned the smile, and raised the cup. She burned her lip on the blisteringly hot coffee, and gave out a quick “Ooh”. She laughed again. “I don’t suppose you have any painkillers, dear?” she joked, and tried to take another sip. And she burned her lip again. She rolled her eyes and the waitress returned to her counter.

Edward Hamilton rushed passed the viewing area, and saw Lady Salinger-Wallis dabbing her lip. She tilted her head to one side, and waved with the hand she was using. Edward walked into the coffee shop, and sat on the chair that was next to the sofa the Lady was using.

“Oh, sit here!” Lady Salinger-Wallis patted the empty space beside her, “I won’t bite.” She laughed once more. Lady S loved to laugh.

“Are you alright?” Edward asked, with grave concern. “I saw you fall at the top and couldn’t believe how you fell all of the way down.”

“I’m fine” Lady S replied. “I have a bruised knee. I never realised skiing was so much fun!”

“Maybe I should have suggested something else for today ma’am,” Edward was Lady Salinger-Wallis’ chauffeur, and was slightly concerned for his job. “Maybe someone of your age should have…” He realised he was speaking without thinking, and decided to say no more.

“Nonsense!” Lady S finally had a sip of her coffee. “I asked you to suggest something different for today, and you did. And, I’m only fifty, young man.” She never missed anything.

She delved into her shoulder bag to take out her mirror. When she saw her reflection, she roared with laughter once again. “Look at my hair – it’s all over the place!” Edward noticed that it wasn’t. Lady S noticed the waitress over her shoulder in the reflection in her mirror. Behind the counter, the waitress was standing still, staring, as though she was in a trance.

“Eddie,” Lady S looked at her receipt for her coffee, “Go and get yourself a coffee from Clancy over there, and stop worrying. Today is my birthday. Let’s have some fun!”

Characters Calling: Caitlin

Apologies for this repost, but I couldn’t resist Caitlin’s demands to post this again. She made me write this in the first place, but, if I’m being honest, I rather quite like it myself.
There will be one or two more reposts shortly, I’m being bombarded with requests from the other characters I’ve written about… and who am I to refuse?

Originally posted December 25th 2012.

10th August 1911.
Dear Diary,
I’m so excited for the next year. My brother is getting married to Geraldine, and I’m going to be a bridesmaid. They won’t wed until June 15th, which is ages away, but still. A wedding. In my family. We’ve not had one for years.

2nd September 1911.
Dear Diary,
Geraldine is lovely. She’s a sister I’ve never had. She’s inspired me to go into the services. She works as a maid at a hotel in London, but she has given me the address to write to for a position that is far more exciting than what I currently have.

19th September 1911.
Dear Caitlin,
Mr James would like you to attend a meeting on 21st September, in London, regarding your recent request to join our Premier Service attendants in a brand new enterprise.
Dear Diary,
I had to write that from the letter I received yesterday. Oh, I’m excited. Short notice, I know, but this is how they work, according to Geraldine. Stephen tells me I’m being silly, and should stay with the Co-op, but I have so much more to offer. Geraldine says that with my nature, I’d be ahead in no time.

25th September 1911.
Dear Diary,
I’m so excited. Stephen and Geraldine have congratulated me on me gaining my new job. I can’t believe it myself. I’m confident enough with people who I know, but not with a lot of strangers. Mr James told me that I’d won him over with my smile… which is odd as I never do when I’m nervous. But he must have seen it.

5th October 1911.
Dear Diary,
I’ve not heard from Mr James for a while. Stephen says it’s my fault for taking things to heart, Geraldine says it’s Mr James’ fault as he’s very busy. I think I’m to blame because I’m too nervous.

15th October 1911.
Dear Diary,
Still no news from Mr James. Geraldine has said that she will speak to Mr James’ associate, to see what is happening. Stephen has told me I was rash to leave the Co-op, but I had to.

11th November 1911.
Dear Diary,
I’m so excited. My new uniform has arrived: a lovely white pinafore, black dress, shirt, and lovely hat. I need to buy some new shoes, my current ones are worn.

2nd December 1911.
Dear Diary,
Stephen and Geraldine have bought my new shoes. I’m eternally grateful. I can’t wait to serve them proudly at their wedding… in fact, I’m going to give them the best wedding ever (if I can).

5th December 1911.
Dear Diary,
Stephen has told me Geraldine is very ill with flu. She can hardly breathe. I hope she gets better… I know it’s a few months off her wedding, but we have so much to talk about. I want to do her proud.

15th December 1911.
Dear Diary,
Geraldine just called around with Christmas cards. She’s looking so much better I can’t believe it. Mrs Colmthorpe from round the circle has had the flu for weeks. Doctor Simmons has been out to her twice. Geraldine’s simply magical.

24th December 1911.
Dear Diary,
Stephen has brought the Christmas decorations around. They look lovely. Wreaths and holly, ivy, streamers and berries. He spent four hours decorating the parlour. It feels so Christmassy.

25th December 1911.
Dear Diary,
Geraldine has bought me a good luck trinket. A bracelet to wear – secretly – for when I start my new job. She says we all need something secret when we start something new, to help us along. There’s a place in the trinket for a small photo graph of whomever I want. I may take Stephen and Geraldine with me.

1st January 1912.
Dear Diary,
Oh my goodness. Happy new year.
I’ve met the most incredible person ever. Even Stephen likes him. He’s just started at the Co-op where I used to work, and he’s marvellous. He’s a butcher, but he says he is destined for other things.

5th January 1912.
Dear Diary,
Harold called around again. He’s lovely, I want to be with him all of the time, but I can’t. I have my walk to learn. My talk. My shoulders need to be in the right place.

1st February 1912.
Dear Diary,
I’m so excited. Harold wants me to go to the Spring Dance. I’ve never been asked to any dance before… I blush thinking about it. Stephen and Geraldine goad me. But now I start to wonder if I should continue to see Harold.

22nd February 1912.
Dear Diary,
I don’t know what to do. Harold has discovered my birth date, and now knows that I’m not as old as I said I was. Only a couple of years, but a lie is a lie. But it was Geraldine’s idea, so was I very wrong in saying it in the first place? Harold isn’t very happy.

4th March 1912.
Dear Diary,
Geraldine has fallen out with me. She says she never told me to tell Harold my incorrect age, although she did. Stephen hasn’t said anything about that, but looks at me as though I’ve done something wrong. He told me yesterday that Harold is the next in line to become a supervisor at the Co-op and I could have got my job back if I hadn’t have lied. But Diary, I never lied. I just never said.

8th March 1912.
Dear Diary,
Harold dropped a birthday card off for Geraldine, without speaking to me, although he handed it to me with a slight smile. The postman dropped a letter off for me as well. I’m so excited I can’t write anymore!

10th March 1912.
Dear Diary,
It’s been a couple of days – hectic days. Harold has said that he understands why I caused confusion with my age, as I do look younger than I am anyway. Geraldine has started talking to me again after I apologised for saying that she’d told me to lie about my age. And Stephen has asked if I want to work with Harold at the Co-op. But I can’t. But I can’t say anything either.

20th March 1912.
Dear Caitlin,
You are to report to Southampton on 8th April to ensure you are fully conversant with the current company protocols.
Dear Diary,
I’m so excited. I’m going to be conversant with protocols, whatever that means! I had to tell Geraldine about the letter, and she sat dumbfounded. She couldn’t believe that I’d actually been accepted, although she said that she knew that I would. She told me that she wouldn’t tell Stephen.

30th March 1912.
Dear Diary,
I’m so apprehensive. Have I made the right choice in taking this on? I’ve never worked in services before… and I have to travel miles away to a different town to do it.

31st March 1912.
Dear Diary,
I’m so excited. I’ve thrown my apprehensions away, and I’m going to do it! I need to have some money to get Stephen and Geraldine a lovely present for their wedding – they’ve made me Chief Bridesmaid now. And Stephen has asked Harold to be Best Man.

6th April 1912.
Dear Diary,
I have to go to London again tomorrow so I can start to learn how to do my new job. Harold, Geraldine and Stephen threw a rather nice party for me last night, to send me off. I’m excited, dear Diary, but apprehensive.

9th April 1912.
Dear Diary,
I’m VERY apprehensive. I’ve learned how to do the servicing job, and I’ve learned the correct manner in which to speak to people – I was a natural, the teacher said – but it’s two months off Stephen and Geraldine’s wedding, and I want to be back for it. I don’t want to let them down.

10th April 1912.
Dear Diary,
There are lots of us here, I’m so excited! We all look so good in our new uniforms. I’ve made a new friend in Betty and we both hope we can share a cabin together. Betty’s lovely. She asked to see the photos in the secret trinket that Geraldine gave me, and she said that Geraldine reminded her of her sister. When we get back in a few weeks, I’ll ask Geraldine if Betty can come to the wedding, to see if they are related. Well, stranger things have happened. This ship we’re serving on looks fabulous. Even the name sends shivers down our spines… ‘The Titanic’. Betty’s so excited! She says this is her pathway to a great future! I’ve told her this is just the start of her journey, but now is the important bit. A new adventure. We don’t know where we’re going to end up, but if we continue to feel as good as we do now, we’ll always feel good. We’re both so excited!

Contemplation of the cat

The dark. The cool. The shade.

It’s late.

I’m alone.

Footsteps ahead.
I hide. Crouching silently. Waiting patiently.
Twigs crack. Birds squawk. Eyes narrow.

I watch. I stare.
It’s now. Or never.
I stretch. I pounce. I reach. I flex. I grab.

I miss.

Next time. I’ll feed.

I’m hungry.

Freak or not?

I looked down on the lights of the streets and buildings below. Car headlights and taillights mixing with the yellows, oranges and whites of the streetlights seemed to create a multi-coloured maze of straight lines criss-crossing each other. The rain caused the edges of these lines to blur, and the side streets were considerably darker than the main roads.

I do not know how I long I hovered there. The rain was as refreshing as the wind, and as I needed to find some space of my own, the elements helped me to stay aware of where I actually was. Being so high up certainly gave me the space I wanted, but if I forgot I was so high, even for a split second, I would have plummeted, and I certainly didn’t want to do that.

It takes a lot to be able to lift myself off the ground ever so slightly, so to be able to soar so high requires a lot of concentration. To hover, that concentration is multiplied ten, possibly one hundred times.

I love the feeling when I am floating. I especially love the feeling when I am flying, my body literally becomes ‘one’ with the air around me. I’m not exactly weightless, as I can feel the forces of gravity wanting to keep me on the ground, but I somehow manage to counter balance the gravity, push against it, although pushing makes it sound as though I am exerting energy, which I most definitely am not. I’m just there. Just ‘being’ in the air.

I can’t explain the physics behind it. How can a man fly? I don’t have wings, yet there I am, quite regularly making my way above town.

I make sure I always do it at night. I can’t afford to be seen in the daytime, can you imagine people’s reaction if I was to be spotted?  It’s a pity really, as I feel I could do so much more if I could allow myself to be seen in the daylight hours, but it is just too risky. I’d be classed a freak, and I don’t think that I am. I have a different ability, that’s all.

The odd thing about being different is the reaction of others. Some differences are OK, and accepted. Other differences are shunned, and special abilities never get to be used to their full potential. Therefore, most people who are different reject their differences and become one of the normal crowd. They blend in. They dress the same, walk the same, talk the same. They lose their individuality.

That’s exactly what I’ve done. I’ve blended in so much, I’m not noticed anymore. I can dress differently yet still not be seen.

So, that’s why I needed my space; to think. To weigh things up.  Flying takes me away from everything and gives me all the space I need. Which is odd when you think that I can feel as alone in a crowded room as I feel when I’m above town hovering. The thing is, I like the feeling of solitude when I’m in flight as opposed to the feeling of solitude in a full room.

What else can I do, though? Maybe everyone is right and I am a freak. Maybe it is best that I keep my flying to myself.

I like the view from up there. I can see for miles even in the darkness, yet I never get what I am actually looking for. Answers. One answer to one question, really. Why me?

Waiting and thinking

The wind blew the dusty grit right into our eyes as we stood at the wagonette stop.

Since the great sandstorm, and motorised vehicles were written off in one foul-tasting swoop, we’ve all had to go back to the old-fashioned way of travelling by horse.

Those with the money had their own horses or five, whereas we, without money, had to resort to using public transport once again, or walk.

The remains of rusty old cars, and buses, litter every road. Nature has reclaimed some of the land, seedlings are growing out of what used to be the middle of very busy roads. Traffic lights stand dark. Some still work, but not very well, as the sand is starting to play havoc with the power stations. It won’t be long before the power goes completely too.

It’s unaffordable nowadays anyway. Those with the money can only afford to light one room, so us without have to make do with candlelight. And candles don’t come cheap these days either. I think those candle makers are cashing in.

I don’t know what will happen once the power goes. Especially now that winter is coming on. It wasn’t too bad during the autumn with the power cuts, and we could keep warm with blankets and duvets when it started to feel a little chilly. But now, in winter, it’s looking bleak. Those with solar power are trying to clear the sand from the panels and the workings within, so we may get some power that way, but it’s a long way off.

They’re setting up community fires now in the old abandoned supermarkets, so we can go for a quick warm when we need it, and they’re also putting on hot drinks and trying to get some food. At least things are looking good there. And they’re trying to get markets open again so we can start to sell and buy things, rather than having to run around like savages taking what we can find.

It’s not too bad, I suppose. The house still stands and it’s rent-free. It’s mine now, actually, since the council handed them over to the tenants, as they couldn’t afford to keep them. My house is getting tidied up now. The sandy dust has all been cleared out, and the furniture and clothes and other things are useable again. There’s no running water, since that was all clogged up weeks ago, so we have to go to the supermarkets to get cleaned. That’s a bit of a chore. Waiting in a room full of smelly people to be able to go into another room to wash some of the smell away – with other smelly people. At least the smell is going away now. Or we’re getting used to it. Even those with money have to use these places – we’re all in the same boat here!

The sky’s clearing. There are some blue patches getting through the greyish yellow that it’s been for a while. I think that once the dust finally settles, we’ll have perfect blue skies for days on end. I just wish that the dust would hurry up and settle.

Here’s the wagonette now; it’s full again. Some days it’s better to walk, but it’s free. We’re all going to the washroom anyway so it doesn’t really matter how crammed in together we are. We all smell the same going as we do coming back anyway! We always laugh at that one!

Oh, it’s gone right passed. Must be too full. I may as well walk. I’ve been here two hours already, and it’s the third one to sail by without stopping.

The wind’s getting up again. The sand is starting to sting my eyes once more.

That’s it. I’ll walk. The others have gone already.

What I like about all this what’s going on now, is no-one moans. We just get on with things.

A quick repost this of a dusty old tale from back in 2012. I was meant to be writing something new today, but my mind and the thoughts within had other ideas. Still, a nagging thought told me to repost this one… so I have!

Ivy Giles

Ivy Giles is the farmer’s wife
Or was, as the case may be
For when she was in her human life
It was Seventeen Sixty-Three

Patience, her faithful dog
Had a loud and ferocious bark
And Silas, her trusty mog
Had an aversion to the dark

She had a pig named Primrose Blue
Who didn’t like the cat
He wasn’t keen on Patience too,
And sadly that was that

The pig would chase the cat and hound
All across the fields
So Ivy took the pig to town
To the traders and their deals

With the coins she bought a cow
And named her Henrietta
But by her farm she heard a row
As she was greeted by her setter

The dog didn’t like the cow you see
And she chased her down the lane
Ivy Giles laughed inwardly
And thought “Here we go again…”

And most definitely here we do go again… a quick repost of a random rhyme… just because…

Wine Taster

The red wine was warm, sweet and sickly.

Not to his taste at all, although he pretended to enjoy it. He smiled at his companion after taking another sip. He liked this part of the chase; the teasing. He knew he would be quenching his real thirst very shortly.

Another filler for today; a repost; a taster for Halloween. Well, we do need a hint of vampire every now and then to spice things up…

Contract 42: The Eternal Circular

Queenie noticed the bus approaching in the distance, over the brow of the hill.

“That’s an old bus” she muttered to herself as she rummaged through the stack of old Lottery tickets and sweet wrappers in her handbag, looking for her bus pass. She didn’t speak aloud, although there was nobody else with her at the bus stop.

There was a distinct chill in the air. Queenie shivered as she realised winter wasn’t far away.

Within a matter of minutes, the bus had arrived. Queenie actually thought the bus was going to drive straight passed her, but she realised that the entrance to the bus was at the back.

“Goodness,” she said, “this takes me back.”

Without paying much attention to what she was doing, she grabbed hold of the bar to pull herself onto the bus, and was instantly reminded of a terrible day many years ago.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, she stepped onto the bus and held her bus pass up to nobody in particular. She was so used to doing that when she got on to the buses at the front, it came natural to do so at the other end as well.

She found an empty seat, sat herself down and made herself comfortable.

The bus had only just started when Queenie noticed the rotting and rancid smell. She looked up, and saw that a strange green mist had descended outside, and the mist was licking at the opening at the back of the bus. It was at that point that she realised the bus had turned into a road on the left and had started heading downhill, whereas it should have travelled straight along the road.

“Excuse me,” she looked at the person sitting opposite her, “Is this the number one?”. She realised the rancid smell wasn’t from outside, but from this person. All of the passengers, in fact.

They were zombies. Creatures of the night. Even the young girl at the front of the bus who looked like… No.

Queenie pinched herself. “Fancy dress,” she thought, “Not far off Halloween now”.

The young girl looked around, and laughed childishly and maniacally.

“Queenie, you never paid any attention to what you did, did you?” The young girl’s head was at a funny angle to how it should have been.

“B-Bess?” Queenie stuttered. “After all these years.” She noticed Bess was staring at her.

“This isn’t the number one, Queenie. If you’d have checked the number on the front you’d have seen it’s a special bus, a contract bus, contract 42. The Eternal Circular.” Bess still held her face in a contorted smile. Her eyes filled with a frighteningly sinister glee.

“Contract 42?” It made no sense to Queenie.

“This is the bus you tied me to when we were little.” Bess continued. “You made me be the dog. You tied me to the bar on the back of the bus with the rope. The bus was the number 42. The bus drove off with me attached. You must remember, Queenie. You must.”

“That was an accident. We were young. They said you were OK.” Queenie was flustered.

“You never checked, Queenie. You never did. You never do. You’ve won the Lottery more than once, but you never checked. That’s why you’ve never won. It’s OK now though, because you’re here on this bus forever, with us all.”

Bess sat herself down next to Queenie. “We’re going to have so much fun. You can be the dog today.”

Horrified, all Queenie could do was look at the bruises around Bess’ neck.

“Why didn’t I check the number?” She thought as she realised she was now stuck on this eternal circular, heading nowhere fast through a thick green mist. With zombies.

A quick repost from last year, maybe a little too soon, maybe not, but a good ol’ Zombie tale is always needed around Halloween. Well, I think so, anyway. And this is the Eternal Circular, after all, so it’s bound to return again and again.

I’ve made a few alterations, but only on the odd word or two, so this is basically as it was last year, next year, I’ll try to strip it down to its bones and then pad it with a little more zombie goodness. Well, we’ll see.

Normal madness will (or should) return tomorrow. What do you mean ‘did it go away’? Harrrumph.

It’s all perfectly normal around here. Just ask the Vampire Sheep.