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Lah – A Short Story From Far Away

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Have you been wondering how brilliant scientists can send a space ship millions of miles, yet mess up something as simple as landing gear? Me too. It turns out, there is a very good reason why Philae failed to land properly. To learn the truth, read on…

 

Lah wasn’t much to look at. He knew it and everyone else did too. Three feet tall, the sort of grey you found round the dark side of the comet and completely bald. In those respects, he was identical to the rest of his extended family.

It was the fine details where he failed.

His nose was a little too large and his ears a touch on the small side. His eyes looked like they were trying to mate and his arms hung half a foot lower than the rest of the tribe.

He had been reminded of these deficiencies for much of his childhood and things hadn’t changed much since. Every time the comet span, he rose from his tiny bed deep in the rock, scratched his way out through the tunnels and onto the surface.

That’s when it began. The snide remarks, the nudges that sent him spiraling away from the comet on his bungee whilst all the others laughed. Decades had passed and still they picked on him and still they bullied him. Even the mother didn’t treat him with the same love and devotion she gave the rest.

It had gotten bad recently. In the last few years he’d started to dream of the inevitable Day of Wonder. One day soon, their tiny home would change and become a glorious meteorite. On that day, they would plunge through the atmosphere of some distant planet and life as they knew it would end.

He longed for it. He would lie in his bed, stare at the stone inches from his nose, cross all eighteen fingers and toes and pray that the next day they would find that elusive planet.

But today would be different. Because Lah was going to catch God.

The great and mighty being had arrived a few days ago and now span around their tiny home, over and over again. For the first few hours, they had stood and stared, mouths open wide in amazement. Once they realised it wasn’t going to speak to them, they went back to their work.

But Lah’s mind had started turning and when it did, wonderful things happened. They mocked him and laughed at him, but they all knew he was smarter than them. He wondered sometimes whether that wasn’t why they were so cruel.

He had stopped mentioning the automatic crane arm that they now relied on for most of the work. The crane arm he had invented. He’d stopped even thinking about the space nets that caught their food. The space nets he’d created. They knew, just as well as he, that without his expertise, they would still be grubbing around in the minerals, instead of living like little grey kings.

Nowadays, he kept quiet and kept mining. But the arrival of God had changed everything. Today he was going to show the rest of his extended and narrow-minded family they were wrong to mock him.

He slipped from his bed shelf and out into the corridor. He gave the dust shower a cursory glance of his body and pulled on his overalls. As he did every day, Lah sniffed at the drab grey material. Given more time away from mining, he could create something wonderful to wear. Something with colours.

He reached the surface, clipped on his bungee, and the father pressed a pick into his hands. He joined the others and soon found himself hacking away at the dirt grey rock of their home. Tiny flecks of stone flew off into space and he paused to watch one.

As if it knew his thoughts, it turned and turned until it brushed past God. The mighty being hung above them, its wings spread wide and shining in the light from the distant sun. In its centre, the red, flashing eyes were still staring down on them.

The Philae landing craft... God

The Philae landing craft… God

Did it judge them?

He had to imagine so. But what did it see? Did it see their hard work? Did it see his mind, whirring and thinking? He liked to think so. It was, after all, God, so surely it saw everything.

Lunch break came and he put down his pick with shaking hands. The time had come to enact his masterful and daring plan. He crouched, bracing his legs for the jump. His heart pounded against his tiny ribs and he rubbed his chest in a vain attempt to slow it. He could do this.

He stared up at God and everything stopped. God was changing. He came out of his crouch, mouth falling open. God was opening and inside was a creature. Small and hexagonal and covered in beautiful silvery panels, it spoke to him. That was when he realised. The mighty craft they had been watching wasn’t God.

This was God. This perfect little machine being exposed beneath the craft was the real deity. Then he realised something else.

It was going to land.

He came out of his crouch and raced back through his family, ignoring the usual sniggers and sneers. He needed to figure out where it was coming down. He unclipped as he dashed into the tunnels. He slithered to his room, pulled out his toolkit and scurried back up to the surface.

The craft was still opening. But the landing would be soon. He set up his seeing eye and got a closer look. It was even more beautiful close up and he could see fire emerging from the back of God. It was angry. Either that or it was firing a propulsion device to bring it down to the surface.

Considering the faultless hard work it had observed, Lah figured it was more likely to be readying itself for a descent. He had already tracked and recorded the orbit of God and now he set off to follow it.

The surface of his home was pitted and mountainous, rising and falling faster than his peers’ opinions of his worth, and chasing God was hard work. But it was worth it. The great being shook and came free of its craft and in that moment, he knew exactly where it would land.

Beh’s plateau. It was flat, smooth and the perfect place from which God could survey him and his family. He scrambled across the comet until he reached the plateau and got himself set. He would need to secure God the moment it touched down. He also had to be certain it couldn’t escape.

Lah stretched ties across the plateau and set up his electronic counter measures. Once he was done, he hunkered down just over the edge and waited. Sure enough, a few minutes later, God hove into view.

He couldn’t contain himself and squeaked and squeaked as the great being came closer. So shiny. So straight and neat and ordered. God came closer still. Lah paused with his finger over the button. Was he sure he wanted to do this? It felt like sacrilege, but he couldn’t stop himself. Once he’d caught God, they couldn’t look down on him, not ever again.

He thumbed the button and watched with wide eyes as the legs sprouting from beneath God halted halfway out. He’d done it. The mighty being landed on the ties and Lah held his breath.

They didn’t spring closed.

What was going on? He leapt out from hiding and began to check the tensions, but it was too late.

His eyes narrowed and he clawed the rough stone as God struck the comet and bounced off. As it sailed back into space, Lah chased it with a howl of frustration. God was leaving. God couldn’t leave, not when he was so close to finally finding his redemption.

But he was watching its flashing red lights dwindling into the blackness far above his head and there was nothing he could… he slapped his little grey head and shook it. There was something he could do. He scrabbled back to where he left his pack and pulled out his stuff.

Scraps of electronics salvaged from the space nets and tied together with chunks of clumsy solder formed the huge device he held in his hands. He opened the back and tweaked it, pulling wires out and moving them here and there. Satisfied, he slapped the back in place and switched it on. It came alive with a hum and he smiled. He could do this.

Lah twisted dials and listened with his tiny head cocked to one side. His machine made buzzes and clicks and whirrs, but through it came the unmistakable sound of circuitry, live circuitry. He tuned in on the signal and sent out a homing beacon. Sure enough, the signal changed and responded, calling back to him.

He was speaking to God.

He whooped and giggled, then stopped himself. It couldn’t land here. Everyone would know it was here and that wouldn’t work. They’d take it from him. They’d steal his secret and take God apart to see how it ticked. Lah scooped up his pack and started to run.

He dashed across the barren landscape, darting round towers of rock shorn smooth by the solar winds. He raced down canyons and through narrow defiles until he reached his secret spot. It was perfect.

He checked his machine and nodded. It was still a long way out, but it was communicating with him. He was getting other signals also. Something, or someone, was trying to communicate with it. Someone else thought they could talk to God.

He grinned, showing his little sharp teeth, and upped the power on his box of tricks. The other signal faded away and God’s voice came through loud and clear. Now he just had to wait.

It was the longest three hours of his life. Every second that passed brought God a little closer. But it was also another second that might mean someone came out looking for him. They rarely did when he went walkabout. It wasn’t like there was anywhere for him to go and when night fell, he had to be in the tunnels. But still, just the thought of it made him shiver and wrap his arms around himself.

The hours passed, agonisingly slowly, until God came into view. The red lights flickered as it came down and underneath the cliff. Lah set his machine down and stepped back, bowing and resting his forehead against the cold rock.

God landed.

Its feet hadn’t extended fully and it sat at an angle.

Lah watched God.

God watched Lah.

He was about to creep closer when God made a series of beeps and began to move. First, tiny drills emerged from beneath it and drove into the stone. Then other devices came out, sniffing the rock and flicking at it.

It all looked a little mundane. Lah watched for as long as he could before he had to race back to the cave as night fell. The night was long and he slept for little of it. The second the day bell went, he was up and racing once more across the surface of his home.

God was still there. He leant against the rock and waited until his thumping heart slowed before approaching. God was beeping quietly to itself, the red lights flashing on and off.

He spent the day with it. Sometimes he spoke to it. He told it the tales of his people. He told it their dreams and their beliefs and how he had always known that God would one day come, as it had so many years ago. He told it his own dreams, even the guilty ones that would bring his life to an end. He told it about the bullying and the mocking and how much he hated his life.

Sometimes he just watched. The drills would pop out now and then, as did the arms. The beeping went on and off. The lights flashed. It was thrilling. And slightly boring.

Perhaps it wanted something. He sneaked back into the caves and pinched some minerals from the kitchen. He tried to feed God, but there wasn’t anywhere he could put them. He ended up scattering them beneath it for the drills to grind into.

Night time came again and he sloped grudgingly back to his bed. God was hungry and he didn’t know how to feed it. God was thirsty, but what could he give it to drink? He slept better that night, but woke with no more idea of what he could do.

He was heading out once more when the father caught him.

‘Now, now, Lah, one day off is more than enough.’

‘But father—’

‘No. There is mining to be done and although you work more slowly than your brothers and sisters, still you must contribute.’

It wasn’t true. He worked just as fast as they did. He worked faster than some. But they weren’t smart like him. And they didn’t have funny, close-together eyes. He scowled, accepted the pick and went to work.

He didn’t have the chance to visit God again that day. He slowed on his way back to the tunnels, but night was falling and he couldn’t make it there and back in time. He growled and climbed reluctantly into his bed.

The next day he was up before the bell and waiting for the distant sun to crack across the pitch black of the comet. When it came he was out, clipping on his bungee and racing down towards his secret spot.

God was still there! He picked up his pace, smile finally creeping across his face. It wasn’t until he was almost there that he slowed. The smile fell and he dropped to his knees.

The red lights were gone. God was dead. Or sleeping. Perhaps it was just resting. It would wake soon. He crawled across the last few feet and sat with his back against the wall, staring at the tiny eyes in God’s side.

He waited.

The day passed and God slept on.

The next day was the same. And the next. Every morning he would leave the caves before the day bell and race to check on God and every day would be the same.

Lah had failed. Somewhere between the food and the drink, he had failed God and left it to die. He sobbed for days, inconsolable. All he could think was that if he hadn’t tried to catch God, none of this would have happened.

He had killed God.

As the days passed, he stopped sitting beside God. Instead he would climb up the cliff and sit atop it, staring up into space. God’s craft still circled his home, waiting patiently. Did it know something Lah did not? What secrets did it house inside its shell?

As time went by, the first seeds of an idea crept it. If he could just get up there…

Podcast – Scarlet’s Web – Episode Seven

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Scarlet’s Web is the fourth chapter in the life of Scarlet Rose Parker, Tumblr veteran, lover of pizza and Harry Potter-obsessed teenage magician.

In episode six of Scarlet’s Web, Scarlet went to prison, then had a meeting with some guys whose title is way too long and boring to talk about here. She decided she couldn’t go home without saving her skinny self. That was when things began to get interesting…

Written, read and produced by Michael Cairns.

The next episode will be available to download next week. Happy listening.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Mr Amazing – A Superhero Story. Pt 2 of 2

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The day went downhill from there. His period four, year elevens were hell on Earth, so halfway through mangling algebra, he froze the lot of them and spent ten minutes reading his paper. The first five minutes were pure bliss, but after that the fear of someone coming in and seeing 28 students frozen in time, mouths open in mid-cuss and hands raised clutching paper airplanes posed for flight, ruined it.

In the end he unfroze them, shouted a lot, and managed to get most of them to work out the value of A. Lunch time was duty again and he spent most of it trying to catch Michelle’s eye without making it too obvious. In the end he wasn’t obvious enough and she didn’t see him. Or she did see him and ignored him.

The suit was chafing. He’d forgotten that about the day suit, but it never seemed that important when he was fighting for his life. Trying to find the circumference of a circle, however, wasn’t quite thrilling enough to block out the constant itching in his crotch.

The year sevens trooped dutifully out and he prepared himself for period six, the last of the day. The year tens arrived in dribs and drabs, mooching along. Most were far too cool to wear costumes, but there were a couple of half-assed Batmans and one, horribly tight-fitting Flash that had him wincing.

He opened his mouth to begin and closed it again. He could teach the lesson, but he’d spent the last week getting excited about today and all he’d done so far was break up a fight and cause the removal from the space time continuum of 28 maladjusted teenagers. There had to be more he could do.

Ten minutes later, the fifth member of the class climbed onto the table he held above his head whilst he continued talking. ‘So, as you can see, sometimes weight doesn’t equal—’

‘AHHHHHHHH!’

The table wobbled and nearly went over before he got his hands to it. He deposited the desk, complete with five wide-eyed students, on the floor and dashed out into the corridor.

The maths department was on the main drag through the school building and at the same moment Mr Amazing came rushing out, another fifteen or so teachers stuck their heads out of their doors. Not that someone shouting AHHHHHH in school was all that unusual, but this cry had an extra layer of panic and pain.

At the far end of the corridor stood someone Mr Amazing had hoped never to see again. He never thought of himself as having arch nemeses, but had he done so, The Incredibly Evil Bastard would have come top of the list. They had fought four times in total and every time, the Incredibly Evil Bastard had escaped through some dastardly fiendish plot.

He stood now, resplendent in his lime green lycra, glaring straight down the hall at Mr Amazing. John’s eyes, though, were drawn to the woman struggling in his grasp. Michelle, despite the Wonder Woman costume, looked terrified, her eyes wide and her face pale. It was no wonder. The Incredibly Evil Bastard held his Instant Manglation ray gun to her head.

Mr Amazing set off, not thinking even for a second of what it would mean for his job. So long as someone wasn’t filming him. He’d taken about two steps when he heard someone gasp and looked to his left. Natasha had crept out of his classroom and had her phone pointing at him.

‘Natasha, what are the rules on mobiles in school?’

‘Only ever outside, never ever inside?’ She tried to make it sound like a question, as though that would make her somehow innocent.

‘And where are you now?’

‘But, siiir?’

‘Put it away or I’ll take it away.’

She scowled and slipped it into her shirt pocket. He took a step towards her, warning eyebrows at full raise and her scowl widened. She pulled the phone out and disappeared back into the classroom to put it in her bag. He turned and ran full pelt for the villain still posturing at the end of the hall.

He couldn’t help noticing that most of the other teachers had gone back into their classrooms and closed their doors. Some things just weren’t worth the effort at three pm on a Friday. Miss Hidgepuddle, on the other hand, had left her RE room and was striding purposefully towards the Incredibly Evil Bastard.

Now and then, Mr Amazing was grateful for his super hearing. The nascent twang of a warming-up elastic band had certainly saved him more than once from untold misery. This, however, wasn’t one of those times.

‘Excuse me, young man, but I really do think you’re taking things a little too far. Please release that teacher and perhaps you and I can talk about the appropriate levels of student/teacher rela— goodness me, Mr Ashworth.’

Mr Amazing stopped in his tracks, mouth falling open. It couldn’t be. He couldn’t be him. Suddenly, though, it made perfect sense. Dave had always been morally lapse. John had once been moment’s away from accusing him of stealing his white board rubber, which in a school was only one rung below murder and piracy. Add to that a distinct lack of respect for anything involving Pi and it was obvious. Of course Dave was a super villain.

Mr Amazing strode closer until he could gently move Miss Hidgepuddle to one side. ‘Please, I’ll take over from here.’

‘Mr Evans? Take over what, don’t be daft, I just want an AHHHHH!’

This time the scream was fatal. Dave, aka, the Incredibly Evil Bastard, had turned his ray on Miss Hidgepuddle and moments later all that remained of her was some mangled, bloody remains. The teachers and students John had hoped were tucked away in their classrooms all began to scream and panic at the same time.

He had to ignore them, though. The real danger lay right in front of him. Michelle and Dave were both staring at him. Michelle was green but still giving him an admiring look. Dave’s mouth hung open and he shook his head.

‘It can’t be. Bloody hell, you’re Mr bloody Amazing. How didn’t I realise?’

‘Maybe because I was kicking your arse every time we met.’

‘Hah, good try, mate. I seem to remember putting you in traction with a bus not so long ago.’

‘Actually, that was two years ago, and in case you’ve forgotten, you needed help from Swamp Boy and the Fantastic Diego.’ He glared at Dave, resting his clenched fists on his hips. ‘Let her go.’

‘What? You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? I’ve been trying to get her for—’

‘Dave, you’ve been here nine months. That’s not really all that long. Besides which, you aren’t getting anything, you’re kidnapping her and that is unlikely to get you very far.’

‘My name isn’t Dave.’ The words came from between clenched teeth. ‘It’s the Incredibly Evil Bastard.’

‘Right now, you’re being the Incredibly Stupid Twat. Now let her go.’

‘NEVER.’ Dave aimed his ray gun and fired. John leapt aside, grabbed the top of the stair rail and threw himself straight over Dave’s head. He landed just as his enemy span around, still with one arm wrapped around Michelle. But she slowed him just enough for John to launch his own attack.

His fists blurred and Dave was forced to block.

‘Run, Michelle, go.’

She wriggled free and raced off down the corridor, chased by Dave’s anguished cry. Mr Amazing kept attacking, driving blow after blow against the Incredibly Evil Bastard’s defence. It soon crumbled and his blows began to land on his face and chest. Dave dropped to one knee, then two knees until Mr Amazing was able to launch one, mighty strike that knocked him flat on his back.

‘Enough. Please, you’ve got me, just, please, that’s enough.’

Mr Amazing stepped back, folding his arms and glaring down at the Incredibly Evil Bastard. ‘You’re going to jail this time, you Incredibly Evil Bastard.’

‘I know. I just, I love her so badly.’

John groaned and shook his head. ‘Please, don’t embarrass yourself.’

‘Haven’t you ever loved someone?’

John glanced over his shoulder. Michelle stood close by and she caught his eye. He smiled and the returning look was another invitation. He swelled and turned back to the Incredibly Evil Bastard. ‘Maybe I have. But I wouldn’t kidnap them.’

Dave’s eyes were wide open and his lips were pulled back from his mouth. ‘Her? You love her? You can’t, she’s mine.’ He moved faster than John had ever seen and the ray was back in his hand. ‘You can’t have her, you can’t.’

Dave fired and John raised an arm in some pointless attempt to stop his impending doom. A doom that never came.

A sound like breaking glass rattled down the corridor and John reluctantly opened his eyes. Dave still crouched before him, ray held up, but he wasn’t moving. A glowing, hissing yellow rope was wrapped tight around his arms and neck, holding him in place.

Between himself and The Incredibly Evil Bastard, John saw Michelle’s arm. The wrist band on it looked like really good fancy dress, like someone had spent a lot of time hand stitching the leather. He followed the arm back to its owner and stared at her.

‘No way.’ He breathed and she smiled and nodded.

‘I have to ask, where are you guys from? Is there some new indie that’s been doing well? Don’t tell me you’re some new crap Marvel’s cooked up, because in my day, the Incredibly Evil Bastard would never had stood up as a name.’

‘You’re…’

‘Yeah. Get used to it, cowboy. Tell me, what was your get-out plan, if I wasn’t here?’

His mouth flapped open and closed and he shrugged. ‘Um, I don’t know.’

‘You see, that’s why you’ll never be working for one of the big guys. I mean, Marvel will try anything if they think they can get away with it, but my boys? They require a certain degree of logic to their close calls. You were mangled any moment’

Wonder Woman sighed, shook her head and turned away. She stalked down the corridor and he stared after her, watching her long black hair wave like some fantastical realisation of a child hood dream. ‘Wait, Michelle.’

‘Diana, please.’

He flushed and looked at his feet.

‘Are you coming then?’

He glanced up. She was standing at the corner of the corridor, one finger cocked and beckoning. With his heart in his mouth, John raced after her.

As they left the school, a plethora of police cars arrived with sirens blaring. The two of them strode away without so much as an enquiry, two superheroes amongst the crowd of costumes milling outside.

 

That evening, in a little house in a long row of little houses, Mr Amazing hung up his day suit and settled himself in his armchair. It had been something of an unusual day, and it wasn’t over yet. For the first night in six years, he was going to have company on patrol. Now if he could just sort out the chafing, life would be perfect.

 

The next story will begin on Monday 24th November

Mr Amazing – A Superhero Story. Part 1 of 2

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This one was inspired by a charity event at our school last Thursday. The theme at ours was Film and TV, but everything else happened exactly as I’ve told it here… 🙂

 

In a small house, in a long row of small houses, lived Mr Amazing. As the sun crept through his window, he woke, stretched and lifted his legs out of bed.

On most mornings, Mr Amazing would slouch to the bathroom, perform his ablutions and slouch downstairs. He’d tuck into a bowl of cereals, whilst maintaining that soft sort of grumble normally mastered by single men who know their clubbing days are far behind them.

Today was different.

Today, Mr Amazing leapt from his bed with the life and irritating chirpiness of a five year old on Christmas morning. He bounded into the bathroom, performed his ablutions with an alacrity that amazed even him and took the stairs two at a time. As he tucked into his cereal, he flicked on the news.

‘…Schools all over the country will be taking part. This is being called the single biggest charity event the country has ever seen.’

Mr Amazing settled his spoon on the side of his bowl and beamed at the TV. The newscaster went on.

‘The theme this year is superheroes, which I know my children are very excited about. We’ll be visiting schools all through the day and bringing you pictures of the best costumes, so stay tuned.’

She continued but Mr Amazing had already drifted away into wonderful thoughts of what lay ahead. He had twenty four hours, not even that, and he was determined to make the most of it. Cereals finished, he headed back up stairs and opened his cupboard. He leant in and pressed the small button hidden behind his trousers and leather-elbowed tweed suits. The movement was unconscious, but there was something wonderfully fresh about doing it with the sun coming through the window that made his stomach perform back flips.

He chuckled as the back of the wardrobe slid aside and he stepped into the dark space behind. The lights came up as he put his weight on the floor and he checked the cave. The weapons racks were untouched and his cleaning stone was empty. It had been a quiet week.

His suits hung on their stands and he paused before them. He’d been using the night suit for so long he rarely even looked at the day suit. But it was definitely a day suit kind of day. He took down the lycra tights and top and pulled them on. He wrinkled his nose at the mustiness, then attached his utility belt, clipped on his cloak and slid into his boots.

The mask came last. He checked himself in the mirror and smiled. The kids would think the six pack was part of the suit. Despite the lack of use, the reds and blacks were still vibrant and the yellow stitching, still damn classy. He gave himself the thumbs up and turned to the weapons rack. He chuckled and turned away. He didn’t need them today. Unless his year ten maths set turned nasty. He almost turned back, but headed for the exit before he got any bad ideas.

He stepped back through the wardrobe and the door slid closed behind him. As he approached the front door, his pulse sped up like it hadn’t in years. He did this every night, but this time was tougher than all of those. He picked up his briefcase, took a deep breath and opened the front door.

Miss Ellis was just strolling down her front path with her shopping bags. She did a double take, then smiled and waved. ‘Morning, John, great costume. Your kids are going to die.’

‘I hope not, Miss Ellis.’

‘You won’t be saying that by the last lesson of the day!’

He laughed obediently and climbed into his Mini. There was another jarring juxtaposition as he put the key into the ignition instead of pressing the button hidden just beneath the steering column. The regular engine coughed reluctantly into life and he was off.

 

The corridors were quiet when he arrived and set about getting his lessons ready for the day. The noise levels outside in the playground slowly rose and after a while he stopped and took a look. It was a wonderful sight.

There was a good scattering of the navy and brown uniform of Channelside school, but amongst them ran hundreds of Spidermans, Supermans, Batmans and, he was pleased to note, a good number of Wonder Women and Black Canarys. The playground was awash with superheroes.

His smile froze and his hand gripped the back of the chair as the most horrible thought struck him. Everyone knew who the kids were being. Everyone knew Superman and Spiderman. But who was he? He was Mr Amazing, but no one knew Mr Amazing, because he operated in secret. He wasn’t to be found in the pages of a comic or on the screen.

What was he going to say?

He paced away from the window, drumming his fingers against his utility belt. This was a problem.

The door was flung open before his thoughts could spiral any further out of control and Dave strolled in. He wore a suit and a long rain mac and looked smarter than usual. Dave Ashworth was the youngest in the maths department and probably belonged in PE, though John wasn’t going to be the one to tell him.

They looked at one another and Dave broke into a huge grin. ‘Mate, you couldn’t even find a real comic book character?’

‘Yeah, well, I me—’

‘Don’t get me wrong, Mr Incredible is cool, but— Hey, hang on, ‘No Cloaks, absolutely no cloaks.’

His impression of the costume designer from the Incredibles was remarkably good and John was so relieved at receiving help from such an unexpected source that he burst out laughing. ‘Yeah, I know, I just fancied having one. Looks pretty good though, eh?’

Dave paced around him, nodding. ‘Absolutely. Bloody hell, mate, how long did it take?’

‘Oh the lady next door helped out. She loves all that sewing stuff.’ It wasn’t completely untrue. She had done lots of the stitching, just not all at the same time. He hadn’t really thought about the similarity, but short of putting a bloody great A on his chest, it was tough these days to find an original costume design.

‘So who are you then?’ John asked

Dave thumped the lapel of his great coat. ‘I’m Constantine.’

‘Constantine? Like Hellblazer? He’s not a superhero.’

‘Close enough.’

‘Close enough, my arse. You just wanted to dress up smart for the day, which I must say makes a nice change.’

‘Yeah, well, Michelle in IT said she was coming as Wonder Woman, so I’m making a good impression, aren’t I?’

John laughed and shook his head. ‘Sorry to disappoint, but she’s got a kick arse Hulk suit on.’

‘What?’ Dave’s eyes widened and he raced, muttering, from the room. John laughed and turned back to his desk. Actually, he really hoped Michelle had come as Wonder Woman, that would be well worth seeing. He shook his head and sat, flicking on his computer and taking a breath. Michelle was five years younger, ludicrously pretty and far more interested in someone like Dave. Someone who had a social life and didn’t go out at nights dressed in Lycra.

Actually, Dave liked cycling, so maybe he did. Still, it wasn’t the same.

 

John had promised himself he wouldn’t use any powers. Wearing the suit should be enough. He was on his best behaviour until break, which was when it started to slip.

He stood on the back playground on duty, as per usual, and watched the maelstrom of children, running, flirting, chatting, shouting, hitting, laughing, eating and generally causing chaos as they swept around him. Now and then one would wave and he’d give his awkward wave back. Maths wasn’t a cool subject and he wasn’t a cool teacher, so he could never decide whether they were taking the piss.

He’d had plenty of compliments on the suit, though, and they were genuine.

The tell-tale roar of a fight beginning made him start running. It was on the field, away from the buildings, and now the centre of a growing horde of children. Within moments he was wading through them, shoving them aside and demanding they ‘GET AWAY’. He wasn’t sure why he shouted it, because it never worked.

A break-time fight was like curtains to kittens, utterly irresistible. He peered over the press, trying to see who was involved. He saw a fist fly up then down, and redoubled his efforts. Fists was serious.

Across the press he saw Michelle, Miss Themies at the moment, coming in from the other direction. She saw him and smiled in the tired, frustrated yet endlessly patient way all the best teachers had. He smiled back and found himself blushing as he waded through the last few miscreants.

As they realised he was there, they backed away, the front runners trying to hide their faces in a vaguely guilty way. Thomas was on the floor and Musa was on top of him, driving his fists against the poor boy’s upraised arms. There wasn’t any blood that he could see. What he could see were tears streaming down Musa’s face, which was never a good sign.

He was wearing a Spidey costume. It was the sort that came from a really bad fancy dress shop and certainly cost less than the fancy, home made Daredevil outfit Thomas was trying frantically to keep clean. John was about to raise his voice when he glanced down at his costume, shrugged and smiled.

He leapt forward, picked Musa up by the scruff of the neck, did the same for Thomas and carried both thirteen year olds kicking and shouting out of the press. He caught sight of Michelle staring open mouthed from the corner of his eye. He thought about jumping the huge group of children that insisted on trying to pull him down like some malevolent wave, but that would have been harder to explain.

He carried them into the building, set them on their feet and demanded an explanation. As suspected, Thomas had decided to cuss Musa’s costume and paid the price. A few minutes later the two boys, suitably contrite, wandered disconsolately to their head of year’s office and John stepped back into the playground.

Michelle was waiting, arms folded and looking every inch like her costume was made for her. John bit his lip and tried not to stare at all the naked flesh on show. It was tricky, but he found himself captured by her striking dark eyes and then breathing, talking and indeed doing much of anything except staring became difficult.

‘Have you been working out, John?’

He shrugged. ‘They weren’t that big.’

‘Come on, be honest. I didn’t know you were into anything except maths.’

‘I’m not into it, I just believe in being healthy.’

She laughed. It was a dirty sort of laugh, rough and in the back of her throat. He thought it was dirty. It might have been taking the piss. He just didn’t know. He’d spent half of the winter chasing the Evil Rat Badger around London and failed to catch him again and again. The frustration of those times was nothing compared to how he felt now.

‘There’s healthy and then there’s beefcake. You just picked up a child in each hand. And Musa’s pretty big.’

He shrugged again. ‘You look great.’

She blushed and looked down at herself. ‘Thanks. Funny how you don’t think about the kids seeing you when you put it on in the morning.’

John laughed. ‘I know just what you mean. Still, it suits you.’

‘Does it now? You think I should wear this every day?’

He opened his mouth, but once again his brain got in the way and he stammered a bit before she patted him on the shoulder. ‘Just joking, don’t have a heart attack. I’m not sure the head would be too pleased.’

‘I know I would.’ It came out before he could catch it and his cheeks bloomed bright red. The smile she gave him was definitely more than just a friendly smile and he managed to unclench his toes in his boots as she said, ‘Well, I’m sure I could wear it for you some other time…’

There was an invitation there. She was asking him something, he just had to work out how to answer without making a tit of himself. He opened his mouth and the bell sounded from its place on the wall all of three feet away. The sound drove them away from the doorway, hands clasped over their ears. The moment was over and John watched helplessly as she waved, smiled and headed off for period three.

Part Two will be here on Thursday 20th November

Podcast – Scarlet’s Web – Episode Six

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Scarlet’s Web is the fourth chapter in the life of Scarlet Rose Parker, Tumblr veteran, lover of pizza and Harry Potter-obsessed teenage magician.

In episode five of Scarlet’s Web, Scarlet and her skinny self were bundled into the van and carted away. Skinny was taken into some mysterious building whilst Scarlet was transported to the extra-dimensional holding cell, where she saw Martin. Only it wasn’t Martin…

Written, read and produced by Michael Cairns.

The next episode will be available to download next week. Happy listening.

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Three Choices – A Modern Fairy Tale about Old Problems – 2 of 2

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Here is Part two of Three Choices. I hope you enjoy it and, as always, please leave a comment at the bottom. 

 

Another five years went by and Astil finished his schooling. He had raced ahead of his peers and when his fifteenth birthday came around, was working with wise men from the local university. His area of focus was on the workings of the mind and he was discovering things daily that no other man had yet to find out.

His name was spreading. Academics from all over the world came to visit and speak with the young prince and to all he gave his time generously. They left invariably talking about his kindness and fierce intelligence.

His birthday dawned bright and sunny and he opted to ride down to the town whilst his parents took the coach. His father had, in the last couple of years, taken the coach more than his own horse. Astil had noticed it only in the offhand way fourteen year olds did and thought nothing of it. He knew his parents were getting older; his father’s hair was greying at the temples and his mother’s beautiful face was bearing a few, hair-thin lines from the corners of her eyes.

He charged down to town with his two guards and spent the morning idling in the central square. His relaxed way around the commoners meant that more than one of the local girls made to dance and flirt with him. He made no attempt to dissuade them and to anyone watching, was having a wonderful time.

Inside, though, the young man’s mind was occupied. The laughter and pretty faces of the girls failed to move him in the same way as the numbers and research of his more recent study and more than once he missed something said to him as his mind wandered down new lines of enquiry.

He was fending off two of his more amorous admirers when his father’s body guard hammered into town. His horse was heaving and its flanks were covered in sweat. The man spotted the prince and leapt down from his horse. He knelt and looked up at Astil with eyes the young man realised with shock were filled with tears.

He didn’t need to say anything. Moments later the four of them hurtled back out of town. Astil drove his horse on until the wreckage of the coach appeared on the road before him. They had been coming around the corner when the axle on the coach went and despite the excellent workmanship, when the body of the coach struck the road, it shattered.

Astil dropped from his horse and staggered to where his mother and father lay by the side of the road. The magician and doctor from the castle were already there and made no effort to disguise the truth from the young prince.

‘Their bodies are sound. The king has a fractured wrist, but it will heal well enough. Their minds, though…’

Again, the question of irony reared its ugly head. This time, though, Astil was in no position to consider it. The king and queen had both suffered severe trauma to the head and would remain unconscious until such time as Astil asked the magician to remove the spells that were, at this point, keeping them alive.

The men with him spoke that night as they raised a glass to their king, of his admirable control and restraint. They said he spoke in a calm, quiet voice as he instructed the soldiers to move his parents up to the castle and ensure they were comfortable. The doctor and magician went with them and, once again, the new king didn’t order, but rather requested that they remain by his parents.

If any of them thought it strange that the boy went back into town and celebrated his birthday with all those who had been waiting for him, they didn’t say so. Instead they talked about how much he’d grown and how proud his father would be that he continued to put the wellbeing and happiness of his subjects above all else.

 

Five years passed and on the eve of his twentieth birthday, the king sat at his parent’s bedside. As he had done every night for the last five years, he spoke to them. He didn’t know whether they heard him. His studies showed that there might be something going on inside, but he knew no more than that. It didn’t matter.

The magician had assured him a number of times that they would never recover and he knew it was the truth. There was nothing behind their eyelids when he lifted them and peered inside. They looked much like his own eyes when he looked in the mirror each morning.

‘War is coming, father. The southern kingdoms are united and have taken everywhere from Silthous to the Canny Sea. They will be coming for us before long.’

The young prince paused and put his head to one side. To anyone watching, it would have looked like he was listening to something. Perhaps it was his father reminding him of a blessing laid twenty years previously. Or perhaps it was only the sound of his lonely heart, thumping in his chest.

‘I love you both.’ His voice caught in his throat and he bent forwards until he pressed his forehead against the soft sheets beneath which his parents had spent the last five years.

As morning broke over the kingdom, word went out that the king and queen had died peacefully in the night. For the first time in twenty years, Astil didn’t celebrate his birthday. Instead, he buried his parents, then prepared for war.

 

The fighting lasted a full nine months and he returned to the castle as spring brought leaves and birds to the woods around the city. He rode through them with his army behind him and as they entered the city, a roar the likes of which Darial had never heard rose from the people lining the roads.

Astil hadn’t stopped at winning the war. He’d chased the armies back to their homes and forced a surrender that would last a hundred years. He was king of not only Darial now, but also every square mile of land between the Spine of the World and the Canny sea. His power was absolute.

That night he sat in his castle and sipped mulled wine, thinking on the campaign from which he’d just returned. It had been easy. It had been too easy. Every battle had worked out just as he’d predicted. His enemies had done exactly what he thought they would.

His thoughts spiraled back to his studies. He had never found them difficult either. Sure, some things he had had to work at and others had confounded him, sometimes for days! But it had never taxed him.

As he was climbing into bed, he reached for the woman who currently shared it and wondered about her, as well. He was a prince, so finding people to spend time with was never difficult, but finding women to take to his bed had been even easier. He’d never had to find the right line or woo them. They had come like leaves fall in autumn.

He slept badly that night and woke knowing what he had to do. The journey would take only a week each way, so he left his steward in charge of the castle and trusted the kingdom to run itself. He set off alone as the sun struck long lines of gold across the land and headed north for the mountains.

 

Six days passed and his food was all but gone when he spied the cave mouth. A wind that cut straight through his cloak had him shivering and he wouldn’t at that point have worried had the cave been home to a bear. But as luck had it, when he tied his horse up, rubbed him down as quickly as he reasonably could and covered him for the night, a young blonde woman beckoned to him from the cave mouth.

He went in and found a fire blazing at one end. The smoke was escaping somehow and the light in the cave was clear and bright. It made looking at the woman even more pleasurable than the brief glance he’d got from outside. Her beauty took what was left of his breath away and if he thought the skimpy clothing she wore was odd for someone who lived in the mountains, he didn’t mention anything. In fact, no words were shared as he divested first himself of his heavy garb then did the same for her considerably lighter outfit.

The oddest thing when he awoke was that he could remember nothing of the previous night past their first kiss. He could close his eyes and picture her naked body, but he couldn’t see himself with her. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. The cave was empty and the fire cold. He dressed, shivering, and stoked the fire. It lit quickly and the cave filled with smoke.

Gasping and coughing, Astil ran outside to where his horse whickered softly to him. He patted it and gave it what was left of the oats in the saddlebag.

He jumped when he saw them waiting.

He didn’t know how he knew, but the three women stood across the narrow plateau were the very same that had attended his bedside twenty years previously. He recognised the youngest and blushed at the brazen look she gave him. The middle of the three ladies stepped forward and Astil’s breath caught in his throat.

It wasn’t his mother, he knew that, but her likeness was close enough that a lump formed and stopped him swallowing.

‘Welcome, young prince. You are a long way from your kingdom.’

‘My ladies. I came searching for you.’

‘You certainly did that.’ said the youngest.

He blushed again and cleared his throat. ‘I need to speak to you.’

‘You’re doing that quite well at the moment.’ The eldest sounded nice, friendly, and he turned his attention to her. ‘I do not mean to sound ungrateful, but when I was born you attended me and gave me three blessings. Is that right?’

The ladies nodded and the youngest smiled slyly. ‘Last night, it could be said, I gave you a fourth.’

‘Hush, young one, let him speak.’ The eldest sounded harsher when speaking to the blonde.

‘I want you to take them back.’

The eldest folded her arms and tutted. The middle put her hands on her hips and stared at him frankly. The youngest crossed the space between them and stood until he could feel her breath on his chin.

‘I do not think you can take back what you gave me last night, can you?’ Her whispering voice made him shiver and his hands longed to grab her. But he took a careful step backwards and cleared his throat. ‘My life has not been my own. I didn’t understand that until last week. I have been making choices, but they were not my own.’

‘Your father accepted our blessings. I’m sorry, laddie, but nothing can be done.’ The eldest said.

‘We have swapped blessings, so now the deal it doubly sealed.’ The youngest said before turning and walking back to her sisters.

The middle one looked at her sisters, stepped forward and cocked her head to one side. ‘There is one way we can undo our blessing. We can give you back everything you’ve lost, but it will require a sacrifice.’

The prince thought about his sacrifices. He thought about his dog, though he remembered him only vaguely. He thought about his horse and the parents he remembered very well. He knew about sacrifice. He didn’t think he had anything left to give, so what did he have to lose?

He nodded. ‘What do you require of me?’

‘Nine months from now, your son will be born.’

Astil’s eyes opened wide and he stared at the youngest, who patted her stomach and smiled at him.

The middle sister went on. ‘He will grow up to be the most powerful man ever to walk the Earth. People will hear his name and tremble, for he will be terrible and mighty. His name shall strike terror into all who hear it.’ She paused and glanced sideways at the other two, both of whom nodded. Astil shuddered as the eldest smiled sadly and turned away. ‘All that we ask, if that you raise him and let him be whatever he needs to be. Every choice and every decision must be his.’

‘What if I consider those choices unwise?’

‘Every choice, every decision.’

‘But what if he is doing something foolish? What if he is doing something dangerous?’

‘Every choice, every decision.’

Astil turned away and looked out over the mountains. The sun turned the sky a pale blue as his breath misted in the air. He would have a son. Yet another thing that wasn’t his choice. But if he said yes, everything hereafter would be. He turned back to the ladies and nodded. ‘I will do it.’

 

He awoke wrapped in furs beneath the overhang of the cave. Astil rubbed sleep from his eyes and yawned. How long he’d been sleeping he had no idea, but he felt refreshed and buoyed up. The view from the mountains was glorious and he was glad he’d come up here on the way home. The thin air had cleared his mind and given him new hope for the cure.

The ride home seemed shorter. His saddlebags had been filled miraculously with food and the weather cleared, making his return journey down into the lowlands and spring pleasant and easy. His horse was darker than he remembered and moved with an ease and grace that amazed him.

He first saw the smoke two days from home.

The first refugees passed him later the same day. He recognised them from the town, but they looked quite different out here on the road. Harsh eyes bore into him as they refused to speak and answer his questions. He spurred his horse on until he reached the last hill before the city. He reined in at the top and stared at Darial.

The old castle was in ruins, flames leaking from windows and smoke filling the sky. Rising with the smoke came the screams of victims from down in the city. He set off at a gallop, but without knowing why, guided the horse left of the city and into the woods that guarded it on that side.

As he rode into the shadows cast by the vast canopy of leaves and branches, the feeling of coming home was overwhelming. The trees before him broke apart and he came into a clearing. He had never been here, he was sure, but he knew instinctively where to tie his horse and the creak of the front door seemed as familiar as the acrid smell that assaulted him on the other side. The dog bounded up to meet him and just like that, he was home.

The room was filled with test tubes and beakers, bubbling liquids and all manner of books. His research. He struggled with it and in part it was because he just wasn’t as smart as the others. His teacher thought that his emotions clouded his vision and perhaps he was right. He took the stairs two at a time and pushed gently into his parents’ room.

They lay side by side and he breathed a sigh of relief that Old Janner had done what he promised. The sheets were fresh and clean and the window was open. Astil knelt at their bedside, took his father’s withered and dry hand and pressed his forehead to it.

‘I’m home. I’m sorry I had to go away. They don’t have the equipment here. But I’ve got it now. I’m sure I’m going to crack it this time. You’ll be awake soon, I promise you.’

He left them and went back downstairs. He was sore from riding, but couldn’t help pulling the apparatus from his saddlebags and setting them up. He could get the experiment going before he got some sleep.

The sounds of screaming reached him, but the house deep in the woods was hidden and safe from the invading southern armies. They still hadn’t found him nine months later, when a basket appeared on his doorstep, containing a newborn child and a note that simply said:

Every choice, every decision.