Monday 26 July 2021

Bempton by Jo Cameron-Symes

 

My heart flutters as I drive through the wind battered lanes bordered by tufted grass. It might seem like an odd place to meet, but it’s remote and I feel safe here, despite the lonely surroundings.

I park up in a passing place. There’s never anyone here at this time of day as the visitor centre is shut. A chaffinch lands on the bank and stares at me accusingly. I’m used to these avian judgements, why do birds seem to mock me so? I step out of the car and am assailed by screaming gulls and the sound of waves breaking on the cliffs. The salt edged breeze freshens my mind and awakens my senses.

I notice an unfamiliar car arriving, a Land Rover, obviously a lost tourist unaware that the visitor centre is closed now. I smile and prepare to wave them down but the man in the car just glares at me and drives on. He stops the car in the car park and turns off the engine. I sigh and head back to my car and phone Jim. He doesn’t answer and I know he’ll be driving, unaware of the rock in our path. For we can’t meet today, not with another person present.

I see the man getting out of the car and he starts to approach me. I lock my door in fear, for there is something about him that makes me uneasy. I shake my head and try to reason with myself. Perhaps he is a new park ranger? Or someone working at the visitor centre? Or maybe even a scientist, looking at the birds? He turns to walk towards the car and I realise he’s holding what looks like a crowbar in his hand. I decide my best option is to run, so I unlock my doors and head into the fields. The grass is long here and makes running difficult but I find a gorse bush, and hide behind it, breathing as quietly as I can. I hear his footsteps on the road and realise he is calling me. How does he know my name?

A flutter of white catches my eye, a ghost appears, that silent hunter of fields, a barn owl. It floats silently above the grass stalking its prey. Mesmerised, I forget my troubles momentarily, but a car approaches on the road and I look up. It’s Jim, he’s here and the man himself has disappeared. His car stops and the man emerges from the ditch. He’s been waiting for him. He knocks on the car window

“Hello? Can I help you?” Jim asks.

The man pulls the crowbar and fires, for it wasn’t a crowbar after all, it was a rifle.

I inhale and stifle a scream. My legs then find their nerve and I run as fast as I can without looking back. I head towards the cliffs and spy a gannet soaring overhead. I decide to follow it. These birds would normally be a salve to my mind, but today, I feel as if they are trying to tell me something, perhaps they are leading me to safety?

The cliff path is uneven in places and I try to be careful in my haste. The gannets have multiplied and are busy feeding their chicks along with the monochromatic guillemots.

I look behind me and see the man gaining ground. He’s huge, around six foot five and I realise that he’ll find me sooner or later, so I briefly think about stopping, but something spurs me on. A flutter of wings takes off in my path. A short-eared owl soars and screams, vocalising the panic that I feel.

“Louise! Wait!,” the man shouts behind me.

“Leave me alone, I’m calling the police!” I say reaching in my pocket for my phone. I gasp again as I realise that I must have dropped it in the field. I look back and then the world changes as I fall into darkness.

I wake and see the man standing over me.

“You, didn’t kill me?” I say.

“No,” he replies.

“You killed Jim?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Why?”

“He was going to hurt you. Come over to his car.”

“No, I don’t want to. I don’t want to see him, like that.”

“Ok, wait here then,” he says as he walks towards Jim’s car.

I lift my head and find a huge bump upon it. My arms and legs are also covered in bruises from my fall. My left ankle in particular feels very sore. Everything hurts. I can’t outrun him anymore, I think and lie back and close my eyes. The gannets circle overhead gleefully laughing at my predicament like a circus full of clowns.

The man trudges back.

“Look here,” he says and he opens the cloth he has in his hands to show me a pistol.

“Another gun,” I say. “Is this the one you’re using on me then?”

“No, this is what Jim was carrying. He was coming here to meet you one last time and then he was going to kill you. He first of all thought of pushing you off of the cliff, but then decided to shoot and bury you. There is plenty of desolate land here further in from the cliff. Chances are you wouldn’t ever be found. Or he might have taken you for a drive and buried you in a wood. These were all options that he thought about.”

“But, I don’t understand. Jim loved me! He was going to leave his wife for me, get a divorce, he promised!”

“No, he loved his wife and three children. You were the inconvenience, the danger to him, he had to let you go.”

“Well then, why not just break up with me? Why would he want to kill me?”

“Sometimes, love is cruel. You’ve had a lucky escape. Now go, don't come back here again.” he says as he puts the gun in his pocket. He lends me a hand and pulls me up and I hobble back to the car.

“Think you can drive ok?” he asks and I nod.

“Good. Oh, and you’ll be needing this. I take it you don’t want to involve the police?” he says.

I shake my head and reach out for my phone.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“Think of me as your Guardian Angel,” he says, as he stares at me and smiles.

I start the car and turn it around. I look in my rear-view mirror at the man standing there, arms folded, watching me as I leave.

Monday 19 July 2021

Profundum by Vivien Teasdale

 

Windowed light curving

Showing the foetal image.

Growing dilemma.


Circling the future,

Ripples across the water:

His name is given.


Child curled in final sleep

As a weeping angel smiles,

Transforming the soul


Polished oak casket

Carries my heart and its dreams,

Scattered like ashes

Monday 12 July 2021

Out on the Streets by Chris Lloyd

We go out on the streets
see who we meet
mostly it’s sweet
and kinda neat
a proper treat
seein’ our peeps

We might have a beer
chat if we c’n hear
chill with no fear
have another beer
we don’t do gear
keep our brains clear

We go to a gig
venue ain’t big
have another swig
have a bit of a jig
to tunes we dig
see a guy with a wig

On to the next place
gotta nice bit of bass
coming at your face
sounds really ace
much more space
yeah picking up the pace.

A guy with a Fender gets up and plays
like a GOD with loads of delays
it’s like he’s in a wond’rous daze
he’s good but we ain’t fazed
and we listen totally amazed

A girl with a cello is next on the stage
opens her music at a random page
starts playin' like she’s in a rage
her music ain’t from no stone age
she stands up like Boudica in a cage

The place goes insane
we want more of the same

but she struts off stage like a theatre dame

Then it’s a poet who gets us clappin'
struttin' around and doin' some rapping
shoutin' and poutin' his arms are flappin'
at every turn his toes are tappin'
each poem magically over lappin'
as he leaves the stage we ain’t nappin'

A DJ takes over to finish the night
mashin’ and scratchin’ with all his might
mixin’ the tunes and synchin’ his lights
perfect end to a perfect night

A night on our streets always full of treats
crash back home, get between the sheets.

Good Night!

©Christopher Lloyd

Monday 5 July 2021

PORTAL by Gareth Clegg



London to Sydney used to be a full day's travel. Even though the flight was down to twenty hours, all the time spent getting to the airport and through customs at each end was still significant.


So when Portal arrived on the scene it echoed the death knell for the major airways. Even with the suborbital providers still threatening a two-hour transit time to the other side of the globe, even they couldn't compete with instantaneous matter transferral. Step into a PORTALTM Arch and step out of the corresponding one at the other side of the world. No waiting for luggage collection at the far end, it was the utopia for long-distance travel. Just like stepping through a doorway. The final frontier of Star Trek was finally in our hands, and the airlines were crapping themselves.


I am paid more than most of the top international consultants around the world put together. And that includes the big hitters that work for Disney, Google, Amazon and the financial wizards working for the Russian Oligarchs—you get the idea.


Who do I work for? Good question. I am employed by an independent private consortium, who just happen to be run by the top CEOs and owners of big names, such as Airbus, Boeing, and the other multi-billion dollar Aircraft manufacturers and Airlines.


My name is Jeff Curtis, and it's my job to find a flaw with PORTALTM and keep the airline industry from going belly up. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't give a shit about the airlines, but they'd just landed the biggest mystery on the planet at my doorstep—and I was a sucker for a mystery.


I'm a scientist and a bloody good one at that. I could have been a surgeon, but it was too restrictive for my tastes. You see, I get bored easily, so dedicating my life to just human anatomy and fixing that one series of intricate biochemical machines didn't push my skills far enough.


I haven't got time to go into my academic history, but suffice it to say I have a double first in Chemistry and Biology and I graduated at the tender age of fifteen. By sixteen, I had several PhD's and numerous international papers published on chaos theory. I have a knack for mathematics and an eidetic memory. It's maybe not what most people think. I don't just remember everything I see—I see it in my head, like on a TV screen, and can manipulate everything with correlating graphs and integrated data from other sources. It's sort of a superpower really.


So, the upshot is I'm barred from pretty much all the casinos that know about me around the world. It didn't help that I took a few in Vegas for a ride after I graduated. I made a small fortune, but also a lot of unpleasant enemies in the gambling business.


Though card counting and statistical analysis in your head isn't illegal, they make you pretty aware of how nasty things could become for you if you ever return, while they talk to you in the back room. It's proper hardcore Tarantino stuff—forget The Godfather and Goodfellas, this is Resevoir Dogs, tie you to a chair and pour petrol on you while dancing around flicking a lighter, shit.


Anyhow, it didn't take long for me to get the picture loud and clear, and also to get headhunted by the big boys in the collapsing airline business.


So, how do you go about finding a flaw in the most lucrative and secret business on the planet? You might think the evil Disney Empire plays their cards close to their chest, well that's child's play compared with PORTALTM.


Almost all their research was hidden behind secret patents, and their employees never leave to work for other organisations, it just didn't happen. I needed to get at that information if I was to find any minor flaw that could be exploited, anything at all to throw the airlines a lifeline before they sank below the waves gurgling their last.


My opportunity arose through a friend I met through some mega-math cryptography forum. Sally was an elite hacker OR Leet Haxor, as she preferred to be called.


It was all a bit lame if you ask me, but still the done thing in the hacking community, and who was I to complain, uber-geek that I was? I once checked out pi to a million decimal places and, due to my weird brain, could recite it back verbatim. I reached about a thousand before I got bored with the idea and walked off the TV show, much to the amusement of the presenter, and the screaming disbelief of the director. I couldn’t be arsed with all that shit. I was just a freak to them, and I had better things to do with my time.


So one dark winter evening I connected with Sally, and we chatted about hacking crypto-currencies and other polymorphic cryptography algorithms. Yeah, I can see you nodding off back there. Yes, you at the back, in the red sweater.


Bottom line—Sally is one of the best "Leet Haxors" in the biz, and she had found something she needed to tell me about. Something she was desperate to tell someone who might understand what she’d discovered.


“So what’s up, Sal?”


“You’re never gonna believe what I did.”


“Hmm,” I said. “Go on, hit me.”


“What?”


“Tell me.”


“You’re not even going to guess?”


“Am I likely to get anywhere close?”


“Not a chance,” she replied.


“So why bother guessing?”


She sighed and fired me a couple of poo emoji’s. “You’re no fun with this sort of stuff, you know?”


“Yeah,” I said. “I get that a lot. Just spill already.”


“Okay. So I only went and cracked a corporate email system.”


Her grin stretched from ear to ear as she leant back from her monitor, hands clasped behind her head. The bright, yellow smiley face on her green tee winked at me from under a blood splat.


“Is that it?” I asked. “I thought you had something impressive?”


She bent forward, pointing directly at me through the screen. “Yeah, but this was PORTAL’s email server.”


I nearly fell off my chair. “You fucking what?”


“Yeah,” she said. “That’s more like the reaction I expected.”