Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Friday 8 December 1854 The Gymnasium Hall, Ramsden Street, Huddersfield Some thought it the most wicked sorcery they had ever witnessed. They were pleased to scurry home through the wet streets to bolt their doors, say their prayers and try to dispel the images of the piercing, demonic gaze of the man billed as a Lecturer in Mesmerism, Phrenology, Clairvoyance and Animal Magnetism. But these stubborn sceptics were in the minority. Most left the Hall that night believing they had seen acts of wonder and supernatural powers. They had watched volunteers being placed in a mesmeric sleep and then told to get into an imaginary rowing boat before being cast adrift on a stormy sea. As these entranced sailors held on to the sides of a boat only they could see, their bodies were flung from side to side on waves which washed only through their own imaginations. Under the influence of the celebrated Captain Hudson, others were persuaded to assume the identity of a steam train, their shushing...

   Let’s see what’s on the television tonight.   Oh, this drama looks good.   Wait a minute, here comes a warning.    This programme contains violence and scenes of a sexual nature.   That’s put me off a bit.   I don’t think I want to watch anything like that.   I suppose I could start watching it and see how I feel.   No, I’ll look for something else.    Now, what about this one.   I love hospital programmes.   It sounds quite interesting.   24 hours in A and E.   Here we go again, another warning. This programme contains scenes of graphic medical procedures which some people may find upsetting.   Oh dear, how graphic?   That’s the question.   I’ll give it a miss.    There’s a cowboy film on some remote channel.   I’ve seen it before and I remember it was really good.   It’s quite old and pretty tame, so it should be clear from censorship.     ...

  This is a test of the fire alarm system. Are you ready to leave?   This is a test of the fire alarm system. Are all your exits free?   This is a test of the fire alarm system. Feel the floor warming yet?   This is a test of the fire alarm system. Is there flame up ahead?   This is a test of the fire alarm system. Is your panic blind?   This is a test of the fire alarm system. Did you fall behind?   This is a test of the fire alarm system. Have you enjoyed your burning?   This is a test of the fire alarm system. Scorch marks show you’re learning. The test of the fire alarm system is now complete. " Fire alarm pull station at Walmart in Laurel, Maryland " by  SchuminWeb  is licensed under  CC BY-SA 2.0 .

  She took a deep breath, stretched all her limbs and assumed the pose. Left foot planted squarely on level ground, a good solid base. Right leg raised and bent, as if she were running – as, in a way, she was, though her performance would be over before that foot touched the ground. Its role of providing a second point of support was fulfilled instead by a staff of gnarled oak, painted silver and gripped firmly in her right hand. Cupped in a tangle of wood at its tip was a glass sphere, glowing faintly white from an LED beneath it. Her left arm stretched upwards and backwards, its hand holding an eight-pointed sun disc the size of a dinner plate, painted gold. Between the two hands and over her shoulders hung her robe, of which she was particularly proud. It gleamed in alternate pleats of gold and silver which swung down in twin parabolas from her arms, reaching to just below her knees, themselves clad in silver leggings. Her face, too, was all silver and above it was a cotton wool...

Reginald Demp. That’s what it says on his birth certificate. He doesn’t mind the surname. Even though it’s odd, They didn’t take the mick out of it at school, But they didn’t hold back on Reginald, Reggie and Reg! *** The take-away from school Was a couple of ‘O’ Levels and a bundle of odd memories. But now he’s got himself a job on a building site, a new office block, A short bike ride from home. The new boy on the site, new boots, new overalls, … and a new name, ‘The Rookie’, Courtesy of Bob the foreman. Most people would run a mile from such a name, But Rookie likes it. Reginald, Reggie and Reg are no more. He has a new identity. *** The next day, Bob is showing him the ropes. Very basic. No knots. They walk across the compound. Bob introduces him to the lift, A metal cage attached to the side of the new building. Bob pulls back the gate, they step in, the gate is closed, protesting noisily. A button is pushed and the ground drops away! ...

  Hidden out of sight It’s just a tattered sketchpad I turn the pages.   Faded over time The words barely visible Descriptions unclear.   Who are these people? Perhaps family members Or maybe just friends.   I stare, she stares back From the last and final page. Watching and waiting.   Her quiet beauty Could never be disputed Though troubled and sad.   “Who are you?” I ask “What secrets can you tell me?” Moments you’ve treasured.”   She cannot answer Her stories remain untold The memories trapped.   I touch her pale face Dark eyes now dancing with life Their magic shines through.   My hands are shaking Yet she watches undeterred It slips from my grasp.   I know I must leave Yet she beckons me closer. I feel her presence.   I cannot explain It’s just a tattered sketchpad Old and forgotten. " Old Notebook " by  Eric__I_E  is licensed under...

Once upon a time, there were seven dwarfs who lived happily together in their little cottage in the wood.   ‘Well, I don’t think it’s fair,’ snapped Cranky. ‘Our cousins’ve got one. I don’t see why we shouldn’t have one, too. We could lead a life of ease, like they do.’   ‘But what would we do with her, if we had one?’ asked Doleful.   ‘Oh, stop being so negative. She could do our washing and keep house. She’d be a better cook than Dumpy. He usually eats more than reaches the table.’   ‘But how can we get one, Cranky? Just how many mothers do you know who want to kill their daughters?’   Burpy asked, accompanying the question with a loud belch.   ‘Most of ‘em, at some point. We just have to catch them at the right moment.’ Awful answered.   ‘Oh, you are rotten, Awful,’ Weepy said. ‘Or just awfully rotten. Come on, time we were at work.’   The seven filed out, collecting their little picks on the way and singing their unhappy little song. Afte...