The Station

The Station

The station was nearly empty even though it was the rush hour. Sunshine was trying to break through the mass of drifting white and grey clouds.

I looked up at the various irregular shapes and forms in the clouds.

I stared for so long that I missed my train.

I stayed there all day.

Trains emptied commuters on the platform and took up others to carry away. Sparks on the train tracks leapt up into the cold air.

When I was a child I use to like to identify birds, cats, faces, hands, moon crescents or the outline of complicated buildings.

As a child this was a game or casual indulgence.

As the song goes,

“That joke isn’t funny anymore….”

Chris Bird

The Secret

The Secret

The secret machine defined and created people’s lives. From tower blocks, offices, factories and hospitals the shadows it created stepped onto the streets.

Even ghosts collected in the forests on the city limits fused in mist and fog.

Shimmering figures waited on every grey roof top. Owls watched in the midnight hours as the machine hummed and glowed.

One patient in the psychiatric hospital glanced out of the ward window. She saw the machine floating in a mass of cogs, wheels, wires and tubes high above the city.

It was only a brief glimpse.

She didn’t tell the psychiatrist.

Chris Bird

The New Language

The New Language

There were self - inflicted scars on my hands and on my arms. The red patches of darkened skin were sore and irritating. I imagined myself as a puppet who had fallen off the controlling strings of family and faith. My skin was my outer defense but was it defending me from the world or from myself.

The marks on my skin would gradually evolve into a complex map of streets and alleys. The marks would become a code, a guide, an index crawling on my cold white skin.

The marks were linked to the movement of distant planets and worlds across the universe.

The stars themselves clung to the outlines of the cuts on my fingers and palms. The sunset and sunrise began to observe and follow the sequence of damage and harm on my arms.

Soon horizons of bright and distant constellations surrounded my injuries.

I needed to feel pain and the distraction of harm , the relentless cruelty of the world was mirrored on the surface of my skin.

At midnight ghost children came beside the marks to marvel at the wounds. The icy night

waited for the next cut , the next injury.

Chris Bird

Three Words

The Invention

She lived in a faraway tower. At first she recorded random sequences that seemed to provide a way out of feeling lost and vulnerable. Then she used the codes and numbers to invent a complicated machine made of steel, iron and glass. It was covered in screens, levers and glass. The machine was at one and the same time fragile and powerful.

After building the machine she sighed with exhaustion. At night the machine had emerald and jade lights that blinked like dawn stars.

Scattering lights shone from deep within the complex machine.

Steadily a new sound emanated from the machine. It was a distorted purring sound that gradually grew filling the room.

Then the sound faded into total silence.

She looked silently at the machine and the machine soundlessly returned her gaze.

After a long period of quiet the machine spoke

“I invented you” it said to the women.

Chris Bird

Summer

The summer was not a season or period of time. The summer was in reality a young person of either gender.

The Summer was a hopeful, temporary moment like a brief glance.

Hemmed in between Spring and Autumn the Summer faced long working hours including weekends and Bank Holidays. The Summer sadly suffered from soft coloured bullying and intimidation.

Thus the Summer wept.

Weeping so continuously the Summer caused tearful rivers streaming from the bright core in moving channels.

Sunshine blinded the aged, decrepit plants and trees.

London was indifferent.

Made of skyscrapers, bridges of shadow, castles and spires, supermarkets, offices, graveyards, hospitals and schools what did London care either way.

Thus the Summer wept feeding the dark world in everyday streets.

From shopping centres, alleyways, markets, churches and stadiums, motorways and canals, cliffs and hills the Summer broke down weeping, weeping inconsolably with glittering endless tears.

The Summer cried at night, in the dawn, at dusk and even in the day. The Summer prayed between tears for Autumn to arrive.

But it never did. It never did.

 Chris Bird

Admission

The strange machine was hard to detect.

It sat above the complex city in complete silence.

The smoke of chimneys and the mist of summer hid the complicated mass of cogs, pipes, tubes, levers, screens and wheels.

The machine produced endless codes and symbols relentlessly controlling the ebb and flow of the huge, bustling city.

Commuters like ants swarmed hopelessly around the smoky bus and train stations.

They didn’t understand that their lives were not authentic, meaningful or real. The pulse of the day throbbed steadily from deep inside the structure.

The streets were just a map, a shifting outline planned deliberately by the machine.

The city dwellers could barely guess that the shining machine controlled everything however trivial.

The machine in the clouds was all seeing , all knowing.

One day a girl in a psychiatric hospital looked up into the sky and saw the machine.

“You are delusional” it whispered to her.

Chris Bird

Love on the rocks.

The couple on a secret romantic trip stood on the deck of the ship passionately kissing and embracing, blissfully unaware that the woman's boyfriend was watching from his cabin room. He had a ticking time-bomb in his hand and set the countdown clock to 60 minutes and placed it inside a briefcase. He then walked nonchalantly to the bar where he could order himself a couple of large whiskies on the rocks and wait for the explosion. He hated the cheating pair so much that he was prepared to commit an act of terrorism.

Darren Sewell

Trane of Thought

Trane of Thought

Midnight glimpses round

Smoking down.

Dripping from his skin comes the shade

The cigarette haloes blow away

And the trumpet glistens,

Like a sharp smile of joy.

He breathes

Cool as dusk, soft as ashes.

Blowing crystal , glinting , scolding

Streaming against drumbeat pour.

New night sky colours flowing

Riot blossom of light

Scattering jade.

And the man

Like a statue in spellbound blue

Just looks.

Silent and distant

As the cloudy moon.

Chris Bird

The Secret Pianist

The Secret Pianist

His friends all noticed how he was preoccupied with his hands. They were always clean and the nails were trimmed. When they played football he would never play in goals. Even his friends thought he might be effete. When sitting at table he would drum his fingers. Some people thought it was a nervous habit.  One day one of his friends was invited to his home. He told the group later that  he had a large piano and played fluently to a high grade. Now his friends knew why he cared so much for his hands.

Aidan Rafferty.

The diligent ticket collector.

 

“Tickets please, Tickets, Tickets please.”

The Persistent ticket collector went round the bar once more. She wasn’t having much luck.

“Tickets please, tickets please” Not a single person had a ticket.

“Tickets for what love?” one of the regulars piped up.

At last someone has paid attention she thought. “Tickets for the end of the world”

“Come off it!” the regular responded. “Tickets for what?”

The ticket collector decided to redouble her efforts by going to the characters in the pub in the east end of London just before closing time.

“Yes sweetie. I’m collecting tickets”

“Tickets for what?”

“Tickets to survive a natural disaster.”

“Well I’ll take one.” Said the regular.

“I’m not selling tickets. My job is to collect tickets.”

“I’ll have another pint.” The regular said.

By now a group had gathered.

“What sort of natural disaster is it? Another regular spoke up.

“It’s an unspecifiable natural disaster. But it will happen just after last orders tonight.” She said again. “I’m here to collect tickets”

“So where do you buy the tickets? A third regular spoke up. He was humouring her.

She replied in earnest.”I don’t know where to buy them. I’m just paid to collect them.”

At that moment, the landlord rang the bell for last orders. “Drink up gentlemen please”

“No tickets here, Oh well” sighed the persistent ticket collector “No one will survive a natural disaster.”

At that precise moment the pub was washed away by a giant tidal wave/ tsunami.

Paul Turner

Harry the Rat

There was no way getting away from it. The growths on Harry’s back had spread. There was now a discernible weight forcing down onto his spine. At first he had tried to shake the feeling off. As he turned from side to side the growths had became more and more rigid. His tiny feet felt stiffened as he scuttled along the earthy tunnel. He kept stopping to take extra breathes and he senses a permanent weariness. He stopped and nuzzled at the earth walls of the side tunnel. His nose twitched but with a slightly sad motion.

 Usually Harry was the happiest and most vibrant of the younger rats in the colony. He usually played endlessly with his brothers and sisters scurrying along the tunnels and crawling along the garden above.

Perhaps if he stayed in the side tunnel no one would notice the changes. They had started a few weeks before. While he was waiting a familiar sound came from down the tunnel. A whistling sound was followed by the sight of Paula his friend. She glanced down the tunnel with her usual impatient, clever eyes.

“What are you doing there Harry old pal” she said cheerfully thinking him to be playing a game of some kind. Her eyes sparkled with the expectation of laughter.

“Oh, oh” Harry replied trying to some normal and equally cheerful as his friend. “Just taking a break” he sniffed the ground to disguise his melancholy expression. “Oh well come along with me “smiled Paula lets go and explore a bit mmm.” Paula was the kind of smart, quick thinking rat who adored challenges and was always suggesting an adventure of some kind.

“Ok” agreed Harry a bit sheepishly. “You go on ahead and I will catch you up”

“Catch me up!” laughed Paula with sparkling eyes, “you can’t catch me! Never in a million years“ she laughed and sped away down the tunnel. Harry edged into the main tunnel. His back was throbbing. The ache filled his whole body. He needed to check on what was happening on his furry back. He didn’t follow Paula but doubled back slowly along a narrow tunnel that led some way down to a central cave. A couple of small rats were napping in the corner. Along the walls there were a collection of interesting objects that the younger rats had discovered. There was an old watch next to some shiny paper and a series of shells and stones. Harry edged up to the shiniest stone and looked at his reflection. He gasped. His worst fears were confirmed by what he saw. In the gloom of the cave Harry could make out a line of tiny shapes on his back. The bumps and growths had developed and developed. As Harry squinted he could see a line of tiny, tiny buildings on his back. A tiny tower stood next to a line of houses and a kind of tiny castle that spread along his back to just above his tail!

The small rats were snuggling together in the corner snoring lightly when suddenly a bigger rat poked its head into the space. Uncle Rat sniffed the air and immediately looked toward Harry.

“What are you doing over there?” asked Uncle Rat, “why are you out with the others harvesting?” (Harvesting was the term the rat colony used for scavenging for food and nesting materials) Uncle Rat spoke with an air of severe authority. His eyes burnt with a strong stare.

“I’m sick” Harry blurted out. “I’m just resting here for a bit”.

“Resting! Resting! “ boomed Uncle Rat with a loud burst that woke the two youngsters in the corner. “What’s wrong with you? Scared of mice are you? Get out there you little lazy rat!”

Harry moved slowly out into the cave and Uncle Rat’s eyes widened suddenly! “What on Earth!...“ he began to stutter. He sniffed at Harry and then studied him from twitching nose to scratchy foot.

“What is that on your back?” he boomed again and the two young rats ran in fear out of the cave. Open mouthed Uncle Rat stared and stared at the strange shapes on Harry’s back. He sniffed and stared and then stared and sniffed. He was dumbfounded. Silence filled the rat cave.  After a long time Uncle Rat said quietly in a thoughtful manner. “Come with me “....

The Rat council gathered in the special meeting cave. Some of the rats were very, very old and wore emeralds and silver around their tails. There was a piece of broken glass squashed into the earthy wall and a line of shiny green and amber pebbles around the edge of the floor. The rats were all different shades of black and brown. One huge old rat spoke in a faltering aged voice.

“We have spoken here together for many hours. We have decided in our wisdom that the only course of action available to us as a nation of rats is....” she paused. Harry who sat in the corner of the cave looked up. There were 20 or more rats lining the cave. All of them had powerful and aged eyes. All of them were staring at him. Harry felt his whole body tremble with fear and anxiety.

“You will be expelled from the colony never to return Harold” said the old rat.

“Harry “hissed another rat “the youngsters name is Harry “.

“Yes, yes Harry “said the old rat in a fading voice. She coughed and then spoke again. “

How this magic can be stopped is beyond us. We must think of our colony. Apart from anything else those shapes will cause absolute havoc on our carefully constructed tunnels!”

 “She coughed again. “Go and never return” she said firmly sniffing the air.

Harry found himself in a garden. There was rubbish strewn here and there. An empty crisp packet blow past. Harry dived toward it and licked the inside. The salty taste filled his mouth. His hunger was so deep inside him now that it seemed to weigh him down. He shook his body. The town on his back creaked and stilled. Across the garden a fence led down toward the river. A high tree shrouded this end of the garden in darkness. Harry stopped sick and tired. After his expulsion he had walked far from the old colony. Sometimes he used other tunnels. This was dangerous though because other colony’s might take a very dim view of a stranger using their tunnels especially a rat that looked as strange as Harry now did. He sipped at a tiny puddle of water caught in a leaf. The rain began to patter down. When he was in the old colony he had always love the patter, patter of rain. Now Harry felt dejected and hungry. He missed his old playmates with all his heart. Most of all he missed the familiar smells and sounds of the colony. He missed the old rats and the young rats who were all part of his extended family. He hated being alone. He thought of his future and it seemed very bleak. The rain began to pour and Harry shivered. He thought of running to the river and jumping in. That would end his torment once and for all. He hated the feeling of loneliness. He missed the company of rats like clever Paula. He wished that he was as clever as her. “She would know how to solve all this awfulness ” he thought glumly to himself.

A leaf above him suddenly rustled and Harry glanced up ready to run for cover. He nestled down in the wet earth trying to conceal himself as best he could. The rustling continued.

 From above a shape dropped into view just a small distance from Harry. Harry braced himself. He was getting ready to run. A long elegant claw came into Harry’s view. Then another claw appeared. A beak plucked down at the leaves. The beak was black and shone with rain. Harry stayed very still. The beak plucked a wriggling shape from between the leaves. The worm wriggled and struggled as the sharp beak flicked it up again. Harry took his chance. He scuttled quickly away. Whatever it was eating the worm would surely be too busy to follow him. Harry moved as quickly as he could into the pile of leaves and kept going head down. As he came to the base of the tree he leapt across toward a patch of grass where there was a green fence. As he headed under the fence he heard the rustle of wings and the claws appeared directly in front of him. He glanced up instinctively. A dark mass of black feathers glared back. A pair of glassy eyes stared at him with open hostility.  The beak opened slightly.

“What are you doing in my garden” hissed the crow. His beak gleamed with rain. “We don’t allow rats here “he hissed threateningly. Harry froze. He realised that the crow could peck him at any moment. He sighed and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sick and had to leave my home. I didn’t know this garden was only for crows”. His voice was a pathetic, low squeak.

The crow stared for a moment. He looked Harry up and down. “What is this thing on your back?” He went close to the tiny town that had grown there. “What is this magic?” he asked.

“I don’t know “said Harry in a burst of anguish” I just want it to go. I just want to return to my colony one day. I hate being far from my friends!”

The crow listened and thoughtfully backed away from Harry.

For a long time there was a silence between them. The rain gave the only sound. The crow looked at Harry for a long, long time.

“You are hungry aren’t you “he said and Harry immediately nodded.

“Wait here “said the crow and suddenly flew smoothly up into the sky.

Harry had no alternative but to wait.

The rain finally stopped and the sun came out. Harry waited and just as he gave up hope the crow returned. The crow dropped an insect in Harry’s path.

“Can you eat that?” he asked with his black head on one side.

Harry leapt forward and began chewing on the dead insect.

The crow and Harry began to talk. Harry explained the story of the growths and the life in the tunnels of the colony. The crow talked of great storms in the sky and the beauty of the dawn sky. They talked and talked until the rain started again. After a while the crow said,

“You must be a very special rat indeed. I will take you to someone who will be able to explain this strange happening.”

The crow walked uneasily across the garden. He shouted back to Harry “follow the fence down the river bank, then follow the river back into the forest. I will wait for you there.” Then the crow, whose name was Raoul, flew up into the rainy sky.

Harry scuttled along by the fence until he reached the river. He saw a tiny mouse that scrambled away as soon as he saw Harry. He saw a whole beside the river and was tempted to hide there. However fearing an otter he continued along the river. The sound of the racing water filled his ears. The water surged and gurgled and splashed along by the stony and muddy banks. At last Harry reached the forest. Now the moon was shining. Moonlight cascaded down from between the dark branches. Harry looked around and could not see the crow.

The sky seemed to be full of gleaming moonlight. The silver light shone on the leaves and stones. The ghostly light mesmerised Harry as he waited. At last the crow landed nearby.

“Now you must follow the moonlight “said the crow. I will meet you with my brothers and sisters in the open glade near here”.

Harry followed the intense white light of the moon. He crossed ridge of stones and grass and walked carefully between the roots of huge trees. The forest was silent apart from the rustle of the leaves. Harry looked up and saw the trees overhead. He watched the leaves move in the night wind. He saw something shining in the trees above him. A jewel like shine stood out from the trees. Suddenly the bright jewel became a movement and a rush of dim colour. Harry instinctively ran and shouted to himself “OWLS!” Harry raced into the undergrowth as the owl dived toward him. The owl’s talons brushed over his tail. Harry span around and rushed toward the shadows.

The owl settled on a branch and watched the ground. His eyes were well trained and accustomed to the darting movement of rats. His head turned in the moonlight. His beak trembled with expectation of a juicy meal. Harry moved very carefully and slowly between the trees. He knew he was in mortal danger. He felt exhausted. The weight of the town on his back seemed to be growing. In a moment the crow landed nearby. “You are too slow rat “said the crow. “Follow me. We will not let the owl hunt here in our trees.”

As Harry watched two crows swooped near the owl and he flew up into the moonlight. The crows squawked and the owl flew off back toward the river.

The crows were gathered on some old stones near the centre of the glade. There were too many for Harry to count. Black and bulky the crows stood waiting bathed in moonlight. They watched Harry approach with Raoul. The crows gasped as they saw Harry.

In the moonlight the town on Harry’s back began to grow. The towers leapt up taller and taller. The stone like castle sprouted new battlements. A house mushroomed up on Harry’s shoulders. Harry thought this was the end. He rolled to one side in agony. A pale beautiful light filled the glade. The trees on every side shone with the brilliant shade. Moonlight glinted and gleamed over the assembled crows. The stones shone with light and the night sky burned with ivory stars.

Suddenly the houses and towers and castle left Harry’s back. A haze of moonlight shone around the rat. The city he had carried was suddenly sitting on the floor of the forest in the shining moonlight.

Harry sighed and felt a huge relief. He shook his head and he shook his tail with pleasure. He twitched and sniffed the air. Raoul the crow said,

‘You have done your job Harry. They needed someone to bring them to this magic place. Look!’

From inside the tiny houses and towers even smaller figures emerged. They were as small as insects on the ground. They stood in the mesmerising moonlight and waved their arms. They were small figures who began to float up into the moonlight.

Harry blinked and frowned. The town on the forest floor was crumbling before his eyes. The towers and castle became tiny, dusty ruins. The figures danced up into the air. White and green the figures danced away toward the leaves, toward the night sky.

Harry heard a shimmering voice,

“We thank you Harry. You carried us to a special place. We are far from our home. We are travelling back. We saw your good heart. We knew you would find a way to this glade eventually. We are grateful.

Now you can return to your colony. Your eyes will always sparkle!”

Colours traced the high trees in silver and green. The night shone.

The crows rose up into the air in a black pulse of flight.

Harry felt the light wash over him. When he opened his eyes again he was back in the colony. The familiar entrance hole was before him. He stopped for a moment. His nose twitched and his eyes shone.

                                                                                               Chris Bird

The Jaguar

The Jaguar

The huge stones ran in a jagged line along the bank of the river. The river moved slowly sparkling in the clear autumn sunshine. The riverbank led to a cluster of trees. It was here amongst the trees that the jaguar sat hidden in the canopy of leaves. Every so often a leaf fell slowly from the tree to the grass. The jaguar barely noticed the leaves. His stare was fixed firmly on the stones as they absorbed the rays of the sunshine. The sun glinted on the surface of the river and cast a glow across the grey surface of the stones. With a lazy sluggish movement the jaguar moved along the branch and waited. The sound of the water was the only sound in the air. The jaguar turned and looked around. 

His movements were slow and yet full of power and elegance. In a second the jaguar leapt into the space in front of him. The shape of the cat filled the air. His black fur shimmered in the sun. The cat's body did not fall directly to the grass. The shape seemed to hang in the air and drop in gradients toward the ground. Each movement left a ghostly shape in the air as it flowed into the next solid form. The jaguar seemed to be part of six or seven outlines which in a spectrum of solidity headed toward the firm earth. From deep shimmering black the shapes became more and more translucent until they faded in a faint image of movement. It was as if the jaguar had leapt into six shapes in the air which faded and blurred until they reached the ground. Now at last the black cat stood on the ground in a black, stern shape of darkness. The air around the cat shimmered with the impulse of the jump. The cat prowled across the grass toward the river. His body was firm and powerful stepping toward the water. The light flowed over him and shone in the black elegance of his prowling body. 

When the jaguar reached the stones he sniffed the air and stopped. The river sparkled beyond the riverbank and the trees swayed in a light breeze. The jaguar lifted his paw and began to scratch the side of the stone. He did so firmly and in a regular movement. Gradually as he scratched the stone marks began to show on the stone surface. The marks became deeper and deeper as he scratched.

From the deep within the surface of the stone a faint sound began to emerge.

The sound sounded like a faint pulse of breathe. The sound grew as the jaguar scratched.

As the wind grew the trees swayed more violently. The river darkened and the sparkling surface quality of the water changed. A cold shadow passed across the river and the riverbank alike.

The stone split slowly and gradually. The stone surface opened and the claws of the jaguar pulled the parts away. As the stone opened a sweet smell emerged into the air. The jaguar lifted itself up to stand looking into the stone. The parts of the stone fragmented and fell to the grass.

The jaguar lifted back it's head and roared in ecstasy. It's call carried across the forest toward the low hills and the town beyond.

As night came the wind moved slowly across the tops of the trees. The colours of the stars shone down on the forest as the jaguar paced toward the faraway hills. Around the neck of the jaguar hung an emerald stone that glowed in the night air. The stone had given up the emerald to the claim of the black cat. Now the jaguar prowled the moonlit forest decorated with the green trophy. The agitated monkeys that glanced at the cat saw the emerald  became still . The owls that swooped amongst the high branches saw the emerald and stayed their flight out of admiration. All the creatures of the forest recognised that the jaguar was the prince of the shadows now that he wore the beautiful jewel. The birds of the forest sand tributes to the black cat as he paced the dark night. 

Until morning the emerald glowed and lit up the night of shadows. The music of the forest faded before the clear hearted brilliance of the jewel. The stars themselves seem faint in comparison.

At last the jaguar curled up and began to sleep. He found a place high in the trees. As he slept his dreams reached out over the highest trees in the forest. The dream shone in delicate and translucent tones that scaled the sky up toward the moon itself.   

The moon accepted the dreams like words of sacred promise. The dreams blurred in the night sky sending streams of icy green light that reached across the night of the world. The jaguar's eyes grew more and more green as he stared into the night. Eventually the planets became small beside the eyes of the jaguar as it leapt through the starlight into the distance.

Chris Bird

The Golden Children

The waves broke and scattered before the stony shore. The sea rose up in the distance shining green and white before pouring forward. The castle looked down on the sea in the morning light. It’s towers and spires spread right along the coast. A few flags fluttered in the early morning breeze and smoke rose from one or two chimneys. A soldier stood on the battlements looking out across the bay. He was the first to see them.

Seaweed twisted in a green mass beside the rocks. The sun shone on the slippery rocks where tiny crabs crawled out of rock pools. Here and there a sea gull landed on the craggy rocks hoping to find something tasty to eat. The sea gulls were very white against the green seaweed covered rocks. Then something appeared that had a different and distinct colour. They stepped one by one onto the shore as the sun shone and the gulls flew overhead. They glistened with an incredible golden hue. When the sun shone directly onto their surfaces it looked as if a fire was burning there in the open air.

A fisherman bobbing on the waves saw them and thought he must be looking at treasure of something. A soldier in the high tower observed them from a distance and thought a series of bonfires had been lit on the shore. The gulls watched them with fascination. Only the crabs ignored them and went about their business as usual.

The soldiers came running from the castle gate across the hills and the sand dunes. They brought their swords and axes as if ready for a fight. Was this an invasion of golden armoured pirates? The soldiers ran and ran until they were close by. Then they stopped and stared in disbelief.

The group of figures on the beach glowed in a golden, shimmering light. They were motionless standing at the edge of the splashing waves. The soldiers approached cautiously swords at their sides.

They stared and stared as the waves broke and the sea birds screeched overhead.

 Then they ran back to the castle. Within an hour the Queen’s own First Minister came to the beach. He wore long dark robes and held a silver stick. Next to him came the Cardinal with his servants dressed in white and a Captain of the Guard in silvery armour. They all stared at the group standing on the shore unmoving.

“Are they children?” asked the Cardinal in a hushed voice.

“Yes “replied the Captain after a long silence.

“Golden Children” whispered the Queen’s First Minister.

“What should we do with them “asked the Captain.

“Shall I arrest them?”

“What crime have they committed?” said the First Minister.

Neither the Captain or the Cardinal nor even the First Minister could take their eyes from the figures.

They glowed in such a perfect golden light. They were children dressed in simple clothes standing in the sea. They seemed like statues standing there unmoving. They shone with a full, vivid glare of light. Their eyes stared straight ahead and their arms were pressed to their sides. In all there were six children standing beside the sea.  As the day grew older more and more people came to stare at the wonder. Peasants and Courtiers alike came to see the ‘Golden Children ‘.

‘What could have brought them here?’ asked a nurse to her friend.

‘How do they shine so beautifully?’ asked a boy to his Mother.

‘Are they real or made of gold?’ asked a market trader to his brother.

It was this last consideration that brought the Queen’s Treasurer to the beach.

‘We must take them back to the castle he decided ‘they could be very valuable indeed’.

So with great efforts the six golden children were placed on a cart and slowly taken back to the castle. They were heavy and it was hard work. The shadows of twilight crowded around the assembly of soldiers who helped push the cart toward the castle.

The Queen who was a very elderly lady who rarely left her bed told her First Minister to bring the treasure to her own chamber. She wanted to claim the golden figures as her own.

At last with torches burning in the night air the soldiers brought the golden children into the castle’s main square. The wind began to blow around the old castle when the gate was finally closed. The sea began to rise up in bigger and bigger waves all along the coast. The sky darkened and crackled with lightning and a heavy rain drenched the beach. Everyone escaped the rain and ran for cover.

The soldiers ran to the towers, the Cardinal moved quickly in his ornate garments to the chapel and the First Minister scurried back to the Royal Chambers. The golden children stood in the centre of the castle square as the rain poured down. Great waves smashed onto the beach that night and the wind howled.

Sea birds flew for cover on the faraway cliffs and the rocks faced wave after wave of pounding, frenzied water.

The Old Queen lay in her bed listening to the storm get worse and worse. She was frightened of the lightning and pulled the sheets up over her head. Her thin bony hands trembled under the sheets.

In the morning the storm had blown itself out. Gulls returned to the shore line screeching and calling and once again the crabs scuttled about on the rocks. When the first people returned to the court yard to see what had happened to the golden children they were in for a shock. There was no sign of them whatsoever! Soldiers and peasants, traders and nurses all ran through the corridors of the castle searching for the children. They were nowhere to be found! Rumours and gossip spread everywhere that the First Minister had taken the treasure for himself. Others said that the Cardinal had taken the figures to decorate his Chapel. Others whispered that the Captain had melted the figures to build more cannons on the castle defences.

 The sun rose and gleamed down on the castle. The First Minister nervously went to the Queen to give her the astonishing news. The Cardinal stayed inside the Chapel praying for some answer to be found to the mystery. The Captain ordered search parties to set out immediately to scour the coast.

The Queen sat up in bed and coughed. She shook her old head and said in a weary voice,

“You must take the blame for this loss Minister.”

He bowed his head and stepped back slowly out of the room.

The new First Minister was hurriedly sworn in and addressed a crowd outside the Royal Chambers.

“I assure you that we will find these golden treasures and in so doing we will add to the wealth of our great kingdom “This was generally well received and a great popular surge of support rose for the New First Minister.

The soldiers searched in the sand dunes and beyond in the woods that spread across the hills. They even sent a fishing boat along the coast to see if the golden children had washed out to sea. They searched the forests and the cliffs and yet found nothing. They were on the verge of giving up when one young soldier suggested trying the caves far beyond the beach. As a boy he had played there and he surmised that if they were children the golden group might want to play here too.

Twilight had filtered down from the sky as the two soldiers approached the old caves. They walked carefully up the sandy dunes that led to the open mouth of the cave face.

As the soldiers stepped into the shadows they thought they could hear distant laughing. At first they weren’t sure. Were they imagining the sounds? As they slowly moved deeper into the cave they could hear the laughter more and more clearly. The sound of children laughing filled their ears!

They searched the ancient caves holding a small torch of fire to light the way. The shadows danced around them on the craggy walls of the caves. As they searched every part of the huge caverns the flame lit up the stones and rocks. Still the sound of laughter came and went. The younger soldier stopped to rest for a second and as he did so he felt a hand brush his face gently. He jumped back and looked around. There was no one in sight. Again the hand touched his face. Before he could react a sudden burst of golden light was directed at him. It broke out of the dark without warning blinding him for a second. He stumbled and dropped the torch. A child’s voice called out to him.

“Come and play again as you did as children”

The soldier span around in the cave and fell to the rocky ground. For a split second he thought he saw his own face stare back at him out of the dark. The face seemed to be the face of a child but somehow it was his own face too. It glowed with a vivid golden light that shone throughout the cave.

 He turned and ran out of the cave toward the beach. His comrade turned too at the sight of him running and sped out behind him. They ran for the castle and still the laughter seemed to follow them on the air.

When they got back to the castle the Captain of the Guard was furious. He shouted and shouted for the whole guard to assemble in the court yard. He told that they had to revert to shock tactics to scare the strange figures in submission. He called on the guard to build a fighting machine to confront the strangers. Immediately soldiers ran in every direction to fetch planks of wood and nails and rope. The work began at once with banging and shouting echoing all around the castle. Shields were pulled up by ropes and mounted on planks; wheels were attached to barrels that were nailed into place. After a day of crashing and banging an odd looking device stood in the courtyard. It looked like something between a siege tower on wheels and a cart covered in shields and ropes.

The wind rocked it gently as it stood ready for inspection. The Captain looked it up and down.

Then the Captain proclaimed grandly ‘Place the flag on the top!’

The soldiers were a little confused.

‘Which bit is the top? ‘One soldier whispered to his friend.

They dragged the weapon out onto the beach. With a whine and a lurch it headed across the beach. The flag fluttered at the head of the wooden tower and as the wheels rolled they clanked against the line of shields. Soldiers marched behind the weapon toward the caves. The weapon creaked and groaned as it crossed the sand and neared the caves. It rolled forward and gulls began to fly around it. As it got to the cave it shuddered .A huge tremor ran through the ground. A sparkling dust started to leave the mouth of the cave. It glistened and glittered in the air. A sparkling mist began to surround the weapon. The nails creaked in their sockets. The wood groaned and the wheels seem to buckle. In a moment the huge structure wobbled and trembled and then slowly fell back toward the sea. The mist rose up into the air shining and gleaming like a golden fog. In a second the weapon had crashed into the waves. It broke into countless pieces and drifted out to sea.

The New First Minister felt anxious about the failure of the search parties. He paced in his office back and forth under the portrait of The Queen. From time to time he threw a nervous glance at the portrait and winced. Outside in the courtyard a group of peasants were debating whether or not the golden children had been the descendants of Lords or workers like themselves. These debates were continuing amongst the poor all over the castle and the First Minister did not like the tone of them at all. A newspaper had been circulated with an artist’s impression of the ‘Golden Children’. The illustrator had curiously had added wings and haloes to their appearance. This had incensed the Cardinal who found the drawing faintly blasphemous. The Queen had been taken ill again and this meant that no further action could really be taken for the time being.

‘What action can we possibly take anyway’ thought the First Minister.

The clock chimed in his office and with a puzzled expression he looked at the hands of the timepiece. As he looked the hands of the clock began to turn slowly backwards. The First Minister frowned and watched as the hands of the clock began to accelerate spinning backwards.

The Cardinal was deep in prayer. He was troubled by the memory of the golden children. He closed his eyes and began to chant the sacred words of his faith. As he did so the words suddenly slipped away from him. He tried again. Carefully he spoke in a whisper the words of prayer. He stopped and touched his lips. What was he saying? He frowned. As he tried to pray the words had changed. Everyone time that he prayed new words came from his lips. He shook his head. One last time he chanted and as he did so a little boy was listening at the back of the chapel. He was hiding here because it was warmer than his home. The boy smiled as he listened to the Cardinal.

‘These were such beautiful words’ thought the boy.

The Cardinal could no longer control the words in his prayer. As he chanted his voice came to fill the Chapel:

‘We must all live in justice and peace, we must celebrate the wealth that is shared, the peasants are the closest to God and we must make this castle a haven for the needy.’

The Queen lay deep in sleep. Her mind moved to and from many memories of days past. She thought of the castle as it had been when she was a girl, the old sea lapping at the nearby beach. She remembered the silver rings and emerald necklaces that she had adored when she was a young woman. She dreamt of the moon high above the castle shining in a pale, crystal light. Then as she looked up at the moon of her dreams it began to change colour slowly. In her dream she watched the old moon fade from white to amber and then slowly, slowly to gold. A gold moon! Who had heard of such a thing! The old Queen’s dreams blurred and drifted as the gold moon shone. She saw a horse running along the beach splashing the edges of the morning waves. Yet this horse shone gold, bright as a flame. The horse ran and ran toward the distant horizon. The morning seemed to light up with the radiance of the gold colour. The Queen twitched and snored. She rolled to one side to stop the dream but she could not. As she watched in her dream the gold horse ran further and further until it reached the horizon. It ran and ran until there was no more room in the world for it to cross so it jumped up into the sky and ran there. The gold horse ran along the white clouds and crossed the sky. As the horse ran the old castle became young again and the turrets and battlements shone with a pure beauty. The laws of the castle changed to in the gold light. The laws were just and peaceful and the greed of the present day was forgotten.

The peasant children in the castle slept in cold rooms. These children were usually hungry and tired and sleep was hard for them. One child called Lisa could not sleep and walked out onto one of the corridors of the huge castle. As she walked the empty corridors she thought she saw a figure fleetingly pass by in another staircase. She followed the figure and suddenly she heard a crying sound. It must be one of the youngsters she thought. She looked and looked for the crying child. She was about to give up when a strange light shone along the stairs. She approached the light and heard a child cry. A gold voice spoke to her.

“Return to your room there is food and comfort for you there”.

The voice stunned her with its beauty. She hesitated and then ran back to her family’s room. When she opened the door the room was unrecognisable. A fire burnt brightly in the fireplace where before an empty pile of black ashes stood. Blankets covered each and every child and adult. On the rickety wooden table a huge breakfast was laid out under a misty gold glow. Lisa grinned from ear to ear and let out a yelp of pleasure and surprise.

The castle woke to a series of shocked and pleased cries. Many of the poorest peasants had woken to find new clothes and victuals waiting for them beside their beds. The Queen herself woke and for the first time in living memory got out of bed and prepared herself in the chamber’s mirror. She looked bright and alert in a way she had not been for ages and ages. She decided to find a new minister from amongst the poor and deprived. She wanted to hear songs and see colour in the old castle. She wanted to see horses run on the beach. She wanted to see the sky bright with hope for all those who lived in the castle.

The caves were silent except for the lap of the sea’s early waves. From the shadows of the cave came a golden figure. She stood looking across the sea. She watched the gulls flying and the waves breaking. She glanced across at the castle. She remembered so many things, so many days and so many names. Her friends came too now and all six children stood together. They shone gold in the morning light. They linked hands and formed in to a circle there on the beach. One by one they began to dance slowly around and around. As they danced and sang sweetly the waves crashed and fell in white and emerald surges. The sky stretched away in pale beauty above the hills and forests. The world was shining. The children shone like dreams. They were children of the waves, children of peace.

Story By Chris Bird

The Other Side of Midnight

As the chill night rain touched the surface of the huge egg it splashed and sparkled in every direction. The rain was intensifying in silvery streams across the rocky hillside. At the top of the rise the stone paths gave way to a level area of flowers and shrubs. It was here amongst the dark flowers that the great egg stood silently. The egg was as big as a house with huge smooth sides curved precisely upward. The rain cascaded down the egg creating puddles here and there amongst the flowers.

From out of the rain storm a faint light shone dimly. Slowly the light formed into a ghostly outline. It moved steadily across the stones until it stood near the egg.

Another shape appeared suddenly in the rainy air. It swooped downward in a black edged rush of movement. The larger white shape shimmered and grew in size. From within the bright shadow a series of lines and forms solidified. The outlines glowed in pale lines and became clearer and more definite. The lines gleamed in the outline of a white horse.

The horse was as white as chalk, gleaming and graceful, standing still beside the egg. The horse looked around and as he did the rain slowed and began to clear. The dark shape flew into view and settled on the stones amongst the flowers. The dark form was shuffling and shaking itself free of raindrops.

‘Crow ”said the horse, ”You are late.”

The crow shook its wings and hopped up into the air.

“The weather slowed me right down” hissed the crow.

The crow shook its head frenetically.

“Get yourself an umbrella” said the horse under its breath.

The crow looked hard at the horse.

The horse was beautiful beyond description. Its white mane shook flecks of dark rain into the air. It was so white that it was difficult to look at the horse for too long. The black crow had to admit that the horse looked magnificent. It was undeniable.

Yet the crow did not want to admire the horse too obviously.

“His head is big enough already” thought the crow.

Now the rain had stopped completely.

A gradual wave of crystal moonlight crossed the hillside.

Below the hillside valleys of black trees stretched into the distance. The forest was vast reaching far away toward the horizon.

The horse looked around with a thoughtful expression.

Slowly he spoke with a serious tone,

“The moonlight will hasten the ritual”.

The crow nodded. It stretched its wings.

“Soon” whispered the crow simply.

The moon poured down light upon the hilltop.

Raindrops glittered on the pale surface of the egg.

The horse watched the egg expectantly.

Suddenly a third creature appeared on the hilltop moving in an agile crawl.

It seemed to come out of nowhere. The creature stood up and let out a low growl.

“Leopard” nodded the horse by way of acknowledgement toward the newcomer.

The crow fluttered nervously up into the cold air.

“Don’t flatter yourself!” growled the leopard.

“I can’t abide the taste of ravens, tough as old boots.”

“I’m a crow” squawked the bird.

“Silence” said the horse in a soft voice barely more than a whisper.

The leopard’s eyes flashed with anger. His tail curled up into the air.

His paws padded along the stones in silence. His fur shone like the colour of a summer beach. The leopard growled softly and then lay on the ground.

The horse stood still beside the leopard and the crow.

Moonlight flowed down over the three creatures.

The moonlight was sharp as needles, glinting and shimmering on the surface of the egg.

The leopard stretched and the crow shuffled.

The silence of the hilltop was unbroken.

Pale stars above the hilltop called down suddenly,

“Horse, let us know the news”.

The horse glanced upward, “all in good time” he replied.

The crow stared up at the brittle, distant stars. The leopard licked its paws with careful, deliberate strokes. It moved nearer the egg.

“Look” it growled.

Across the surface of the egg a fine crack had appeared. Very slowly in fine streaks the crack lengthened and spread. The thin lines moved steadily across the surface.

The egg was opening into the moonlight.

The horse moved closer and the crow fluttered up into the air to get a better view. Only the leopard was still, its emerald eyes taking in the seconds of revelation. The cracks grew and grew moving with increased speed in fine pulses on the egg surface.

The eggshell glowed with moonlight as the cracks accelerated in every direction. Low cracking sounds came from the surface of the egg.

The horse raised a front leg in anticipation.

A silvery light began to emerge from the eggshell cracks. It sparkled and ran over the three waiting creatures. Shadows and silver pulses of light radiated into the cold night air.

Silver and emerald, crystal and amber streaks of light seemed to float above the egg. From one crack a strong burst of light shot out toward the sky. Shading his eyes with his wings the crow stared toward the egg.

A further section of the egg broke away. The leopard stared hypnotized by the beautiful cascades of light. Across the surface of the egg tiny flowering bursts of light shone and then faded. Bright lines seemed to glimmer and burst into the air and then fade away again.

The last part of the eggshell fell away. As the egg finally opened the heads of the flowers gradually turned toward the light.

There before them the glowing egg rivaled the intensity of the moon itself.

It was then that the girl stepped out of the light.

She was small yet her hands and face were full of the most beautiful

colours. The horse instinctively bowed its head. The leopard flattened itself on the ground. The crow dropped its beak to the stones. All sense of cold seemed to leave the air.

The light began to fade.

The stars above watched the girl take a step. They whispered in celebration. The forest trees swayed in respect.

Faraway the sea itself took a deep, delighted breath. The waves rushed to the shore to catch a glimpse of the girl.

The forest moved with shadows to witness her.

Now from between the dark trees came owls, deer, jaguars, eagles, foxes, ravens, monkeys and apes. In the shadowy mass the animals came to adore the girl. She was their light, their day and night, the bringer of dawn and dusk. The birds circled above the girl.

Then the girl walked amongst them like a ghost Queen reclaiming her kingdom of shadows. She climbed up upon the white horse.

With the leopard beside them they walked into the forest to greet the coming dawn.

Chris Bird

June 1^st 2016