***
Once out of the shower, I pulled on my dirty silicone-stained trousers, which I hadn't washed in months, followed by an old, thick but tight t-shirt to show off my fading muscular chest. In the kitchen, I swallowed a couple extra prescription tablets for my on/off headaches. Headaches that had previously awakened me to the fact that something was seriously wrong inside, and that I needed to seek medical help.
After boiling the kettle, I leaned against the worktop counter and slowly drained my black, sugary coffee. I took a moment to stare obliviously out the kitchen window at nothing in particular. My empty thoughts were soon interrupted by the faint sound of head-banging music that crept into my ear space from next door. I'd done a good job of blocking it out thus far. But it was back with a vengeance this morning. Especially when I clocked last night’s unwashed dishes gently vibrating against the stainless-steel kitchen sink to the beats. Jesus, who the hell listened to such head-banging nonsense at 10.40 on a Tuesday morning, anyhow?
Due to the constant vibrations, one of my black-and-white pictures hanging on the neighbour-side wall and showing a gorgeous view of Edinburgh from the magical Calton Hill fell hard to the laminate floor. It landed with a thud, cracking the frame and shattering the glass. I stared at the fallen picture, then refocused my attention upon the vibrating dishes. I glanced up at the kitchen clock. I felt the rage brewing inside. It was growing and rising like bile from the pits of my gut. I wanted to hurt someone. In that moment, I wanted to inflict violence and pain upon another human being. I imagined storming next door and kicking in that noisy little bastard's front door. Finding the wee jakey cunt sitting with his back to me in his ridiculously untidy living room. Empty bottles of wine, beer, and take-out cartoons strewn all over the place. He'd be puffing away on a skinny joint while sitting on his comfy sofa, in his comfy little world. He'd be laughing to himself with his arms spread wide, resting them elegantly upon the top of his couch. Until I took my steel baseball bat and embedded it deep inside the hard centre of his jakey goddamn skull.
I refocused. I shook my head, trying to clear the angry, violent images from my mind. I closed my eyes and saw the doctor's little bubble of spit on her lips again. I saw myself licking it off with the tip of my tongue. The image of the action calmed me immensely while also giving me a ferocious semi. I refocused my attention on the present and opened my eyes. I finished my coffee, grabbed my keys, and left the house.
Outside it was eerily sunny. What the hell? Still cold as shit but the sun was shining brilliantly. That's Scotland for you. Sunny yet cold as hell. But even the sunshine couldn't brighten up the dreary-looking housing estate I'd found myself dwelling and rotting away in these past few years.
This was Burdiehouse.
How the hell had I ended up living in this spawn of Satan's shite? Take note. This is what happens when you don't pay attention in life and try to settle down with a nice bird, moving out of your pokey-yet-intimate party flat-share in the city centre to a bigger, more spacious pad in the suburbs. After a few months, your nice and faithful bird finds your not-so-faithful dumb arse in bed with her easy and over-flirtatious hairdresser sister. So, she dumps your dumb skinflint arse on the spot. Leaving you with a nice little twelve-month contracted house to pay for.
I took a deep breath and scanned the area. The major stand out scenic attraction in these wonderful slumlands was always graffiti. It covered most of the surrounding walls, parks, and houses for miles around. Even my own home was not spared. Some houses in the street were completely boarded up, while black smoky stains lined the window edges. Looking like some daft ned had decided to have a barbeque indoors during a rainstorm.
I climbed into my work van and started the engine, half hoping the fucker wouldn't start. It did. First time. I drove down my street, heading out of the estate. A gang of half a dozen youths, all around the thirteen-years-of-age mark, loitered at the opposite end of the nearby park. They were watching other teenagers redecorate a bus shelter on the adjourning road. The baseball-capped, tracksuit-wearing vandals were stamping and smashing the glass windows from the inside while spraying red graffiti all over the metal framing.
I wanted to stop. I wanted to pull over and say something. Better still, I wanted to drive my car right up that curb, through that play park and ram it, full speed ahead, directly into that bus shelter. Taking out as many of those little bastards as humanly possible and making the world a better place. But would it, though? Would it really make the world a better place? I had strong opinions that it just might in the long run. I could feel the rage burning, building up inside me. I could envision myself driving into that bus shelter again and again. Right into the heart of those soulless, delinquent vandals, knocking them into their next shitty life. I could hear my cancer egging me on. Whispering from the darkest, foulest, deepest regions of my mind. I could see the headlines from the terrorist-obsessed media now: Terrorist attack in Burdiehouse. A Muslim looking man (I go to sunbeds a lot) drives his van full of explosives (plumbing tools) into a bus stop, killing half-a-dozen innocent young children (non-educated delinquents).
But in the end I didn't do anything. I just kept on driving and the teens kept on destroying.
***
I had to go to Mrs Patterson's house, which was way over on the other side of Edinburgh. She was a regular old customer of mine, Mrs Patterson. An OAP with a heart of gold. She usually called me up twice a month with plumbing problems which were either a false alarm or a blockage/leak that had been caused, I always suspected, by her own purposed meddling. I guessed she just enjoyed my company or talking to someone, anyone, about her life and memories. Plus, she lived all by herself inside that big old house of hers over in Comiston. So, if she felt obliged to pay me forty pounds an hour to just sit and have tea and biscuits while listening to more of her rambling war stories for the twentieth time in six months, then so be it. I actually enjoyed kicking back and listening to someone else's woes for a change, with neither one of us having any ulterior motives or agendas.
I drove through the city centre and up through Morningside in the direction of Mrs Patterson's place. Halfway along Morningside Road, I stopped at a set of traffic lights with the usual overly long waiting period when, quite by chance, I noticed a uniquely beautiful woman standing at a bus stop. She was that rare type of girl who made both time and your heart stand still. There were other people waiting around at the bus shelter but she clearly wasn't with any of them. She had long, flowing, dirty blonde hair, milky pale skin, and a curvaceous body to die for. What an arse. Even greater boobs. Most noticeable and striking of all her features were those deep brooding eyes. She looked so hauntingly beautiful and sexy that she took my breath away.
But those eyes. Those goddamn delicious, piercing, deep, hypnotic eyes. There seemed to be a deep, old, lingering sadness to those eyes which exuded a wise intellect well beyond her years. She wore a simple pair of tight jeans and a snug blue jumper which complemented the curvaceous body hidden underneath. A physique and facial features which reminded me of a dressed-down actress from the early 1990s, Emmanuelle Seigner. Just simply angelic and stunning. But the way she stood against that bus top, so casual and uncaring… I'd never seen such an aura of aloof sex appeal in my life. Even if she'd been wearing only a filthy bin bag, she'd still have gotten a rise from me. I mean, Jesus Christ! What the hell was she going to look like dressed up to the nines for a night out on George Street wearing a cute mini skirt, skimpy top, and high heels? I could only imagine.
I thought about pulling over and making haste on foot back down the street to boldly talk to her at the bus stop—but about what? I didn't have a Scooby. I chuckled at the ridiculousness of it. All those people around! Waiting, watching, listening. What the hell was I going to say to her? She would run a mile in embarrassment for sure, if indeed she didn't first blast me in the face with a can of pepper spray while sounding her rape alarm at maximum volume. I would forever be pathetically shamed for my foolish actions.
No, the circumstances weren't right. Fate wasn't with me at that moment. So, I kept driving even though the cancer in the back of my mind was screaming at me to get the hell back there. Go and speak to her if she made such an impact and impression on you. You only live once. You won't even exist on the planet this time next year. Get off your lazy plumber arse and make something happen. Once again, I ignored its pleas.
The Fairy Boy of Calton Hill
For fans of Peter Pan and Harry Potter comes a story like no other.
Would you accept a strange and mysterious fairy's invitation to see her fantastical, yet troubled world, even if it meant giving up everything and everyone you ever cared for?
Liam, a young teenage boy who recently lost his father, is befriended by G, a different kind of fairy creature from what he has read about in fairy tales, after she breaks the strict rules of her magical world and intervenes when Liam is beaten up by a gang of school bullies, outside her secret, magical cave on top of Edinburgh's Calton Hill.
Immediately G and Liam form a deep bond of friendship that takes them on a whirlwind adventure inside her fantastical, yet dark and troubled world - from the great cliffs of doom and the flesh-eating forest, to the great lake and all the weird and wonderful creatures that dwell there, from fire wolves and rainbow dragons to the more sinister lurking weasel bats.
Things take a darker turn when Liam, looking to impress the new girl on the block, Lucy - a feisty teenage girl from Ireland - secretly brings her into the magical world, unaware of the tragic and twisted events, that are about to be unleashed upon them.
For G's world is no longer the tranquil haven it once was. It is now a world ruled by a tyrant Fairy King and his mysterious evil wizard, Zorn. And with a cannibal king of dragons under their thumb along with an army of Wretchids at their disposal - a half goblin, half werewolf, hybrid creature, with one hell of a bite - they have no equal or challengers to the throne of their fantastical land...
...Until Now.
Prologue
'Are you scared, Liam?' G asked. She flew a little closer towards him. 'Would you like me to take you back to your own world so that you can forget all about us? I'll do it if you like. I can take you back there right now if that's what you truly want.'
Liam thought long and hard for a short while, but his mind was made up. His life back home was boring and dull and seemingly no better than the lives of the enslaved fairies here. No, after all the books he'd read and set his imagination on fire, he wanted some adventure in his life. He longed for it. Ached for it. Needed and desired it. Finally, Liam glanced back at G and grinned mischievously. 'No…I want to see your world, G. Regardless of the dangers, I want to see everything.'
G smiled. Her big, round, black eyes, lit up too, elated with Liam's answer. 'Then I'll take you to my favourite place on this entire mountain, just beyond the pale green forest over there. There you'll see some of the most beautiful and fascinating creatures and sights my world has to offer.'
G turned and led the way towards the pale green forest. Flying gently through the air.
Hank shook his head in disgust though and backed his tiny little hovering frame away from the human boy and his fellow fairy friend. He felt that he needed to get far, far away from this charade and the sooner the better, for both his sanity and his safety. What G was doing with the human boy—talking to him, bringing him into their world, sharing their secrets—it was getting too much now. She had gone too far this time in her maddening pursuit of change and enlightenment. The more he stuck around here with her and the boy, the more he feared for his own future.
'I'm sorry, G,' Hank cried all of a sudden. '...but I just can't have anything more to do with this crazy scheme of yours. To show this…this human around our world... I'm so very sorry, G. I can't do it. I just can't. I have my family to think about, and the painful consequences if we were ever to be caught far outweigh any pleasures. Yes, it all began as a little bit of silly fun, a new curious adventure of exploration, perhaps, but now…well, now it's over, G. For me anyhow.'
G glanced back at Hank. Her big black bug like eyes narrowed and a flash of anger intruded into her thoughts. She wanted to say something back, to convince Hank to stay with them, at least for a little while, but she knew it would be useless and tiring to her soul. Hank, in the end, was just like all the other fairies in her village after all—too scared to question or confront the regime that held power over them, and far too fearful of new changes, no matter how good, to their monotonous ways of life.
'Hank?'
Hank was already flying across the clearing when G called out to him, but her tone was only half-hearted and Hank knew it too. Hank halted in mid-air and turned back to face her.
'I'm going back to the village, G, but I promise you that I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. I've kept your secret about finding this forbidden place and I'll keep it that way too. It was fine and dandy when we were just exploring the hills and forest and larking around. And when we found their world, you swore you would just look and listen and nothing more. But this…this I am afraid of. It's too much, G. You've turned your dim curiosities into a raging obsession. A very, very dangerous obsession at that. I'm sorry. The risk is far too great for me now…I'm out.'
G fell silent. She couldn't reply to that. Hank was a decent fairy and she knew he would keep his word and vow of silence—or at least she hoped he would. But it was too much to ask of him to stay with her and let go of all his years of built up fears and doubts and inhibitions.
'Just be careful, okay? Show him what you must, but get him out of here by the end of the day, and pronto. Then forget you ever saw each other,' Hank bluntly finished, and with that, he blinked his big black eyes and turned, flying off out of sight.
'Well it was nice meeting you Hank... Goodbye...' Liam called after him. But Hank never even turned back to acknowledge him. So Liam turned and walked the other way, following G towards the pale green forest as she flew out in front of him. Suddenly he began to notice something rather peculiar indeed. It appeared that the more he waded through the longer green grass of the pasture, the more colourful the grass became. Gradually it was changing from light green and light purple to light blue, then back to light green again.
'Why is the longer grass changing colour like that?' Liam enquired, both curious and fascinated at the same time by the magical event.
G, who was some way ahead of him, turned and stared briefly down, looking almost bewildered herself at the green grass below. She quickly realised that it was only the grass close around Liam that was changing colour. She knew immediately what was happening.
'The grass is alive, Liam.' G cried with delight. 'It's getting used to you. It's acclimating itself to your mood.'
Liam smiled and gazed around for another few moments at the calm and colourful grass. It was a wonderful sight to see, making him even more deliriously happy. Of course, when those happier emotions reflected back into the surrounding grass, it became even lighter, with yellows and pinks coming into quick effect.
'This is so amazing, G. It's absolutely bloody brilliant.' Liam cried as he started twirling in circles of delight, leaving a colourful trail wherever he twirled. G giggled at his playful antics. He was glowing with warmth and it enthralled her. Because G flew pretty much everywhere and hardly ever set foot upon the ground, she'd forgotten all about the grass that fed on the emotions of the creatures who waded through it.
Liam continued to twirl and jump around, playfully teasing the grass with his footsteps and motions. Then his thoughts drifted to Lucy and how much fun the two of them could have in this small and magical clearing together, running about like crazy cats and playing joyfully together, rolling around and finally lying down and resting upon the ever-changing grass. He wondered where she was for a moment. His beautiful Lucy. What might she be doing? What might she be thinking? Was she thinking about him as often as he thought about her? Probably not. She was somewhere in the mad, vibrant grime of Dublin City b
y now. A place filled with constant distractions and an endless sea of human activity. She'd be helping her father pack things from their old house, more than likely, and catching up with old friends before leaving them behind for her new life in Edinburgh.
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