Keeping busy does wonders. Keeping busy eats up time. It distracts for whole seconds. Too soon, I remember. The shoulders slump. The chin wobbles. The house is too big yet claustrophobic, too messy, too loud, too quiet.
Are you ever coming back? Your silence answers me in giant red letters, shouted through a megaphone from the top of a mountain. ‘NO. You’re by yourself. Now quit your whining and grow up fast. It’s time to go it alone’.
The outsider
By Sara Sutherland
She made a decision, and now has to live with it,
Going it alone.
Loneliness, regret, sadness, fear and courage,
In a world of families; people together,
Laughing; fighting; angry; happy.
She’s an observer, watching through the window of life,
An outsider,
Like she doesn’t belong in that busy world.
It’s passing her by.
No one cares.
It isn’t easy, going it alone.
THEME: MAGIC
Stories by Sara (2), Nene, Robert, Carole, Laurie, Graham (2)
The fairies
By Sara Sutherland
“I don’t care what you say. I believe in magic!” she announced, defiantly.
“There’s no such thing as magic!” he replied.
“There is so too! Magic is all around us. You can feel it. Sometimes you can even see it.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. There’s magic in the air. Lot of rot!”
Penny looked at her older brother, disgusted. How do you convince a mere boy that she had seen fairies at the bottom of the garden. Dancing around the flowers, they were. Having a wonderful time, with tiny little pan pipes playing pretty tunes. She had seen them very early in the morning, when the grass was still dewy and a fine mist filled the summer dawn. That was the time she liked to go out there. She would creep quietly downstairs and out of the back door, pat the dog, Rusty who greeted her with wagging tail and licks and followed her as she wandered down the garden, through the fruit trees until she reached the fence at the far end. She could still see the house – the garden wasn’t that big, and she knew not to go out of the gate. She and Rusty sat quietly and waited. Soon a tiny creature with wings appeared, laughing and singing, followed by lots of others. Penny watched and waited. A tinkle of music could be heard, and then one of the tiny creatures stopped and looked at her, smiling.
“Hello”, it said. Penny just stared, fascinated. The fairy – for fairy it must be – laughed and flitted away to dance with all the others.
Penny blinked and they were gone. “Did you see that?” she asked Rusty, who took no notice, enjoying a nice scratch. He licked her hand anyway. She waited a little while, but then sadly got up and went back to the house, before she was missed. Why would no one believe her? She opened the back door quietly and went inside.
“Where have you been?” asked Mum, making Penny jump.
“Just for a walk,” said Penny.
“Oh?” Mum smiled. “I thought you must have gone down to see the fairies at the bottom of the garden.”
The voice
By Sara Sutherland
Magic exists, I just know it. I don’t mean spells and potions and that sort of stuff: Harry Potter waving a wand and uttering a few unintelligible words. I mean life. Life itself is magical sometimes, little things can happen with no explanation, like the time old Mrs Harris woke up from the coma and looked around, and asked if dinner was ready yet!
Christmas is a very magical time, especially for children, who believe in Santa Claus, elves, flying reindeer and all that stuff. Fairy lights can be magical, by just doing nothing but shine. I get emails all the time, with fantastic photography, places, people, animals, flowers. All of them prove that it’s not what you see – it’s how you look at it.
I had a magical experience once. I was woken by the phone very early one morning. It was my sister in law in the UK telling me that my brother, who had been very sick, had passed away. I noticed something strange about my right eye, which gradually clouded over until I went blind, caused by a bleed I later found out – a very scary experience. While waiting to see the eye specialist, I clearly heard my brother speak to me, as if he was in the room. He said “You’ll be all right, old girl, stop worrying.” (He used to call me “old girl”) I jumped and looked around, expecting to see him as I felt him there in the room. People looked at me strangely! I was sure he had spoken out loud, but nobody but me heard it.
And I was all right, after an operation and uncomfortable healing process.
Life is full of magic! We only have to look.
Make me believe
By Nene Davies
My big sister doesn’t know this, but I’m really a fairy. She thinks I look silly but what would she know? I like my wings.
My brother is little. He thinks he’s a pirate. Or a dinosaur. Mum said he makes a big noise like a dinosaur. I think so too.
My sister is the biggest. She doesn’t play with us but I don’t care. Sometimes I’m a butterfly. That’s because my fairy wings can be butterfly wings too. My brother doesn’t think that’s silly because sometimes his dinosaurs wear a patch on their eye and go looking for treasure.
My big sister sits in the chair by the window and listens to music. She has little white headphones and a pink ipod. She got it for Christmas. I know she watches me and my brother playing, but when I go up to her chair she says ‘go away.’
I saw her yesterday in her bedroom. I saw her turning around in front of her mirror and looking over her shoulder. She went on her tippy toes and did a bit of dancing like we do at ballet. She had my fairy wings on. She looked happy. I ran into my room and got her my wand, too.
A land far off
By Robert Caffrey
Here is my ten minutes of magic (pun intended)
It had taken years to get here, and it was worth all the effort of the many people involved. It was a dream fulfilled. This new planet found millions of light years away from old earth. A habitual planet at last that ticked all the boxes. Turning, Jim looked at his crew who had come out of Stasis and had survived a faster than light journey.
The best of the best, from a wide spectrum of sciences, waiting to exit the landing craft. It came down to drawing straws as to who would step on the to new world first. He was the lucky one.
Opening the hatch he stepped down onto the surface, it was stunningly beautiful this new world, familiar plant life, and birds he noticed first. The sky was purple and the grass blue. A stunned silence was heard over the mics as his group gathered on the surface.
They all took in the form before them, one of myth and legend.
"To be sure, are there any of ya from the old country then, it sure took ya long enough to get here? Oh, and did any of ya bring any gold? And you can also be taken off those silly suits an all", The leprechaun in his green jacket and buckled shoes said, and doffed his hat at them.
What’s it all about?
By Carole Worthy
What is magic to me?
A newly born baby , pearly wet, strawberry red, wrinkled face, momentarily statuesque as it assesses the sudden total and momentous change to its environment, then mouth opens, breath, pause... and yell.
The countryside after a swift, violent but majestic storm has swept over- the eerie light of a recovering sun, leaves reflecting millions of diamontes.
The moment after an argument with a loved one when reconciliation offers its healing balm.
Two kinds of magic
By Laurie Gilbert
I try to take an interest in the father who is distracting the child from his anxiety about the X-Ray ahead of him with the need for an injection first. I see his sleight of hand as the coin disappears and then is pulled out of the child’s ear and then his pocket. The little one is entranced and asks to keep the coin each time. The father agrees.
; The dull burden of what lies ahead for my partner cannot be lifted even by a child’s enjoyment. It is worrisome; the GP was not sensitive or careful. He said, ‘It sounds like cancer. Kidney is not the best place to have it.’ I wonder where he trained and want to send him back with a fail report and a recommendation to do a special course in bedside manner and understanding human nature.
I focus on the notices on the wall. They seem good and proper and say the right things about care and concern and informed consent. I’m wondering what consent may be involved for James. More tests? Surgery? Chemo? Radiation? Pain? Could be any or all of that.
Now the wait – he was called in ages ago. I imagine the dye and the outlining of the organ and the technician making provisional diagnoses. At last James comes out. He looks a bit ragged. From the examination? From recent sleepless nights and anxiety? We wait some more until the radiologist calls us in.
The outcome is good. No disease found. No further treatment needed. Seems it could have been a one-off episode without known cause.
The relief. The boy’s magic seems so low-key now. We’ve experienced the real magic. The work of years for medical qualification, the magic of X-Rays and technology and fast answers.
The door of wonder
By Graham Thomas
The rain had finally ceased and a thousand puddles of varying shapes and sizes reflecting a thousand opalescent moons decorated the shopping precinct. People hurried hither and thither, heads bowed in an effort to complete that last bit of shopping before the next downpour. The toddler and his grandfather mooched around together as they awaited the return of the two most important women in their respective lives, and who were presently in the ladies fashion shop.
The child was distracted by the sight of the supermarket doors sliding open automatically on the arrival of a customer. This seemed to the boy to be too good to be true. Too good an opportunity to miss. What would happen if he approached those self-same doors? Would they open for him, as if by magic, for magic it surely was. There was only one way to find out and in less than the twinkling of any eye, he was off like a little winkie, shattering and shimmering many of the thousand moons in his tread. When he reached the doors he stopped abruptly, but nothing happened. Puzzled, he took a cautious, small step forward and there! They opened bang on cue in their accustomed fashion. The child gazed around in awe of this magnificent achievement – opening doors without touching them. Wow!
He turned to his grandfather who was watching from a distance, smiling. The toddler, with a look of wide-eyed wonderment, gave a shriek of delight as he hurtled into the shop as fast as his stuggy legs would allow. His grandfather followed in hot pursuit, fearing his charge would disappear in the throng of shoppers, trolleys and baskets, but he needn’t have worried. The child stopped suddenly, turned and ran back to the old man who gathered him up in his arms, swung him around at head height amid much laughter and carried him out. Once outside and back on terra firma, the child shot off again towards the doors. This was obviously going to be a great new game. Arriving at the doors, they performed their magic once again, and so the cycle was repeated several times, resulting in the grandfather having to make use of his inhaler. Every time the toddler entered the shop, his grandfather followed and gathered him up in the safety of his arms. And every time he did, they hugged, the boy resting on his grandfather’s left forearm, the other arm around the boy’s body. He in turn threw his arms around the old man’s neck and the couple exchanged a thousand kisses. The best magic.
A Bit Of Nonsense
By Graham Thomas
‘Get the sword out! Get the bloody sword out! he shouted in a stage whisper. ‘Magic? Magic? Bloody painful is what it is! As for this stupid bleedin’ box you’ve made me stand in! Blood everywhere, and all of it mine!’ he hissed, loudly. ‘No point feeling sorry the audience are demanding refunds. You should have thought of that sooner. You said it wouldn’t hurt, you said! And if it did, well only a bit. Well let me tell you, lady, it’s bleeding painful – literally!’
Mike stopped his rant. Mary said softly, ‘Sorry Mike. It was supposed to bend around you, you know, out of sight of the audience while you were in the box. I told you to grab the blade and ease it around you. I can’t be held responsible if you can’t follow simple instructions. And don’t even think of mentioning Health and Safety and suing me. You volunteered for this trick and you went into it with your eyes open.’
‘Yeah, and now my ribs are open an’ all!’ he retorted. ‘Well, look,’ said Mary, wait till everyone in the audience has gone home and we’ll see about getting you out. Can’t say fairer than that, now, given the circumstances. I’ve got my reputation to think of.’
‘Your rep... oh that’s nice, that is. I’m standing in here oozing blood from a hole in the ribs, and you want me to hang on until the theatre’s empty, just to save your reputation? And keep that little kid away, if he wiggles the sword once more or bashes the box, I’ll have him, so help me’
‘Well, I can’t remove the sword yet. Everyone’ll see the blood on it. Good job it was my last trick.’ added Mary, thoughtfully. ‘Shouldn’t be long. There you are, look, the audience has suddenly disappeared, as if by ... er, ....’
The Farewell Token
By Marci Dahlenburg
She tossed away the sleep that refused to come and threw off her bedclothes. The hope chest at the end of her bed held everything sacrosanct, every prayer, every promise, and she was prepared to ravage it.
She lifted the heavy scissors from the carved wood sewing box, then her bible; tucked neatly between its pages was the cross. The first present she ever remembered her Grandmother giving her. “Mark your bible with this,” she’d said “and you’ll always know your place.”
She snipped the starched stiff lace crucifix from its ribbon then snatched up a handkerchief with her name and a rose embroidered fine in the corner.
Her fingers flew in the dim dawn, firmly fastening the cross to the linen and drawing up the ‘kerchief’s corners. In the pouch that she’d fashioned she slipped five dried rose buds from the bouquet of her 16th birthday, and the small gold coin her father had presented her that same day.
Without thinking she snipped a locket of hair and added it; quickly drew it tight with a ribbon.
In her palm, moist with fear, she held an amulet. She would give it to him as she bade farewell, hoping that the mix of faith, superstition and love would make the magic to keep him safe.
THEME: WATER
Stories by Carole, Graham, Robert, Sara, Laurie, Nene
Water in the well
By Carole Worthy
The water in the well was exceptionally deep. The circular, stone wall was still in good condition with its traditional A-shaped, shingle top also holding up well. The village people had drawn water from this well for hundreds of years to water the vegetable gardens which were laid out in rectangular beds on the southern, downhill side of the well. All manner of vegetables grew there, leafy greens, brightly coloured peppers and chillies, root croppers, asparagus, and many varieties of beans and peas, and in amongst them wandered nasturtium, with little clumps of Heart’s Ease and Marigolds adding their bright faces to the greenery. Without the well, these gardens would never have been able to exist as there were no taps within miles and the nearest creek was at least a five mile walk.
Deep
By Graham Thomas
He always felt the sea would kill him, given half a chance. And here he was on tiptoe just touching the bottom, water fluctuating between chin and eyes – him a poor swimmer to boot. The shore was a mile away, he felt, but the flat calm sea offered no comfort to him as he struggled to maintain a lack of panic. The distant beach appeared deserted, the soft sand a lifetime away, and every time he rose in the water, he fell a little deeper, lower. Gradually and very slowly he subsided beneath the surface into a green blue hue. He could see the depths, feel the beckoning
blackness as it pulled him gently but inexorably into the dark void. He was drowning but he felt strangely at peace. His eyes were open, his lungs oddly not bursting. He seemed to have no problem sinking, sinking.
He barked his shoulder on the jagged rock as the turbulent surf swept him onto the soft white sand. His shoulder was stinging and bleeding somewhat. The sun was high overhead and the beach parasols had been replaced by palm trees swaying in the gentle breeze. As he lay there, he felt the coldness of the water rise up under his inert body, starting at his feet and gradually engulfing his whole underframe. Panicking, he sat bolt upright and found himself staring into her eyes. She smiled again. What was it all about, this wetness that surrounded him? ‘Sweat?’ he asked. She shook her head. ‘Burst hot water bottle.’ she replied ‘So we can’t sue Tena Lady for a crappy product then?’ he mused. She punched him playfully on the shoulder. He looked at the blood which was still oozing. ‘It must have been the rock.’ he suggested. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, admiring her impressive engagement ring, ‘it must have been.’
Renewal
By Robert Caffrey
Leaving his companions behind, he rose in the heat of the day. Looking below him he saw that many others beyond number also had decided to join him. All had decided to take the journey to new horizons. Looking forward to the fulfillment of their ultimate purpose. It was certainly the day for it the conditions were optimal. Their salt loving brothers had elected to remain to ride with their brothers on the waves drawn by tides and currents, they may enjoying a journey of a different sort.
As they ascended they changed form and were reborn. Upwards they still went until they once again gathered high on the atmosphere. Affected by the tide of the sky, they were blown across the temple on high until they cooled once more. Now becoming heavy and sluggish they broke in song as they fell to earth joyously singing until each raindrop landed, earth bound again.
The power of water
By Sara Sutherland
When I think about water, I remember the poem, “The Ancient Mariner”, and the words “water, water everywhere nor any drop to drink .” That is what it must have felt like to the people watching the water rise in the floods of January 2011, gradually gobbling up their homes and possessions, dirty, muddy water, inexorably rising like an evil monster, a bad dream, taking everything away, ruining their lives. We had a huge dam which was meant to protect us from drought and flood, but it got too full, too quickly so they had to let some out resulting in a flooded river.
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