Poetry & Stories

“Portion of chips!” the woman said, smiling. That’s what she called me.

“Hey Anne.” I replied, going up to her. She handed me my nickname.

“Is there enough salt or you want more?”

I handed the chips back to her, “Well actually I’d like a burger today.”

“A burger?” She looked at me.

I nodded.

“But you’re my Portion of chips, you’ve always been!”

“And always will be,” I reassured her, “Just for today I want a chicken burger.”

“You buy?”

I nodded. She set to work. I looked out the window. I looked back. The burger was ready.

“£3.50,” She stuck out a hand. I stuck both in my pockets… and looked at her.

“Lost my money.” I frowned. She raised an eyebrow, “Might have dropped it at church, be right back, keep it warm.” I raced to church, checked where I’d been sitting for the afternoon service. The pastor walked past.

“Pastor!” I called, going towards him as he turned to look at me, “Have you got some spare change?”

“Hmmmm…” he rubbed his chin with the hand which wasn’t holding his Bible, “Well you know what the Bible says about spare change, don’t you?”

“Yes.” I lied.

“Good man!” he clapped me on the shoulder and took a £5 note out of his Bible, “Then buy what you must, and keep the spare change.” I watched him as he walked away. I stood for a second, wondering what he’d meant by ‘buy what you must’.

I left church and paced towards the chip shop, hoping my burger was still warm. I was just about to step inside when a familiar hand clapped me on the shoulder and turned me around. It was the pastor, with hell in his eyes.

“WHERE are you going? Stealing MY money!?” Nearby people and the woman in the chip shop looked at us. The pastor’s lips were pulled back, revealing sharp teeth. His look was so sinister and his grip on my shoulder so strong that I was wondering if it were God’s or the devil’s son I was up against.

“No! I’m, I’m…“

“The superstore is that way! Where are my biscuits?” His biscuits?

“I, I was going the long way, for exercise, see?” I put my hands down and wiggled my fat belly to justify my words. Thank God for all the portions of chips I’d had, knew it might save my life some day.

The pastor looked at the chip shop, looked at me, and looked at the £5 note.

“Liar! Taking the long way my back foot! Your mind stinks of buying a burger with my money!”

I pulled out my last trick, “Look into my heart, pastor, and you will see I’m not lying!”

“Fool!” the pastor replied, “How can I look into your heart? Who do you think I am? Jesus?” He pushed me into the shop. The woman looked at us.

“I give you money to buy me food, and you take it to buy you food! You think I don’t know?” He pointed at the burger on the counter, “Buy it!”

I did just that and got the change. The pastor snatched it and the burger, took a mighty bite, and chewed.

“Hmphmhphmm…” he paused to swallow, “… lying to a pastor!” then left.

There was a moment’s silence. Anne took out the portion of chips she’d handed me earlier. On that day, I learned not to lie to a pastor.

And to stick to my portion of chips.

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories

Leah stuck herself between me and the television, with the house phone in her hand and claims of someone wanting to speak to me. I ignored her, and leaned to the left. Again she blocked my view, waving the phone in my face. I kissed my teeth.

“Move!” I said, leaning right. Couldn’t she see I had a video game to play? Couldn’t she see I was ignoring her? Couldn’t she-

By the time I’d gotten to my feet, it was too late. Leah had switched off the television. I reached to switch it back on. She turned to face me, and caught my arm.

“George! Stop-” but questions already filled my mind:

What if the boss has killed me?

What if I’ve spent all these hours of gameplay for nothing?

What if he hasn’t killed me yet and I still have a chance to beat him?

“-for a minute, and-”

“Shut up!” I tried to break away from her.

“Take the stupid phone!” she shoved the phone in my hand. I threw it to the floor, thoughts in my head:

What if it’s too late to finish the game?

What if I have to start it over from the beginning?

What if? What if?

I didn’t care how she was pointing to the phone. I shoved her. Leah grabbed me to keep from falling, pulling my fingers - which were so damn close to the power button – and my body towards her. We fell onto my desk.

Fragile as it was, it tilted at our combined weight. Leah and I fell further, hitting the floor. CD cases, books, everything followed us. And then silence.

The games console called to me. I turned to get up and felt a pull on my shirt. Leah still held me. I took her by the throat, aiming to give her a good slap for making my life difficult. No sooner was my hand in the air that I was lifted off her, and pulled away with a strength that could only come from my father.

            I was spun round, grabbed by the collar, and pinned to the wall.

            “What’s wrong with you!?” Spittle spattered my face, “Hitting your sister? What’s wrong with you?”

            I didn’t answer. Answering would only prolong things. I saw mum come in and kneel beside Leah, asking if she was okay. Leah mumbled something, pointing at the floor.

            Mum picked up the phone. She put it to her ear, and shook her head at my father. The man looked back at me.

            “What happened?” he shook me by the shoulders, “Why has Fred hung up?”

            So it had been Fred on the phone.

            “I tried to give him the phone, but he threw it at me and told me to fuck off. Then he pushed me and started hitting me.”

            That wasn’t exactly true.

            “Idiot!” my father said, “Can’t even speak to your own brother? Don’t even care what he has to say to you, after all these months?” he shook me again, “How? How can you be like this?”

            All I knew was that my father stank of cigarettes.

            “Answer when your father speaks to you!” my mother said.

            I felt like crying. I was tired, hungry, and had played all these hours for nothing. The boss had definitely killed me by now. And nobody even cared.

            “Sorry.”

            “Sorry?” my father repeated, “Sorry? That’s all you fucking say! All the fucking time! Sorry I failed my exams! Sorry I got fired from work! You never mean it! Fuck’s sake!”

“Stop spitting on me.”

“Look what you’ve done! Look!” My father pointed at Leah.

            Before I could say anything, he let go. He went for my beloved games console, and did something he had done before. He pulled its cables from the television, clutching it under one arm.

            I ran at my father, opening my mouth to-

            “BACK off, boy!” He thrust his elbow in my chest, nodding for my mother to hold me. I tried to break free. Leah got up, running to assist her. I cried at this injustice, wrestling against them. I fought until I collapsed, beaten at last.

            And I dreamed. I dreamed of being bullied at school. Of being rubbish at music and team sports. Of not understanding anything in class. Of not having anybody I could call a friend. Of being jealous because my sister had everything I didn’t. Of being sad because my parents had never seemed to love me. I dreamed of being alone, crying in the dark. And then I dreamed of my brother giving me a gift, the only gift I’d ever had. And I tore away the wrapping, opened the box, and there it was…

            I opened my eyes, darkness all around. I was sprawled on my bed, trying to remember what happened. I got to my feet, looking for my games console. I saw it was missing, and hated my family for tearing me away from what I loved. I struggled to keep from shaking with fury. Where would they take my games console? Rubbing my chin, I reasoned… and knew it would most likely be where they’d not expect me to look.

            My stomach rumbled, emphasizing the emptiness I felt in my heart. I needed my games console. Needed the thrill of being sucked into that world of fantasy. I loved travelling through temples and forests, with a flaming sword in one hand, and pet wolves by my side. Loved to clash against one-eyed giants, nine-headed snakes, and other mythical creatures. I rubbed my chin again, caressing the little strands of hair. Where they’d not expect me to look… I tiptoed out of my room. The house was in darkness and silence. My parents’ and sister’s doors were shut. I went downstairs, past the shoe and coat racks, checking the closet under the stairs. Nothing. I went upstairs to my parents’ door, opening it. They slept. I stepped in, lied flat on the floor, and slid my hand under the bed. I pulled out the games console and left.

            I only had a few hours. Then I’d have to slide it back where I found it. I played in the darkness. Seconds trickled into minutes, and minutes to hours. My eyes began to sting. My back arched, my head nodding off as I fought sleep. But the sounds coming from the game was like music to my ears. I told myself to carry on until the very end.

            The light switched on. I jumped, surprised. Had I been so caught in my game that I never heard the door open? I rotated in my armchair, scared of seeing my father. Scared of what might happen now. I could not see at first, the light was too bright.

“George?”

“Fred?”

“So it is you!” Fred sighed, “Wouldn’t think you’d be up this early, It’s close to six in the-“

“Aren’t you meant to be in hospital?” I asked.

“Got out yesterday. Tried to tell you, but the phone cut off.” My brother scratched his head, “Been out with friends to celebrate and- shit!” Fred took a closer look at me, studying me, “You look dead man!”

I knew where this was going. My bro would ask how long I’d been playing.

“Look at you!” Fred came in the room, dropping his heavy rucksack on my bed, coming forward to take an even closer look at me, “How long have you been playing?”

“Please,” I said, “Pretend I’m not here, I’ll be quiet. Let me finish this game.”

“Look at you! You’re all skin and bones!” he sat on my bed, “Are you fasting? Talk to me!”

But I had no time, already I could sense it ticking away, could sense that my parents would wake up soon. I knew to spend less time talking, and more time playing.

“Fred…” I shook my head, “I know it looks like I’m going mad-“

“Damn right!” Fred broke in, “You look older than granddad and as skinny as the noodles I had for lunch.”

“But I’m fine, really.”

“I don’t think so. You’re nodding off every five seconds. I say you stop playing this game… catch some sleep.”

I feared it’d come to this. But I had a game to finish.

“You don’t understand.”

“Actually I do, you want to finish this game before going to sleep. Am I right?”

He was right.

“You’re right. And I’ll be finished soon as well.”

Fred shook his head, “If dad knew you were awake, he’d kill you. But if he knew I let you play at this time, he’d kill me.”

I wasn’t going to tell him that the games console was confiscated, that would complicate things further.

“Come on,” Fred got up, making his way towards me. “Give me that controller.”

“Look Fred, -”

“No, you look. Take your eyes off your game for a minute.” I frowned. Fred’s tone had changed, sounding too much like dad’s: authoritative, unfriendly, cold.

“Look in the mirror, George. Look at what this game’s doing to you.”

“I already know what it’s doing to me.”

“Everyone visited me in the hospital, everyone but you. They kept telling me about you,” Fred eyed me, “They’re worried, bro. Mum telling me you’re drifting away, not eating no more. Not talking no more. Sis telling me you’re going mad over this game. Didn’t want to believe her, but look at you bro.”

Every second spent listening to him was a second lost..

“Everyone telling me you’re doing bad in school, telling me you lost-“

“Yes for fuck’s sake, yes!” I threw my hands up, “Got kicked out of school! Lost my job! Everyone pissed with me, I’m a disgrace! Why can’t you leave me be?” I looked my brother dead in the eye, “Why can’t I be left alone? Why am I always told what to do and where to go? Why is shit always falling on my head?”

“Listen to yourself!” Fred said, “This game’s gotten to your head. Give me that controller!” He snatched the controller out of my hands.

It felt like something inside me tore open. But the hurt went deeper. My own brother, the very one who had given me this game as a gift, was now stopping me from playing. Even he had turned his back on me. But why couldn’t I do as I pleased? Did I prevent my mother from reading her books? Did I stop my sister from riding her bike? Did I stop my father from smoking his cigarettes? So why such injustice? Why?

This games console was all I had; it was all I could associate with. It was the only thing left that hadn’t deserted me.

“Get some sleep bro, you need it.” That said, Fred picked up his rucksack and started leaving, controller pad in hand.

I walked and caught up with him in the doorway. I placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him round.

“Give me my controller. It was a gift, you can’t take back gifts.”

“George, seriously, just-“

Every second spent listening to him was a second lost. I grabbed the controller with my free hand while my brother talked, trying to wrestle it from his grasp. He smacked my hand away. I tried again, pushing my brother with one hand, and pulling the controller free with the other. Fred, with one hand holding his rucksack, stuck a foot back to maintain balance. But his foot only met air.

I forever regretted what happened next.

The weight of the rucksack pulled Fred, and he lost balance completely, tumbling down the bone-breaking, skin-bruising, rough wooden stairs and not stopping until he lay in a twisted heap on the floor below.

It was as if the games console was calling me again, whispering my name. But for the first time in a long, long time, I didn’t answer its call. I went downstairs, afraid of what I might see.

“Fred?”

For long Fred didn’t answer. I looked at him, waiting for him to say something, anything.

“George… please…”

Tears were in Fred’s eyes, pain and sadness so deep it took my mind off video games completely. I knelt beside him.

It was as if he was trying to say something.

Fred fainted.

Seconds passed. Doors opened and I heard screams. Feet shuffled around me, and I was pushed aside. I heard crying. Somebody was shouting at me, shaking me. Finally, I heard a siren. A door opened. Feet shuffled again, and some shouting. A door slammed. Engines roared. And then silence.

Minutes passed. The image of my brother lying like a broken puppet was etched in front of me. I would never forget it. I struggled to keep from shivering.

The games console called to me. I should have been glad. Finally I could play in peace, with no one to disturb me, no one to bother me, and no one to interrupt me.

I walked back to my room, controller held loosely in hand. I looked to the TV screen. It wasn’t too late, I still had a chance to beat the boss.

But for the first time, I began to see the games console in a different light. Was it worth it? Was it worth nearly killing my brother for?

It’d made me cling on to it and despise everything else. It’d made me neglect my own family, my own blood. But I’d always known that, and it’d never stopped me from playing. I stood, undecided, my eyes fixed on the screen, seeing the boss beating up my character. If I didn’t play in the next ten seconds, I would lose the game.

One second passed. Two. Three.

So close to beating this boss after all this time, after all these hours.

Four seconds, five seconds.

So why wasn’t I playing? Why was Fred on my mind?

Six seconds, seven seconds.

Has this game gotten to my head, like he said?

Eight seconds.

I sat down.

Nine seconds.

Trembling, I stood up. I gripped the controller pad. I lifted it high in the air, and smashed it down onto the games console. Bits flew everywhere on impact. I smashed it again and again until it cracked, slammed it until it scattered, and broke it into pieces. I discarded it, squeezing my fists, feeling cheated, helpless. I took the games console with both hands, lifting it high. I banged it against the television, rammed it into its screen. The TV image went fuzzy, and then black as something inside broke. Still I held the games console, shattered it on the hard wooden floor. I did not say a word. Did not utter a single sound. I salvaged the remains of the console, an unrecognizable mass in my hands, and smashed it against the TV until my strength gave out.

I slumped in my armchair, tears streaming from my eyes.

And I cried for a long, long time.

 

            It took me a while to get myself together and visit Fred at the hospital.

            “Hey Fred.” I walked over to his bed, sat on the nearby chair.

            “What took you so long, bro?” He was smiling, “Dad telling me you’re alright now. Told me you’re going to another school and doing alright.”

            “Yeah… I couldn’t stay in my room forever.”

            “Damn right! Told you those games got to your head man…” He nodded towards the cast on his leg and arm, “Glad I was there to put some sense back into you. Didn’t think I’d be back here the day after I got out though.” He laughed.

            “Sorry man…” This was the first sorry in months that I really meant.

            “No worries, least I didn’t break my back. And my neck’s alright, nothing tragic.”

            “Leah says hi.”

            My brother nodded. We looked at each other.

            “Thanks for coming to see me bro. I’m glad.”

            That made me smile. Seeing me smile made him smile. So we smiled at each other, just like we used to.

And that’s all I really needed.

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories

Screams were heard as black hands clutched on Nintendo 64 controllers. Three brothers burned calories while the sun slumbered. Blood on the walls and floors, yet nobody was harmed. Bullets flew and bodies dropped. A brother smiled, the other frowned. Another sat in silent concentration. The atmosphere was such that it was as if a fourth person stood in the room. The youngest of the three was the most skilled. The oldest the least competent. The night was old, and the games were brand new. Eyes were tightened, buttons were pressed…

An AK47 in hand, I searched the depths of the temple for my predators. Little could be seen in the darkness. Music issued from the ceiling as I turned a corner. Nobody here. The eyes blinked in an effort to remain focused. Silence…

My third eye kicked in as I turned and caught my opponent by surprise. I cocked my weapon towards him, straight for the chest, and pulled. Ditto. Such was the timing that it was as if we’d shot ourselves. BANG, BANG, BANG.

My life was going down, but I stood my ground. He was falling, his weapon still singing. Mine kept pace with his. We were both falling, so symmetrical, like an act. The red stains on our clothing could very well have been ketchup. My eyes went wide as he took out a bigger weapon. My hand went for mine… and found none. Thank God we live twice.

I opened my eyes again. Get me a weapon. I ran naked through the corridors, scared of being caught. I ran past a corpse, and saw it was me. Shuddering, I turned right, and saw an old friend. The man I had once killed was running in my direction, weapon drawn. I froze for a split second, and was defrosted by his fire. I dashed for the nearest exit. He kept pace, reckless in his shooting.

Get me a weapon! As if in answer, I heard a loud beep, beep, beep. Time was running, but not on its own. The beeps blast in my ears as I made my escape. Walls inches from me were torn by my old friend’s fire. I turned right, heart racing, nakedness flaring. Beep, beep beep! A weapon! But I frowned: no ammo?

My heart stopped beating, it was a dead end. I turned and saw my pursuer, his gun pointed at my head. I said my prayers. And the shot was never fired.

 Black eyes went wide as mouths raged. The youngest of the three wiped his brow.

‘You were lucky’ the oldest said, turning, ‘this close to shooting you down’ he made a gesture with his thumb and index finger to put emphasis on his words.

‘I won’ said the older, ‘you’re both rubbish’

‘You had the best weapons’ the younger replied,

‘’Cause I’m the best’ he boasted,

‘Next game?’ the oldest inquired,

The brothers nodded. Black hands clutched on Nintendo 64 controllers, cartridges were replaced, and buttons were pressed...

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories

            I remember the time when, I was a young child,

With a wood block in one hand, and a stick in the other,

With my eyes on the gadget, my ears tuned to my peers,

I recall the harmony of the music we played,

 

            I remember the events that happened next,

The tune got out of hand, as some failed to synchronize,

We attempted to get back to the paradise we’d created,

As we reminisced on the beauty that we knew we could make,

 

            I remember how we managed to get back on our feet,

Our instruments went hand in hand as the teacher helped us,

For the rest of the lesson, there was an atmosphere of bliss,

And the song we played will always be in my memory.

Posted in Poetry

The rain and cold bit into him, but he hardly felt it. The wind slashed through his open jacket, but he dared not close it. He dared not move at all.

Facing him was the most succulent piece of femininity he had ever laid eyes upon. She was blacker than the night, and arrayed in appealing clothing. Her frame was of excellence, her posture blameless. Her face was of such sweetness that his tooth was aching, and her hair embedded with such… such grandeur, that his lip could not stop trembling.

But her eyes… her eyes were the finishing blow. These were the reason he dared not move. Somehow, those eyes had decided to meet with his. And although he was not worthy… he knew that only a crazy man would look away.

What he saw in those eyes was beyond description. This woman was not like the rest. There was warmth in their midst capable of slicing the coldest of hearts. There was love in their depths capable of holding any man captive… A furious sea of emotions was locked within them, and restrained by her power. And most of all… there was an unusual beauty about them that surpassed all the beautiful eyes he had ever seen.

His eyes remained locked with hers. He could nearly sense the words they were formulating. But what was she saying? As he studied her facial features, she made a triangular motion with her eyes, scanning his eyes and lips.

A feeling spread over his body. It was as if a switch buried deep within had just been turned on. His heart rate sped up. His mind was racing, chemicals were released… his brain was getting ecstatic…

And the impossible happened. She broke eye contact. His heart jumped a beat. His tooth stopped aching. His lip went still. Why had she broken eye contact? Another feeling spread through him. Grief. It was like a baby being ripped from his mother’s arms. It was like his heart had just been torn out. It was like realizing that there was no oasis in the desert, that it had been a mirage.

The woman was looking to her left. He turned his gaze, and witnessed a bus approaching. His heart screamed and his eyes grew wide as he quickly understood what was happening. His mind cried out to her, but she was walking away. He stood and watched helplessly.

And then the incredible happened. He ran out onto the road to intercept her. Across the traffic he ran, heedless of the vehicles that could take his life. The cars howled in warning. The rain and wind struck in an attempt to reason with him. But he was beyond help…

The woman looked back. He sighed and beheld her eyes once more, unaware that he was in the middle of the road. Once again he lost himself within those eyes… and a smile crossed his face. Such beauty…

It was then that a car struck him.

Posted in Short Stories and Really Short Stories