DARK TALES

Urban Gothic tales for big kids and little grownups.

3 short stories, 5 poems of an urban gothic/fantasy adventure genre. ©Marcia Sparkes 2016

1

The Wind

When I was laying in my bed,

I heard a whistling sound.

It was the howling winds and gail, gushing all around.

It rushed around with no such fear,

Rushing there and rushing here.

Then with a blow, lifted up a feather, trees swayed, this adventurous weather!

And as it whistled, the grass it swayed, and listened to rain’s enormous rage.

The clouds got black, as black as can be,

And all this was heard, by me!

Autumn Days

Misted moon in the dark night sky.

Ripening apples make apple pie.

Crackling leaves, red, yellow and brown.

Conkers and acorns,

Autumn’s around.

Sparkling dew upon the grass.

Sipping hot soup out of a glass.

Scattered leaves upon the ground.

Summer has gone,

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Autumn’s around.

Juicy apples crunchy and red.

Gather food for harvest, daily bread.

Conkers and acorns all in a mound.

Come along,

Autumn’s around.

In the Spooky Black Cave

On an evening stroll in the dark, dark woods,

I heard a spooky sound, up above.

Then it travelled across in the dark night sky; it sounded like a ghost floating by.

I followed the sound into a dark, dark cave, then I realized it was a twirling maze.

As I went through the maze I found beatles and spiders, rats and bats chewing ladies straw

hats.

And as I went on I heard spooky noises, witches and ghosts’ grizzly voices. Then I came to a

witch who said;

‘Rats and Bats, Frogs and Hogs, put them into a cauldron with this little girl’s… Dog!’

So I ran passed the witch and her grizzly voices, and passed the place with the spooky noises.

Then I saw the rats chewing ladies straw hats who had eaten the beatles and spiders.

Then I passed the noises in the dark night sky which sounded like a ghost floating by…

And into my front door, where I was SAFE and SOUND.

: o

3

Winter

When there’s nothing to do at winter time, I look outside and see…

The Snowy trees and Frozen leaves and Icicles so Spiky.

Snowflakes falling to the ground.

Jack Frost has been all around, and made the Frozen Earth glow, like Crystals Sparkling in the

snow.

And as I listen with my ears, and hear the hail, what a Blizzard!

Snowmen shivering, teeth are chittering. Trucks are gritting, children skidding, and the

wind…still howls.

And as the people wait for the bus, their fingers sting and they make a fuss.

And I think to myself; ‘Think I’ll stay here, and sip my tea…

Winter’s here, what a sight to see!’

The Haunting

I took a walk through the green pleasant woods, and started picking red fresh berries…

All of a sudden, the sky turned BLACK, and the only light was the shining of the moon.

I quivered in the moonlight; then carried on picking berries.

I tried to let go of the branches, but they held onto me like they were spiky hands.

They clutched onto me and pulled me through their spiky branches.

I tried to get free, pulling and tugging, but they just held on even more…

Then all of a sudden…

I was in a house.

HAUNTING me with MOANS and GROANS.

And on the floorboards SKELETONS BONES

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The CREAKING floors, the SHATTERED doors.

LIGHTNING struck. Outside a STORM!

COBWEBS hanging from the ceiling,

All around a MYSTERIOUS feeling.

What a sight, it looked like HELL.

POLTERGEIST. Musty smell!

The THUNDER started, it shook the house. The CREEKING and SQUEAKING like a mouse.

I ran through passageways looking for doors.

To get away from these HAUNTING halls.

I’m reminding you never to come here,

I hope you’re not offended.

It’s just that this is where, you see,

Is where my life, ended.

The Confession of Porphyria’s Lover

(The following is a response to the poem ‘Porphyria’s Lover’ by Robert Browning first published in 1836.)

I’m sitting outside the magistrates’ court beside myself and confused; mind you, I’ve never been able to

think clearly.

Oh Porphyria. My lover; my beloved … my life. Where are you? Why did I take you away from the

world?

How am I ever supposed to explain to the magistrate why I killed you? How is he going to understand,

Porphyria- that I did it for love? That I killed you because I love you and want to keep your love for

myself, forever and ever?

5

Oh Porphyria. You know I love you don’t you darling? More than anybody could possibly imagine; more

than my own heart could understand! And that I killed you for your own sake as well as mine own. To

keep you safe and to enable your promise be kept- that your love shall be for me only, forever.

Oh, but how am I ever going to explain that to him? He shall think me a crazy fool!

Ah but then, maybe it’s true that I am a crazy fool, and have been all my life, for it is that I have never

been able to control my passions and never been able to tackle problems logically.

I recall the time when I was a mere five year old. It was the middle of a bleak winter. White snow and

ice was everywhere. Icicles hung from every tree branch, every roof top and every window sill. The

feeling of being entrenched in the midst of it all couldn’t be resisted by any child! So I, and my brother

of three years, Nicholas, begged my mother to let us play out in the beautiful snow. With that sweet

motherly smile of hers, she said ‘yes’; but only for a short while, while she was out buying food

essentials for our supper.

Wrapped up warm in glove, hat, coat and scarf, my brother and I played in the white snow that covered

the garden like a blanket, wrapped up in noises of joyous laughter.

We threw snowballs, built snowmen and all, until we were finally cold enough to go inside where it was

warm.

And there, you continuously complained of how you were cold … shivering … freezing … wanting

mother to come and make you a nice warm drink of chocolate … ‘I’m cold’- you told me Nicholas … ‘I’m

shivering … I’m freezing’, you told me constantly, until I could no longer stand your moaning and so

decided to take care of you myself.

Turning the big black stove onto intense heat, I tried picking you up and placing you in there, pushing

you until you were finally inside the big, black thing that contained great, immense heat!

It was at that precise moment that our mother came walking through the door with brown paper bag

loads of food. She smiled at me and then kissed my cheek. ‘Where’s Nicholas?’ she asked. ‘He was cold

so I put him in the oven to warm him up,’ I replied. ‘You did what?’ my mother exclaimed, with an

expression that I had never seen on her before. She dropped everything, ran over to the oven and

opened it. When she turned to face me, I could see her complexion had gone as white as the snow

outside. Her hand covered her mouth, and her big brown eyes were open wide- overflowing with tears.

Suddenly she uttered a scream, then couldn’t stop shouting and screaming, but I could not understand

why she was screaming and shouting. I was making things better for you, Nicholas - better! In such a

rage, she shook me vigorously, continued shouting at me and wept, shouting while tears fled from her

eyes... I could not understand why my sweet kind mother was so angry with me…

… So you see Porphyria, my mind does not think the way others do – or rather - I do not think of

consequences at all, I think of only of what is best, for that moment- for now…

6

After that incident, I never saw my brother or mother again, for I was sent away to an institution for

mentally ill children, where I was watched every day for twenty four hours and asked pathetic questions

by a silly woman, over and over again.

But I eventually got out of that place.

And met you Porphyria. You in all your beauty and all your love.

I remember the times when we would meet in the summer, and sit in a shadow under a tree with all its

green leaves shining in the sun. Arm in arm, we would lie there in silence- happily contented.

Exasperated by your beauty, by your love- and I’d become aroused by the former, especially when your

long, blonde hair, that glistened in the sunlight, came upon my bare skin, caressed my cheeks so soft

and light.

Oh Porphyria.

And then you’d confess your undying love for me, and I’d become aroused all the more by your

sincerity.

Oh, how I loved you Porphyria, the way you loved I!

And so the time came, when you entered my house to be with me; placed your arms around my neck

and told me of how much you loved me, but could not commit yourself to me because of your undying

passion. You then sat and faced me, and we stayed like that for quite some time, staring each other

deep in the eyes.

It was only then that I realized that you could not live without me, and I not without you…so how could

it be that you could not commit yourself to me the way that you would like? What strange

contradictory was this?

And so, to make sure you would be committed to me forever and ever, I placed my fingers around your

neck, and pressed hard at your throat.

There… it was done.

You were now mine, forever. And I know you felt no pain my darling, Porphyria.

And so now, here I am Porphyria, awaiting to confess to a man my ‘crime’ of passion. But he will not

understand.

If I repeated everything here in my mind and the words I have spoken to you- he will not understand;

and if I repeated the same words again a thousand times over, he still would not understand the reasons

7

I squeezed the last breath out of your lungs. That I did it because I love you and want to keep you for

myself- forever and ever.

And what will my penalty be? Death perhaps? It does not matter… I care not. For if I am to die it will

only mean that I shall definitely be with you forever, and not one living person or thing can change that.

If I shall die the way you did my Porphyria, our spirit of love shall go together, forever- the way it was

meant to be…

Color of Ignorance

I’m sitting silently in this classroom surrounded by faces that are pale white like the snow. My skin tone

is the only that matches the desks. A kind of dark olive brown. Olive brown like cumin seeds and

balsamic vinegar mixed in olive oil. Olive brown like green leaves turned golden in the sun. Olive brown

like the bark of a tree covered in moss seen at a distance as a rustic earth bound nature.

Others describe my skin color as ‘dirty black shit’.

My name is Patibel Abdul, and in the past months of living here, I’ve been called ‘Cow-pat-ibel’’ by some

foolish, immature kids in my class, as well as other offensive names such as nigger. Paki, and golliwog.

It’s funny, I never paid much thought or attention to my skin color before I came here to the south of

Tennessee, south of the United States, three months ago from my home town Llyapur in Pakistan. But

mind you, people don’t notice what is camouflaged. Here, in Tennessee, I feel like a spot of black ink on

a plain white piece of paper. Standing out conspicuously to every eye.

Speaking of paper, I look down at my work book. The date is Friday 22nd November 1933; ‘1933. A Year

to Remember.’ The title of a television documentary that was on yesterday.

Numerous clips of people working in factories, offices, on land, in markets switched from one to

another. The documentary was about the economic situation of America at this present time. It was

about the Depression this country has been suffering from since the Wall St crash four years ago. The

narrator goes on as the clips flash across the screen; ‘1933. A year of depression. A year of recession. A

year requiring radical action for prosperity and change.’ I switch it over. The south-central news shows

live coverage of about fifty policemen, white, armed with batons brutally attacking negroes who were

caught up in a riot between themselves. The news reported outbreaks of violent riots in Kentucky

between 25 black men for causes unknown in which policemen on duty nearby had heard about, and

rushed over in order to ‘restrain’ the riot. ‘‘Restrain’?’ I thought, as I watched intensely, seeing blood

stained shirts, bloody noses and men collapsing- all as a result of these policemen with their clubs.

…

(I turn cautiously.

8

Only to receive a sensation of big, wet sloppiness covering my face. And before I know what’s

happening, I hear a dirty shriek of laughter. The noise breaks the shock which entered my mind, and it’s

at that point that I realize the wet sloppiness is a big dollop of mud.

‘See that?!’ I hear someone say in some frenzied manner. ‘Cowpat is covered in cow-pat. Ha ha ha!’

I turn to see some immature kid, dancing around as though excitedly watching some poor animal being

ridiculed at a circus show. He’s white with pink cheeks, curly blonde hair; he wears a pair of navy shorts

cut just before his knees, a navy jersey top with a jacket over. He looks more like a girl than a boy. My

eyes study him and notice brown, wet mud on his left hand.)

…

Three thirty three pm. The school bell for home time went about three minutes ago, and now I’m

walking down this long, dusty road with fields of green either side watching all these white kids rush

around me- playing, shouting, running, playing tag.

I have my school books in my arms and carry them over my chest. I’ve not yet got a school bag, even

though my father’s working, he’s not yet been able to afford one. I’m enjoying myself. I can feel the

hot sun beating down on my back. Funny time for sun really- November; it was pouring like a monsoon

two days ago. I take it in as I walk and think about things. About today, about living here in Tennessee;

about how I can be so happy in this present moment.

Suddenly, my peace is disturbed by a tap on the shoulder from behind. Just then, I begin to feel myself

burning up. If I don’t punch someone there and then, it’s possible I’ll humanly combust. I feel my wrist

clenching, rising and taking a first shot at this stupid girlish pink face. My rage is firing now so I push

him. ‘What d’you do that for bastard?!’ I can hear other kids laughing while he stands there looking half

dazed and smarmy. I hate him. I hate these kids. I hate Tennessee. Right now I hate everything. I can

see Miss Jackson now, walking swiftly towards us, followed by some more of these silly red necks. I

don’t know how, but somehow I get caught up in a pushing and shoving match with this boy.

‘Patibel! Stop that immediately!’ getting closer now- ‘Patibel and Thomas- pack it in!’

‘Paki’s don’t come in tins,’ I hear somebody murmur, followed by sniggering. This whole school, this

whole town, gets me pissed. ‘Thomas and the rest of you, get along to your homes now! I watch them

all disappear as I’m left to justify my actions before Miss Jackson.

‘Patibel Abdul, just what in God’s name caused you to behave in such a manner?’, she asks me,

supposedly dismissing my mud covered face.

‘He threw mud at me ma’am. And they were all laughing at me and-‘

‘That’s no excuse to go throwing your weight around, Pat. You better get your act together if you want

to continue your education in this school. I know education is a new thing to you these days.’

‘Not really, no its not.’

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‘Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking!’ she snapped, ‘now, I’ll be ringing your parents to tell them

about this incident and I’m sure they won’t be too impressed.’

‘But ma’am, I was not the only-‘

‘Patti- do I have to tell you again? Now I suggest you run along home and get yourself cleaned up. And

behave in the near future.’

‘Yes Miss Jackson.’

Yes Miss Jackson. No Miss Jackson. Three bags full Miss Jackson.

…

Click…the phone goes down.

My father gives a long hard stare at it, takes a big sigh then starts pacing up and down the back of the

living room, caressing his chin.

I’m sitting on the sofa, watching him carefully; then I begin. ‘Father, it was not my fault. This boy- his

name’s Thomas- he threw mud at my face and everyone was calling me names and laughing at me, dad!

I know I shouldn’t’ve hit him but-‘.

I’m interrupted by his deep throaty chuckles of laughter, shaking his head. ‘Ah Patti, I gotta hand it to

you.’ He begins. ‘I prob’ly woulda done the same darn thing myself. I told Miss Jackson I’ll give you

some discipline and keep an eye on you but Patti, I know you’re a good girl;’ His words become

thoughtful, chosen and careful, not really wanting to give me a reprimand, but knowing he had to say

something. ‘I know it’s’ hard but,’ I could see he was trying to balance responsibility with empathy, with

knowing the right thing to say to get me to understand a wider situation. ‘Try to keep your emotion in

check in the future. You gotta learn to rise above and stay humble in this life if you wanna continue to

educate your way to success.’

My emotion in check?

‘I know Miss Jackson is a doggone lyin’ white bullshitter, an’ she’s just trying to make you- ‘the silly

nigger’- look like the guilty culprit but Patti, you gotta be humble.’

Humble?

‘Then, when the time is right, stand up for yourself and proclaim your truth. Just like Muhammad our

prophet.’ He kisses me on the forehead then walks away still chuckling and muttering, ‘Ha huh, sure as

hell you ain’t scared though, I didn’t teach you fear; they got what’s coming to them.’

And there you have my father. The philosopher of the house. My father is a negroe of Indo-Caribbean

heritage and my mother is Pakistani. Thus, I’m both. He was conscripted into the army of the Great

War of 1914, and when it was all over, at the age of 24 he crossed the continent from South Africa to

the holy city of Mecca in Saudi Arabia for his pilgrimage. Here, he met my mother. She fell pregnant

10

with me and had my brother, Ismail, two years later. My mother lived in a small house with mother,

father and three older brothers, two of which were married, and was disowned by all of them when

they began to notice a belly getting bigger and rounder by the month, with no nikah by Sharia law in

place.

My father decided it would be better for the family to start a life together in his native land- America.

Through two long years of living together and saving, he managed to scrape together just enough to

travel across the world to Missouri, USA. It was planned that my mother, brother and I would follow as

soon as my father settled in a stable job and established a home for us all. But, this took a lot longer and

was harder than expected. First of all came the hard savings that my dad had to make for us all to come

here; secondly, many immigration laws had passed throughout the American states over the past years.

This made it even more difficult for the family to get into the country.

But thanks to Allah, the chance finally came last month, and thus here we all are now- together, like one

happy family.

I’ve enjoyed getting to know my father. To me, he’s the best man in the world. Better and funnier than

all those stern looking men we left back home in Pakistan. I’ve not found it hard to speak the English

language, because my father’s letters were always in English. He said it was good practice for when we

got here. He told us all about the racism here in the US, but we didn’t expect it to be this bad.

For the past year, he’s been working for a new project set up by the government called the Tennessee

Valley Authority (TVA) where he’s involved in reforestation. He doesn’t like it much, but it brings in the

money; so he’s satisfied. The problem occurred when he had to inform the authorities that his family

had arrived. They had us thrown out of or house saying we all couldn’t possibly survive on my fathers’

low income. But this isn’t true, because my parents had everything planned out before we got here. My

mother’s told me they just don’t like to see a black family- especially immigrants- making it well in ‘their’

land. So, here we are now living in a shared house with two other families- the only nice white people

we know. And here we stay until we can set up a home once again for ourselves- without the welfare

state taking it off us.

…

I awake. It’s the following Saturday. That same hot sun is shining through the break in the window

curtains, reflecting on the opposite wall. I can hear the birds singing, and my father shouting as he

watches the All American Super Bowl. My mother’s out food shopping as she always is on a Saturday

morning. I look across to the clock sitting on the chest of drawers I share with Ismail. The time’s

10.15am. ‘Okay,’ I think, ‘another day… another beginning’.

‘Father, can I go across to the park?’

‘Patti, you only just came in the room. What about havin’ some breakfast and mindin’ yer manners by

sayin g’ morning to yer neighbors here?’ He’s referring to our roommates who are also watching the

Superbowl while Mrs. Delaney cooks us all a fried breakfast.

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‘Sorry Pa… good morning everybody.’

‘Good morning Patti’ chants around the room in old, croaky broken voices.

‘I can eat when I get back, I’ll only be an hour or so.’

He says its okay, so I head out the door.

Ah yes. I’m walking straight ahead now, down to the John West Park behind the school. I come here to

write.

I open a page to the book I’ve been reading. “Your children are not your children. They are the sons and

daughters of Life's longing for itself.” Lately, I’ve been reading The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. I open my

notebook and begin to write:

The House The House. It breathes, and I’m sure it has eyes to see and ears to listen. If it could listen, it would hear conversations of shared love between old friends and lovers. If it could talk- it would tell of stories old and renown, of lives lived, laughter, families’ history and renewal- karmic; solid. Blessed love, mindless talk and kisses between old friends. But for now, all I hear is this house breathing. This house breathes. It lives. I’ve been here peacefully for about 15 minutes when suddenly I hear a commotion coming from a few

yards. I look to see my mother and two others coming up the road in a state.

My mother’s crying. I jump up and run as fast as I can towards her. I see her face. It’s all cut, bleeding;

her eyes are bruised, black, her lips look like a bleeding red pulp. She’s crying. Tears overflow.

‘Mama!’ My arms clasp her. I want to touch her face and comfort her, but I’m scared to hurt her even

more. Someone tells me to fetch my father, so I do.

She’s on the floor and my father’s cradling her now. ‘Who did this to you Zhaben?’ he asks. I see a

crowd gathering around, including those from our quarter, black, white, Irish, Latino.

‘some white women folk- for refusing to work for them. I told her ‘No’ plain and stern; so, she slapped

me- and- I slap her back an’…’

A strange sense of calm and humor comes over me and I think ‘like mother, like daughter’, as I recall a

sensation of wet, sloppiness covering my face from the day before, and the anger I felt. Poor mother.

Poor minds of the ignorant, I think.

November is the month. The year, 1937.

12

The Mystery Plates

I’m going into town to pick up a few things from the store, okay?’ mom shouted from the top of the

stairs.

‘Yeah, okay!’ I replied. I heard the clinking sound of money in her purse as she came down. She came

into the living room where I was sitting watching Dr. Who on TV while my brother, Ben, played on his

Xbox. ‘Can’t find my keys’, she muttered walking briskly into the kitchen.

‘They’re on the stairs in the hallway where you left them. Sure I saw them there.’ I said.

‘Oh right- here they are. Don’t know if I’m coming or going’. She finally left the house after giving me a

lecture about what to say if blah blah phones and what to say if thingamajig knocks on the door. The

one I’d already heard ten times. All I needed now was for my little brother to ask if he could play

outside and I’d have the whole house to myself. I waited. I saw his mouth open.

‘Yes?’

I’m switching it over, I don’t like this. It’s rubbish.’

‘Why don’t you go and call for Craig or Lee or something instead?’ I replied.

‘Yeah! Can I? I’ll take the bike as well.’

‘Yeah yeah but come in at erm… six o’ clock; and don’t go wondering off anywhere so that I can’t find

you.’ He slammed the door behind him and went riding off on his bike.

I sat in the settee for about five seconds then decided to turn the telly off. I went into the kitchen and

looked in all the cupboards and the fridge. Not because I was hungry, just for the sake of looking. I

found a pile of plates that I’d never seen before in the cupboard. I took them out. They were a set, each

with a beautiful picture on them set on a midnight blue starry background with a blue and white striped

rim around the edge. They appeared to me to be plates full of mystery and magic, with an odd sparkle

against the light. Some had a different montage of strange rare species, like peacocks, gazelles, finches,

baboons and antelopes, some dressed in long red robes with golden crowns and weapons surrounding

them as though they were on guard. Others had angels, cupids and fairies riding on tropical fish. The

more I looked, the more facets I saw to each individual picture, too strange and too numerous to

mention.

I leaned up against the sideboard with fascination, and glared through the window into the back garden.

For a second I thought I saw one of the blue finches that were on the plates fly past, but it was just my

imagination. I looked down slowly and just stared at this amazing piece of art. The house was too quiet,

everything seemed still. There was a numb feeling about the room, containing no light, no dark, no

smell, no air, no world… just myself and these mysterious plates.

…

13

‘Oh heck.’

‘What’s up with you?’

It was another unwelcomed day at school. First lesson up was social studies. That meant yet another

argy bargy up to the second floor with people pushing, shoving, bickering, quarrelling and all the rest of

it with at least two people, including me, getting whacked in the face with someone else’s school bag.

‘I hate Tuesday’s, that’s what’s up with me.’

Oh, who doesn’t?’ Sophie replied.

It was a long boring day at school. It seemed as if every teacher was in a mood or just decided to be

grumpy for the sake of it. Finally, home time arrived. Sophie and I walked slowly across the playing

fields all the way to my house talking about her boyfriend, Jon, and the funny feeling she got whenever

she was near him.

‘Talking about feelings,’ I said, ‘have you ever got the feeling that you were trapped, lost somewhere…

just off this planet?.. I don’t know, out of this world?’

‘No, but I know you would, cuz your not right anyhow’ she cracked up laughing.

‘I’m being serious, Sophie. No messing’.

‘Why, what is it?’ She said. ‘Has something serious happened?’

‘Well, no. Not really. It’s just that- I found these strange plates and, whenever I stare at them, I get this

funny feeling, like…I’m not in my house but, in the picture on the plates.’

Sophie started smirking. I could see she wasn’t taking me seriously. ‘Sophie!’

‘Okay okay okay. Well, where did you find them? Where are they?’ she asked.

‘Well, I’d never seen them before until yesterday in the kitchen cupboard. But I hid them in the

cupboard in my room. I’ll show them to you when we get in.’

I opened the front door with my key and we stepped inside. We took our shoes, coats and bags off, left

them in the hallway and went upstairs into my room.

‘Where’s your mom then?’

‘Oh she said she’s gonna take Ben into town to buy him some new trainers. She could’ve took him

yesterday cuz she went to town then.’

‘Makes sense, so where are these plates then?’

I took the plates out and showed one to Sophie.

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‘Wooow!’ she gasped.

‘I know, cool right?’ Hey,’ I said, ‘stare at it for a really long time, like, feel the picture; then you’ll see

what I mean when I say I feel I’m somewhere else.’

I took another, and sat on the bed beside Sophie. We both sat, staring.

The feeling was even stronger than yesterday. There was a powerful, magnetic force coming from the

plates and entering my body. I knew, I don’t know how, but I knew that Sophie felt the same way as me.

The feeling got stronger and stronger. This magnetic force was pulling me inside the plates, but before

it could pull me into the picture any more, both plates slipped out from our hands, and smashed.

The breaking of the plates was so loud, almost deafening; and all the great creatures, angels and weird

people came leaping, jumping, and flying out, becoming life sized. There were so many, and such a

commotion, that Sophie and I had to duck, covering our eyes.

…

It was dark. We were overlaid by a dark, defining navy blue full with stars flickering like candles. Right

before us were two golden temple doors almost as high as the sky towering above us. It came to me

that, we were no longer on earth, in my house, in my bedroom but in a world that was beyond the

known universe. The world that was existing on the plates. But there was one thing, where had all the

beautiful, strange creatures gone?

‘Oh my God!’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘Say what?’

‘Swear in Gods’ name.’

‘Oh my God. Were on- or in- some strange place, not knowing where we are, or if we’re ever gonna get

back, and all you can moan about is me swearing in God’s name. I don’t believe you!’

‘Well, I just don’t like it that’s all. Don’t you pay attention in mass?’

Archbishop Kenly had been a Catholic school since 1962.

‘What d’you think we should do?’ I asked.

‘You asking me?’

‘Well, if you ask me, I think we should go in.’

‘Go in, are you crazy? For all we know it could be hell!’

‘Well, I don’t think it is, and I’m going in. Are you coming or not?’

15

‘Naa, I’ll pass on that one.’ Sophie said as she sat down, leaning up against the golden door.

‘Why you being such a scaredy cat? - we’re here now so, we may as well...’

‘Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to go in either if you’d watched Poltergeist II, all of the Freddie’s

Nightmares, Final Destination, Blair witch Project, Chainsaw Massacre and Exorcist III.’

I laughed, then went to push the big, golden, massive doors. ‘You’re not really going in there are you?’

‘Well, I’m not just going to sit there for the rest of forever. We may as well go and explore.’

There was a long undecided moment, until we both finally got up, pushed the doors with all our might.

We both looked around, wide eyed, like two children visiting a sweet shop for the first time.

The sight was amazing, like something out of a sci fi movie I’d always said was too unrealistic- but now- I

was having second thoughts.

‘Hey Melissa, how are we ever going to get back? What are we doing here? How did we get here? Oh

no, Melissa; I’m scared.’

I didn’t- in fact- couldn’t answer any of Sophie’s questions, and I was just as scared as she was, but we

both just kept on walking, just waiting… for something to happen.

The floor was black and white chequered glass. The corridor appeared to carry on before us for miles on

end. We walked continuously on under golden archways and doors leading onto yet another corridor.

There appeared to be no ceiling, yet the building was so huge there was no visible sky above it. There

was an eerie breeze and golden walls with framed pictures similar to the ones displayed on the plates,

yet the walls had some strange purple-blue-green holographic effect, flickering and fading in and out, as

though there but not there. Eventually we came to a silver door similar in style to the one out front.

Again, we pushed.

‘Wooow,’ Sophie said, gaping.

‘Wooow,’ I said, wide-eyed.

What had been revealed was an enormous green field with all kinds of fruit and flower trees, cherry

blossom, maple, peaches, apples and pears, red juju berries, raspberries, all kinds, mint, lavender. The

colours exceeded any colour I’d seen on earth in vibrancy. Sitting in the green fields were all kinds of

animals- gazelles, baboons, peacocks, antelopes- just like the animals that were on the plates in the

cupboard at home in the kitchen. Some were picking at berries, chewing leaves, some chewing grass. It

was like paradise. They all appeared to have a human like quality about them, looking around with their

large almond shaped eyes as if they understood everything.

Sophie ran up to one of the baboons. It opened its mouth wide bearing its teeth. I could see its sharp

white fangs set against its pink gums, it looked so menacing. I got scared for her-‘Sophie!’ I shouted,

‘them things can tear you apart!’ I ran towards her and the baboon and began to see its’ lips curl into a

16

huge grin. All of a sudden, it looked happy and friendly, then its mouth puckered back finely into a

poker face. Sophie started talking to it. ‘Oh no; what are you talking to it for? Since when do you ask

animals questions and expect them to answer you back?

‘Since I realized that, by smashing strange plates- you can appear on a different planet altogether,’ she

replied. She also had a point.

The baboon wore a red suit, one that looked like a royal guard’s’ with two sets of gold buttons going

down the front of the jacket with black trousers. He stood stark and rigid with a spear and rifle in his left

hand and a fuzzy Busby hat atop his head. Sophie tapped the baboon on its shoulder- who was

considerably shorter than her- then repeated her question, very slowly. ‘Can you…tell us…where, we…

are?’ The baboon said nothing, but carried on picking and eating berries.

‘OH. MY. GOSH!! ARE YOU DEAF!! ?’ She shouted in great rage; then, before she could blink an eye, he

answered her back in her face ‘DON’TSPEAKTOMELIKETHAT!’ as if there was no tomorrow. We both

jumped back we were so startled. ‘Oh, so you can hear me?’ Sophie said, much quieter.

The baboon spoke in a strange robotic voice. ‘Me tell you nothing. For input, see king and queen.’ His

voice was kind of old and gruff. To me, he sounded like a newspaper advert.

‘Okay; the king and queen of this ludicrous place, where are they? How do we find ‘em?’

‘Where heart is, mind is. Where mind is, foot is.’

‘Well, thanks a lot. That’s great- makes a lot of sense.’ We both walked off.

As we did, I felt the grass underneath my feet crumbling away, ‘Can you feel that?’ I said.

‘What?’

‘The ground. It just moved- I felt it.’

‘I think this place is getting- aaaAAARRRGH!’ The whole of the earth crumbled away, first of all shaking…

like an earthquake. I closed my eyes, but yet I could still see the whole of this world turning topsy turvy-

and my life disappearing altogether. It was pitch black, and me and Sophie, and all these other animals

that were with us fell, and fell, and fell.

Was there any ending?

Did we just keep falling… falling… falling?

As the earth fell with us, it turned into lava and fell about us, red hot and fiery, but somehow we weren’t

getting burned. I could hear shrieks and cries coming from all the beautiful creatures. What was this

place? It was only now, that I began to think about home, mom, dad, Ben. Would I ever see them

again… or was this… the end?

…

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Thump! My eyes opened, but still I could see nothing. It was quiet and still. Was I alive? ‘Melissa?’ I

said aloud. I heard myself. Yes, I was alive. Was Sophie alive, ‘Sophie?’

‘Oh my God!’ Yes, she was alive. ‘I can’t see, Melissa. I’ve gone blind. I’ve gone blind!’ she screamed.

‘No you haven’t, you idiot. I can’t see myself.’

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘that’s alright then.’ I got up on my feet. ‘Aaaargh!’ I cried.

‘What? What is it? What?’

My shoes had disappeared, and underneath my feet, I could feel bugs crawling, spiders, lice, ants, snails,

snakes…eeeugh. ‘Eeeugh.’ Sophie then stood up herself.

Eeeeeuughaaarrgh! Eew, gosh!’ She jumped up and down. ‘Eurgh, what is this place? I want to go

home! I knew we shouldn’t have opened that stupid door!’ She started crying. All around the cave the

sound echoed, bounced from one wall to another.

‘C’mon, let’s get out of this place,’ I said.

‘Oh, and how d’you suggest we do that in this darkness? It was your stupid idea to come here in the

first place. It was you who found them stupid plates in the first place! What makes you think I’m gonna

listen to anymore of your stupid ideas huh?’

‘Well, if you’d rather stay here rotting away with creepy crawlies crawling under your skin, I’ll go by

myself.’

Sophie remained silent. I couldn’t take the silence, so I screamed and decided to run. I could hear

Sophie behind me shouting. Her shouting echoed around in the darkness. I could hear her voice

following me, chasing me until I could sense her presence beside me.

…

There was a great flash of light, so bright we had to cover our eyes. When we uncovered them, we were

floating up in the skies. Clouds were everywhere- I couldn’t believe it. Fairies, angels and cupids flew all

around us, smiles on their faces; some were playing harps, trumpets and other instruments made of

gold. They were the very same fairies and cupids that were on the plates, but life sized and looked

much happier. Sophie let out a gasp and laughed, ‘I can’t believe it! We’ve actually made it to heaven!’

‘Don’t be silly. We’re not dead and we haven’t died; honestly.’

One of the angels flew towards us. ‘Yes? What do you want?’ It sounded very rude, to our surprise.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘That’s what we’d like to know. We were thinking you could tell us.’ I answered waiting patiently for a

reply.

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‘Mmm, go and see for yourself.’ The angel replied, then disappeared in front of our eyes in a puff of

smoke. We flew towards a cupid and asked where we were.

‘Why should I tell you? I don’t know you- and therefore, I don’t see why I should tell you or like you. In

fact, I don’t see why anybody should like anything;’ he continued nonchalant, ‘hate. That’s what I always

say. Hate everything. Don’t trust anything, or anybody- then you’ll be alright.’ Its’ red lips puckered

perfectly round, set against its’ pink rosy cheeks and curly locks, the picture of sweet innocence.

Sophie and I both looked at each other confused, then back at the cupid. ‘I thought cupids were

supposed to be full of love and caring,’ Sophie said.

‘Well, have a look around, and if you do find anyone that loves, then please do tell me.’ With that, the

cupid disappeared. We both glanced around the sky, which was all fluffy blue and white, only to find to

our surprise, every fairy, cupid and angel in sight arguing, fighting and killing each other with blooded

instruments. The clouds formed thick and dark grey, and began to soak with dark blood red. There

were body parts tossed in every direction. The sight was vulgar, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I looked

up. ‘Look! Sophie! Look!’ I tapped her with one hand and pointed upwards with the other. She

gasped, excited as me.

It was a castle. It wasn’t standing upright in the sky, but on its face so that as soon as you looked up, the

big golden doors were looking back at you horizontally. Above the doors was a wooden sign saying:

KING AND QUEEN’s CASTLE.

‘Oh yes! We’re going home! To our planet earth! Normal planet earth! Yes yes yes!!’

‘Oh, there’s only one thing, Sophie,’ I noted, ‘how do we get up there?’

‘Fly silly.’ And with that, we both flew upwards towards the big doors.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. This was it! Home, home, home.

…

‘You do realize why you’re here don’t you?’ said the king.

‘Nooh!’ we shouted together. We had entered the castle. It was massive. Floors, tables, chairs,

everything was humongous and made of gold. We were finally in front of the king and queen. The king

was an Afghan hound, dressed in a lovely red robe with silk white lining and a crown full of red rubies on

his head. The queen was a chaffinch bird, human sized, dressed in a lovely Elizabethan dress in purple

velvet with a purple velvet crown with gold edges round it to match her dress. She was holding a spear

in her wings.

‘No! We don’t know why we’re here and we’ve explored this entire place to find out why! Could you

perleeease tell us what we’re doing here, your majesties.’

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The king chuckled and took a deep breath. ‘You’re here…my dears…’ he began, very, very slowly, ‘… to

save planet Earth.’ He paused. We held ourselves in anticipation.

‘Is that it? We’ve come all this way… to save planet earth… Is that all you’re going to tell us?’ Sophie

quipped.

‘Listen girl,’ the king continued. ‘You are here to save planet earth, by doing certain tasks, which you

have already done.’

‘Well, can we go home now please?’

‘If you don’t shut up we might never get home.’

‘Yes. As I was saying… Err, what was I saying?’

The queen carried on for him, ‘Tasks dear. Tasks. Now, you have been through a lot of different stages

on this planet, just like you will on planet earth. This planet, which is called Threa is the side of planet

earth that nobody on your planet knows about. It’s situated in a galaxy parallel to your own. You see,

planet earth was about to be destroyed so we sent you here to save it. On this planet Threa, you

experienced parts of the earth crumbling away, falling into a deep, dark pit full of darkness and insects.

Also angels and cupids that hated each other. You see, the angels and cupids were forms of love that

turned into hate- this leads to evil- the cave of impenetrable darkness. Because of all the evil taking

over the world, it all crumbled away and disappeared. This is exactly what would have happened to

your planet but because you survived it all, planet earth will now exist until the end of time.’

It was a lot to take in.

‘Well, thank you. Can we go home now please?’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said; ‘all those things that happened, you’ve just explained them in the opposite way

to which they did happen. Why?’

The king piped up again this time. ‘This is because planet Threa is the parallel to planet earth and

therefore things happen the opposite way.’

‘Oh right, gotcha… Now can we go home then please, to planet earth?’

‘Your wish is granted’, the queen said. She gave both Sophie and myself a brooch which had exactly the

same picture on it as the plates. ‘Take this,’ she said, ‘to remember this planet and how you have

triumphed to save your own planet earth.’ With that, the king and queen held hands then closed their

eyes together. Everything that had happened in this crazy world suddenly reversed backwards at

lightning speed, up until the time Sophie and I were sitting on my bed with the plates in our hands, but

instead of the plates, a brooch was placed in our hands, with the picture of planet Threa on them.

‘Woah, that was trippy.’ We looked at each other and smiled.

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Planet Threa and our saving of planet earth would be our secret for as long as we lived, or for the most

part, for as long… as time existed.

; )