Spindrift

by Jonathan Broughton

  Or chop them in pieces to spread on her toast

  And what would she do when she’d had all the meat

  Did she chew on their bones as an extra treat?

  His chest had gone tight; he could hardly breathe;

  But whom could he tell, who would believe?

  A terrible beast was loose on the floor,

  That would pounce on this child and eat him up raw.

  Suddenly, he realised with heart-stopping dread,

  That she’d finished the banana and was turning her head,

  Where could he hide? What could he do?

  His feet wouldn’t move, they were sticking like glue.

  Then, she turned, and she saw him… and after a while

  Gave him the world’s most beautiful, old-lady smile.

  And suddenly, like that, the change was uncanny,

  She was a gentle old lady, just like his granny.

  His heart stopped racing, the relief was like magic

  To find the situation was not catastrophic

  ‘I’m foolish,’ he thought, ‘what a terrible drama

  Cause she’s just an old lady who’s eaten a banana

  Who’s face, kinda happened, to resemble a piranha.’

  Rapunzel

  by James Betts

  The story of Rapunzel being locked up in a dark tower is analogous with a young woman being confined to a small flat in a tower block.

  Raz sat in her onesie looking out the window on the twenty first floor of the tower block in Che Guevara Gardens, Hollington. Grey clouds scudded by and the drizzle caused rivulets of rainwater to run down the window pane. She shivered despite being in a warm, centrally heated flat.

  “It’s always bloody raining,” she thought. “Twenty-one storeys up and the bloody lift’s broken again. I’m sodding well marooned.”

  Her only ray of sunshine was that her so called ‘stepmother’ had gone out for the day.

  Her mother had died when she was eleven. Her father, previously a strong confident man, was devastated, hit the bottle hard, lost his job and his ability to cope. They had had to move into the flat in the tower block. By the time he sobered up and found work again, three years had passed and Raz had become a wild child.

  He felt that Raz needed a woman’s guidance as she moved into her mid-teens, so he sought and found a new partner. At first all went well and his new partner moved in with them.

  The new ‘stepmother’ soon took control and started to criticise Raz. “Your hair’s too long, get it cut. Your room’s too untidy. Your music’s too loud. Your friends are bone idle.”

  Within two years they could barely stand the sight of each other.

  Raz hated her stepmother’s constant complaining. Worst of all her, father seemed totally in her stepmother’s thrall and was always agreeing with her. Raz felt more and more cut off from her father.

  The ring tone on her mobile phone brought her back to the present; snatching it up she saw that it was her new boyfriend, Will.

  “Hello gorgeous, how are you today? The weather’s a bit rubbish isn’t it?”

  Her heart leapt, she had never felt this way about a boy before. Will was a stylist in the Last Chance Hair Salon where she had been forced to go by her stepmother to get her long tresses removed.

  “Hi Will. It’s great to hear your voice. The lifts have broken down and I am isolated at the top of this bloody tower again.”

  “Oh, I was hoping that you might be coming out. The salon closed early today.”

  Raz thought that she heard a note of sadness in his voice.

  “No. The wicked witch of the west has buggered off on a shopping spree and taken my keys with her.” She looked outside, forlornly. No way was she going to get out today.

  “Never mind, she will probably be back before dark and we could meet up then.” Will was ever the optimist.

  “Just one problem with that Will, my bloody tag. I have to be in by seven p.m. or I’ll break the terms of my ASBO.”

  “That’s a bit of a bugger. I was hoping that we could get a bite to eat. How long do you have to wear that thing?”

  “Another six weeks. Weeks of boredom and inactivity, isolated in this bloody tower block. It will drive me bonkers!”

  It was her stepmother’s fault; she had picked a fight with Raz nine months ago, needled her and wound her up until she was ready to blow her top. Then she let her out for the evening.

  High on adrenaline and indignation, Raz decided to have a few drinks with her mates before returning to give the witch a piece of her mind.

  Unfortunately, in the bar there were a bunch of girls from a rival school, mouthing off and it all kicked off.

  Raz couldn’t remember hitting one of them with an empty bottle or biting another one’s ear.

  The Judge had said, ‘I am minded to hand down a custodial sentence. However, as you are underage you should not have been served with alcohol in the first place and it is your first offence. Therefore, fifty hours community service, an ASBO, and a tag for six months will be more appropriate.’

  “Raz. Raz are you still there?”

  “Yeah. Sorry Will. I was just thinking how that witch wound me up and got me stuck in this bloody tower in the first place.”

  “How long have you got before you have to be on call in your room?”

  “The ASBO is from seven p.m. and they often check at seven on the dot. So I can’t risk coming out.”

  She looked wistfully out of the window, it was half past six. She knew that she would never be able to meet Will and get back in time. Bugger!

  Will must have read her thoughts. “If you can’t come down, I will just have to come up. We will only have a few minutes together, but it will be worth it.”

  “But what about the witch?”

  “It’ll take her at least half an hour to get here and then climb up the stairs. So let’s not waste time.”

  Raz smiled. “OK. I’d better get into something nice then.”

  Twenty minutes later the doorbell rang and she ran to let Will in.

  Will looked her up and down. “Wow Raz, you look well good.”

  In the time it took for Will to climb the twenty-one floors, she had managed to have a quick shower and put her hair up, slip into a mini dress and put on her makeup.

  Raz was overjoyed at Will’s reaction and gave him a quick twirl. He took his coat off.

  She grabbed his hand and led him into the living room and to the large couch.

  *

  “Rapunzel Where are you, you lazy good for nothing girl?”

  “Bugger. Bugger, bugger!” Rapunzel pushed Will off her and hurriedly pulled her dress down.

  “Quick, she’s back, tidy yourself up,” she hissed at Will. “I’ll try to delay her until you are decent.” With that, she ran her fingers through her hair and went to meet her stepmother.

  “Where have you been? You’re dressed like a tart!”

  “Hello step-mama. It’s good to see you too.”

  “I thought that you might have gone out and broken the terms of your ASBO. You’re stupid enough to.”

  “So that’s why you took my keys. You wicked old witch. I hate you.”

  “Why don’t you hit me then, you’re good at hitting people? I will even turn my back if that will help.”

  Raz lunged, but before she could reach her, Will’s strong arms seized her from behind.

  “No Raz, can’t you see what she wants, you out of here, preferably banged up? Hit her and she will have won.”

  The stepmother spun round. “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m Raz’s boyfriend and you have no power over me!”

  “Oh, don’t I.” She strode to the phone on the hall table. “One call from me to the police, that’s all it will take. One call to report that she has broken the terms of her ASBO and is once more consorting with her old undesirable friends.”

  “Sorry, that won’t wash,” Will said with a half-smile. “I didn’t get to know Raz
until she was doing community service at the old folk’s home, after her little run in with the law.”

  “So you have a community order as well. Even better!” A look of triumph crossed her face as she picked up the phone.

  Will was totally unfazed by her demeanour. “Of course, it’s up to you what you do. However, I ought to advise you that I have never had any ASBOs, community orders, or convictions.”

  She slowly replaced the receiver on its cradle and turned towards Will with a twisted smile. “Be that as it may. You are not welcome here and I insist that you leave. NOW!” Triumph and hate mingled in her expression. “Unfortunately, Rapunzel will not be able to accompany you because of her curfew.”

  Listening to the exchange, Raz felt more attracted to Will than ever. “That’s not fair! I want him to stay and it’s not your flat, it’s my Dad’s. I only got an ASBO because you needled me into going out in a temper in the first place.”

  Raz’s interjection raised the temperature of the argument. Her stepmother’s face turned a deeper shade of red as she pulled herself up to her full height. The veins in her neck knotted and visibly throbbed.

  “You stupid, ungrateful girl. I have made your meals, washed your clothes. Put up with your whining when I came here and your foul temper as you have grown older. Yes, I wound you up on purpose that night and I thought that you would do something stupid... for once you exceeded my expectations... unfortunately, you didn’t repeat the performance today. I took your key with me so that you would lock yourself out and breach your ASBO.”

  Raz felt faint that her stepmother was still actively plotting against her. She shook as she finally recognised the plot to have her commit a crime.

  “Oh, you thought that it was an accident... you stupid little fool, being with your father suits me just fine, he buys me nice things and keeps a roof over my head. The only fly in the ointment is YOU. If you don’t like it here get out, run away, get pregnant, just leave your father and me alone.”

  “SOD OFF!”

  “WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?”

  Raz had not heard her father come in and wondered how much of the argument he had witnessed.

  “Oh John, I am so glad that you are back. I have had such a terrible time with Rapunzel. She has started bringing strange men back to the flat.”

  “Dad...” Raz began.

  Her father held up his hand in a peremptory manner. “No! I have heard enough. I should have noticed and done something before, but I have been too tied up with my own problems. I have let things slip and matters have gone too far.”

  Raz’s heart sank, her mouth went dry. Her father was going to side with her stepmother yet again. Will gently squeezed her hand.

  “Stay where you are, young man,” Dad commanded Will. “I want a word with you in a minute. Now, I think that you have some explaining to do, madam.”

  Raz’s eyes filled with tears, she took a deep breath; her stepmother, victorious, looked contemptuously at her.

  Her father’s expression softened. “No, not you Raz.” He turned slightly and looked directly at his partner. “You. Madam. What do you have to say for yourself? You have schemed, connived and lied to me about my daughter. Well, don’t just stand there, EXPLAIN YOURSELF!”

  Raz saw her father with fresh eyes. The once broken man had gone and his old, confident-self had returned. She must have missed noticing this happening over the long period of time she had been totally involved in the guerrilla war with her stepmother. But, for now, she just looked on, amazed and with tears running down her cheeks.

  The row that followed raged for over an hour and increased in intensity as the stepmother lost her, already short, temper and Raz’s father became even more enraged as he comprehended the lies and deceptions which had been told about his daughter.

  It came to a climax when the stepmother’s abuse turned from Raz to her father. “You were nothing but a broken down drunk before I came here. You’re nothing without me. You are just as useless as that tart you call a daughter!”

  Paradoxically, her father’s voice dropped to near normal, the blood drained from his face and his hands trembled as he fought for self-control. “Enough. That is enough.”

  “That’s it. Run away. Like you always do. Leaving me to deal with your daughter and your other mistakes. If I left, you wouldn’t last a week before climbing into a bottle again!”

  “I think it would be best all round if you did leave. Thank you for suggesting it.” His words cut, deliberate and cold as ice. “You may stay here tonight, but be gone by midday tomorrow. That should give you enough time to find somewhere else.”

  He turned his back on her and put his arm around Raz. “I am so sorry, my dear. I cannot apologise enough to you. I will make it up to you, I promise.” He looked at Will. “Now then young man, tell me about yourself and your relationship with my daughter.” Together, without a backward glance at the stepmother, they went into the living room.

  *

  Raz sat looking out of the window of her new second floor flat overlooking the sea. The sun was glinting on the receding tide as it flowed around the mussel-covered rocks.

  She was reflecting on that cataclysmic row five years ago and its consequences.

  The tears which she shed that night had made her father see where his priorities lay and true to his word he had put their relationship back on the rails.

  He still lived in the tower block, fully sober and content to be on his own. The stepmother had left the next day to stay with her sister in Eastbourne, never to return.

  Raz heard the front door shut as Will came in from work.

  That was the other consequence from the row in the tower; her feelings for Will had grown into love and had been reciprocated. Marriage and the birth of the twins had followed.

  Rapunzel felt warm and secure at last. Will and her father were her knights in shining armour. Rescuing her from the wicked witch and ending her imprisonment in the dark tower.

  KIDS!

  by Christine Dale

  Danny’s learnt a new swear word at school,

  Little Tim’s in trouble too,

  Caught mooning at the girls in the pool!

  Hours spent in A&E being stitched up,

  Having bandages applied.

  “That damned skate board!” Mum sighed.

  Yet another pair of trousers wrecked!

  Toys pulled apart to see how they work.

  Shampoo down the loo.

  Mud pies on the steps.

  Worms in a jar.

  The dog’s had a break down,

  The cats moved next door.

  Now they’ve been fed,

  It’s up the wooden stairs to bed.

  Tired from doing all those things.

  Mum’s little angels with dirty wings.

  The Fisherman’s Tale

  by J Ballard

  Our story is endless.

  We are there in its ancient beginnings.

  The long dead speak through our mouths,

  and all their distant horizons are mirrored in our eyes.

  One and the same.

  Our heartbeats have numbered each turning of the tide.

  We have charted in sacred memory where our bleached

  bones rail the sand and close marked the movement of

  every silver shining beneath the green-deep sea.

  Forever and forever.

  Our one voice rides above the howling wind.

  The ceaseless sea shall never wash our timeless

  footprints from the sand.

  Memory Stick

  by Janet Nott

  During a writing group exercise to generate a story from a (now deleted) first line, a recent visit to the Hastings Shipwreck Museum came to my rescue.

  My amazement at the size and history of the ancient boat rudders morphed into a science fiction story where a love of puns somehow linked computer memory sticks with a large lump of wood.

  “Hi. Can I join you?”

>   Hearing a voice so close made me jump. “Sorry?”

  “Do you mind if I sit down next to you?”

  I squinted at the young man. The winter sun was low and shone into my eyes from behind his right ear, which glowed. His features were hidden in shadow.

  Two groins away, a woman threw a stick for her dog and beyond that I could see a couple of beach fishermen. I’d been watching the Dunlin running on the sand and knew there was no one else around.

  I tensed, shifting my weight on the pebbles to see him more clearly and taking the opportunity to move away a few inches. The man’s face was very pale and smooth, framed by straight, longish white-blond hair and he cradled a crash helmet under one arm. I guessed he was not more than about twenty years old.

  “What do you want?” I sounded rude, but strangers don’t just turn up on an empty beach and ask to sit right next to you.

  “Don’t worry, there’s nothing to be scared about.”

  My heart thumped and my chest tightened. “What?” I was looking directly at him and his lips hadn’t moved.

  “Please, can I explain?” Stones clattered as he fidgeted. “I need some help with recovering my data and when you passed me earlier I sensed that you were the right type.”

  The ‘right type’? What did he want with me? My heart beat even harder as I wondered if I could get away from him. I glanced around. The woman and her dog had gone and the fishermen were out of earshot. I didn’t think I’d get very far trying to run on the loose pebbles.

  I flicked a look at his crash helmet and remembered seeing him earlier. I’d noticed him because he’d looked so odd walking along the road near the museum, his slim frame topped with a round helmet; rather like a skinny lollypop.

  “I need to get back,” I lied as I started to get up.

  He ran his hands through his hair. “Please. I really need your help. I haven’t managed to find anyone else with quiet thoughts and I’m running out of time. Please will you give me the chance to explain?”

  Perhaps I’d imagined the bit with the lips: or rather, without the lips. They were definitely moving as he spoke.

  Although he appeared calm, there was a tightness around his eyes that spoke of stress, of tiredness. “It’s nothing scary or illegal, honestly. Please?”

  If I agreed, I could start walking back to the fishermens huts and the safety of other people. “Ok, let’s walk and talk. I’m getting cold.”

  I shivered and realised that this was true. Perspiration, triggered by my adrenaline rush, cooled my skin. “And what do you mean, ‘I have quiet thoughts’?”