Deserved Fate

Rosanne Lemick unfortunately passed away on the night of a full moon. Copper poisoning was to blame as the large mansion she lived in was old enough to be filled with enough legal breaches to startle the most esteemed high court official. She was an old woman who kept to herself and barely left the house. Many people just assumed she spent her whole day dusting the skeletons of the visitors she never seemed to have. So when she passed on, her Last Will and Testament stated that the morbid mansion was to be passed on to a distant family member of a sister’s daughter’s cousin, Thomas Hamlington. 

Thomas was a man of 25 who was obsessed with riches. He wanted to be big famous and rolling in the green, purple and yellows of money. He and his girlfriend, Penelope Tate, were the picture of health. Young, free, careless and striving for their lives, they received the summons with shock to learn that they had inherited a massive mansion from a distant deceased relative. So setting out some days later, they made the long winded journey to the house.

The door creaked open with a moan that sent shudders through the rotting floorboards. Shuffling through the layer of dust as thick as thirteen sheets of thawing ice the house pressed against them on all sides. A musty smell of mildew made its meandering march through the noses of both Thomas and Penelope as they stepped further into the house. The large room to their right contained cobwebs and creepy carcasses of spiders long dead while the room to their left provided more interesting objects.

Penelope was the first to set foot into the room, a room which moaned and creaked along with the rest of the old timbers of the house. As Thomas moved in beside her, the entire world froze. A chill that seeped to their bones began to bore into them. A soft silky whispering began to slide through the silvery webs between the furniture to meet the ears of both Thomas and Penelope. As a slight breeze wafted the musty smell of the house into the room, Penelope suddenly screamed and became paralysed with one finger pointing towards the wall on the opposite of side of the room. Her eyes crazed like a mad-man, she began to tremble with fear.

Dumbstruck with the reaction of Penelope, Thomas turned his terrified gaze with trepidations towards the object she was pointing at. A shiny silver frame around a softly glowing slate of glass illuminated what looked like a gilded mirror. Within the mirror was the horror. A woman of about 84 years was glaring out from behind the looking glass at the two intruders into the house. The whites of her eyes were glazed with absolute hatred as wrinkles around her mouth were pulled into a snarl that accompanied her vicious dentures.

“AAAARGH, HOW DARE YOU COME HERE? AFTER WHAT YOU DID, HOW DARE YOU,” the apparition cried, “SO THEY THOUGHT IT WAS COPPER POISONING? WELL NO BODY BELIEVED ME. THEY SAID I WAS CRAZY. THEY SAID I WAS MAD. THEN THEY LOCKED ME IN THIS HOUSE BECAUSE OF YOU! YOU! YOU!”

Thomas trembled as a violent wind began to roar through the room to whip the cobwebs in the house into a frenzy. 

“YOU THOUGHT YOU’D GET AWAY WITH IT!” she screeched at the top of her lungs as the dirty, dusty dungeon they were now in erupted into a pandemonium. The mirror on the wall shook violently as it crashed to floor sending shard of glass around the room. Two sharp shards pierced the hearts of both Penelope and Thomas before they could run for their lives. As their lifeless bodies began to descend to the floor to join the surrounding morbidity of the house, several sharp knives fell out of their pockets coated in the old woman’s blood. Forged signatures and Will paper came out alongside the knives as they spiralled together through the air. When they landed, the knives pierced both the names of Penelope Tate and Thomas Hamlington.  As they did, two drops of blood leaked from the pages.

The Day The World Froze

The day the world froze was icy enough to meld our hearts into stone.

It had all began months before as the polar caps began to grow, rapidly. Icy winds blew through the Sahara Desert and strange phenomena such as snow was to be found in arid places like on Australia's Uluru. Not to mention a polar bear was seen walking the streets of Germany and a penguin crossing the boarder into France! The sudden chill over the globe was like God blew an icy breath upon the world and was seconds from smashing it into small pieces of ice shards.

We all felt and knew it was time to flee. Warmth was a myth by the time my family moved. Trudging through snow-bound streets, we headed north towards the less cool part of the equator. Sadly many of those who came with us did not survive the sudden blizzards that struck up within half a minute every two hours. I now can only laugh at what they told us in school before the Big Freeze - Global Warming, the globe's getting warmer? I don't think so.

So now living in conditions in which the entire population of the world is trying to cram into - we're running out of resources. This weather has killed off all crops - even the ones who are strongest against mild frost. Our clothing is tattered and mended here and there with any materials we can find and wood is constantly being stockpiled for warmth and bonfires in the caves we must resign ourselves to live in. We can only hope it doesn't run out soon.

I guess it's just one be joke isn't it - the world coaxed mankind out of its caves and enticed it into the arms of new life whereas now, it seems to have had enough of us and is forcing us to turn back the clock. Cavemen are all we are now. I heard that there are other... more savage groups of people around the equator region that have resorted to acts of cannibalism, it happens most often on the islands. Luckily the temporary International Crisis Government has placed laws and banns on this community of ours against such horrors.

Only time will tell if we survive each night and the one after. As in times like these, people are desperate.

(Science-Fiction Beginning)

The Greatest Tragedy is...

The greatest tragedy is the disappearance of the unicorns.

Why did they disappear? Was it our fault? Did we hunt them to extinction?

All of these questions are significantly important when we need to investigate this mysterious matter that has puzzled many civilisations for centuries.

Was it the ice age that scared them off? DO they now live elsewhere? The moon perhaps?

Statistics state that the development and increase of the human population pre-medieval times blew out and unsettled the ecosystem in which the unicorns live. Increase in light pollution caused by the invention of fire has said to dim the glow of their majestic horns into white husks of bone and thus causing them to disintegrate. Some say that horses were the direct descendants of unicorns as their anatomical structure is remarkably similar however scientists are still looking for proof of this fact within the horse genome.

The Irish folk of Northern Ireland believe in two theories for the disappearance of these wonderful beasts. Their first is that the early Irish and their Leprechaun associates mined the gold contained in the horns of the unicorns for profit thus through Natural Selection, the horns eventually disappeared from the heads of unicorns causing horses to appear instead. Their other theory is that the early Leprechauns double dealt their human associates and went into hiding with the unicorns. The Irish are still, to this day, investigating the matter.

This is indeed a very significant tragedy in today’s society as there are now children being born all over the world with questions such as:

“What is a unicorn mummy?” and “What do unicorns look like daddy?”

These startling comments from the future generation of Earth signify the immense loss and impact the disappearance of unicorns has caused upon society. 

We are lost without the pearlescent glow of their horns and the silvery magnificence of their hides. Who will now guide lost explorers through woods when they forget to bring light equipment? How will their presence remain in our memories for generations to come?

Action is needed to investigate the cause and hence bring hope of the reappearance unicorns back to the people of Earth. If we do nothing the unicorn legacy may die out and we will lose the most unique animal we have ever had on this Earth forever.

Their glittering silver locks fleeting through woods will surely be missed by the world.

The greatest tragedy is the disappearance of the unicorns.

(Comic Factual Story - Please note, all statistics and facts are most likely made up)

An Australian Afternoon

When the river gurgles
as the breeze blows through the grass
the soft scent of freedom
creeps very slowly past

A frog sits upon the log
looking lazily at the sight
of children playing gleefully
in the softly fading light

The platypus he glides along,
and plays upon the banks
he nods his head to the frog
as a sign of thanks.

If fireflies were present here
they'd light up the way home

for all the baby joeys
who like all day to roam.

Baby possums in a tree
have a quiet chat
talking about the day they've had
and of getting fat.

Across the way the children go
all back home for supper
the kettle's on the boil
while their mum just wants a cuppa.

Down the road a bilby wakes
ready to meet the night
Scampering off in the bush
giving some Lorikeets a fright.

Now it's time we come to you
sitting there and staring
reading this and wondering
Why should I be caring?  

Hush and listen to the wind
as the sun winds down
It's calling out for you to smile
and remove your harrowing frown.

Life's too short to miss a day
and not see the place around you
take in all the sounds and smells
 and all the new sights too.

The river still - it gurgles on
making its slow way
through the lives of many people
encouraging at least a smile a day.

(Bit of Australian Poetry)

Dream Criminal

BOOM...BOOM...DOOM...

Did that Gavel just say Doom?!

"Jonathan Pickering, please stand and explain to the jury why you are here," spoke the leering face from the high wooden counter.

Why am I here? I didn't do anything... at least I don't think I did anything...

With a big HARRRUMPH! the judge now was losing patience, "Johnathan Pickering - we're waiting."

"Well... I... um... why am I here exactly?"

Rolling her eyes, the judge pulled forth a scroll that was lined from top to bottom with meticulous writing. "Under the Decree for Personal Psychological Protection - you have violated the law about manipulating the conscious and subconscious of several other individuals against their will. How do you plea?"

The what of the whaty what hunh?

"Innocent! I don't even know what you- oh, that... well it wasn't my fault, I didn't know what was happening..."

"So you ARE guilty!" said the judge who's comment was backed by much murmuring coming from the panel of people behind her.

"No, no... it's that I... ah well, I'll tell you the story... It all started one night when I found myself well... in a dream... only it wasn't mine...

...................................................................................................................................................................

As I looked around me all I saw was clouds of strange hues of pink and purples and I knew, this was no where near one of my dreams. How I got there, I have no idea, but what I did know was that all I could do was wait passively to see what would happen next. Sure enough a little girl in a frilly pink dress appeared soaring out of the nearby cloud on what looked like a golden chariot. As she moved, the clouds around me soon parted to show that I was perched in the sky above some strange meadow filled with red cows. Obviously this was when I began to really flip out and decided that somehow I had to get back to my own dream. So, without further ado, I... it's hard to say and I bet I'm sounding crazy at the moment but I... flew through the clouds until I came upon a barrier that felt like some sort of electrically charged gelatin. So I pushed,

and pushed,
and pushed,

Until I pushed so hard that something seemed to snap and I fell through into what looked like some sort of underwater world. Yes, there were sharks and colourful coral and what looked like a pair of scuba divers. Immediately they saw me and suddenly the entire world began to shift and shape itself into what seemed to be a police office. Everything but the hole I ripped through the membrane of the dream.

So as the world changed, so did the two scuba divers, one disappeared whereas the other turned into a policeman who glared at me across the table I was sitting at. After quizzing me about what I was doing there, I managed to make a run for it through a door opposite my chair. Turns out I wasn't supposed to as I tore another hole in the dream and stumbled from this world onto a hill upon which was a single oak tree.

Sitting upon a wooden swing on the oak tree... was well... believe it or not - myself.

This was when things got really bad.

(Sci-Fi fantasy intro, personally I don't really like it, but its up to you as to what you think about it)

Was it Revenge?

Revenge is bliss.

That’s right, I said it. The sweet succulent taste of revenge is relishing. It over powers your senses until you’re eyes are clouded with a strange sense of peace which numbs the pain of the rage inside. Almost like some sort of natural drug. Endorphins I think they’re called. Whatever. He killed my sister. He stole her away from me. He ruined our family. Ripped apart, torn to shreds, left in tatters; that’s what he did.

So the rage that crept silently at times throughout my soul yet at others raged like a wild bull has finally been suppressed; by this sweet, sweet revenge.

Luring him to the cliff was the easy part. I used bait he couldn’t resist; money. Oh how money drives him mad, like a lunatic really. That’s the whole reason why he stabbed a raging silver blade deep into the heart of my sister. She was being careful; avoiding him on sneaking trains, desperately seeking help from co-workers and staying up all through the long nights just to make sure she was safe.

You see her boss originally was nice; kind, caring, even soothing for her usual nerves. She thought she was safe and sound within her workplace. Things got ugly however as he got to know her and her mocking money. Stalking is too kind a word for the situation she got into; more like obsessive compulsive life control. Quitting wasn’t an option, she was part of a binding contract and lawyers wouldn’t touch it. However she never told anyone about it; I only found out near the end; when it was too late.

So late one night, he arrived at her house knocking and banging upon the door like a wild beast let out from the local zoo. She cried and desperately ran for sanctuary within the deepest recesses of the house. He broke through a window and claimed he was there for payment. Holding her breath, not a sound was made throughout the house except the awkwardly concise movements of a drunken man slurring his way through the house. Her screams were heard and ignored by the neighbours next door as the man came upon her and slew her with a knife. Nobody believed the story when I repeated it to others so the murderer was left to go free.

So when the man in blue finally succumbed to my temptations, I violently threw his body of the cliff and watched it fall like a ragdoll upon the rocks below. The bitter sweet taste of revenge was finally mine.

Strange clothing bonds my arms to my sides as I now sit alone. Yet as I sit here in this strange room covered in white, I think to myself; what was my sister’s name? Why did no one believe me? Did I even have a sister?

(Crime Short Story)

The Cell of Ice

PRELUDE

Day ??? Month ??? 1788,

The cold seeps in through the walls of this cell like living tendrils of death that stroke my insides with icicles. Stone. That's all I can see around me. The cold life-sucking stone stealing my happiness and life. The scratches upon the walls around me count the days I've been stuck in here, however the dull blue glow of the cell has reduced my eyesight to nothing more than 10 centimetres forward and so those pitiful scratches mean nothing to me. My only current measurement of time here is the strange new short beard that clings to my face and is clumped together in spikes of icicles. It's just another reminder of my separation from society and my life before the arrest. I fear that I look like some nightmarish vision of Jack Frost waiting to come out from my lair. But alas - will I come out? I believe not as the guards have left long ago. For weeks I believe I have been the only one here, surviving on licking the water of icicles and killing the rats that run through. This predicament in which I am in is all for nought as I did not even commit a crime. All I did was write - of course I underestimated the power of my words but it was not me that turned them into what they are today. I now understand that the written word is to be used far more carefully than any other weapon in the world for though one word may lead you down the path of happiness and prosperity - another may lead you here. Here being the eternal prison of Hell - only cold and harsher upon the vitals. So as anoth--

Sounds, I hear something. Is it that I have finally gone mad? For I thin--

Voices, whispered voices. Coming closer, nearing the bars of my cell. They mus--

Chains rattling, clinking moving closer, closer, closer--

They're upon me like the plague, is this the end? They--

The Diary of Henry Walker ended here before several pages of a series of hurried symbols and scribbles. There is suspect of a second diary under a different name. Only time will tell whether his story will arise...