The Golden Orb

Bending over, I fixed the five inch serrated blade in my left boot.  The sheath had got twisted and that sort of thing could ruin a girls shoes.  Straightening up I stared at my reflection in the mirror and ran my fingers through my waist length black hair, the same hair that my mother had.  I looked just like her.  Darkly kohled dark eyes stared back at me from under a heavy fringe.  I readjusted the holsters of the two-barrel hollow-point Xarex 4.2 on my right thigh.  Father preferred us to carry his own guns as opposed to the competitors. 


Slipping my black leather jacket on, to cover the throwing stars stored in the small of my back, I turned around and walked out of my room and went left to the great hall.  Father had called a family meeting.  He liked to get us all together every once in a while, made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.


Sliding back the bolts, I pushed open the solid steel doors.  They were rigged to seal shut should there be another nuclear explosion.  All fifty-six rooms, the whole house, were programmed and kitted out to be individual panic rooms, should the worst happen.  As I slipped into the hall I saw that I was the last and that each of my seven siblings were already present.


“Ah, Jewel.  Good, now we’re all here.”


My Father sat at the head of the table, his hands clasped before him.  Sitting like that, with the cuffs of his pristine white shirt pulled back from his wrists, you could see the metal sealant that attached his left metal hand to his still real arm.  He had lost his hand in an accident in the factory before I was born, sliced off by a white hot blade.  He insisted on personally building the replacement.  His new hand was three times more efficient, he could handle extremely hot objects without damage and it was implanted with a tracking device, should he even go missing.  One of my first childhood memories was of my father taking me into the climate-control room so that he could push me on the swings, and noticing that when he pushed me only one hand was warm.


I sat down at my place at the table and nodded at my father.


“Let’s start with an update, shall we?” he began.  “Business is as good as ever.  With the new Pyro-Cannon prototypes Ethan perfected last month, Braxton was able to successfully negotiate a repeat contract with the PsyHawk district.  Every PsyHawk in the entire fifteenth district will be carrying a Xarex weapon by the end of the week.”   He paused to gaze proudly at my two oldest brothers. 


Ethan was getting closer every day to biting at my father’s heels.  He was inventing more and more powerful weapons, and Braxton was poised to assume control of the company.  With the two of them Father hoped to make Xarex Industries the dominant weapons dealer in the whole lower hemisphere.


We clapped and Ethan and Braxton nodded seriously. 


“Although today we are here on quite a different matter.”   He paused again and for the first time I noticed my sister, Perenne, beaming proudly.  


“Thank you, Father.” Perenne leant forward and paused for a moment before saying, “I’m pregnant.”


The hall erupted in noise immediately.  Perenne had married the leading steel provider’s eldest son, Samuel Stellick, last year.  It had been a very proud day for my Father.  Since then he had brokered a deal on first refusal on all the refined steel that was produced.  In return Stellick Steel’s security systems had been upgraded to the Xarex Mangum Plus.


We all clustered around my sister, she was glowing already.  The congratulations lasted about ten minutes until we were dismissed.  I was just about to leave when my Father called me.


“Jewel. Come here please.” 


I went to him and kneeled before him, laying my head in his lap, like I had done as a child.  He stroked my hair with his warm hand.


“Jewel, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you how important it is for everyone in this family to do their part.  A family is like a machine, it can only run smoothly if all the pieces are fitted correctly.  If one charge or one circuit is loose in a Pyro-Cannon the whole thing will explode.  Do you understand me?”


I stared up at him and nodded.


“Good girl.  Now I have something for you.”  He pulled from his pocket a small golden sphere. “This is my newest invention, its called a Palantir Orb.” He pushed a button and the two golden rings that encompassed the sphere began to rotate around it.  They spun faster for a couple of seconds before reaching their optimum speed and created an image that seemed to come from the middle of the ball.  Inside the ball was a perfect 3-dimensial image of my mother.


“You look so like her.”


I stared with wonderment at the long black hair and dark eyes.


“Thank you Daddy,” I whispered.

I went for a walk later that day.  The sky was grey.  It was always grey.  The storm clouds and poisons held at bay by the buzzing Amphibios Force Field created a charcoal ceiling for our world.  My Father had made me a holographic screen for my window when I was little.  With it I could see sunshine when I woke up, and hear birds, but I had shut it down years ago. 

Walking in the still air, kicking up dust, I somehow ended up walking past the Amphibios Head Office.   Amphibios was the company responsible for restraining the effects of the nuclear explosion, it had a base in each District. No one would be able to survive without their force fields. 


I was thinking about what my Father had said.  He needed me to find my place.  He loved me the most for looking so like our Mother, but that didn’t detract from the need for me to find my place in the machine.


“Can’t be a wrong charge,” I murmured.


Spinning the golden orb in my hands I walked past the imposing building.  Three tall cylinders, pale green in colour, with the force field power generators on the roofs of each.  No one really knew what they did inside, the company was owned solely by the Amphibios family and they were notoriously reclusive.  Even the elements are treacherous.  You can only trust Family.  It was their dictum.


I heard a click.


“Don’t scream, you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”


Turning slightly to my left I saw a raggedly dressed man, aiming an old Glock 9mm at me.  The thing was an antique.  It still used bullets, for Christ’s sake.


“Now hand over that nice shiny ball I saw you had, and anything else you got on you.  Nice and easy and you won’t get hurt.”


He clearly had no idea who I was.


I turned to face him, rotating my left wrist so that the palm of my hand faced him.  Flexing my fingers, I activated the magnet implanted in the heel of my hand.  The gun flew into my grasp and I simultaneously drew my own and aimed carefully.  No one used Daddy’s inventions like I did.


I fired one shot, the heat energy explosive contained in a hollow-point casing hit an old metal oil can, to the man’s right.  It shattered instantly in the blast, shrapnel flying everywhere.


“Catch my meaning?” I said.


He looked at the weapon in my hand, now aimed at his head, and ran.  I watched him go.


I bent over to holster my gun and the orb fell out of my pocket.


“Shit,” I muttered, and then watched in horror as it rolled into the drain behind me.  “SHIT!”


Kneeling down, I looked into the murky waters of the sewer.  I groaned in frustration, the ball was nowhere to be seen.  I beat my fist against the ground and fought back the tears that were threatening to fall.


“How can someone who can scare off a mugger, be so easily defeated by a drain?” said a voice behind me.


I turned and looked up at a sewer worker.  He was dressed in green protective overalls and had his helmet and breathing apparatus in his hands.


“I dropped something,” I said rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.


“Was it important to you?” the man asked.


“Yes,” I whispered.


“You’re Jewel Xarex, aren’t you? “  I nodded. “We had Military Defence classes together, at Kemberton Academy.  You would always argue with Mr Clarke, got thrown out a couple of times as well, as I remember. ”


I stared up at this strange man talking about school while I was crouched over a drain.


“The idiot didn’t know what he was talking about,” I managed finally. “His stratagems were ancient and based on inferior security systems.”


“I can get it for you, if you like?” He peered into the drain. “Your ball.  I can retrieve it for you.”


“Could you?” I stood hurriedly.


“I could, yes.  But what’s in it for me?”


“What do you want?”  My stomach tightened at the thought of being indebted to this man.


“I want you to let me share the food from your table, the drink from your cup and to sleep with you always, in your bed.”


“Marriage?” I blurted out in surprise.  He had just quoted the lines from the hand-fasting ritual.


The man smiled. “Yes.”


I thought for a minute, there was no way this sewer worker could make a daughter of Xarex Industries marry him.  It didn’t matter what I said, even if I agreed, Father would forbid it.


“Alright.”  I stared at the man’s face for the first time.  He was utterly filthy, but he had a nice smile.
“It’s a deal then.” 


With that he reattached his breathing apparatus and put on his helmet.  He slid down the drain and was quickly immersed in the murky waters.


I held my breath as I waited. I let it out explosively as his head came back out of the water.  He pulled himself up out of the drain and lifted the lid of his helmet. 


“Here you go.” He handed me the golden orb and I bit my lip in excitement until I saw that one of the two golden rings was missing.


“Oh,” I said alarmed.


“Don’t worry, it’s safe,” he said waving the ring at me. “I’m just going to hang on to this to make sure you keep your promise.  There is usually an exchanging of rings during these sorts of negotiations anyway.”


I stared with horror and shock into the green eyes of the sewer worker.


“Now run along and tell Daddy.  I will be along in a little while, after I clean myself up.”


I felt myself move away from him in silence.


Father is going to kill me, I thought.




Back at the house I finally found Father in his offices, after searching for some time.  It was a large room decorated to look like a nineteenth century office.  There was a large oak desk, almost eight feet in length, and the walls were filled floor to ceiling with bookshelves.  The shelves were filled with all the classic works of the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty-first centuries.  He said that being surrounded by genius helped produce genius.


“Father…”


“Ah, Jewel, come here my darling and take a look at this.” He motioned me forward and held up the plans for what I saw was the Xarex Magnum 2.0. “What do you think?”


Momentarily distracted, I delved into the plans with gusto.


“You’ve re-routed the emergency panic trigger.”


“Yes, a gifted hacker managed to by-pass it in one of the western districts.  I’ve added two more fail-safes and a spiral codex.”


I pursed my lips. “Yes but in doing so you have left the panic-door locking system vulnerable. See the break point here?” I pointed to it.  Taking the plans from him and laying them out on the desk I began scribbling in pencil.  “Instead of rerouting through the doors, you can pass the codex through this circuit and by-pass the doors altogether.  Put a blocker here and you eliminate the break.”  I showed him my work.


He grinned. “You always were the best at spotting faults in security systems.  Do you remember when you got thrown out of Mr Clarke’s class for arguing with him?”


At that moment there was a beep on the desk and the holographic image of Father’s assistant appeared.  “Patrick Amphibios is here to see you, sir.”


“Amphibios?” Father said.  “As in Amphibios force fields?”


“Yes, sir.”


“Send him in.” My Father looked at me with raised eyebrows. “What could a member of the Amphibios family want with me?”


I was as shocked as he was. Amphibios didn’t do business with anyone, it was the one account my Father had never managed to get.  He had never even managed to get a meeting.


 I was even more shocked when my sewer worker walked in, now clean and wearing a suit.  His brown hair combed neatly out of his clear green eyes.   My Father stood to shake his hand.  “Mr Amphibios, very nice to meet you.”


“The pleasure is all mine Mr Xarex,” he replied, then smiled at me. “Oh good, Jewel is already here.  That makes things easier.”


I stared open mouthed.


“I have come to finalise the business transaction that I started this morning with Jewel,” he continued.


“Business Transaction?” my Father asked looking at me.  I couldn’t think of anything to say, my mouth opening and closing uselessly.


“I see Jewel hasn’t had a chance to tell you yet.”  Patrick Amphibios made a gesture to sit and my Father waved for him to do so. “My fault I’m afraid, at Amphibios we don’t like to hang around when making deals.  Jewel has agreed to come work for us, as a consultant from Xarex Industries, to overhaul our entire security system.”


“The entire security system?” My Father swallowed.


“Yes.  All three hundred and forty-six bases and the interconnecting systems.”


My Father looked at me, and after I didn’t say anything he looked back at Patrick.


“I first noticed your daughter’s talent at Kemberton Academy,” Patrick smiled. “And I have been tracking her progress ever since.  I believe she was responsible for designing the Trojan Dual-Checking process that added the plus to the Xarex Magnum Plus.  Was she not?”


“Yes she was.” My Father beamed at me. “And the tri-compartment function. But I thought Amphibios didn’t work with anyone outside of the family?”


“Yes.  That’s why Jewel has agreed to marry me.” He held up the gold ring. “She gave me this as her promise.”


My Father stared at the ring and then at me.


“Is this true?” he asked me.


“Well… Yes,” I said.


He blinked for a moment and exhaled loudly. “Well, if Jewel has already agreed…then who am I to stand in the way?  You have my blessing.”


“Excellent.” Patrick stood up. “Now, we won’t get into the details now, but I will have my legal team draw up the contracts and tell my mother about the wedding.  Would you care to join us for dinner this evening?”


“We would love to.” My Father answered standing to shake his hand.


“Good. This evening then.” 


Patrick nodded to us both before leaving the office.  My Father slumped back into his chair his hand on his head, shaking in disbelief.


“Three hundred and forty-six new systems.  Three hundred and forty-six new systems!”  He stared in wonderment at me.  “Even Braxton never managed that in one deal.  When I told you to find your place, I never expected…”


“Uh, Father… I’ll be right back.”


With that I ran out of the office and down the corridor, catching up with Patrick at the final door.  When I reached him I found I had nothing to say.


“I promise I will make you happy,” he said quietly.  “You never noticed me in those classes, did you?”


I shook my head. “You are risking a lot by doing this.  How do you know I won’t crash your entire company?”


“The same way you knew the lowly sewer worker wouldn’t steal from you.”


I looked at the face of the man I was going to marry, the sewer worker who had retrieved my golden ball.  Then he kissed me, and then everything changed.

Hope

I find it funny that people most often associate hope with light.

I don't.

I think that hope is like sitting in the dark, with faith, and it only takes a single flame of doubt to cause shadows. It takes more courage, faith and hope to sit in the dark. Just as it only takes the smallest doubt to shatter the darkness, to cause shadows.

Think about it, is sleeping with the light on not doubting your own strength to sleep without it? To sleep in the dark?

Hope is sitting in the dark without turning the light on, ever.

Choices - A Short Story

I didn’t mean to be this way. I just am. Well that’s not true; I don’t have to do this. I could choose not to. I could go get help, but I don’t want to. I want to kill her. I want to. I choose to.
I sit in my car, watching her. She has shopping, and she is struggling to get in her door. Ah, she’s dropped her keys; I could have guessed that would happen, she does that a lot. She dropped something on six different occasions last Monday; I consult my notes, yes, six different items.

She’s put her shopping on the ground now, bending over to get her keys, her underwear peeps out over her jeans, a thong. Slut. She deserves what she’s gonna get. I look into the rear view mirror, it’s getting dark but I can still see. I see my own brown eyes.

You will go into that flat and you will do what you know you are going to do. You know you want her, you know she deserves it. You know what’s right. You know about her. You have made notes. You have watched her. You know what she is. You know she is a sinner. You open the door of your car, you step out, and you walk towards her. You are gonna cut her, watch her bleed, you’ll see. You will see it when she’s dead, you’ll see. It will be there, you’ll see.

I get out of the car and walk across the road. She has located her keys, they were under the bush. I could have told her that, she kicked them there when she tried to catch them. I saw her.

“Hold the door, please.”

She looks up, smiles. Whore.

“I do live here, fourth floor,” I say.

“That’s ok, I believe you!” She laughs, and pushes the door with her shoulder.

“Well you can never tell, the world is full of crazies these days.” I smile, charming. Yes. Good. “Do you want some help? The lift’s broken isn’t it?”

“Ummm, yeah it is.” Of course it is, you told your friend on the phone yesterday. “If you don’t mind, that would be great.”

I take a bag, the heaviest one. There is wine in it. Drunken Bitch.

I smile. “No problem!” And follow her up the stairs.



A boy is crouched in his garden; he is at the back by the shed. His mother walks towards him from the house; she can’t yet see what he is doing.

“Sweetie, you have to come inside now. Your dinner’s ready.” She is wearing an apron and her hair is honey blonde.

“In a minute,” he mutters.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he calls not looking; he is still crouched over something, using his hands.

“Well if you heard me why aren’t you coming then? It’s getting cold. Bring Monster with you, I’ll feed him too while I am at it.”

The mother turns and goes back into the house leaving the kitchen door open. She is humming to herself and opening a tin of dog food as the boy enters.

She turns, “It’s on the table, I...”

The boy is covered in blood; he is holding a small furry dog in his arms. The dog is dead.

He stares at his mother, “but I don’t like broccoli.”



“This is me.”

She flicks her hair as she approaches the door, and jingles her keys. She shoulder opens the door and steps inside, putting her bag down and reaching for the one I carried. I hand it to her.

“Thanks again,” she smiled. Slag.

She looks away for a second and then looks back at me, surprised. My foot was in the door so she was unable to shut it. I put one hand over her mouth and push her back into the flat, then with my other hand I grasp her throat and cut off her air supply. She struggles; she squeaks and squeals into my hand and beats at my arms with her tiny fists, but it was no use. I feel her getting weaker as her brain shuts down, then I let her breath again as she slumps into my arms.

There, there.

I pick her up and kick the door shut behind me, going into her bedroom, I lay her gently down on the bed and I start to get ready. I close all the curtains in the flat and turn off the lights. I find some candles in a cupboard and light them, to make it nicer. Then I push all the furniture back against the walls and create a big space in the living room. In the middle I put a chair.

You will see soon. It is nearly time. You put a chair there, yes, and you put her in it, yes; not too gently, she does not deserve such treatment. You bind her hands, good, and now her feet, yes! You go to the kitchen, looking, looking, ah, you have found it. Knives...



It is a school corridor; a tall handsome boy waits outside an office. His face is bored and subtly derisive; he clearly does not want to be there. He scuffs his feet and smiles ruefully at two boys that walk past, one of them mouths park -later at him and he nods.

“Mr Dawson, you can come in now.”

The boy goes in; he is maybe sixteen years old. There is a plaque on the front of the desk; it says Guidance Counsellor on it, a man in glasses sits behind it, steepling his fingers,

“Sit down, Dawson.” He does as he is told. “Do you know why you are here?”

The boy shrugged, his expression is polite but neutral

“Well, Miss Parker has left the school, you were aware? Yes? Well, there has been talk. She is being sent away, her family are insisting...Well, she is gone, anyway.” The man stared over his glasses at the boy. “They are going away for a while, it seems.”

“What this has to do with me, sir?” The boy looked into the man’s eyes without flinching.

“Miss Parker is suffering from an event. She is suffering from a ra... an incident that occurred earlier this week.”

The boy cocked his head to one side. “Oh my, that’s terrible. Is something being done?”

“She is refusing to name her assailant. I have been talking to some people from the night; they say that she was last seen leaving with you. Did you... Did you see anything?”

The man regarded the boy, searching for a reaction.

The boy shook his head. “No sir, nothing.”



She is waking up, she moans a little. I shiver. The knives clink in my hands. Her face starts to register the situation, confusion, understanding then fear.

She struggles in her bonds; her strap falls down over one shoulder. Slut.

You will not fall for that. You will not fall for this Jezebels charms.

“Hello,” I say quietly.

She whimpers.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispers, “it’s not too late. I... I won’t, I won’t tell anyone. We can keep this just between us.”

I lick my lips and kneel by her, I look into her face.

“You don’t have to do this, it’s not too late. It’s not too late to stop.”

I laugh. “So I have a choice?”

“Yes.” She cried out on relief, she was shaking, the chair shivers with her. Her breath coming in short rapid gasps and her eyes rolling in her head, like a skittish horse.

“No. I don’t.”



A young man is standing by an open grave in a black suit, a casket lies in the ground but is yet uncovered; he is holding a white lily. The other mourners have long since gone but one other man stands behind him.

“I know you are there.” The young man said, he pushed his hair out of his eyes, he has been crying. “I know who you are, too.”

The older gentleman shifts from foot to foot, he looks uncomfortable.

“Your Mother was an incredible woman. I... I loved her very much. You should know that, I mean no disrespect. We loved each other.”

The younger man turned from the grave to look at the older gentleman. He was slightly scruffy, not a man of means, his mourning suit was tired.

“My mother was married,” the younger man whispered.

“Your father... We didn’t mean to.” He twisted his hands. “It just happened.” He looked helpless. Pathetic. Broken.

The young man stared into the eyes of his mother’s lover. He stared into the eyes of an adulterer and saw his mothers sins reflected in them

“Whore.”



I stand and walk over to the girl. She starts crying, sobbing, a dry racking noise. It was unproductive, no tears just raw emotions coming from her. I trace my fingers through her hair, it was soft, my mother’s hair was blonde, this girl’s hair was dark, but no matter.

I admire the colours in it, coppers and gold and chocolate.

I cut some off, a chunk from the left side. She cries out in shock.

I smell it, it is good.

“Please...”

No good begging, begging never got anyone anywhere. Begging is just another way of asking, and people who ask don’t get. I want never gets.

You have to take what you need.

“Please, don’t. Why are you doing this? Why me?”

I sigh. “Questions, questions, questions. Don’t you know we don’t decide these things? We are who we are. There is no choice in the matter.”

You will do it now, enough talk. You cut her now.

I hold the knife in my hand and draw one lean stroke from one side of her throat to another.

You see?

Bryan - Part 1 (A Short Story)

I think of running water when I pee. It helps with blocking out all the distractions, and if someone else is in the room with me, forget it. I just hold it and wait for another opportunity. I don’t like public bathrooms at the best of times and having an audience was just another reason to wait. It’s a real thing, you know, it’s called Paruresis. It’s a mental disorder that means that some people feel unable to relieve themselves in public bathrooms; they feel that their own bathroom is the only one that’s safe. I read about it on the internet. I read a lot on the internet. I can, however, go in public bathrooms, conditions permitting. I can’t go in front of people though, or if there is any form of insect buzzing in the room. Or if there is an odd number of urinals. And I can’t go in the corner. The devil comes out of the corners, you know. My mother told me that, before she died. Her hospital bed was in the corner, you know, on the end of a row of beds. A row of five.

Good things always came in pairs, you know. Man and wife, salt and pepper, fish and chips, that sort of thing. “It’s all about balance” My mother used to say. She would often bring this up when I sat in my room too long, reading my books. “Life should have different parts, Bryan” she would say “Reading is good but you should go outside as well.” I remember she would smile encouragingly and I would nod. I would read outside to make her happy. One time my neighbour hit me with his football, he had been playing in the park where I was reading. He asked me if I wanted to play but I hadn’t finished my story yet, and everyone knows that once you start something you have to finish it. Finish the circle, otherwise you leave gaps, and you can’t leave gaps. That’s how they get in.


I was much younger then, my mother died when I was fifteen. An odd number. It’s just me and my father now, but I don’t see him much, he works late and is gone before I get up. I’m at college; I decided not to stay at my school for sixth form. College is better, the teacher’s don’t try to make me participate in things the way they did at school. Chess club, Art club, Drama club, Squash club, Athletics, Choir, Music Practice, Church group, the Tennis Team, the Football Team, the Rugby Team, the Quiz Team, the Debate Team... Lessons.

No, college is better, they just leave me be. I just want everyone to leave me be. If no one noticed me then He wouldn’t notice me either and I would be safe.

I hear footsteps, the scuffing of a rubber sole and then a greasy hood pushed its way into the bathroom with me. I will have to go later. Shoving my hands deep into my pockets I make sure not to make eye contact with anyone as I left the bathroom. Travelling down the beige grimy hallways I dart my eyes left and right, all the time listening intently for other people. One of the problems with keeping your head down is that if you’re not careful you can run into people. It’s better than looking ahead though; if you do that then you run the risk of catching people eyes.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. I count out my footsteps in my head as I walk. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. It helps to keep me calm when I do this, as long as my walk home is an even number I will be alright, I have to keep doing these things to keep me and my Dad safe.

Realising where I am I turn around abruptly; I have to take the stairs at the south end of this building as the north stairs has 23 steps. As I walk down the corridor I started thinking about how my Dad used to be when my Mother was alive. He smiled more and he worked less.

Once he surprised us all with a special trip to London. We all bundled on a train and ate sherbet lemons and éclairs during the journey. I must have been eight or ten years old, it was a good year. Once we got to London we spent hours wandering around the cobbled streets, I was so impressed with all the people and colours, it was cold, but not yet Christmas so maybe it was November? My Mother was wearing this blue coat that was the same colour as her eyes and she would ruffle my hair and smile when she looked at me. My Mother was beautiful, and my Dad would always have his arm around her, as if he wanted to shield her from the world, she was his to protect. She would hold my hand, squeezing it occasionally.

That was a good day.

A car horn blasts at me, another problem with not looking up is the dangers of traffic. I jump back onto the pavement and flick my eyes up quickly at the traffic lights, shifting nervously; I can’t stay here too long. I am too close to the town recreational ground, ‘The Rec’, and that’s where most of the college students go when they finish with their classes.

The little man finally goes green so I hurry across the road, fidgeting with the bracelet on my wrist. It was just a pendant on a leather string but I never take it off. It was a Taijitu, the classic symbol of ying and yang, a universally recognised symbol of two parts becoming one and being whole.

I remember when I found it, I was little, maybe four, and it had fallen off someone else’s wrist and lay there broken on the side of the road. I picked it up for some reason when I walked home from school. Later on that day my mother found it in my pocket.

“Where did you get this ?” she asked, I told her I found it, and she smiled. “But it’s broken.” She tucked my sandy blonde hair, the same colour as her own, behind my ears and kissed the top of my head. She smelled like cinnamon and flowers.

Later on that week my Mother was called into my Nursery to collect me. One of the other boys had pushed me into the swing-set and I had banged my head and nose on the metal pole. Nothing was broken but I had got a nosebleed and I still have a scar to this day from the cut I got on the head. I had been crying and she gently brushed away my tears with the handkerchiefs she always carried.

“There, there,” she told me “Don’t cry, I have a present for you.” That’s when she gave me the bracelet. She had fixed the clasp. Clipping it onto my wrist using the tightest setting, she held my hand and whispered. “Do you know what that is, Bryan? It’s ying and yang, dual forces which exist in everything to make it whole, two things which make the whole world ok. Now you have this you will be ok too.”

It is tight now, but I daren’t take it off. It keeps things ok. Rounding the corner I leave the Rec behind, only one alleyway and two roads to go before I can get home and out from under His gaze. I can feel his eyes beating down on my shoulders and the back of my neck, I speed up.

I am half way down the alley way when I hear the scuffing and crunching of gravel under many feet.

“Hey Loser!”

I speed up even more, I know who it is, I know who all of them are. They go to the local comprehensive school, they are a couple years younger than me but they all do things like sports and camping, resulting in a distinct size difference between us. The crunching increases as they start to run, panicking I run too but I am laden down with books and they catch up with me before I can reach the end of the alleyway.

One of them catch the back of my shirt and throw me into the wall, my bags and folders go crashing to the ground. I feel the air whoosh out of my lungs.

Now all I feet is pain. Warmth. Now pain again.

A fist flies towards my nose. Gasping, I spit the blood that has trickled into my mouth. I am coughing as I try to keep breathing.

They snicker, I can see three of four pairs of shiny white trainers but everything is blurry, the pain makes tears spring into my eyes. I throw my arms up to protect my face and feel two hands grip my wrists, the cold of their gold rings bites into my skin.

A knee goes hard into my stomach.

I fall to my knees and although my vision is still blurry I am able to make out the black and white interlocking symbols of my bracelet over by one white trainer, it had fallen off somehow, the fixed clasp proving fickle in the face of adversity.

No.

I reach for it and am rewarded with a heel coming sharply down on the back of my hand, I hear bones crunch, and I cry out in response.

“Aw...poor thing.” A sarcastic voice sneered from above, and I am thrown back into one of my last memories of my mother.



The hospital walls were pale green and the entire building smelt like death and antiseptic. I went to get coffee even though I didn’t want any, but that’s what people did at hospitals, they got coffee. The nurse didn’t see me behind her. I had learnt to walk silently by then, and she was talking to another nurse looking at my mother.

“Poor thing, she hasn’t got long now.”

“Family?” The other asked.

“A husband and a son, so sad.” They shake their heads pityingly.

I hurried past, back to my mother. She took the coffee I gave her and smiled gratefully, though I knew it was an effort for her. She was so pale; all the light had left her face and her once bright blue eyes were like stagnant water. She held my hand.

“Why you? Why is this happening?” I clasped her frail bony hand with both of mine. “Why is this happening to us?”

She shushed me gently and ran her other hand over the back of my head. “God has decided he wants me with him, is all. We have to trust in him, have faith and he will watch over you, always.”

“That doesn’t explain why! There are so many bad people, why is he taking you!”

“Honey...” she soothed.

“No!” I shouted angrily, causing the nurses to look over in alarm. “It doesn’t make sense.” I am crying silently, tears running down my face. I clung to her hand and felt her cling to mine “It doesn’t make sense....” I whispered “it’s not... ok.”

Another fast kick to my lower stomach and I feel the uncomfortable warmness spread in my trousers.

“Oh my God, he’s pissed himself!”

They shriek with laughter, and a flurry of further kicking and punching follows. It wasn’t until one last kick was delivered to my face causing me to cough and spit out a whole mouthful of blood that they stop. They run off into the darkness, back to their families no doubt.

I lay there for a moment; I lay there and picture my father’s furious face on that day. His chiseled featured contorted with fury and disgust.

“How could you do that to your Mother!” he snarled at me “Do you have any idea how upset she is now? Do you have any idea of what you have done to her? Can’t I even trust you to hold it together for one afternoon? For her sake?”

Limping down the road in the darkness I resume my counting, one, two, three, four. I can feel Him up there, watching me. Yes, I know you are there, I thought. I know He did this, like the way he took my Mother from me. Fingering the bracelet in my pocket I limp on. I must have let Him in somehow, must have missed a step, or maybe I forgot to knock twice on a door before I entered a room.

Dual forces which exist in everything to make it whole, two things which make the whole world ok.

I would make the world ok again; I had to, for my Dad’s sake. I couldn’t let him down again. Dual Forces. Everything comes in pairs, you know. God and the Devil. One and the same. Ying and Yang.

Shaking slightly I finally manage to get the key in the door, no one is home, no one ever was. I hurry up the stairs as fast as my injuries would let me, my hand ached and it hurt to breathe. My Dad may want me to go to the hospital but I’m not going back there, I know what happens when you go there. The place is full of corners, they invite Him in, they want Him there, but I know better.

Dumping my stuff on the floor of my bedroom I begin rifling through the box I kept under my bed, I know it is in here somewhere. Ah, got it. I stagger into the ebathroom and look into the mirror, my nose is definitely broken and my eyes, bloodshot and watering, have started to go purple underneath. I have a cut on my lip and it has started to swell. My whole face looks like a fruit salad that someone has dropped. I pull the sleeve of my shirt up on my left arm, holding my Taijitsu in my left fist, palm down; I hold my bare forearm out in front of me. Then, taking the knife that I have found in the box under my bed, I hold my breath and cut two straight lines across, just below my elbow. The red spills out and creates crimson rivers in the sink.

There, I thought, you can’t make that fall off.

I hear a key in the door as my Dad arrives home; I quickly pulled my sleeve back down. I will have to go tell him what happened, he will be disappointed, but it will be alright, it won’t happen again. Not now, I will be ok, now.

As long as I keep away from corners.

The Big "Bad" Wolf

First of all I would like to point out that it is discrimination to assume someone is bad based on appearances. I am a big wolf. There! I said it! I have struggled with my weight all my life and no matter how many times a week I work out, no matter how many of those damn low calories fibre bars I eat, I will never be a size zero! Frankly, I am disgusted that in this day and age a person cannot be accepted for who there are. Does being a big wolf make me a bad person?
Secondly, I ask you how you would feel if three little pigs just upped and started building their houses on your land? The three rude little porkers stole building materials and literally threw up these monstrosities without a thought for planning permission or their neighbours. I feel I was quite within my rights to go round and discuss the matter with them. After all their smoky chimneys were blocking all the light into my garden and killing my Begonias.
Finally, I would like to point out that I am Jewish.
Now, I do not see how I should be blamed for my hay fever either, I mean, who builds their house out of straw anyway? So when I informed the little swine that I was going to ‘huff and puff and blow his house down’ I was warning him of a genuine danger. He chose to retort in a very rude manner "By the hair of my chinny chin chin, I will not let you come in" and not to vacate his premises. In my panic I ran to his brother house to get help but by then I had straw up my noise and another regrettable incident occurred.
By the time I got to the third house I was in such a state I was completely unprepared for his vigilante actions. Would you believe he tried to boil me alive?
So here I am facing jail time for the deaths of two piglet hoodies who were trespassing on my land in the first place! Whilst He sits pretty in his little brick house, now the proud owner of everything he inherited from his brothers and my cottage to boot! Lupine Discrimination!