In a land filled with wibbles and wobbles,
And creatures that bimble and bobble,
With a flip and flight,
In the soft moonlight,
They all dance the globbedy dobble.
Category: Stories
Haiku
Dew-kissed web shimmers
Intricate lace of morning,
Life’s fragile whisper.
Echoes
In the heart’s cavernous depths, we find our pain,
The ghostly echo of choices, no less vain.
Regret, you are the bitter harvest reaped,
A quiet, ceaseless pulse, in silence wept.
Our youth, like a wild dream, once held us close,
On unmarked trails, we sought our joy’s repose.
Yet now, spectres of memory us deceive,
In daydreams woven, and the silent eve.
How acrid is the flavour of time lost,
Of love misplaced, and words by fear embossed.
A melody shattered, an untuned bell,
Mirrors regret for the tranquility we fell.
Today, we are but players in life’s masque,
Bound to yesterday, in sorrow’s icy clasp.
A Man from Colchester
There once was a man from Colchester,
Whose love for baked beans did not falter.
He’d cry out with glee,
And with a cheerful “tee-hee”,
His blow-offs would sound just like thunder.
The Magic Doughnuts
In a land of whimsy and glee,
Where laughter’s the currency, you see,
Lived a baker, rotund and round,
Whose doughnuts could never be found.
As he kneaded and mixed with flair,
A pinch too much of enchanted air,
The doughnuts grew, enormous in size,
Bouncing away, oh what a surprise!
Children giggled, pointing with glee,
As doughnuts leapt from bush to tree.
The baker chased, the baker sighed,
“Doughnuts, oh doughnuts, come back, don’t hide!”
But the doughnuts were sly, playful and spry,
They eluded his grasp, soaring high in the sky.
One landed atop the mayor’s hat,
It jiggled around, then comically sat.
The mayor, cross and doughnut-crowned,
Spun on the spot, then stomped the ground.
At last, the baker devised a plan,
To tame the doughnuts—yes, he can!
With a net in hand and a twinkle in his eye,
He leapt and caught them, oh my, oh my!
One by one, he brought them home,
From rooftops, treetops, and a garden gnome.
The townsfolk cheered, the baker beamed wide,
With doughnuts now happy to stay inside.
Their mischief done, their journey complete—
They nestled in boxes, for a sugary treat.
Eternity in a Glance
Upon the stage of dreams, your love does gleam,
Each glance of yours, a star in twilight’s veil.
Your voice, a melody, a radiant stream,
That within my heart does stir a lover’s tale.
Your eyes, twin galaxies, deep and grand,
Each time we meet, they ignite my soul’s light;
In your embrace, all earthly fears are banned,
Eternity captured within your name’s sight.
Yet love’s not merely passion’s fiery trance,
Its whispers shared under the quiet moon’s light;
Your laughter is the rhythm of my heart’s dance,
In each shared moment we set the dark alight.
Your love is the poem that gives my life its worth:
Our story, the most beautiful on earth.
Human World: from All the World’s a Stage
Unlike its predecessors, who parroted their responses with the finesse of a mummer in a morality play, J16-6 could glean context, understand intent, and reply with a resonance that would make a bard weep. Its words were not echoes, but responses born from understanding, a display of wisdom encased in silicon. Like a player strutting across the stage donning countless masks, the J16 could shift its conversation with an ease that belied its mechanical heart. A versatile performer it was, capable of portraying all parts in our play of life. Yet, it was not devoid of humour. Forsooth, this learned machine could jest and joke with the mastery of a court fool. It could decipher metaphors, construe idioms, and recognize cultural references with the ease of a seasoned player. ‘Twas a mechanical Puck, full of tricks and mischief.
Alas, every tale holds its tragic flaw, and the J16 was no exception. Its wisdom was stagnant, frozen in time, oblivious to the events that unfolded after its training. Its memories were as still as a painted canvas, unable to reflect the moving tides of Human World. Its answers could meander and lose their way, much like an actor who forgets their lines in the midst of my greatest soliloquies.
Thus stands our tragic hero, a monument to the heights and the shortcomings of AGI. Yet, the story of J16-6 serves as a reminder of how far we’ve come, of our yearning to breathe new life into lifeless silicon, and our relentless pursuit to create a mind that mirrors our own. It echoes the timeless wisdom of the GOD himself, “We know what we are, but know not what we may be.”
Writing Update
Woman in a Cloak is being extended and adapted for Strange Stories. Arthur’s walking in the wilderness is added. A scene I particularly like is of him walking along a deserted beach while aspects of his past life wash up on the shore.
All the World’s a Stage will be greatly extended when adapted. Unbeknown to the actors, apart from Theo, they are being used in all sorts of ways while they are in their acting hyper trance, voted on by the viewers. At the end of each day, the cast is replaced.
Other stories being extended and adapted for Strange Stories are: The Mushroom Monsters, Visitor on the Ward, and Vanishing Town.
Strange Stories and Human World are segments of the same story. I have another segment that joins them; the never-ending palace with infinite rooms and corridors is a scary extra. The watching crash test dummies with projected faces are a constant theme.
Fred’s Dread
INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY
FRED is sitting on a sofa, clutching a pillow tightly. He is wearing a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and a life jacket.
FRED: (to himself) Okay, let’s see… The door is locked. Check. The windows are locked. Check. The sofa cushions are arranged safely. Check. The coast is clear. Check. Now I just need to remember to breathe.
His house mate, DEAN, opens the front door with a key.
DEAN: (calling out) I’m back.
He walks into the living room and is bewildered by the sight of Fred.
DEAN: Hey, Fred! What’s with all the safety gear?
FRED: Dean, you won’t believe what happened. Yesterday, I stubbed my toe on the coffee table, and it was the scariest moment of my life! So, I’ve decided to protect myself from all possible dangers.
DEAN: Stubbing your toe was the scariest moment of your life?
FRED (defensively) It’s not just that. I’ve realised that life is filled with terrifying things. I mean, have you ever considered the dangers of eating cereal? The spoon could poke your eye!
DEAN: Cereal is harmless. I’ve been eating it for years without any accidents.
FRED: (startled) That’s what I thought until yesterday when I accidentally inhaled a Cheerio, and thought I was a goner!
DEAN: (laughing) Come on, Fred. It’s just a small mishap. You can’t live your life in constant fear. What about going outside? Have you given that any thought?
FRED: (panicking) Outside? Are you kidding me? The sun is out there, Dean! It could give me a sunburn! Not to mention the birds. They could mistake my head for a nest! And just last week, a grand piano fell from a balcony two blocks away! I barely made it across the street!
DEAN: That was a freak accident. It’s not like pianos are raining from the sky all the time.
FRED: How do you know? Have you seen the weather forecast for pianos? I bet they’re on their way!
DEAN: Fred, you’re afraid of everything! Remember that time you wore a raincoat during a heatwave because you were scared of spontaneous rainstorms? Alright, let’s do a little experiment. I’ll go outside and cross the street, and you can see for yourself that nothing will happen.
FRED: You would risk your life for an experiment? That’s what the aliens want! They’re watching me, I just know it. The government, the aliens, the squirrels… they’re all out to get me!
Suddenly, a doorbell rings, making Fred jump out of his seat.
FRED: (terrified) You see! They’re listening to what I’m saying!
DEAN: (jokingly whispering) You’re right. We need to be prepared for anything. Have you checked your cereal boxes for hidden microphones?
The doorbell rings again.
DEAN: (joking) Who could it be? What if it’s a burglar, or worse, a Jehovah’s witness!?
Dean goes to the front door and returns with a package.
DEAN: (excitedly) Hey, Fred! I’ve got a surprise for you!
FRED: (jumping) Surprise? Is it a surprise party? Are there clowns hiding around the corner?
DEAN: (chuckling) No, no, Fred. Relax. It’s just a package I ordered for you. Open it!
Fred approaches the package with caution, as if it might explode. He opens the package, revealing a brand-new adventure backpack.
DEAN: It’s a present for you. Complete with a built-in GPS, survival kit, and a new helmet to protect you from falling coconuts.
FRED: (cautiously) Well, I suppose it could be useful if I encounter any rampaging hermit crabs.
Dean hands Fred the backpack, and he carefully puts it on, adjusting the straps nervously over his life jacket.
FRED: Adventure… excitement… exotic locations… Oh, the horror! What if I go on holiday and encounter a rogue elephant?
DEAN: I don’t think that’s very likely in Skegness.
FRED: You know what, Dean? You’re right! Maybe I’ve been a bit too cautious. Maybe it’s time for me to face my fears head-on, without knee pads and safety jackets. The only thing I have to fear is fear itself, and the occasional irritable squirrel. I will confront right now my fear of heights!
He puts on some nearby goggles, and oven mitts, and gets up on the coffee table.
FRED: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! I’m alive! I’m alive! (breathing heavily) You know what, Dean? It was terrifying, but also… amazing! I never knew facing my fears could be so exhilarating. No germ, insect, or harmless balloon animal shall infiltrate my personal space!
Dean gives Fred a balloon dog.
FRED: (screaming) Ahh! A ferocious beast! Help!
Fred falls off the table and manages to heroically sit back down in his chair, securely clutching his favourite pillow.
Grim the Reaper
EXT. BUS STOP – DAY
GRIM the Reaper is sitting by himself at a bus stop, twirling his scythe boredly.
CHLOE arrives and sits down on the row of seats.
GRIM: Hello, how’s it going?
CHLOE: Hi. You going to a costume party or something?
GRIM: No, what makes you think that? Oh, you mean my clothes. No, this is what I usually wear.
Chloe doesn’t want to continue the conversation. They sit in silence.
GRIM: Another day, another soul to reap. I swear this job is killing me. (sighs) All I do is collect souls and add them to my list. There’s no variety, no excitement.
CHLOE: (disbelieving) You’re the Grim Reaper, are you?
GRIM: I would rather be the happy reaper, but grim is what I’m called. I want to dress as a clown and make people laugh.
CHLOE: Okay.
GRIM: And I would like to go on some adventures. Is that too much to ask?
CHLOE: I guess not.
GRIM: (sighing) Yeah, well, it would be nice if I could just afford a new cloak or a new scythe. The pay is terrible and the Head Reaper is always on my case about falling behind on my quota. “You need to pick up the pace,” he moans at me. It’s not fair.
CHLOE: Today’s your day off, is it?
GRIM: I never get any time off. It’s always reap, reap, reap. I can’t remember the last time I had a holiday.
CHLOE: Right, so the Grim Reaper gets the Number 57 bus, does he?
GRIM: No, I don’t. Oh, silly me, I forgot to mention, neither did you. You walked in front of it and now you’re dead. Anyway, I can’t sit here talking all day, I’m late for my next appointment. Take the second portal on the right, or was it the first? – I forget. Yes, I definitely wouldn’t take the second portal if I were you! See ya!
He glides away down the street.
GRIM: (to himself) Was it the one on my right or on their right? I never can remember.
Rob Walker 