100 Words: The Eye Witness

Before entering the courtroom, the only eye witness sat alone and went over it again in their head.  They thought back to what they had seen and the statement they had made.  Knowing from films that the lawyers would probe and question everything, they spent the wait working through the crimes to ensure clarity and to place the events at the very forefront of their mind.

As they recalled the events, a vibration broke their concentration.  

A photo message laid it out straight.  

Not a better offer, but a greater reason.  

They would have to tell the truth, after all. 

---

Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

Note: Initially I wanted to write two "beings" sat in "what looked to all the world like the waiting room of a train station" until I realised, or remembered, that I had already written that story (WARNING: contains more swearing than I normally put in a Friday Fictioneers story)

An InLinkz Link-up

100 Words: How Eris turned

Eris was once a sweet-natured child, she was not always the terror she is now.  The tale of how is simple.

As she played beneath the empty boughs of the Knowledge Tree she found one of its children lost among the roots that formed the foundations of The World Before.

Believing Wizards had gained their power from the tree’s fruit, Eris sunk her teeth deep without another thought.  That one rotten bite was all it took to infuse her mind with the knowledge of Chaos, Discord and Destruction.

It would be enough to kill most.  It merely drove Eris mad.

---

Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Chaos.

In a way, this is a bit of a cheat as it retells part of a story I wrote around six years ago, Eris, vessel of an organised chaos; which formed part of a larger series called Myths of our Solar System (which, this link shows, I have added to before via a prompt, though from a different site as well as on a non-prompt occasion). 

Initially I was going to re-write a different part of the tale, but it was all too long and I didn't like the version I nearly shortened down enough.

Here, just for fun, is everything before the final version above (the first story was called Eris on her way):

Eris carried on determined to find the others and wreak her revenge.  Being locked up for years will do that to you.  Even if you had/have tried/did try to cut your brother’s ears off, which in itself was down to the rotten fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.  But set free by the destruction of the old world/world as it had been/First World, Eris sought to further the chaos before This World established itself. 

Each day, though, she grew a little less angry as, each night, her Mother whispered to her, to the little girl that had been before the fruit had begun to make her chaotic.  The angry young woman tried to ignore these dreams but knew as she reached/saw/started to glimpse the First Settlement that she would enter quite calmly and reunite with her siblings as the sister they had once known. 

But would it be enough?  What the fruit had told her, that which had made her uncontrollable, was still inside; and acceptance into the First Settlement would bring her closer to the man who planned to take or destroy it.  If the two were to come together and the information given up… then perhaps Mother’s intervention would be for nought.

*

Being locked up for years can make you vengeful.  True, Eris had entered a spiral of destruction ending in the attempt to cut off her brother’s ears but, as she had tried to tell her parents many times, it was what the rotten fruit from the Tree of Knowledge had done to her; or what it had shown her.

Thrown far from her siblings as the World Before ended, Eris headed toward the This World’s First Settlement to wreak her revenge.  At night her Mother whispered to her, to the little girl she had been, seeking to calm her.  If it would be enough, only time would tell.

*

Being locked up for years can make you vengeful.  True, Eris had entered a spiral of destruction ending in an attempt to cut off her brother’s ears but, as she told her parents to no avail, it was all down to the rotten fruit from the Tree of Knowledge and what it had shown her.

Thrown far from her siblings as The World Before ended, Eris headed toward This World’s First Settlement to wreak her revenge.  At night her Mother whispered to her, to the little girl she had been, seeking to calm her.  If it would be enough, only time would tell.

*

Being locked up for years can make you vengeful.  True, Eris had entered a spiral of destruction ending in an attempt to cut off her brother’s ears but, as she told her parents to no avail, it was all down to the rotten fruit from the Tree of Knowledge and what it had shown her.

Thrown far from her siblings as The World Before ended, Eris headed toward This World’s First Settlement to wreak her revenge.  At night her Mother whispered to her, to the little girl she had been, seeking to calm her.  If it would be enough, only time would tell.

***

The story of how Eris turned from a sweet-natured young girl to the bringer of chaos, however organised, is a simple one.  As she played beneath the empty boughs of the the Tree of Knowledge she caught sight of one of its children, lost among the roots that buried themselves beneath the tower. 

Believing that this was how the Wizards had gained their power she dug her teeth deep into the fruit without a moment’s thought.  That one rotten bite was all it took to infuse Eris’s mind with the Chaos of all times before and since.  It would be enough to kill most, it was enough to drive Eris mad.

*

The story of how Eris turned from being a sweet-natured young girl toward war and destruction? is a simple one.  As she played beneath the empty boughs of the Tree of Knowledge she caught sight of one of its children, lost among the roots that buried themselves beneath the tower that was The World Before. 

Believing that this was how the Wizards had gained their power Eris dug her teeth deep into the fruit without a moment’s thought.  That one rotten bite was all it took to infuse Eris’s mind with the Chaos of all times before and since.  It would be enough to kill most.  It was enough to drive Eris mad.

*

The story of how Eris turned from being a sweet-natured young girl toward war and destruction? is a simple one.  As she played beneath the empty boughs of the Tree of Knowledge she caught sight of one of its children, lost among the roots that buried themselves beneath the tower that was The World Before. 

Believing that this was how the Wizards had gained their power Eris dug her teeth deep into the fruit without a moment’s thought.  That one rotten bite was all it took to infuse Eris’s mind with the Chaos of all times before and since.  It would be enough to kill most.  It was enough to drive Eris mad.

*

Eris was once a sweet-natured child, she was not always the terror you see before you.  The tale of how is a simple one.

As she played beneath the empty boughs of the Tree of Knowledge she caught sight of one of its children, lost among the roots that buried themselves beneath the tower that was The World Before. 

Believing that this was how the Wizards had gained their power Eris dug her teeth deep into the fruit without a moment’s thought.  That one rotten bite was all it took to infuse Eris’s mind with the Chaos of all times before and since.  It would be enough to kill most.  It was enough to drive Eris mad.

*

Eris was once a sweet-natured child, she was not always the terror you see before you.  The tale of how is simple.

As she played beneath the empty boughs of the Knowledge Tree she found one of its children lost among the roots that formed the foundations of The World Before. 

Believing Wizards had gained their power from the tree’s fruit, Eris sunk her teeth deep without another thought.  That one rotten bite was all it took to infuse her mind with the Chaos of all times before and since.  It would be enough to kill most.  It was enough to drive Eris mad.

*

Eris was once a sweet-natured child, she was not always the terror you see before you.  The tale of how is simple.

As she played beneath the empty boughs of the Knowledge Tree she found one of its children lost among the roots that formed the foundations of The World Before. 

Believing Wizards had gained their power from the tree’s fruit, Eris sunk her teeth deep without another thought.  That one rotten bite was all it took to infuse her mind with the Chaos of all times before and since.  It would be enough to kill most.  It merely drove Eris mad.

*

Eris was once a sweet-natured child, she was not always the terror she is now.  The tale of how is simple.

As she played beneath the empty boughs of the Knowledge Tree she found one of its children lost among the roots that formed the foundations of The World Before. 

Believing Wizards had gained their power from the tree’s fruit, Eris sunk her teeth deep without another thought.  That one rotten bite was all it took to infuse her mind with the knowledge of Chaos.  It would be enough to kill most.  It merely drove Eris mad.

100 Words: On Manners

Manners are just sets of rules, aren’t they?  More ways to bend us to society’s bidding.   Often that’s how it feels; when I’m the doer, I hate being pulled up on things just for existing. 

And yet…

Almost every rush hour tube journey leaves me frustrated and angry: 

• when people won’t stand for old or pregnant travellers,
• when people cough on your head 
• listen to music loudly 
• don’t allow you to get off at your stop.  Seriously, Liverpool Street, if we can’t get off, how will you get on?

This is not the only example.

Manners are a good thing.

---

Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Manners.

100 Words: The Crown

My earliest memory of The City is an evening boat ride across The Harbour.  I remember seeing what turned out to be The Stadium.  At the time, though, with the way it was lit up, my young mind saw a crown. 

A giant crown that if I grew big enough, as big as I believed The King was, I would wear it at My Coronation and rule over The Country; leaving The Crown to rest there, reminding people of my power. 


Having forgotten for years, it suddenly hit me as I watched The Game. 

They were playing inside My Crown!

---

Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt:

 

PHOTO PROMPT © CEAYR 

My first Friday Fictioneers for nearly three months (and 42nd overall), and I have to say it's great to be back.  When I was a boy, on one of my first visits to London, I was taken to the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green.  We walked (I think, we may have caught a bus) back to Liverpool Street Station and, seeing the sign, I really thought that we had travelled all the way to Liverpool, that we were no longer in London.  As in the story, it was sometime before I fully realised my mistake; discovering not just that Liverpool Street is a station in London but that Liverpool is really quite a long way away.  Certainly too far to get to so quickly.

An InLinkz Link-up

100 Words: Down at the bottom of the garden

They came to me in the garden, the ghosts.

They told me that they knew, those ghosts.

They told me that they knew those ghosts.

The ghosts of the people I had killed.

I shrugged, told them they were just my conscience; and that I buried my conscience that night too.

The ghosts raised their eyebrows, smiled.

Something began to stir in the new flowerbeds.

I screamed and I panicked, tried to push down the rising soil, stop the evidence coming up behind.


My neighbours heard the scream,

saw me scrabbling in the dirt,

saw a hand,

called the police.

---

Written for the 100 Word Challenge on Thin Spiral Notebook; the prompt was the word, Garden.

Post Freedom Apocalypse

“we’re not scaremongering,
this is really happening”

So many warned us,
Predicted the next step,
Pointed to this existence.
Yet we all ignored them,
Called them names, paranoid.
Carried on with blinkers up,
All down our own little tunnels
Fixed only on our lives,
Each little insignificant one.
Obsessed with our little selves,
Not seeing the big picture,
The group growing in power,
Slowly taking our liberties
And freedoms, all we held dear.
Even when we did take note,
We believed their lies and
Gave them our cross.
They rubbed their hands
Together and carried it
To our execution place.
Easy to see it now, how
They wormed up from beneath
And started all of this.
Dominated us before looking
To move to the world level.
Hindsight makes it painfully
Clear how it all happened.
And now we are slaves,
Prisoners of our own stupidity.
Blindfolded we sailed into
This Alcatraz in a sea of tar:
Inescapable, untraceable.
To try is to disappear,
Dragged down into their lair.

“while you make pretty speeches”

Thousands die in the wars you wage
And cover under the lies you spin.
Thousands more die from debt and hunger,
Caused in the lands you rape
With your missiles, bullets and shells,
Lose their homes because you
Drove your tanks through them
Or because you’ve scorched their
Earth to build a new metropolis,
Get cut to shreds because of your
Imperialistic and apocalyptic policies,
Flee in fear, further from you,
To places you haven’t grasped
In your twisted fingers,
Haven’t extended your arm to.
Yet.
But we don’t know this, do we?
The illegal papers lie, don’t they?
Motives, plans, facts are above us,
What our government does cannot
Concern us, we’re just your drones,
Bleeding to oil the machine
You cart about the world doing
Your dirty work; conquering,
Killing, enslaving-no-sorry:
“Liberating,” I’m sure that should be.
And throughout you just hide
In your buildings, behind
Everything you throw at us.
Real big men, aren’t you?
So powerful yet so scared
Of us downtrodden little people.
Despite all your indoctrination,
Propaganda et al it’s
Still necessary to produce more.
And our streets and rivers here
Run with the blood of those you
Cut down for petty crimes,
For standing up or running away.
Cut down and cut up, gone.
Out of sight, out of mind, right?
Kill enough and you’ll kill ‘em all?
The sticky streets suggest otherwise.
As long as we breed, we’ll keep on.

“i’m sure i used to be so free”

A childhood innocence lost
Almost in the flash of an a-bomb.
I used to run in my garden,
Kicking a ball aimlesly for hours,
Being the people in my head.
Now I don’t know such a game,
I only know their ways.
So much slid away
The day they took our liberties.
So that now I see the sadness
In my children’s eyes when
Their laughter is frowned upon
And the police tell them to
Go inside and watch TV.
Everything I once did frowned upon.
Leisure time lost to loyalty
And the new official pastimes-
Listening to them,
Doing what they say.
Yet they claim we’re ‘free’ now.
Free to walk the streets mabe,
To breed, give them more fuel.
But not to think freely,
Educate ourselves, have fuel
Of our own to help us grow.
Not sure i’m supposed
To know all of this.
Soon it will be forgotten,
With the next generation will
Come complete indotrination
And eradication of the free past.
My memory cannot save us now.

“we’ve got heads on sticks”

Kept from centre,
From knowledge, luxury.
Stopped from complaining.
Beaten down long ago,
Best things taken away.
Get what we are given.
Made to feel we have everything,
When nothing is what we have.
Make what we can of it,
Like some pseudo-disaster.
But then we don’t have the knowledge,
Given the education we don’t haven’t got.
Not like them-
They can do anything,
Have anything they want.
Not like us in the dark,
Hammering our hands.
No time to expand.
All work and no play.
Time devoted to them
And our family’s enlightenment.
Never to expand ourselves,
Like we’re always children,
Innocent and oblivious.
And when we get their toys
We can’t use them anyway,
The knowledge just isn’t there,
We don’t have the know-how.
So until liberation,
They’ll move their wheels
And we’ll wonder how.

“they rally round the family”

One institution left intact and
They promote it to no end.
They let us have sex, have families
And they love to remind us.
See it as the only normality,
All anyone would ever want,
It’s the cover for everything.
Try to keep us going,
By keeping us back,
Putting us in our little houses
With wives and children.
Keep the dating game going
With pubs and clubs.
Give us social lives
And family lives,
Tell us it’s enough,
All that we need,
Our point in life,
Why we are here
(Why they let us live).
Cinema reflects this,
All films contain good
Wholesome, happy families,
Where the kids dearly
Love their mother and father,
Who seem to earn thousands
And live in a large house
No matter what their occupation.
Singletons are upstarts,
People who question this life:
Destined for arrest for
Crimes against the state.
All just propaganda
Too often overlooked.
Enough for some, though.
Not for me.
Want to vote again,
See my sons grow
To have a world,
Almost any world,
But this one.
I too care for the family,
My family- in a better way,
Not a fake smiley celluloid way,
But a true paternal way.
Want them to be wild flowers,
Not potted on the shelf.

“I’ll fight to the death ‘til
they give me back my life”

I was a teacher until
They got into office.
I was a bloody good one
Until I got retrained
To build bombs- sorry,
I mean work in a factory
Of unspecified produce.
Now just walk the
Streets dreaming of the
Old days with a line
From an old song buzzing
Wildly in my head,
Telling me what I should
Do, should be doing.
The right feelings, thoughts
Hidden away in grey matter.
Need to be dug out
And put into practice,
Join a movement,
Fight to the death,
So I can live my own
Life, not the one
Handed out in a queue.

“at least i’m fucking trying”
“the system that cares about only one culture”

Everyone asks me why.
I hand them a leaflet,
Quote them socialist peoples:
Marx, Trotsky,
Certain textbooks,
Historical eras.
They point at the police
On every street corner,
Tell me my skull’ll get cracked
On the rails of the bridge.
I say it’s just one way to die.
I could not be involved
And still be executed
In some random killing.
They tell me it’s pointless,
Quietly suggest I stop
Or I’ll receive a knock
At the door, for sure.
I suggest otherwise.
No one got anywhere
Without trying bloody hard.
That’s how they got in,
That’s how we’ll
Drive themn out.
Underground we may be,
But a wedge we’re forming
To drive in their heart.
Then they scoff, laugh,
Tell me I’m insane.
At least I’m doing something,
Better than nothing.
Just hoping they’ll leave,
Quietly letting us get on
With it, is stupid apathy.
They may as well be the
Police chopping us down.
They say it’s just class struggle,
An age old problem
Always pointlessly fought.
No one ever likes the
Government in power,
It’s just a constant thing
That gets nowhere and
Won’t ever disappear.
I look with a blank face
At fellow members of a
Struggling class, powerless,
And, seemingly, castrated.
In disbelief I’m disgusted
At the indifference before me.
I want to crack the bottles
They hold over their heads.
How can they grumble
(And that they do)
Yet say things like that.
How can they reminisce
And then just stand back?
I ask them if they remember
When they could phone anywhere
On earth, surf the net.
Travel abroad on holiday,
Rather than the holiday camps.
When there was an outside
World and not just a
Dilapidated Britain
Cold and all alone.
When we had a future,
Through education could
Actually do something
With our lives. Aspire,
Not just be trained for
The job allocated to you.
When the government
At least pretended to care,
And passed acts for us.
They mutter something about
Liking the camps- good
Clean, wholesome family fun,
About liking what they have.
That they do care,
And about protecting their
Families, not wanting to die
For a “worthless” cause.
And so we fight 2-pronged:
Fighting to overthrow, survive
All talk and to convert.
Once there’s enough,
Then we’ll really fight and
Can “raise the red flag triumphantly
For Communism and for liberty.”
Because there is saying something,
And then there is doing something.
One may be easier but
The other ahs a result.
I’d rather have a result
Than sit around and chat.

“our bodies floating down a muddy river”

Everything has its cost,
I fear this could be dear.
I don’t think they have our
Thoughts yet but their betrayal
Might notb be worth contemplating.
So many just vanish
And that shit-filled river would make
A perfect waste-disposal chute
And the blood on the bridge and its
Rails make the rumours more chilling.
My fear is floating away with you,
Literally taking you down with me,
Ruining you with my ideology.
I walked you into this,
You have a mind of your own, I know,
But you were naive and innocent before,
A creation of their “education.”
Now freed, your own being.
Joined in the arms of our comrades.
And me.
If we were caught
It would be together,
And I can’t bear to even think of
Them beating you for information,
Or seeing the blood flow,
Grotesquely reddening your face,
Depersonalising you.
Their resistance is necessary and vital,
We need to bring them down.
But so are we.
Part of keeping us sane.
When it’s us alone
It doesn’t matter anymore anyway.
Just us in a room
Doing what matters.
We can hide forever
In a candlelit room
With just the sustenance we provide,
Worship as it should be performed.
To see your frail body
Fall limp in those waters
And beaten about and abused
Would as good as kill me.
I’d rather be tortured for years
Than to have you drink
Those waters, even in death.
You shouldn’t be discarded
For maggots and birds,
Not rolled in earth’s diurnal course-
Yet still with rocks and stones and trees,
Free to fly with the wind,
Across the earth and sea,
Entwined with the leaves and
Branches, then mocking them:
Not being sucked dry by their roots.
Win in death, if not now.
That’s how it should be,
Not dumped in some cesspit of a river.
So even if scattered apart,
We can find each other again.

“teach us to… lie and cover up”

Always a dream
To serve this land.
Keep law and order.
Wear that uniform.
Walk tall and proud.
So in sorting I did
All the right things:
Sports, cadets, got
Involved, played the
System and eventually
Won, got my name on the list.
Such a proud day.
Then I didn’t know what
I would come to see and do.
Not prepared then for death,
Never saw that side of it.
Would have made me sick then.
Education and training
Showed us the way,
How what we do helps.
Why spilling is necessary,
Just and correct
To protect ourselves
And the greater good.
They are the natural rulers
Of this country and
Democratically gained their
Right to live this way.
We help to show this
By punishing anyone
Who thinks otherwise,
Who undermines this utopia.
Strange how quickly you
Get used to cracking skulls.
You’d have thought it would
Be difficult but then they
Make you do four on your first
Day and it’s a piece of cake.
Like sex for the first time,
We lose all innocence
And start to climb to
A higher plain, a plateau
For the natural overlords.
We’re the elite of the
Non-ruling class, the
Ruling part, if you will.
Made special by marking,
Guarding the slopes, keeping
Them off and down in the
Filthy towns we’ve been
Lucky to graduate from.
Here to keep up smooth running,
To stamp down on anything
Sticking up and cover it up.
Make it seem like there
Was nothing at all.
Ever.
They complain that we
Can’t have power,
It’s all been taken away.
So then what’s this
We have if not power?
We’re normal people
Off the street and
We have the power
Of life and death.
I don’t think we go far enough.
We certainly have fear as a
Very important weapon,
But if they could
See and smell the pyres,
See us make examples
Through the flow of blood
From temples, noses and mouths
And the cracking of bones,
Know there are those who
Disappear even to us.
Sadly, though, it’s all a secret.
Behind closed doors.
For us a kind of sport,
Almost a return to fox
Hunting, a new blood sport.
One that helps society
Rather than a form of escape.
It is a part of life now.
Hunting, capturing,
Killing, disposing.
Pity they don’t see.
Shame.
Still, they know best.
Otherwise we wouldn’t be here
In this glorious utopia.

“this is what you get
when you mess with us”

Death.
What more or less
Would you expect for
Messing with absolute rulers.
Don’t complain.
You voted us in,
All this was clear
In the manifesto.
Wreck our karma
And we wreck you,
Fuck you up good
On the torture table
If we need to.
Then crack your skull,
Throw you away,
Pack you off.
Just let us get on with it,
Ruling you, this place.
Just go to your job
And you can live in peace.

“the future is what we believe in”

Right now we have nothing.
Reduced to rubble,
Flattened to shadows
Of our former persons.
The past has been taken
And destroyed in their furnace,
Moulded into the present.
The future is all we have
To believe in. And we do.
Not particularly religious
But our visions of the furure
Are so bleak and like
The present that we almost
Believe that one day one man
Will come and lead us to a
Glorious revolution and then
Lead us through government,
To a new era and future.
We have this hope, however dumb.
One day it will happen.
We believe in the future
And dream toward one,
All we need is the key,
The code, the man with the plan.
And then we’ll be there.
More a necessity thing,
To keep us sane,
Able to live this life
After hearing what the
Past was like.
So we can feel like we
Are letting this happen
Because we know it will end,
Because we know someone’s
Coming to sort it all out
And set us free like some
Twenty-first century Moses.

“no future”

We all say the same thing,
We tell our children how it
Used to be when we were young.
We talk of rebellion, liberation,
Yet we do nothing-
Even the underground resistance
Is largely based on theory.
In their eyes it may be,
But it’s nowhere else.
Quite simply, we have
No future, no real hope,
We are all as hollow as
Blown eggs, and just as fragile.
We succumb because
There is no choice
And constantly dream
Of something else.
We’re just stuck fast, really.
Like someone poured in the cement
Up to our ankles and it set fast.
Led into the trap and caught.
Like I said, we all say the same,
Just different ways, metaphors.
Animals now, a sub-class
Of humans with a set of bleatings.
Only alive to work and breed,
Stuck in an evolutionary groove,
Going round and round,
With no middle, no future.

Dates for whole of Post Freedom Apocalypse: 13, 15-20, 22-30/11; 1-3, 5, 7-9, 11-14, 16-21, 27/12/2001 and 2,4,5/1/2002.