Elephant

       Hey, this is a bit of a deviation from my normality. It's not often I say I have normality either, so this is a day of firsts. What I was actually going to put on here to break my normaility, was to put on a list of my favourite films/books and whatever, under the assumption that you'd be remotely interested. Anyway, I was just procrastinating, again, and I stumbled across this video of an elephant who paints himself holding a flower. At first, it looks like he's just doing lines, but seriously, watch it all, because it's AMAZING! 

I originally saw it here:


but it's also on YouTube, here


I think that's all, I know I only posted yesterday, but I watched this with my mouth wide open, and had to share it. I hope this makes your day as awesome as it made mine, Laura
                                                                                                   xoxoxoxox

The Best Laid Plans...

             Hi! This is something I wrote last year, I kind of like the language in this one, and because it's pretty different to the other stuff I've put on here lately. It's something which I think could be quite good to develop because of the nature of the characters and the scope for parallel narratives. Anyway, I hope you like this piece, it's not like my usual, but it's okay :)

‘I really do love you, you know.’ He wasn’t sure if he’d intended to say this aloud, but oddly, he didn’t regret saying it.

                ‘I know, Tom’ She didn’t look at him, he was glad about this. Somehow, it would hurt more if she looked him in the eyes while he was telling her this.

                ‘It’s just, being here, when I look at you, it’s like you’re actually glowing, in the way that angels do, and while this probably isn’t what you want to hear, I need to say it. When I look down into the water, and I see you next to me, I know I don’t deserve you. Richard’s lucky to have you, he really is, I hope he knows that.’ She looked up at him this time and smiled.

                ‘How long have we been friends now, Tom? fifteen years? And you’ve been here for me more times than I can even count, I just feel like if anyone doesn’t deserve anyone, I don’t deserve you.’ It was true; he’d been as loyal as a dog, following her like a lost lamb, offering her a shoulder to cry on in the worst of times, and laughing with her in the best of times.

                ‘Just so you know though, your friendship is enough for me.’ There was some truth behind his words; he did feel lucky to have her friendship, though however hard he tried, he couldn’t convince himself that it was enough. He looked to the snowy ground beneath their feet. This forest had heard some of their deepest, most heart-felt discussions, it had watched them play through summers, seen them grow together. It had witnessed that kiss they shared once near the lake. Tom wondered if the trees knew how he felt about Jenna, and whether they wished as much as he did that she’d feel the same for him. He looked towards the lake which was now frozen over, the spot where they’d shared such a significant moment in their lives. The moment he fell in love with her more than he thought possible.

                ‘Richard asked me to marry him.’ He hadn’t seen that coming, mostly because he’d been so absorbed in the perfection of the past, but partly because they’d only been together for around six months, and he was under the impression he may still have time to win her for himself. ‘I said yes.’ In that instant, the whole world disappeared, falling into itself all around him, he wished it would engulf him; just take him away from the situation, he’d been so at ease up until that point, but now he was wounded, it was as though she’d covered a sword in salt and driven it into his chest, twisting as she went, smiling all the time.

                ‘Congratulations. I mean really, wow. When’s the wedding?’ he forced the words out, forced himself to sound jovial. To him it couldn’t have sounded more false.

                ‘Next June, well, this June coming I guess, I can’t believe how quickly this year has gone.’ She was more animated now, as if by telling him, she’d freed herself of some disgusting secret. 

               ***

                His first thought, when asked to stand for the bride, was not as he’d expected it would be. He’d imagined he’d be so overcome with grief at losing her to another man, one whom he disliked intensely. He was in fact taken over with such a blissful state of awe at her intense beauty in her ivory dress, sweeping along the ground behind her, that he could barely breathe. He was sitting near the front of the church, as she had requested. Throughout the ceremony, he didn’t hear a word, apart from the customary “If any person here present knows of any reason why these two people may not legally be joined in holy matrimony, please speak now, or forever hold your peace.” He looked at the side of her head and shifted in his seat, he could have sworn he saw her head twitch towards him, was this a warning, or a quiet plea? Did she want to be rescued? He imagined himself the hero, and Richard the villain, Jenna the damsel in distress. He imagined swooping in on a rope, vanquishing Richard and cutting the ropes which were entrapping Jenna with a huge, ruby and diamond handled sword, then riding off into the sunset on the back of a horse. The moment passed to speak up and he looked up in time to hear “You may now kiss the bride” and to witness the eternal loss of his princess.

                ‘Congratulations, I’m so pleased for you both, Jenna, you look beautiful.’ Well, it was half true and that was the best he could do at present. All of the guests were now in the grand hall of a grand manor house, about to eat grand food, and hear grand speeches, while drinking grand wine, and toast to the newly married couples’ grand life together. Tom was seated at a table with his, and some of Jenna’s, close family.

                Half way through the evening, while Tom was standing somewhere on the outskirts of the room, Jenna’s father stumbled across the room to him. He’d been drinking quite steadily since dinner and was at a stage of intoxication where he was going to be honest, but not within earshot of the person he was being honest about.

                ‘I’ve aaallways liked you, Tom.’

                ‘Thank you, sir’

                ‘And I’ve never liked that Richard bloke, bit of a dick, I remember once, when you were five, saying that one day, when you were nearly as old as me, you were going to marry our Jenna.’

                ‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten that!’

                ‘I only wish things had worked out differently for you, Tom, you’ll always be like a son to me.’ And with that, he stumbled away, leaving Tom in a state of both shock and reminiscence. He wished more than anything things had turned out differently too, but he also knew that he couldn’t change or control who you fall in love with, or who falls in love with you. Besides, Jenna was happy, so shouldn’t he be happy for her? He abandoned the rest of his drink, and went to tell the newlyweds once again, how happy he was for them both.

                ‘Thanks again for coming, Tom’

                ‘It’s no problem, Jenna, I’ve had a blast, so sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to Richard, extend my thanks and apologies to him, won’t you?’ she smiled and took his hand in hers, leading him across the slowly emptying dance floor, towards the exit.

                ‘Of course’ she leaned into him and kissed his cheek.

                ‘Let me know when you land tomorrow, I don’t care what time it is’

                ‘Sure I will, have a safe journey home.’ They exchanged one last smile. He knew that now, their relationship would never be the same; they’d never walk through their forest again, past the willow trees, and the lake. ‘HEY!’ it was Jenna shouting to him from the doorway, framed there like something out of a dream. She ran across the gravel towards him and almost threw herself into his arms. ‘Don’t ever forget how much you mean to me, you hear me? Don’t you dare!’ She kissed his cheek again, for longer this time. Then she let him go. She stood and watched him disappear into the night, like a candle’s flame extinguishing in a gentle breeze.

                                   Thanks for reading, Laura

                                                                  xoxoxoxox

Grace

       Hey! This is hot of the press, I wrote it for this week's assignment. I think I could have done the end a little bit better but I hope it makes your head spin a bit, like I kind of intended. I wanted it to be a bit more 'sinister', because my last few things have been a bit more whimsical/sarcastic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!      

 

                 ‘I’ve been in love with Grace for one year, two months, three weeks, two days and half an hour. I first saw her in the supermarket, then two weeks later in the gym. I saw her two more times in the supermarket, and then, I saw her in my mother’s living room.

                I was scared to look at her but I could hardly look away. My mother is used to me being quiet, but I think even she noticed something was a little off.  I hardly touched my dinner and was scared to drink my tea, in case I spilled it or dribbled it, or choked on it; then I’d look stupid in front of her and she wouldn’t smile at me anymore.

                She looked different when I saw her in October. It had been three months and I was starting to worry that she’d gone away. She’d styled her hair differently this time and her make up darker. She looked really beautiful, even though she wasn’t smiling. I wondered if she looked angrier because of something I’d done. I didn’t bother her this time, because she looked like she didn’t want to be bothered.

                I next saw her in December. She looked radiant; she was wearing a thick red jumper and was really beaming at me. I took her to lunch that day, and then back to my place, where I plucked up the courage to speak to her;

“You look really beautiful” I said, she only smiled in return. “That’s one of the things I like about you, you’re modest.” I told her. She was still smiling back at me, her face hadn’t changed at all but I didn’t mind. She had one of those really lovely smiles that brightened up the room. She was just so quiet; why wouldn’t she speak to me? “Tell me something about yourself” She still only smiled back. I didn’t know whether to be endeared or annoyed. We watched some TV together and then I took her for a walk to the park. We sat there on the bench for an hour or two, and then I went home, alone.

I felt bad about leaving her in the park, but then next time I saw her; in February, she was smiling at me again. She looked even more stunning now than she did in December – she was wearing a blue dress, it was a really nice blue too; it complimented her eyes and her skin tone perfectly. I wanted to take her out again that day, apologise for leaving her in the park like that; I think she’s the one, so I wouldn’t want her to ever think badly of me. Just as I was approaching her, another man took her away from me. I was crushed, because she’s mine.’

‘So what did you do then?’

‘Well, I followed them. I wanted to see where he was taking her, and what he thought he was doing, taking my girl away from me.’

‘Where did he take her?’

‘I don’t know. I decided that if she liked this guy, and he could make her happy, she should go with him. She might decide that she likes me better and come back to me. I’ve seen her around since, and she’s been smiling and wearing nice clothes; so I guess she’s happy.’

‘Okay, Adam, this has been a good session. I’ll see you again next week.’ I closed my notebook and left the room. Three assistant nurses were moving towards me, anxiety and the need for gossip deepening their crow’s feet and loosening their hairspray.

‘Well, what’d he say?’ asked the eldest, ‘He seems so…so normal, I can’t picture him doing what he did!’ They stood staring at me, expectantly, their eyebrows raised in encouragement.

‘Look. He firmly believes – or he wants us to believe that he firmly believes – that he simply let the guy walk away from the supermarket – ‘

‘What, he doesn’t remember the fight at all? But he bit chunks out of the guy’s arm!’

‘I know that, but judging by what he’s told me, he was in a different mental state to the one which he is in now. My guess is, he really doesn’t remember what he did to this guy, and after a couple more sessions; I think I might be confident enough to swear it in court.’

‘Wow. Imagine if a bloke would react like that to you, Susie! It’d be scary, but really romantic too. You know, in a psychopathic sort of way. So, what does this girl look like?’

‘Well, you can see her in just about any newsagent’s, supermarket, basically; anywhere that sells magazine.’

‘What? Why?’

‘She’s Grace McEllen. He saw her photo on the front of a magazine, and constructed an entire narrative in his head; wherein she was his girlfriend and not just a photo on the front of a magazine. So, I’ll catch you ladies at lunch? I have my 2 O’clock now. Bye.’ I turned on my heel and left them standing there gawping. You’d think that working in an institute such as this would make them more ready for that sort of story. Evidently not.

I hope you liked it!

                            Thanks for reading, Laura.

                                                             xoxoxoxox

Badgers

        Hey everyone, how are you doing? I wanted to share this, because I don't write poems often, and I liked how this one came out. I wasn't able to submit this as a coursework entry because it's not prose, but I wanted people to see it, because, let's be honest, who doesn't like whimsical poems about badgers? Right? so, with that being said, I hope you guys enjoy this, because I had so much fun writing this.

I took some pictures one fine day,

I took the pictures all the way,

They will help me to remember, that odd day in late September.

It started when I leaped from slumber,

And began to sing a number,

From my favourite west-end play, I sing it each and every day.

I went outside to take some pictures,

Appreciating nature’s fixtures,

I went inside and got my Kodak, and put spare batteries in my rucksack.

I took a picture of a tree, 

I took a picture of my knee,

I took a picture of a cat and then I put it in a hat.

I took a picture of a mouse,

I took a picture of his house,

I took a picture, then one more, and put him on my kitchen floor.

I took some pictures of the lake,

I took a picture of a cake,

I ate a slice and then another, then I took some for my mother.

I took a picture of a dog,

And then some of a sinking bog,

My lost my wellies in the mud and then my feet went slap, slap thud.

I took a picture of a pie,

And then I threw it at the sky,

When it crashed back to the ground, I crept away without a sound.

I took a picture of some honey,

I took a picture of my money,

I had about a pound that day, and spent it on a bale of hay.

I took a picture of a cloud,

I took a picture of a crowd,

I wondered what they were crowding for, and saw it was a tiny door.

I took a picture of the door,

It was blurred, I took some more,

Then I saw the door had vanished, and I thought that I’d been banished

To another world it seemed,

Unless I’d entered some strange dream,

For I was standing in a field, holding a great copper shield.

A badger ran up and bellowed,

‘HELP US, HELP US! MY DEAR FELLOW!’

I pulled out my sword and off we went, to a great big yellow floating tent.

I hopped inside and all I saw,

Were rows of badgers, ceiling to floor,

I tried to pause to take a picture, but was met with waves of stricture.

I was taken near the centre,

And told not yet to enter,

The ring which was drawn slightly wonky, and contained a sleeping donkey.

They poked him with a metal rod,

And slapped him with a fresh caught cod,

When he finally awoke, he coughed and spluttered, began to choke.

Eventually he caught his breath,

And told me that his name was Seth.

I nearly offered him a carrot, but the badgers told me ‘he’s fed parrots!’

I was challenged to a duel,

With what was actually a mule,

I put one foot into the ring, and then wondered why I should fight the thing.

The badgers then began to say,

What had happened one dark day,

The mule had come from some strange land, and told them theirs could be as grand.

He said he’d make their rivers shimmer,

As if they were looking through a mirror,

But instead he ate their food, and spent his days in foul moods.

When it turned out he had lied,

The badgers all sat down and cried,

Now they had no food to eat and the mule had broken all their seats.

‘Before I fight him,’ I told their leader,

‘I’ll photograph the little bleeder’

Snap flash! Snap flash! My camera went, lighting up the massive tent.

This threw the mule into a tizzy,

So fighting him was rather easy,

It only took some forty seconds, without the use of any weapons.

We lead the mule into a cage,

He did not even show us rage,

I took a picture of him inside, he tried to kick, his hooves were tied!

We sent him back to whence he came,

He said ‘I’m sorry, so ashamed’

The badgers noisily rejoiced, and many, many thanks were voiced.

I took some pictures of the badgers,

I took some pictures of their ladders,

We had a feast upon the hill, and hung bright flags from the windmill.

When morning came I went back home,

And told the story to a gnome,

He laughed and asked if he could see the pictures of this crazy dream.

I took my camera from its baggage,

Whilst munching on a tasty cabbage,

I pressed ‘view mode’ and nearly died, for there had been no film inside.

         Thanks for reading, I hope you liked the bathos at the end of this. (Just in case you didn't know, bathos is the feeling of being let down, typically at the end of a story.) 

                                               Laura

                                                       xoxoxoxox

Wrath

            Hey there! This is something I wrote last year, where the focus was one of the seven deadly sins. I aimed to slide in each of them, some more subtly than others. Hopefully you'll enjoy it, I really loved writing it, and I'm still happy with how it turned out, so it must be one of my better ones, I guess. here it is, anyway.

Anger floods my arteries, the way it does when I see others enjoying their lives. Sometimes I wish I could join them, but I’ve known happiness, and it’s to be short lived. Please don’t think that I’m ‘depressed’ or ‘sad’, because I’m not, I’m angry. I’m full of hate, sometimes I think others can smell my anger; I see them flinch, maybe sidestep or simply just leave the setting, just to be away from me. Perhaps my rage spills from my pores and burns them, maybe it exudes my body and tastes foul. Maybe I don’t smell it or taste it because I’ve grown used to it, but make no mistake; I feel it.

I live in a small village where everyone knows everything about everybody else. What this means is, they make up crap about everybody else because they actually don’t know shit. Take Monica Wilson, she’ll reel off various details about Tasha Brady’s love life, which according to her, is so steamy it’d make a prostitute blush. In actual fact, Tasha Brady is only a few minutes away from a nunnery.

The way the village is adds to my anger; when I was a part of their clique, life was pretty stellar, those on the outside envied us, with our whispering and giggling, hiding our mouths behind our hands and glancing sideways at them, our eyes full of secrets about them which they didn’t know themselves. It was only when I made the discovery that they were saying things about me – things which were entirely untrue- that I felt it was time to leave them. Move on. Unfortunately, so did my husband. He’d been foolish enough to believe the rumours which had begun circulating, about my infidelities, other men coming to the house we’ve shared for fifteen years, late at night and leaving a few hours later, £50 lighter and looking tired.

I would have left the village then and there; gone away and made a new start, with a new home, new friends and a new husband, but that would have shown weakness, and I have my pride. So now I sit on the opposite side of the café/restaurant/pub/park which they are inhibiting and try to act as if I’m not listening to them cackle, pretend that I don’t care, as if it doesn’t hurt me. To be honest with you, if I really think about it, it doesn’t hurt me anymore, I sort of get a sick pleasure from watching their waistlines grow, watching their chins quiver as they stuff in yet more cream cakes. I’ve noticed their numbers dropping lately, although I shouldn’t be surprised, I’ve been spending all my time (when I’m not spying on them) turning their members against them. I say members, because I know for a definite fact that none of them are friends. They almost despise each other, yet cling to the fact, and the hope, that while they are in such a tight community no evil can come to them. I know they could not be more wrong in that line of thinking, Monica Wilson is as evil a bitch as ever there was, she makes the devil seem like someone you could have a quiet coffee with. Then again, Satan was said to be a fallen angel, and there is nothing angelic about Monica Wilson. Unless she wants gold or jewels, then she’s as lovely as a cool stream on a summer’s day.

She’d put their absence down to laziness at first, but I knew she was worried deep down, which meant some days, she’d have two cakes, and extra whipped cream on her caramel latte. I can’t wait to see her massive fat face quivering with a mixture of rage and fear when she sees all of her old friends sitting at my table, laughing openly, talking about her and all of her wrongdoings, or minor misdemeanours, which may or may not be true. There won’t be any tales of her sexual conquests though; the stories have to be believable.

Just as I’m about to pick up my jacket and leave the small, dimly lit café, my ex-husband entered, so I order another pot of tea and a lemon cupcake, coyly moving my chair a little to face where he is standing. He can see me; I undo one more button on my blouse and flirt with the waiter when he makes his return. This drives my ex-husband wild, I can see him from the corner of my eye, the tops of his ears are going scarlet; he doesn’t know whether to be envious of the attention I’m giving this other male, or if he would be justified in wading in and punching him square in the face. He does neither, but turns away in disgust and orders his usual; gin and tonic with ice and a twist of lime.

The waiter leaves my table and I pour some of the golden nectar into my cup, following it with one sugar and a splash of milk. He’s looking at me again, and so is Monica, they’re standing together and I can feel their eyes boring into me. I raise my eyes over the rim of my cup, one eye brow raised, a glint of malice in them.  They look away, flustered, and try to make it look as though they had been immersed in friendly conversation the whole time, this makes my blood boil too; they have no guts about them, they simply look away, or smile politely when they’ve been talking trash about a person only seconds before.

I leave my seat and take a walk over to them, I can see the conversation taking place, or rather, I know what it is they are saying:

‘Act normal!’

‘I was going to! You act normal!’

‘Shut up, Derek, she’s nearly here, stand up straight!’

‘Why should I? She’s not my mother, and neither are you, Monica’

‘Ohhh, well, really, Derek!’ there seemed to be a lot of scuffling between the pair as I entered their proximity, I could almost feel the tension; I relished it.

‘I do hope I’m not interrupting’ I said with a small smile.

‘No, no, Kate, no, we were just saying how well you’re looking!’ the term “bullshit” crossed my mind ‘such a lovely blouse, Kate, what is it?’

‘Versace, a gift’

‘From one of your many admirers?’

‘No. My divorce money.’

‘Oh! Well of course! And what would you call that colour? Such a lovely colour! Turquoise? Would you say turquoise, Derek?’ my husband shrugged in reply.

‘Peacock green, I believe Monica. How are your piles these days? Still sore?’ Monica’s eye bulged, she spluttered, my husband choked on his drink, he tried to pass it off as shock, which Monica believed, however I knew him well enough to know he was laughing. ‘Oh Monica, would you look at the time! I have to leave, I’m meeting some friends!’ I spun on my Dolce and Gabbana heels and left them standing there in a daze. Monica looked sick with both the feeling of betrayal at me revealing one of her many imperfections, but also the jealousy which is pouring out of her like vapour from a dry-ice machine. Derek looks like he wants to follow me, tell me he was wrong and sweep me up in his arms. I almost wish he would; then I could crush him, publicly. 

Thanks for reading, Laura
                                 xoxoxoxox

Aliens

            Hey everyone! I wrote this a few weeks ago for a class exercise. I think it's OK, personally, and it received good feedback from everyone who read it for the class. The brief was to write about 'a strange person at work', inspired by our reading of Herman Melville's 'Bartleby the Scrivener'. We also had to try and include a 350 word sentence, which is far more difficult than it at first sounds. (seriously, give it a go) Anyway, have a read, see what you think :)

                ‘Look, you only have to look at her; she just looks mental; but basically, a few months ago, she came in after lunch without anyone’s food, (she was on the lunch run that day, we take it in turns, see?) obviously, we were pretty annoyed because we didn’t have any lunch now; anyway, she comes back in, soaking wet – which is weird right, because it wasn’t raining at all, we think she ran through a car wash or something; so yeah, she comes back in soaking wet and wailing about an alien abduction; obviously we thought that was so weird, because, I mean, apart from it being really crazy and either a figment of her imagination, or completely made up, or, just, whatever – but apart from that, even if it was true; like, aliens wouldn’t just come down in the middle of the day, and grab a woman who mutters to herself, with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp – I mean, surely, they’d want someone who looks more representative of the rest of the actual human race, not her; unless, she is exactly what they’d be after; I mean, they’d get a lot of psychological information from her which they wouldn’t necessarily get from the rest of us; anyway, I digress; so she comes in, saying she got abducted by aliens for the half an hour she was out, and that they put some microchip in her arm to monitor her behaviour and whatever; but now she just gives everyone odd looks and mutters to herself ever more than she used to – plus, I mean, there’s loads of other stuff, but that’s obviously the main reason she’s the weird one here; before that, it was Geoff, but he was only considered weird because he’d sniff everyone really obviously as you walked past him, and sometimes while he was actually facing you and talking to you, he’d grab your hair and really huff it, which is still weird – don’t get me wrong, it’s not alien abduction, and he’s been spoken to about that. So yeah, that’s pretty much our office. Do you have any questions before I show you to your desk?’

                Weeks passed and everything seemed normal. I say seemed, because how normal is someone sniffing your hair, albeit surreptitiously, across the room from someone who mutters to her alien friends?

                Like I said, weeks passed. I think it was a Wednesday, it was sunny out and Louise had gone to get everyone’s lunch. She’d been a while, but, she was one of those people who walked slowly, and would stop to stare at a bag with sequins. What I’m getting at; is that we didn’t think it in any way strange that she hadn’t returned after forty-five minutes.

                When she eventually did return, she was soaking wet. She had no food with her, and appeared to have lost some of her clothing. There was a small, red mark on her arm and she looked completely disengaged.

                ‘Aliens.’ She mumbled, wide-eyed, and passed out on the office rug. 

      

             So that's that, hope you liked it, even if you didn't, thank for reading it :)

                            

                                      Laura

                                               xoxoxoxox