The Apple Tree

Couples can meet here, wondering at me,
my rosy apples, red as their cheeks.
Couples can meet here, away from others,
those who would gossip these, couples' secrets.

My green little leaves, showering their hair,
Happy and flowing, in my embrace.
My green little leaves, sheltering friends,
from the wind and the rain, as couple hug.

My bare sturdy branches, supporting their weight,
cuddling and smiling, no one else comes.
My bare sturdy branches, sharing their pain,
as one must bid farewell, tears flow freely.

Their trust lies with me, their secrets, their tales.
Long time I've been here, biding my time.
Their trust lies with me, their knowledge and love.
Not long 'til they come though, with axe and death.

Jilk (Sequel to Eliza and Jilk)

The old-looking Naian stared upwards, aware of the impatient looks on the young human faces surrounding him. Finally, he spoke, "Sometimes, when you look up, into the sky on a clear night, you see something which you know you cannot tell anybody about." At this the teens nodded wearily; it was obviously an old story.

A human, a boy who was probably around 16 Earth years, frowned. "Jilk, we've heard this one so many times."

The old one grinned, his cat-like whiskers rearranging themselves as he did so. "No you haven't. This one's old, very old. None of you would know it unless Eliza told you, and she couldn't remember half the details by the time she..." A high-pitched cry broke out from the long tent behind Jilk, and he tiredly looked over his shoulder and murmured, "Another to be read to tonight."

The teenagers shifted uneasily, and the boy from before - let's call him Johane- spoke quietly yet fiercely. "Jilk, you - or anyone else for that matter - haven't told us where you come from. You don't look like one of us, not even our parents. You've been around since living memory, and you are pretty much the only adult like you, cause Andrew there doesn't count."

Andrew looked up from his drawing in the sand. "What?" He was a young-looking boy sitting in front of Jilk's roughly made oak chair, and who probably didn't belong with this group of teenagers. He had fur on the tips of his ears, and eyes like a cat's.

Johane glanced at Andrew and continued, "This Eliza you talk about. She was old in the stories my father passed down from his grandfather. She couldn't have told us. And you're -"

Here Jilk interrupted. "My good friend. Can you not leave these questions for when you are older?" he looked around. "It seems like none of you can, tonight. All of you, look upwards. Do you see anything?"

"Trees."

"Clouds."

"Stars."

"You." The last comment was from Andrew.

Jilk laughed, but said nothing.

Johane rolled his eyes. "Jilk, that's old. I've looked at that sky many times, and only seen the lights put there by the ones from the last era." Jilk nodded, refraining to mention that he had been in that era too, and the stars weren't put there then. Johane continued, "So there's nothing else, you see?" The boy gestured so as to include their planet, Enterprise, in his wave. "According to all I've been taught, we're only a small part of a small planet in a small system. But it's very possible that we're the only forms of life in the universe."

At this Jilk shook his head sadly, but refrained from saying anymore that night. Andrew took over stories instead. He was pretty good, but nervous, and so he stuttered. The next day, Jilk was nowhere to be found, and a piece of waxed paper, very old and creased, was next to Andrew's head in the sleeping tent. He read to the young ones of the tribes for many years to come, and Johane grew old and died under his constantly amused smile. A legend grew about Andrew; that he was son of Jilk and Eliza, for he had been young many years longer than others born at the same time as he. And so life passed, until one night Andrew sighed, and looked starwards. This group of teens reminded him very much of his father, and his son was the same age as he had been when Jilk had left.

Science Fiction: Eliza and Jilk

My mother needed a sci-fi story in 150 words or more, so I wrote an example for her students. SHe never used it though, but she said it was good. :D

The catlike alien watched the human girl sing to herself. He watched Eliza look at him without fully taking him in. He watched the tears. Stepping out to sit on her left, Jilk threw out a hello to the despondent kid.

She smiled slightly, and ignored the sound of a ship starjumping in, as she was used to it as part of her daily life on her native planet, Earth. She pulled out a fruit bar and broke it in half, offering one piece to her new friend. The Naian sniffed his, then commented that one never got good, real-tasting food those days.

She smiled again, and agreed wordlessly. Jilk nodded, and bit his silently. After a time, filled with awkward silence, Eliza blurted out her name. Jilk replied with his own, thus enlarging this into a conversation that went on for several hours before the mosquitoes descended.

Their lives together would become known across the galaxy, and, eventually, further.

Cafe Chat (Bah. Can't name it yet)

They sat at a table in the café, sharing a slice of cake they had bought. Laura sighed contentedly as the cold cream contrasted with the warm and juicy cake. Jake, her companion, hadn’t spoken since he had fished the $3.75 from his pocket, and Laura was beginning to doubt he was actually the son of her town’s local billionaire, John Parr.

She reached for her shoulder bag to get out a puzzle book, and saw his startlingly blue eyes follow her mittened hand’s movement. His face looked slightly confused when she pulled the puzzle book out and turned to the latest unfinished crossword, but he was covering it well. This isn’t what’s supposed to happen when you bump into an old friend while on holiday on New Zealand, she thought to herself, thinking of all the rather romantic books her father had been buying her lately. Laura concentrated on the crossword in front of her, “ ‘Hospital resident’ 9 letters.”

“Um… inpatient?” he suggested. She had always liked his dictionary knowledge. She tried it. It fit.

“Thanks,” she said, writing it in, then looked back at Jake and smiled. “So… have you got a job? We haven’t been in touch for absolute ages.”

They chatted until 12:41pm, when Laura’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the caller. “Darn it!” she said. It was Cameron, her ex-boyfriend. He usually only called on business, and she couldn’t remember if she had told him about her holiday. She pressed the green button and held the phone up to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, Laur,” Cameron’s voice found its way from Australia to New Zealand, more precisely to Laura’s ear.

“Did I tell you I’m on holiday in New Zealand?” Laura asked, trying not to sound too stern.

“ ‘Course.”

“Then why’d you call? I know you don’t usually call for matters other than work.” Laura’s inner Cool-o-meter sniggered at her sentence.

“You remember Jake Parr?” Gosh, this was going like one of her new books.

“Maybe. Why?” She tried to not think of them. She didn’t need to suddenly break into laughter.

“He’s run away. Gone missing, whatever. I wanted to ask you if you’d seen him.” Laura glanced at Jake, who was muttering while working on 19 down.

“What if I have?”

“Well, his dad’s dead worried, and wants to say sorry.” Cam sounded sad, probably thinking of his own relationship with his dad.

“Erm… What for?” Jake had finished 19 down (tern) and was watching Laura as she said this.

“They fought. Jake ran away. That’s all of the gossip that’s reached me at pres-” Laura slid her thumb to the red button and pressed it. She didn’t need to hear anything else.

“So… you know ‘bout my fight then, I’m guessing?” Jake spoke suddenly.

“Yeah. What’d you fight ‘bout?” Laura asked.

“I bought plane tickets down here to see a concert and a couple of exhibitions. Forgot to tell dad.” Jake’s expression was sad, and she knew he wasn’t lying.

“Ouch. He didn’t like that? No, don’t answer that.” Laura had talked to John a couple of times. “Instead, why didn’t he want you to come?”

“Um… I don’t completely know. Someone probably mentioned it to him. He practically exploded and came rushing up to my bedroom. I was packing.” Jake sighed longingly. “We never got to say sorry.” He seemed to gather his composure, and added, “And probably won’t. I’ve got friends over – down here I can stay with. I’ll get a job,”

“But… what about your mother? Your family?” Your friends? was what she nearly said, but bit it back. She wanted to punch him. He was almost everything she wanted. The almost was because he was now saying he didn’t want to come back. Dad’s new books were floating to the top of her consciousness, but she was dunking them back down.

“Mum’s gone. All that’s left is Mary Parr, the party-goer and wife of John Parr. Mary gets drunk every other night, and I’m left to look after my siblings, ‘cause dad is usually away at meetings.” Jake’s expression remained straight. Laura hadn’t known his family had been so problematic.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Have you talked to your dad?” Gosh, I sound like my mother.

“David? Of course not. My mum’s scared enough.” And that was that. His dad was the mad type.

Caitlin, the Dagger Girl

I sat on my rock, looking at the daggers on my knees. For some reason, I knew that they were mine, and my father had forged them for me, but I didn’t know who my father was, who I was, and why he had forged the four, polished knives for me. Taking one up in a hand, I tossed it from one hand to another. Nice balance. I picked up another, and tried tossing them both between my two small hands. A grin on my face, I added a third and the fourth. Maybe this is why? It seems so… easy, yet hard. I tried throwing one at a knot in a nearby tree. It hit the centre.

Revelling in my newfound skill, I put them down on the ground as I searched through the pockets in my jacket. String… Matchbox… A letter… a worm? I laughed and opened the matchbox, found it was empty, and put the worm in it, naming the small creature Jack. I liked that name. It seemed familiar. After achieving this, I opened the letter.

Dear Caitlin,

I hope that you still know who you are. I sure do. If you don’t, I shall remind you. You are Caitlin, an orphan who turned up on my doorstep one day, holding a crude wooden dagger in your hands and peering at it. I took you in. In the following years, I learnt that you were fluent at all things involving daggers. I even found you cutting open a worm one night, and you explained this as, “It’s got a stomach-ache, daddy.” It, marvellously, healed, and went on to being your pet. Remember yet? And, also, I made those daggers. All for you. I especially learnt how to for those sharp implements you so often play with.

Anyway, you want to know why you’re where you are, don’t you? Well, I don’t exactly know, but something weird happened last week. I took you to the temple. They said the best way was to leave you with them. I refused, and went to our next-door neighbour, who had told me the week before he could help if you did anything weird. I think he was expecting it. He asked for the description. I told him that I had gone out to get groceries, and when I came home, the place was wrecked, and you sitting in the corner, staring at nothing, the daggers sitting in front of you. He nodded, as if he knew what had happened, and smiled grimly. He told me to send you out into the woods, as your memory was probably gone. You were asleep when I got home after that, and I dressed you, putting your favourite things in their normal places. I took you out to your favourite clearing, and leaned you against a tree.

Please find me and tell me you are okay, if you are okay. I don’t want to lose you forever.

Your adopted, yet loving father, Doug.

Hmph. Well, I remembered my name now. Caitlin. But it really was a wimpy name. I sighed. I would have to find a new name. It never crossed my mind to go and find my adopted father. I need something to do. I can’t just sit here forever. I looked down at the stump, and saw initials scratched into it. I smiled, and tried etching “Caitlin”, but it didn’t look right. I sighed, and wandered off, into the surrounding forests.

Several hours later, I heard some chatter and a laugh. I wandered towards the sound, utterly confused, and came upon a couple of people lounging in a clearing. “Uh, hullo?” I said hesitantly, after waiting for a minute. They looked up, and I realised for the first time that they wore proper weapons and armour. I smiled nervously, staring at the weapons.

“Hello there,” said the one who was probably the laugher. She turned back to her partner, and continued chatting.

I stood there awkwardly for a while, and then wandered around them, into the forest. I trudged on in a straight line for a couple of hours, replaying what had just happened in my head, when suddenly a [insert level 1 monster here] jumped out at me with a [insert its weapon], and lunged at me. I stepped to the side of the attack before I thought about it, and stabbed down at its back. It fell over. I had the presence of mind to rifle through its pockets, finding a bit of gold.

Realising what I had just done, I sat down on a handy nearby tree’s roots. Did I really just do that? What if I hadn’t sidestepped? I swore quietly, and looked around. The forest definitely seemed more dangerous now. I wiped the blood off on the grass, and stared at it. That letter hadn’t said when he had made the daggers. But still, something made by one who loved the one the something was for shouldn’t be able to guide the owner’s hand to kill something – someone like that. But it had seemed so… right. As if that was my place in the world. Caitlin, the girl of daggers. I grinned. That was what I was going to do. I didn’t even think about food, I just decided to keep on doing it until I couldn’t go on.

I did so. But then I was so tired after sundown, I climbed up into the tree for extra protection, and went to sleep. When I woke up, I realised that I had been hurt in yesterday’s battles, and went off in search of someplace to heal. I walked for a few hours, meeting and killing about 5 creatures along the way, when I stumbled upon the field in which I had seen to two people yesterday, but it was empty, and I sat down in the middle, utterly confused. They looked like they were from a town. I wonder if it’s near here? I looked around for any answer to this question, when I saw another person standing in the shadows awkwardly. I waved, uncertain as to whether this was friend or foe. “Hullo there.”

The person stepped into the clearing, and broke into a smile. “Hello to you, too,” she said cheerfully.

“Uh, do you know if any towns are nearby? I need a place to rest.”

The person, now identifiable as a he, said, “ Sure. Shall I show you? I have nothing else to do for a while. My adventures for the day are used up.”

So I followed him, chatting, and when I could hear the noise of a plaza, I stopped. I don’t even know this guy, and he’s leading me to a village. I shook my head, and climbed up into a tree, hoping he wouldn’t notice, and looked up into the sky. The man’s voice floated out to me, “I found this girl out in the forest.” Laughter. “Er… she was talking to me a moment ago. Where did she go?”

I smiled at the moon in the sky, then realised it was getting dark. I’m going to need somewhere to sleep… I realised, before I spotted him wandering near me. I sighed again, and climbed down, walking over to him, “I got lost. Where did you go?”

He looked at me, bemused. “Just this way,” he pointed towards where I had heard him speaking. “It’s called Sanctuary, if you want to know.”

So, that’s how I came to be in Sanctuary. How I got the name Frodo is a different story, and I’m saving that for later.

I held him in my arms

I held him in my arms. He was mine, and I was his.

We thought the joy from that day would cushion us from worldly things. Then the cancer came. He was weak, but held me in his arms every morning, as I left to teach the students, then every afternoon, when I came back from my often-horrible day. He was my only lamp to guide me through the dark classes. The warmth next to me in bed at the end of the day was my hope, my reward.

Even that was stolen eventually.

On the day I woke up with a cold body in my arms, I didn’t realize what had happened until he didn’t wake up as I placed his daily cuppa on his bedside table. I rang up school to tell them I wouldn’t be coming in that day and then hung up before Abby asked why. I knew the staffroom would soon be buzzing with malicious comments, but I didn’t care.

The love of my life was dead.

Chaser, John’s cat, was curled up on his owner’s leg. At least he hadn’t realized yet. Something in the grey striped feline’s eyes told me to call someone, talk to them. I called Doug, my brother.

“Hello?”

“Doug. It’s me, Millie.”

“What’s up?”

“A flying pig. Damn it, Jack! He’s dead!”

“Oh. Are you sure?”

“I’m a nurse.”

“I’ll be right round with some food.” Doug was married to Denise, a nice girl who I had introduced to him many years ago, when I had graduated in the same year as her. It had been love at first sight, according to Doug, and they were now the parents of three children: a boy and two girls. There would have been one more, but a car had speeded up her passage into God’s arms.

There was a gap of eight between the youngest, Catherine, and the oldest, Malcolm and then a two-year gap between him and Mary. Catherine had talked to me a few times, and was an up-coming author, artist, terrible at instruments, yet owner of a wonderful voice. She said she was lonely.

The doorbell sounded, and I jumped. Ran to the door and unlocked it. Doug was standing there awkwardly with a plate holding two sandwiches. He had skipped his breakfast for me! We didn’t need to speak, and there was nothing to speak about anyway. John had written his will as soon as we heard about the cancer. Lung cancer, it was. He said he’d never smoked in his life, but his mother had done so since he could remember.

I pulled the will out of his diary and handed it to Doug. We’d decided to leave Chaser to Catherine, seeing as she was lonely and I would almost probably forget to feed him in the mourning months. Denise had always had her eye on John’s porcelain rabbit collection, and the books he was so keen on were left to John.

It kept coming back to me: John was dead, and I wasn’t crying.

Me. As Joseph. What the?

“No Room at the inn”

Mary: Zac

Joseph: ME! What the heck?

Innkeeper: Jess

[Joseph comes into shot leading donkey (toy dog) by a lead, with Mary sitting on it]

Joseph: Do you think this inn is ok, Mary?

Mary: Yes Joseph! I love it!

[Joseph leads the donkey with Mary on it up to the inn]

Joseph: Hello? Is there anyone in there?

[Innkeeper opens it with a grumpy look on his face. Innkeeper is grumbling to himself]

Innkeeper: Yes? What do you want?

Joseph: Could you please give us, two weary travellers, accommodation for the night? My wife is expecting a baby soon, and we need somewhere to shelter from the weather.

Innkeeper: What’s that you say? Somewhere to helter skelter?

[Joseph repeats again, more loudly this time]

Joseph: We need somewhere to shelter from the weather.

Innkeeper: All right all right. No need to shout.

Mary: Please hurry up. I think I can hear a storm coming.

Innkeeper: I’m sorry, but we’re full up.

Joseph: What’s that you say? Pull up?

Innkeeper: No. Full up!

[Mary groans and murmurs something under her breath]

Joseph: Are you ok, Mary?

Innkeeper: I can see what you mean. She must be expecting a baby soon. We have a stable out the back. It’s not much, but there’s plenty of warm hay. Me sons take care of that.

[Innkeeper leads Joseph and Mary out of shot]