Thursday, 24 September 2009

The Wish Fish



On the third Tuesday of July, a man by the name of Alex Gibbons was leaving his bungalow to meet one of his few friends at a fishing lake that he had never even heard of before, “Wish Fish Lake”.

As Alex pulled out of his drive in his battered old mini he looked down at the piece of paper that Roy had written directions on. After ten minutes of coiling country lanes, Alex arrived at a woods with a sign hanging between two trees that marked the entrance to the lake. The sign was a basic yellow, with two silver fish pointing inwards to the name of the lake.

As the scratched and dented, glitter green mini passed tall oaks with waving roots lying out across the ground, the leaves that formed the green canopy overhead blocked off most of the light and the steady stream of road side primroses fell into a thin trickle. When his car broke through the blanket of shade, Alex slowed it to a snail pace crawl and looked out across the lake. Alex rolled his car round the edge of the deserted waters, looking at each of the fishing bays in turn, searching for the perfect spot.

Alex’s dad had taught him that Mother Nature hid most of the best spots for herself and therefore to look down every half hidden spot you could find. Alex was doing just that and on the occasion that he did spy such a path, he would get out of the car and weave his way through the brambles to try and find a suitable spot.

On his fifth battle through the thorns and nettles, he found an area that had been badly neglected by a gang of young kids. Beer bottles were strewn and smashed over the ground and they had made a camp fire in the middle of the bay. Alex left the area and was just opening the driver’s door when he spotted a goose sitting in a nearly invisible path. The goose saw him and took off with a flurry of wings and flying feathers. Alex was just about to venture down the path when his cell phone rang; Roy was on the other end of the line.

"Hi Alex, how are you doing mate? Sorry but I can’t come and the missus is fuming with me."
Alex ventured to say “You forgot that it was your anniversary today didn’t you? It’s my fault too you know, if I had known that it was today then I would have reminded you... sorry.”
“Ah, don’t worry yourself, it’s my stuff to take care of but you just enjoy yourself. See ya.” And he cut the line.

Alex pocketed the phone and tried to remember what he was doing, and then he recalled the hidden path right beside him. When he stepped into the waist high nettles, Alex encountered more obstacles like the brambles and for some reason the ivy had stretched from tree to tree like cobwebs. After he had passed all the obstacles that lay in his path, Alex came into the most perfect and natural fishing spot anyone was likely to find on earth.

The shingle that lay at the waters edge was as clean as if someone came down here regularly and polished each pebble in turn to perfection, and the grass that grew around it was the most brilliant green. There were two weeping willows on each side of the shingle and each one had golden leaves where as the other trees were still green. The water was as pure as if it had not been disturbed in years by algae, and in the middle of the lake sat a tiny island which supported a red-leaved silver birch and the roots spread out of the earth and weaved through the water. When Alex had finally got all his fishing equipment down to the bay he unfolded his chair and sat down, after first casting out his line.

Three hours later, seven fish sat in a large black bucket by his chair waiting to be sold to the local pub. Suddenly the float bobbed under the water so he jumped to his feet and started reeling the unfortunate fish in; first a fin broke the surface with a mass of froth as it flapped and flopped around. Alex waded into the water and lifted his rod high, hauling the fish out of the water but before he could grab it, the fish wriggled off the hook and fell back into the water with a small “Splash.” The small fish knew more than it was letting on and it knew precisely what to do. With a sharp flick of its tail it swam off towards the silver birch island and into the tangle of roots while calling out in the fish language...
“Wish... Wish... WISH!”
And from the darkest tangle of roots came the soft golden glow of the wish fish.

Alex was once again waiting for a fish to bite the hook while he sat down and relaxed, and as quick as lightning, the rod started reeling out. Alex snatched the rod and started pulling back but as he grabbed hold of the spinning handle it wrenched his wrist. The line kept dealing out like there was a shark on the end and suddenly, the whole rod was jerked from his grasp and flung five meters out into the water where it sank but that’s when something else caught his eye.

Slowly extracting itself from the roots of the silver birch was a soft golden glow and when it was free, it picked up its pace and swam steadily towards him. Alex dismissed the wild ideas that came to his head when he saw it and brushing it out of his mind, he set about packing up.

“If you are leaving then please release my friends.” Came an unexpected voice from nowhere.
“Sorry? Who’s there?” called Alex.
“I am.” Replied the voice and Alex was able to pin point it and looked down at the water.
“I spoke.”

Down in the water was a fish with its head cocked on one side but the fact that it could speak was not the thing that stunned Alex. The fish that looked up at him with one eye had scales that looked like silver and polished beyond even a mirror and its fins were a pure gold and gave off a golden glow. In all, the fish looked like it was made up of both silver and gold from another, purer planet.

"If you are leaving then please release my friends.”
Alex was so stunned, he obliged without even thinking.
“Okay.” And lifting up the black bucket he released the captive fish by gently pouring them into the clear lake but the gold one stayed where it was.
“Thank you for releasing them. Why did you capture them?”
Alex frowned and replied with a slight blush. “I needed money so I intended to trade them, I’m sorry but I am close to losing my house and everything I own so I had to do something.”
The fish did something close to a nod and said “I understand, everyone needs something and wishes for it. What do you wish for?”
Alex laughed and said “An endless supply of money!”
The fish said “Granted.”
Looking down at the fish Alex said
“You may be able to talk and look like you’re made of gold and silver but I doubt that you can make wishes come true.”
“They don’t call me the Wish Fish for nothing.” And with a flick of his tail he swam back towards his island and vanished into the roots.
With a sigh, Alex packed his things up and drove home.

When he opened his door there was one letter on the floor which was unaddressed. Opening it he read the four words that lay on the paper “Look on your bed.” There was no signature, but attached to the paper was a silver scale.

Alex walked to his bedroom and pushing open the door he saw a black, iron safe with old fashioned gold patterns on the front. Sitting on top of the safe was a key that matched the patterns on the safe. It was sitting in the dead centre of his bed. When he took the key and opened the safe, his jaw hit the floor. The interior of the safe was a sort of Tardis and stretched for miles and miles. Alex wasn’t even sure that it had an end. When he stuck his head through the door it was like stepping into a different universe for its size. Every few meters in every direction was a pile of gold and silver coins stacked to the size of a house and they continued beyond what the eye could see.

A few months later, Alex had bought Wish Fish Lake from the counsel with a generous amount of money and had built a mansion on the edge of it. When the money exchanged hands Alex had quipped “Money is no object.” And now he had a home which he would never lose and a lake which he would sometimes go rowing in, but most of all, he had made another friend.

The End.

Tuesday, 22 September 2009

The Ivy House

First the ivy climbs through the vent
Of the deserted house's ground floor,
After spying for a while
It starts it's own slow tour.


Slowly, ever slowly,
It spreads like a disease.
Up the walls, over the floor,
Any way it is pleased.


Snaking through the door,
Hanging from the light.
If someone were to walk in there,
They would see a growing sight.


leaping up the stairs,
Holding on to the rail,
Slowly pulling the wood apart
Separating oak from nail.


Finaly on the landing,
Ivy is on the top floor.
Making up it's wooden mind
It goes through the bathroom door.


After a year or two
The house is barely there
And inside that lush dark green
With mice the house is shared.

Thursday, 10 September 2009

What am I Riddles



Many things may come and go
But I stand firm and still,
For me staying in my place
Is of but, god’s will.
My weathered face is battered and cracked
And with stinging salt water, my foot is slapped.
A gull on the wind, in carried in and lands on my green hair.
I have a foot, I have a face
But no body or chest to fill their place.

What am I?

Wednesday, 9 September 2009

The Smiling of the Stars

A twinkle here, A sparkle there.
Their light shines down
Like glowing hairs.
For them to fly
up in the sky
They must promise the moon,
that jolly guy,
That for them to glow
up in the heavens
They will shine on every
new born Tom and old Miss Evans.
Their ever lasting job
is not just to shine
But deliver happy dreams
Time after time.

Oh, Duck




Oh duck of green and brown and yellow
Also orange and milk white,
Up and down the river
Do you often see such a lovely sight?

Upon the time
Where the sun does shine
Which you people call summer,
The banks that keep thy water in
Do flourish with such bright colour.

And what does it feel like
Ripples lapping at your feather,
And what does it sound like
The gently swaying heather?

The ripples feel gentle
But my feathers, dry they keep
And in the gently swaying heather
I often like to sleep.


Well Duck, I thank you for your time
But alas I hear the church bells chime
So now honestly I must go.
But still I thank you ever so.

A Night of Love

The sky is dry Yet the sun is sleeping
And through the darkness
The stars are peeping.
A night of hopes,
Prayers, no fear
A night of love foretold
Without need of a seer.
The moon cry’s love
The stars weep passion
Fate brings more hearts together
Like it’s going out of fashion.
Couples sitting on the hilltops
Gazing out across the glades
And fishermen’s boats don’t steer
But rather glide across the waves.
Of this night poems written
And songs will be sung
The time ticks nearer midnight
When it strikes, bells will be rung.
This night, oh this night
Without tears or pain
Your poor thoughts or words
Will never come again.
This night, this night
Has come to heal our hearts
This night, this night of love
Will show god’s graceful arts.

In a Moon Bathed Garden

In a moon bathed garden
Small bats flutter in the sky.
In their moon bathed garden
Their calls reach notes unearthly high.

In a moon bathed garden
Butterflies sleep in their lots.
In their moon bathed garden
They are Commas, Great whites and Tortoise shells
All slotted in their box.

In a moon bathed garden
Pidgins “Coo” pleasantly in their sleep.
In their moon bathed garden
They don’t even make a peep.

In a moon bathed garden
A Hedgehog snuffles round.
In his moon bathed garden
He hardly makes a sound.

A Tank, A Tank


A tank, a tank,
It’s not artillery,
It’s only full of liquid
To water every bean and pea.

The hose pipe drowns
And the water soaks the ground,
That coiling green snake
Turns that bit of earth into a lake.

A tank, a tank
It’s not artillery,
It’s only full of liquid
To water every bean and pea.

The seeds are spread and scattered
And given another soak,
Now to get them down beneath the ground
They receive a quick sharp poke.

A tank, a tank
It’s not artillery,
It’s only full of liquid
To water every bean and pea.

A shoot reaches above the ground
It look’s like tiny stethoscope,
To keep it nice and green
It will be given another soak.

A tank, a tank
It’s not artillery,
It’s only full of liquid
To water every bean and pea.

The shoot is already one foot high
Way above the ground’
To stop it falling over
To a cane it will be bound

A tank, a tank
It’s not artillery,
It’s only full of liquid
To water every bean and pea.

Reaching for the sky
Green starts to turn to brown,
Petals start to bloom
Each one’s the size of a pound

A tank, a tank
It’s not artillery,
It’s only full of liquid
To water every bean and pea.

The flower reaches its peak
A bomb of colour so, so bright,
When the day draws to a close
The flower closes for the night.

A tank, a tank
It’s not artillery,
It’s only full of liquid
To water every bean and pea.

The plant begins to droop
Its head has been turned down,
In a panic to keep it alive
It’s been given another drown.

A tank, a tank
It’s not artillery,
It’s only full of liquid
To water every bean and pea.

The petals drop, the whole thing flops
The plant has died I frown,
The simple answer to this crime
Well frankly, it’s been drowned!

A tank, a tank
It’s not artillery,
Well, to be honest in this case
To the poor plant it has been.

A Poem for a Plane

I glide among the skies
I am neither wind nor rain,
The birds that see me squawk and drop
They must think their going insane.
The sun smiles upon my wings
And in the blue my engine sings.
Over and through the clouds I happily swing
Until I hear that horrible sound,
A warning “Ping!”
When I land, my tanks filled up to high,
So now I’m waiting until once again
I can be playing in the sky.

Monday, 7 September 2009

TERROR TOWER


"This short story was written when I was just 10 years old, and became quite popular amongs locals, family and friends, being my main show piece."

Long, long ago there was a Tower of Terror. I heard – all that go in never come out! One month later, a family was going on holiday to Lancashire. Their car broke down just in front of Terror Tower. The man was very adventurous and his son too. The lady loves make up and fragrances and the girl loves Barbie dolls.

The man said “There must be a phone in there.” So the man and son went into….the tower. The door was unlocked and they went in. The hinges were creaky. When they got in, the doors slammed shut and locked! It was pitch black. Candles on the walls slowly lit up. The two boys couldn’t believe their eyes, there were dead bodies all over the tower. They looked at each other. Out of the corner of their eyes they saw a shadow on the wall. They said to each other “This place gives me the creeps.”

They turned to go out but…there was a dead man hanging on the door, hanging with a sword between his eyes. The man put his hand on the blood covered door knob and…The eyes of the dead man opened. The dead man gave a hair raising, skin prickling, spider scaring LAUGH!!! The two boys screamed their heads off and the man’s laugh slowly died away and his eyes shut. Out of the window, black clouds spread across the sun and a strong wind put out the candles. The boy said “I have a torch.” and turned it on. Then they saw an old fashioned phone. The man phoned a mechanic for the car, but they still need to get out. They saw a lost dog with no head, then it disappeared in thin air. It was a ghost, a ghost dog.

Meanwhile, out in the car, the mechanic has just arrived. The mechanic said “Where’s you Son and Husband Ma’m?” The lady said “In that tower kind Sir.”
“In the tower Ma’m? I’m very sorry, but all that go in never come out. That’s Terror Tower!” The two girls began to cry. The mechanic left. The two definitely thought the boys were dead, from the laugh and screams from the tower. A storm started above the tower. The girl saw a ghost on the tower battlements then it faded away. She turned as white as a duvet sheet, trembling with fear.

In the tower, the two boys went through a door. In that door was a long damaged table, with half-eaten rotting-food, surrounded with dead people again. At the head of the table was a throne. On the neck of the man on the throne, was a key. What door or thing it opened they didn’t know. The man took the key from the dead man, and when he did, Spirits rose from the dead people and floated round the room.

When they got out, the boy said “I think that key opens a secret passage way.” The top fell off the key and out came a scroll. It said this…

Go down this corridor.
Put the key in the crack and turn it twice.
Pull down a torch, it’s rather nice.
And alas the passage way you will see,
And soon you will be free.
The boys stared at it in confusion, so they went down the corridor, put the key in the crack, turned it and pulled down the torch and saw the passage way.

When they got in, the entrance shut and the walls started closing in. A trap door opened beneath their feet and they fell in a lower room with skulls built into the walls. In the middle on a shelf was a scroll. It said this…
One skull does not have another skull exactly like it.
This one is the skull to freedom. The others lead to death.

“Uh-Oh! We might die or survive!” said the man. “Well it’s either that or die of starvation.” said the boy. Five minutes later, they found out the different one. It was the one-right from the top. “Yippee!” they said. The man pushed it and a long round hole appeared in the middle of the skulls. They scrambled through it on their hands and knees. When they got in, the entrance shut and light filled the tunnel even though there were no torches or holes for light to get through. “Strange.” said the boy.

They went round a bend and they realised they were in a maze. The boy found a map of the maze. On the back it said “The dead ends are traps!” so they used the map to get out. When they got to the exit, to their surprise, there was an unstable rope-bridge and under it was a very long fall to a pool of lava. That was the only way out. When they were half way across – giant, spiked, tree trunks started swinging from the roof. One trunk cut through the bridge. It swung while they were hanging on it and they smacked the wall, but the two boys held on tight. They climbed up and out of the exit. They took a five minute break before they carried on.

Before they carried on they looked back. On one of the swinging trunks was a dead man with a spike through his back. “Gross!” said the boy “But we made it very far haven’t we Dad?” “Yes.” said the man. When they carried on, they were very aware. The man stepped on a lose stone and all of a sudden, poisonous darts came shooting from gaps in the walls. The man jumped back, knocking his son over. “Sorry.” He said, “I’m OK.” said the boy. This time they were more careful where they went on. “I don’t want to carry on.” said the boy. “It’s now or never Son.” said the man, looking curiously left and right watching out for booby traps.

One hour later, after an exhausting walk, the boy had just seen another scroll. He picked it up and it said “You are nearly free. Go right, left, right, left and left. Then jump over a pool of spirits and you’ll be free but don’t let them catch you because they eat flesh. So they went right, left, right, left and left and they saw the pool. It was darker than night and thicker than tar and in the middle, the spirits swirled round and round, screaming and screeching. They both didn’t want to go over, but on the other side was the exit.

The man said “I’ll throw something in one side and you jump over the other side.” The man hurled a stone at one side and the boy jumped the other end, then the boy threw a stone and the man jumped. Swiping hands went after him, but he made it. They went out to the car, and the tower collapsed, with screams and screeches coming from the dust. They were happy to be out, but overjoyed to see the two girls alive. They went on holiday to Lancashire and lived happily ever after.

THE END