by Colette

The Sound of Silence

Written by Doishy

alien_wallpaper

But music? Who knows. Image // 20th Century Fox

They say in space it is silent. In space, no one can hear you scream. The latter part is correct but for a different reason. 

In space, all you can hear….is the music. 

My alarm shudders into dance next to my light control, and I slowly ease into a painful wakefulness. The auto injector immediately stabs into my arm, shooting stimulants through my blood steam, and kicks in roughly after thirty seconds. My time of wakefulness has begun. 

I drag myself out of bed, unhooking the auto injector restraint, and prepare to shower, get suited up and head to the mess, where I grab some sort of high protein, semi-decent snack. Forced into this dismal and annoyingly depressing routine, I pick up my bag of toys and head to my booth. 

In our little station there are six of us here on rotating shifts. It’s mostly self-sufficient, only requiring the occasional order of new parts – though if we get a break (which is never) then we’d be grabbed and deposited in another room for our time off, fashioned after those arcade crane games. Each of us has our own booths set up adjacent to each other. You can see the two people either side of you and they form a strange hexagon as they face one another. 

“I left you something slow on. Seems I got nothing, but for you it’s looking like a harsh one.” I nod in thanks. Something slow means a long song, ambient and calming so plenty of time for me to set up my gear. 

“Later.” I mumble back and head into my booth.

My little world of organised clutter greets me. The trinkets on my desk are all neatly arranged in no particular order and my monitors, five in total, slowly hum to life as if they sensed me. I boot up fully and dump my gear, then sit on my swivel throne and don headphones. Checking the primary channel, I hear a crackling and, peering in through the window on my left, the monitor shows me the time I have left.  Continue reading →

by Colette

Corporate Hero

Superman_comic

A symbol of hope or corporate greed? Image // DC Comics

Written by Silver

Twentieth-century alien icon,
thrown into our atmosphere of human complexities.

He stands for truth and justice, the ‘American way’.
Purposefully picking primary colours
to portray poignancy and His immensity.
Siegal and Shuster: cartoonists’ imaginations 
sketching their vision of a mythological entity
flying endlessly through the night.
Childhood’s saving grace, an idol
in a world of atrocities.
Sparking adoration in their eyes,
they jump faith-filled from their beds in joy.

They fall.
The age of A&E shepherding adulthood.

Lurking behind His cloak
is a world of monstrous corporate greed.
His comic book face and signature ‘S’
pressed onto mugs, cards, lunch boxes and journals 
in the ‘household’ section of amazon.co.uk.
The Lex Luthor syndrome seeping
into the minds of adults,
with His sign following endorsement trends; 
the costume of commodity fetishism.

This man of steel,
this God in children’s eyes.
Once the epitome of righteousness,
now the commercialised sell-out.
We are damned to disillusionment.
Inundated with prayers He sits
in His ‘Fortress of Solitude’, 
contemplating martyrdom 
but until secularisation of our materialism
He cannot save us from
our sinful corporate hunger.

Silver’s poem ‘Corporate Hero’ was written as part of an assignment at university, and is now considered as an older piece of her work. Despite her adoration for superheroes, Superman in particular, she aims to show how consumerism bubbles into our society – and what once was a symbol of hope for some, quickly turns into a commodity for the people. A political science fiction piece to shake our content up a bit. If you enjoyed this poem, make sure you sit down with a coffee and take a look at ‘Fudge‘. 

by Colette

A Wonderful Thing – An Alexander Short

Written by Dice

chocolate_mug_slogan

Time travel can only be a good thing when stocking up on the good stuff. Image // flickriver.com

“What have you got there?” Alexander asked Jennifer.

“Just a chocolate bar,” she answered.

“No one told me there was chocolate,” chirped Alexander.

“I wouldn’t get too excited,” warned Jennifer. “There aren’t any left – this was the last one.”

Alexander looked like he was going to complain, but was struck with a recollection; “I thought you were going on a diet.”

“Starts tomorrow,” replied Jennifer simply as she ripped open the wrapper.

Alexander moaned and stomped out of the room. Moments later he was back, clutching something to his chest like a prized possession.

“What have you got there?” Jennifer asked Alexander.

“Oh, just a chocolate bar.” He answered.

“I saw those earlier, are there any left?”

“Afraid not, this was the last one, sorry.”

“Oh. Well, never mind, I’m supposed to be starting my diet tomorrow anyway…” mumbled Jennifer.

Alexander just nodded before sitting down, taking a large bite of chocolate.

“On a completely separate note,” started Alexander with a mouth full of chocolate. “Time travel is a wondrous thing, don’t you think so?”

Dice’s Alexander shorts are fast becoming a staple to his Half Hour Challenge entries, but we just can’t get enough of them. Completed under the theme of chocolate, Alexander has been devilishly sneaky with time travelling – not that we would normally recommend it under such selfish circumstances, mind. But it makes such an amusing story that we don’t care if Alexander accidentally changes the course of time. If you enjoyed Dice’s Alexander shorts, make sure you check out  ‘This One! An Alexander Short‘. 

by Colette

Monthly Editorial: May’s Star Wars-Inspired Science Fiction Special

star_wars_meme

Because who doesn’t love a good Star Wars meets Star Trek meets HP meme?

Hey Inkblotters!

May welcomes not one, but two great Bank Holiday weekends to enjoy, and what better way to shirk off the downright depressing news of late by spending it outside – whether that’s a pub lunch with cider, beer, cocktails and wine, or maybe heading down to a community craft fair at your local park. But the one thing we hate, and it’s prevalent, is the feeling that Tuesday is the new Monday. “Oh woe is me”, says the office worker, while the pub/bar/retail worker grins and spends their Tuesday off watching a Breaking Bad marathon. However, for those who like to wind down and read, we’ve got some fantastic content planned for this month.

In honour of a new Star Wars cast and a return to the movies, we have our very own sci-fi theme planned, entitled: May the Force Be With You: A Science Fiction Special. Although we’ve not got anything planned for the 4th – I know, I’m very sorry, guys – we do have a wonderful Alexander short from Dice coming up on the 5th. Next, we’ll (laser)beam you straight into space with Doishy’s “The Sound of Silence” on the 12th, where no one can hear you scream. And on the 16th, new contributor Nonexistent Rose shows us the true meaning of ‘seeing is believing’. As usual, we’ve got a mix of poetry, HHCs and short fiction for all your science fiction needs.

Seen as we’re close to the summer holidays, many families are gearing up to jet off for their lazy two weeks abroad with the kids. However, some of us like to avoid the expensive time of the year and head off on our break a little early. May’s HHC is aptly named, Taking Flight, and we’re hoping to see some interesting and diverse entries for this one.

So until next month, enjoy the content and the Bank Holidays!

– Silver, Inkblots Editor

by marleylilith

The Start of Something Beautiful

Written by Ricardo

Having a quiet night in? Pizza makes it all better.

Having a quiet night in? Pizza makes it all better.

The light which illuminated Grace’s front room was not the kind she was accustomed to. At this time (which was 21:03 on a Saturday night for anybody out of the know) Grace would usually have just landed on the sofa after spending exactly twenty-four minutes soaking in the bathtub and then dressing in her Marvel pyjamas; the television would be on Channel Four and she would begin watching her shows three minutes late.

But this time was different. Instead of the kit-cat clock which hung on her cream walls striking 21:03, its unblinking, unreal eyes gazing around the room as if afraid that she wouldn’t turn up one day and leave it with only its own incessant ticking for company, the clock showed 21:00 when Grace’s backside hit the sofa. This time, it wasn’t shielded from the eyes of her kit-cat clock with her usual Marvel pyjamas. Today she wore a Batman onesie. And to complete the utter anarchy which was her life in these few desperate moments, the light which illuminated her front room was the glow of the moon instead of her television.

And so Grace sat upon the sofa, alone except for her kit-cat clock, which for the moment she decided to called Terry, and looked around herself. And she noticed that by the light of the moon, everything was in fact a lot darker. And at 21:03 she turned the television on, and the light of a floating number four joined the moonlight in its game of showing Grace the darkest corners of her own front room. And she began to cry. Continue reading →

by marleylilith

Life, Through a Shot Glass

Written by Bobartles

They're sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it's better than drinking alone.

They’re sharing a drink they call loneliness, but it’s better than drinking alone.

If whiskey ran inside our veins,
and burned away our past,
then maybe we could break these chains
and free ourselves at last.

We’d talk about the good times,
of the way things used to go.
We’d lock our hands in darkened rooms,
and no-one else would know.

With no bad blood to hold us back,
we’d build our lives anew.
In happy times or hardship,
those fires would see us through.

Though silence leaves its bitter stains;
uncertainty and fear,
if whiskey ran inside our veins,
then maybe

you’d

be

here?

Written while the poet was severely sleep-deprived, Life Through a Shot Glass is Bobartles’ way of  looking back on his drunken decisions, good and bad. If you enjoyed this poem please check out Harplands, another beautiful but sad poem from the same pen.

by Colette

Video

Written by Elanor Rose

future_cityscape

What will the future bring? Image // Telegraph

And there, in the midst of it all,

in the palm of my hand,

in among the creases and folds,

(where once I had my fortune told)

was a video. And it flashed red, green.

And it showed me a world,

it showed me a place I had not yet seen

(both unfamiliar and exotic it seemed)

but before long it faded to black

and showed me myself.

 

But I seemed so still and pale.

I thought of turning and twisting,

of staying silent, burning all bridges,

until there were no known fords.

That was not my way.

 

I set the video down dead

and gazed closer at the

head – heart – life

and embraced the fears

once forged by fair hand

and traced them all round until

my index became still

and I had found an end.

 Elanor’s wonderful poem, Video, was written as a reflection on our society’s relationship with technology, with an intense obsession of the future and what we will find, develop and create. Oddly, her inspiration for this particular piece was sitting down to trace the lines of her hand – this was such a simple pleasure, we couldn’t help but choose it in our selection for this month. If you liked Elanor’s writing, make sure you check out her lovely poem, Sheffield Steel. 

by Colette

Closure

Written by Lost in a Dream

summer_walk

It’s hard to leave the past behind entirely. Image // Carol Lin

Rose walked away from the high-rise buildings of Tetropolis, towards the fringe of the city. Her bag was heavy and the still, summer heat was particularly overbearing, so the journey took much longer than usual. While it would have been quicker for her to get a cab, she knew that the walk would give her a sense of closure. 

She paused to take a couple of pictures of her favourite places. She laughed at herself for being so damn sentimental. But there was no going back to Tetropolis after all that had happened. 

As she approached the edge of town, Rose found herself pausing outside her first flat. It seemed a lifetime ago. The owner of the grocery store on the other side of the street was sitting in a fold-up chair outside, reading a newspaper, and listening to a tinny radio. She recognised the song playing and it caught her almost by surprise. While she couldn’t remember the lyrics, she knew the rhythm straight away and it took her back to those early days. 

In a moment of nostalgia, she recalled the heavy, black notebook in her bag. The book was never really out of her thoughts, but she tried to push it to the back of her mind. She knew that she should have destroyed it with the other stuff, that’s what Felix said, but when she held the lighter up to the thick cream pages, she couldn’t do it. 

Knowing that she couldn’t take the book with her, Rose resolved to dump it in the next bin. Although she had written the book, she had never read through it. Would those happy, opening pages be laced with irony? Would she herself change through the pages? 

Sitting down at a disused bus stop, she pulled the book out of her bag and decided to give it a read before throwing it away. 

Lost in a Dream’s Closure was written in response to our November Half Hour Challenge theme, Book of Secrets. This short snapshot of Rose’s life leaves us hungry for more. What was in her past that she’s so desperate to throw away? But also, how is it that she cannot part with it? If you’re a diary or journal writer, would you find it sickening to throw your past away like Rose? Maybe it’s the pull of nostalgia that makes this HHC such a simple pleasure. If you liked Lost in a Dream’s writing, make sure you check out some of her poetry as well, such as ‘Parnassus Park‘ and ‘Time Was Standing Still‘.

by Colette

Only A Smile

Written by Dice

comic_strip_commute

Such a fleeting moment. Image Courtesy of themetapicture.com

Part 1

Sitting there she was unassuming, but when she smiles you understood why someone thinks she is the most beautiful woman who ever lived.

That someone sat opposite her on the train. He usually found himself on the same carriage as her during the commute to and from work. If he was honest, he often made sure he was on the same carriage. He wondered if she noticed, she’d probably think he was a “weirdo” if she did. Today he had been luckier and she had come onto the train after him. He had wondered where she was, she had almost missed the train.

The man often battled with himself over whether he should say something, but no one ever talks to strangers on the train, she would surely think him weird. Would she even answer him? She’d probably just give a curt reply and return to her book. What if he mentioned the book? He read it himself and really enjoyed it. But wait, what if she wasn’t enjoying it, maybe she’d think he was a geek for reading it.

Just say something, say “hi”. What if she doesn’t answer? What if she doesn’t like him? She’s probably wondering who he is and why he’s glancing fervently. There was no point in talking to her. But what if she did like him? But what if she doesn’t, was it worth the risk? Just say “hi”, just say “hi”.

She probably doesn’t like me.
Coward.

Part 2

He glanced again. He looked a little serious, but when he smiled he was cute. Did he smile because he liked her? Don’t be silly, he was just being polite.

He’d probably think she was a creep or something if he knew she had chosen this carriage because he was on it. She’d done it a few times before, that’s creepy isn’t it? Maybe that’s why he was glancing. It couldn’t be because he liked her too, could it? He would have said something. Maybe he’s shy. But not even a “hi”. He didn’t like her. What if she said something? Is it odd for the girl to say something? Does she look “easy” if she does? He probably didn’t think the same as her. Even if he replied, he’d probably take what he wants then move on. If he wasn’t interested, it would make the journey to work awkward, she’d have to avoid the carriage he was on.

Just say “hi”. What’s the worst that could happen? She could be embarrassed, she could embarrass him. There was no point in talking to him. But what if he did like her, he doesn’t. But what if he doesn’t, was it worth the risk? Just say “hi”, just say “hi”.

He probably doesn’t like me.
Coward.

Dice’s flash fiction was written on behalf of the HHC theme for February – unfortunately, he missed out on the love-themed month, but we’ve managed to pop this piece into our Simple Pleasures theme for April. A fleeting glance with a good-looking stranger on a train, bus, or plane has happened so many times, it’s hard to count on one hand. But what happens when you pluck up the courage and strike up a conversation with them? They could be the partner of your dreams. We’re hoping for a part 3! If you like Dice’s writing, why not check out some of his other work, including ‘Keep Smiling Through‘ and ‘The Writer’s Block‘.

 

by Colette

An Address to the Coconut

Written by Eruantien

coconut_face

Hello…Steve? Wilson? Coco Chanel? Image Courtesy of Genna Marie

So grand is tha’ noble face,
Mighty Baron of the nut race.
There’s nothin’ canst thou not adorn,
and yet be held highest in scorn.

Tha’ makes many a pud so great,
by off’rin’ tha’sen to the steel grate.
Tha milk shall break my fast ‘ere honeydew,
the milk of Paradise shall satisfy but few.

No man, be he Welsh, Cockney or Irish,
shall for tha take o’er much in his tin dish;
for thee, my Portobello belle
I have but one hell,

A swift chop
on the chopping block.

Eruantien specialises in traditional poetry with a light-hearted vibe, and that’s why we love his short poem about a poor coconut. Inspired by a certain fellow named Steve the Coconut – who really was a coconut – while visiting South America, Eru produced this piece on a simple whim. The time spent on it was sparse, but then so is thinking about a coconut. He also suggests he could have been hallucinating while on anti-malaria tablets, whether you believe it or not, we hope you enjoyed the poem! And while you’re here, check out Eruantien’s poem The Tarwarkelion, which tells the tale of Ankou, the Legend of Death.