BOO!

 
Even in the rainy darkness of freezing January, Gavin took his evening walk round the lake. The water was grey and the ducks asleep, but the geese were still lurking. Gavin was wondering how to get out of fulfilling the investment that idiot in media relations had agreed. It would see the lake cleared of the algae that had been polluting it, but where was the profit in that? The bank was already popular, it didn’t need to be jumping on the local green issues band wagon.
As usual half way round, Gavin’s colleague Jeremy jogged past. This time, he didn’t greet him, because pursuing him with wide flapping wings was a big white goose.
‘Leave me alone!’ Jeremy was shouting, ‘I’m on your side! I’m a vegan!’
Gavin chuckled, typical Jeremy; too woke to say boo to a goose. He reached the loneliest part of his walk, where the trees closed in and there was a steep bank between path and road. The darkness was nearly at night level, Gavin noticed with irritation that the street lamps hadn’t come on. He thought in the distance he heard a blood curdling scream, but couldn’t be sure, it was muffled somehow. He turned to look and saw a big white goose standing in the path behind him. Gavin frowned and carried on his walk, picking up the pace. The goose followed, wings at a wide angle, neck stretched out, beak open, a touch of swaggering menace in its gait. Another goose joined it and another, their webbed feet slapping on the concrete path. Gavin turned again and the geese stopped, eyeing him malignantly. Gavin told himself not to be silly. OK, he’d seen one chasing Jeremy, but Jeremy had always been a wimp. He walked on, into the dark, the rain pouring down. There was a noise behind him, growing steadily louder, slap, slap, slap, the sound of webbed feet hitting tarmac. He whirled round, there was a huge flock of geese behind him now, the big white one at the front, its head snaking forward.
‘Shoo!’ he said angrily, ‘go away!’
The geese didn’t move, instead the white one opened its beak and hissed.
‘Boo!’ shouted Gavin, flapping his arms and running at them. He stopped suddenly, aware that he had dashed into their midst. He turned back, but a row of beaked heads blocked him. The first peck hit him in the ribs like a punch, then something flew into his back, knocking him forwards, his feet slipped on the wet ground and he pitched forwards on his hands. Honking with triumph the geese rushed in on him, their hungry beaks tearing at his flesh, their feathers muffling his screams.
Later, when darkness had fallen completely and the gates to the park had been locked, the geese dragged what was left of Gavin’s body along the path. They left him and Jeremy’s bodies together, underneath a sign that said; ‘Park Lake will be closed temporarily due to an algae infection. You are advised not to feed the geese.’

THE KING

The King looked down upon his magnificent court room where everything glittered; all was well.  His servants, the Trusted Ones had come to pay tribute.

Beside him the queen looked sympathetically at the huddle of worried looking royal advisors clustered in the shabby throne room which was in need of repainting.

“What news?” asked the King, without awaiting a response, “admire my new crown.  It came from Arcadious, the finest designer in the land!”

“Your Majesty, Lord Lucious and his armies are breaching our defences,” ventured the chief Trusted One.

“And my new steed is in the stables,” continued the King, “supplied by the Stud of Raahh, it will neither shed fur nor fart methane.”

“I’m afraid the stables are on fire,” pointed out the head Trusted One, “Lord Lucious is nearly upon us.”

“My darling,” said the queen, “pray ye take heed to your trusted man.”

The King waved his hand at the Trusted Ones; “Leave us!”

They gave him simpering smiles and withdrew.

The queen watched the Trusted Ones depart, shaking their heads and muttering.  The King then turned, his face inches from hers, his eyes darkening; “How dare you tell me what to do, woman!   You make me look weak!”

“Your Majesty, the Trusted Ones seek to point out that while you’ve been having crowns made for you by the most expensive designer you can find; and having an environmentally friendly horse found at great cost, your people have been starving.  For you have spent all the coin in the budget and they have called upon Lord Lucious to ...”

“Silence!” roared the King, “do not correct me, it is not your place.  You are here to smile and wave.”

“But your Majesty, Lord Lucious …”

“Enough!” the King took the queen by her arm and dragged her to her feet, he pulled her across the throne room to the door outside which the Trusted Ones waited and pushed her out among them.  They smiled at him approvingly.

The queen saw the looks of horrified sympathy on the faces of the Trusted Ones and was humiliated.  She could hear the roar of battle outside the walls, how could the King not perceive it?  She rushed to the tower to join the royal children.

“Come my darlings, we must go to the crypt where we will find tunnels which will allow us to escape, for Lord Lucious’ forces are imminent.”

“Daddy says Lord Lucious is his best friend,” princess Aurelia stated.

“Yes, Mummy, Lord Lucious would never invade, he’s fearful of father’s might,” prince Peter added.

“Silly Mummy!” giggled little prince John.

A cannonball slammed into the tower, causing it to shake, the children continued to play while the queen wondered what to do.

In the throne room, the King proudly showed the Trusted Ones his plans to expand his Kingdom.

“But your Majesty, you don’t own those lands anymore, you sold them to pay for fine tunics from Arcadious.  How do you think you’re going to be able to annex the lands next to them?” the chief advisor asked.

“Put him to death, he gives me a headache,” the King ordered his guards.

“Your Majesty, I cannot, the courtyard is over-run by enemy forces, look out the window,” the guard urged, face pale with fear.

“No, no, no,” the King responded, “I’m not going to be taken in by one of your jokes.”

The throne room door broke open and there stood Sir Lucious in all his fearful glory, surrounded by his men.

“Mercy!” cried the Kings’ guards and flung down their swords.

“Mercy!” cried the Trusted Ones and fell to their knees.

“Lucious, dear fellow!” the King greeted.

“I’ve come to take your Kingdom,” Lucious said, “here are the heads of your children and your queen who died bravely defending them.”  He emptied a bag and the severed heads rolled to the foot of the throne, “you have no lands, no offspring, your guards have surrendered and your people embrace me as liberator …”

The King waved his hand imperiously; “Well, you have made a bit of a start on negotiations.  I suppose I can offer you 30 per cent of my lands.”

THOSE PEOPLE

Amy turned the air conditioning up in her brand new SUV, she checked the children were belted in and drove home through the summer heat.  On the motorway the traffic was crawling and warning signs showed that there were people on the carriage way.
“What’s happening Mummy?” demanded Aurora.
“Just a traffic jam,” Amy could see ahead.  People were walking along the hard shoulder with the traffic crawling past them.  They were painfully thin and unwashed, their clothes ragged, they carried what looked like the last of their possessions on their shoulders.
“Aurora, Elliot, don’t look out of the window darlings,” Amy ordered, “just play on your Ipads, we’ll soon be home.”
Aurora obeyed, but Elliot took a tentative peek.  His eyes met with those of a child his age, she looked frightened and hungry, her hair was matted, her dress torn.
“Mummy, who are those people?” he demanded in a tone he’d heard Daddy use.
“They’re nothing to do with us,” she replied, “we’re nearly passed them.”

At home, Amy left the children playing in the conservatory and turned on the news.

“Those people need our help.  They’re not here because they want to be, they’ve been forced to leave their homes and they’ve paid all of their money to come where it’s safe.”
Amy tutted and turned the channel over.  The front door slammed, James was home.  “Did you see those people?” Amy asked.
“Yeah, it’s getting bad isn’t it?” he replied putting down his laptop bag, “they said it wouldn’t be long before they came here.  Did the children see them?”
“I told them not to look, but Elliot didn’t do what he was told.”
James sighed; “We’ll put curtains on the back windows of the SUV, just for now, while the crisis is going on.”

 

Amy was glad about the curtains on the SUV the next day, the people were no longer on the motorway, but camped in the field opposite her house.  They could be seen from the garden.  After she took the children to school she called the Police.

“We’re doing what we can,” came the response, “give us time to process them.”
She went out into the garden and saw her neighbour coming up the path.
“Dreadful isn’t it?” Julie said, “our house prices are going to drop.  I wish the Police would do something about those people.”
The two women watched as two of the children in the field shared a tiny piece of bread between them, splitting it exactly in two.
“Is that gluten free?” wondered Amy.
“Irresponsible to give children bread and nothing else,” tutted Julie.
They felt unable to stay in the garden and despite the lovely weather went inside to drink tea.  When the children came back, Amy pulled all the curtains closed and told them they could not play outside.
“But Mum, the summer holidays have just started!” complained Elliot.
“It won’t be forever,” said Amy, “go and play in the conservatory.”  She had drawn all the electric blinds in the conservatory so the children couldn’t see out and neither could she or James.
James arrived home, his face was dark with anger; “One of those people jumped in front of my Audi and begged for food!” he exclaimed.
“That’s horrifying!  What did you do?” Amy cried.
“What could I do?  I swerved round her, nearly hit her, she could have been killed.”
“Those people  are crazy,” Amy said, “and they’re saying on the news that we should welcome them, it’s ludicrous!  Julie says house prices are going to be affected …”
“She’s right,” James said grimly, “I guess we’ll be stuck indoors all summer.”
“Mummy!” cried Elliot.
James and Amy ran into the conservatory.
“Someone tapped on the window!” cried Aurora, tears in her eyes.
James raised the electric blind a little; “They’re in the garden,” he said.
 Elliot gasped.  Outside they heard a chant growing in volume; “Help us, please help us!”
Amy went into the house and returned with three sets of headphones, she connected two pairs to the children’s Ipads and put them over their heads, she kept the third set for herself. “They can’t get in,” she said, “we’re safe in here.  Children, listen to music, Daddy’s going to call the Police again.”

PEDESTAL

“Wow!  Look at ‘er, up there!”

“She’s so beautiful!”
“I love her dress.”
“She’s perfect.”

Yes, smile and wave at them, try hard not to look like I’m about to fall off.  It’s so hard to keep my balance on this wretched thing and if I do ... well, it wobbled the other day; I slipped and only just managed to stay on my feet.  I must appear poised and regal and perfect to the crowd that’s always there.

The pedestal is shaking, people are gasping and pointing, but I can’t see what they’re looking at, it’s directly under me, I’m slipping this way and that.  Oh my God!  My heart is in my throat, finally I’m falling.  Oh it feels so free to fall, I love this part ...  Someone catches me and it’s almost disappointing.  However, here he is handsome, smiling and full of self confidence.

“You looked kind of sad all the way up there,” he said, “I wanted to see you close up.”
We walk together arm in arm, through the dispersing crowd.

The six months of bliss begin, when I can be truly myself.  I laugh at rude jokes, sometimes I even tell them.  I drink alcohol and smoke a cigarette or two.  My rescuer and I make love at night in satin sheets, the taste of champagne in our mouths.  I have never been happier.  Then one day a frown appears on his face; “You’re so perfect, I don’t deserve you.”

“Of course you do.”
We walk through the town that evening and my rescuer becomes all the more gloomy as I strut along the pavement, smiling at everyone, small children, women, other men.  They all smile back.
“Everyone looks at you!” he suddenly exclaimed, “and then they see me and think what the hell is she doing with that idiot!  I can’t bear it.  Come on!”  He is guiding me towards the park.
A horrible feeling of dread descends on me.  I stop smiling; “Please!” I beg him, “I can’t help being this way, but please don’t ...!”
The pedestal is rearing up before us in the dying light.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I love you, but you’re safer up there where no-one can touch you!”

 

Smile and wave at them – when I’ve jumped one of them has always caught me.  Try hard not to look like I’m about to fall off - a fall from the pedestal always ends with my return to it.  I must appear poised and regal and perfect to the crowd that’s always there.

 

SPARROWS

“What do you mean the system’s down?” yelled Roger Stamp, “the Market is about to go live and we’re for it if our client’s can’t trade!  I don’t care how you do it, Williams, I want it up and running in five minutes!” He slammed the phone down.

His PA put his head round the door; “Tea?”
“Not now, Stefan!”
Stefan retreated.
Roger scowled at the window, looking in as it pecked the lattice was a sparrow.  He smacked the glass and the bird flew away.
“Stefan,” he called.
“Yes, Mr Stamp.”
“Wretched sparrow looking in.  Call pest control, see to it they’re not nesting in the roof.”
“We’re in the country, Mr Stamp.”
“Yes, so I don’t have to pay you London allowance.  Do it now, will you?”
“Yes, Mr Stamp.”

Stefan returned to his desk to hear Mr Stamp yelling at Williams, toadying to City clients and harassing the sales team.  It seemed like a perpetual phone call because Mr Stamp didn’t do pleasantries like hellos and goodbyes.  Every now and then there was the sound of the window being thumped.  After the sixth time, Stefan was summoned through.

“Stefan, there were seven sparrows at the window.  Why haven’t pest control dealt with them?”
“Sparrows are protected, Mr Stamp.  Their numbers are falling.”  Stefan looked curiously at the diamond patterned window lattice, but he couldn’t see any birds.
“Don’t you doubt me, Stefan.  Those birds have been pecking the window, staring in and I don’t like the way they look at me.  What are you going to do about it?”
“Me, Mr Stamp?”
“Pest control won’t act and you’re my PA.  Are you too stupid to act on your own initiative?  Get through there and start researching poisons!”

At lunchtime, Roger Stamp left for the pub.  Stefan tried to work, but was distracted by a tapping noise coming from Mr Stamp’s office.  He put his headphones on.  Later, Mr Stamp returned, face flushed from drink.

“The system’s down again,” reported Stefan quietly.
“I’m going to enjoy this,” Mr Stamp replied and entered his office.
Stefan heard the phone call, Mr Stamp told Williams he’d been a fool to hire her, women and computers didn’t mix.  He’d see to it she never worked in the industry again.  In the middle of the call was another thump on glass; “Stop staring!”  Then the icing on the cake for Williams - she would be sued for incompetence.
The phone call ended abruptly, then another thumping sound and Mr Stamp shouting; “Right!  If my incompetent PA can’t deal with it, I will!”
Stefan would have assisted, but his phone rang, it was a client.  “I’m sorry, but Mr Stamp is busy ... technical support are working on the system ... I understand your frustration ... OK, I’ll try and put you through.”
Mr Stamp didn’t answer.  Alarmed, Stefan placated the client and went into his office.  It was empty, he rushed to the open window.  The body of Roger Stamp lay surrounded by staff, on the patio two floors below, blood seeping from his head.
“Did you see what happened?” the security officer asked, looking up at Stefan.
“I think Mr Stamp has been under a lot of pressure,” Stefan replied.
“I’ll call the emergency services, but he’s a goner I’m afraid.  ‘Ere, he’s got something in his hand; a bird feather.”

Stefan closed the window and turned to call the client with the news.  The soft sound of fluttering caused him to turn; a sparrow clung to the window lattice and peered in at him with hard, bright eyes.

WAR CRIMES

Serena arrived at the party, step light, carefree and effervescent.  The eyes of men followed her and her stories caused laughter.  I stood in her shadow as she discussed art, academia and politics; I was trying to forget the danger.
Our mother touched my arm; “Amelia, check outside will you?”
I slipped out the back door and swore.  Birdsong had stopped, I could see the dark clouds rushing in and great black shadows falling across the summer garden.  One by one the fairy lights went out and the air turned icy.

I rushed indoors, but it was too late.  The band ceased, the dancing stopped and people fell silent.  The Occupiers were among us.  Their Leader pounced on the bar, sticking his head into the punch bowl, slurping up the liquid and spilling the rest, another smashed the buffet table over with his tail and the last trod birthday cake into the carpet with his paws.  The Leader raised his head; his red eyes had fallen on Serena.  She faced him in her white party dress, the polite smile a mask to hide her anger.  I reached her before he did and ushered her into the bathroom.  I helped her out of the dress and into sack-cloth, I daubed ashes on her face and tied her long hair back.

“It’s not your fault,” I repeated.
“But it is,” she said, a grey drab thing now, fit for the Leader’s eyes.
In he stalked, sneering at us; “Did you think I’d miss the party?  Was there talk of rebellion?  Are they taking my Serena away?”
“They wouldn’t dare,” she replied boldly.
“They couldn’t!” I added hastily, “Serena will never leave you.”
The Leader looked at me suspiciously; “Bring her to the Adjustment Room,” he ordered and returned to the bar to stick his head into the basin of wine that had no doubt been poured for him, in the hope it would improve his mood.
“Amelia, please try and persuade him to come with us now,” Serena begged, “do not let him drink!”
My efforts were rejected with vicious irritation.  He was with the other Occupiers and they were surrounded by an ingratiating crowd of reassurers.  He wanted to hear them.  Serena and I walked alone down the dark lane; at the end was the rusty railway line from older days.  On it was the disused carriage – the Adjustment Room.  We waited in the freezing night air until we heard him shambling along the lane towards us, then Serena went inside.

 

I sat outside listening to his raised voice, her placations and her cries.  I remembered the time before the Terrible Change when we had all been friends, before the sickness that had swept across the land and made them strong and us weak.  I thought of the innocence of our family celebration, about how the contrast between then and what Serena was going through now could break her mind.  I cried the tears of a collaborator.  I had to take my sister to him, she was the price we paid for food, wine and protection.

 

Eventually he crawled out, looking almost human – for he had been human once; “I hate this war,” he said, “I liked seeing her as she used to be, but I couldn’t ... I couldn’t allow it.”  He lay down to sleep beside the rusty rail.  I could hear Serena sobbing.  He didn’t stop me when I slipped past him to enter the Adjustment Room.  I lay next to Serena and held her tightly; “Each visit and I diminish more,” she whispered, but we did not discuss it.  We never thought, never questioned; we did what was necessary.