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 |  All the GoT stuff, 2024. |
| Apparently this is going to be a load of writing of various types - stories, poems, reviews and, no doubt, just about anything else you can think of. I'll probably update this when I know more. |
| Ollie and Betty The town was too close to the sea. Every day, bits of the cliff crumbled and slipped down the slope into the waves beating on the shore below. This erosion had reached the houses now and the townsfolk watched as, one after another, their homes were nibbled at, then broken, and eventually dragged down into the abyss. Sometimes larger pieces of the land broke away and tumbled down, leaving new gaps and creating minor promontories in the shoreline below. On two occasions, houses disappeared overnight, riding the land on which they were built and then smashed to pieces when they crashed into the sea. Oliver and Betty Mansfield’s house went like that. This was different, however. The couple were still in the house when it went. Waking in the dark as the house trembled and shook with the crumbling of the land, they tumbled out of bed, aware now of what was happening, but thrown about the room as the shaking became worse. And then they could feel themselves falling, sailing downward with the house still in one piece, surfboarding the chunk of earth on which it stood. They used those last few moments of comparative peace to reach across to each other and hold hands. “You alright, Betty? We need to stick together if we’re to survive this.” And Betty had answered, “I’ll never leave you, Ollie,” as she tightened her grip. Then the world disintegrated into a chaos of flying furniture, splintered beams, and screaming noise. Oliver and Betty, still holding hands, were thrown across the room and out of a vast gap that had appeared in what had once been a wall. Then they were out in the dark, tumbling through the air and colliding with earth, timber, rocks and spray, until dumped like garbage into the ocean. They were pulled this way and that as the waves fought each other to get at the ruins of the house. A board crashed into Betty and, instinctively, she grabbed at it and held on. Oliver still held her hand and worked his way round until he too could grasp the board. Together they were pulled out to sea by the tide, only their floating piece of wood keeping them from going under. This far out at sea the waves were less fierce and they were able to take stock of the situation. The night sky gave enough light to see that the coastline was gradually becoming less distinct as they drifted away. They were being pulled southward by the same current that nibbled so ceaselessly at the cliff they had called their home. And, in the gloom, they could make out a larger piece of their house riding the waves with them and getting ever closer. It was a great slab of wooden boards still held together with cross beams, ragged at the edges as if a huge bite had been taken out of the meal that the ocean had eaten. When it was close enough, they clambered on, grateful to be out of the water at last. They lay there, exhausted and cold, hugging each other for protection and warmth, as the remains of their house carried therm farther and farther away from the only home they had ever known. In the morning they found themselves in a world composed only of sea and sky; the land was nowhere to be seen. They were cold but the sun was warming them gradually and the waves, gentler now, did no more than lap at the ragged edges of their raft. They were two pilgrims alone in an unknown seascape, afloat in the hands of fate. A fate that could have been so much worse, as acknowledged by Oliver when he turned to Betty and said, “Eh lass, reckon we’ve been pretty lucky after all that. As long as we’re still alive and got each other.” “And look at it this way, Ollie. You always wanted to go to sea and it looks like you’ve had your wish granted after all these years. Makes me wish I’d allowed it when we were young.” “Well, they say the fishing’s gone up spout these days, so you weren’t wrong and all.” “Which reminds me,” said Betty, looking all around at the endless sea, “I don’t know what we’ll have for breakfast.. A kipper would have been right welcome but I don’t think we’re going to run into one of them.” But Oliver was staring away to the west. “Hullo,” he said. “I think I can see something coming. A ship or summat.” She turned to look. “Eh, Ollie, you’re right.” And then, as the minutes ticked by and the shape became clearer, “But it’s a boat, not a ship.” “What’s the difference?” “One’s bigger than t’other.” “No, lass, I mean it don’t make no difference. I know a ship’s bigger than a boat. But it’s rescue, Betty. We’re saved!” And he was right. It was a coast guard launch on its rounds and it picked them up and brought them in to shore. There was a great fuss made when the news of their survival was made known and for a few days their story was in every newspaper. They were interviewed for the telly, oops sorry, television (Ollie and Betty’s accent getting to me), and Betty especially charmed everyone with her bright smile and cheery outlook. In time they became known internationally, were noted guests on many shows and had so many donations given for their new housing fund that they never even needed a mortgage. And Betty summed up their new life with the immortal words: “Ee, Ollie, I always did say you were the luckiest man alive. After all, you’ve got me, ain’t you?” House Martell Word count: 957 For "Game of Thrones"  The North Remembers, Mirror Mirror Task 11Prompt: Set your story in a town that’s teetering on the edge of something dark. |
| Seven Years It was a normal morning and Jack Diogenes was looking at himself in the mirror. His stubbled face peered back at him, equally bleary-eyed and reluctant to go through the motions of shaving. There was no getting away from it, however, it would have to be done. All the beards he’d grown before had been scratchy, irritating and short lived. “Nope, no chance of that,” he said to himself. “I say do it,” said the man in the mirror. Jack halted in mid movement. He had been about to turn away and get the razor but the thought left his mind and did not return for several days. His gaze flicked back to the mirror. “What did you say?” His reflection’s lips moved again. “You heard me. Let the beard grow.” “This is crazy,” said Jack. “For a moment there, I thought the mirror spoke to me.” “Wasn’t the mirror, dumbass. It was me.” Jack’s mind cut in at this point. ‘You must be dreaming. Play along, it might be fun.’ “And you’re the man in the mirror? Another me, in other words?” “Yeah, that’s the basic idea. ‘Cept we’re opposites. Like my left is your right and so on. So you might think I look like you but, really, that’s only because I’m the me you always see. The truth is, everyone else thinks I look like you but different somehow. They’re seeing that there’s something different about us but they can’t put their fingers on it.” Jack yawned before saying, “Okay, I get it. So you’re my reflection and we’re subtly different. What’s your name in that case?” “Same as yours but the other way round. Call me Cadge.” Jack laughed. “So this is all because you want to borrow a buck?” His reflection frowned back at him. “Jeez, you really are a dumbass. S’pose it figures since we’re opposites. It’s Jack backwards, that’s all. Do I have to explain everything to you?” “And unlike me, you have no sense of humour. There’s something in this opposites business.” Cadge made a face expressive of his frustration, eyes closed and lips screwed tight together. He muttered something under his breath and then continued, “Look, enough of this crap. You’ve got to help me get out of here.” “And why would I do that? This is only a dream, after all.” “It’s not a dream. Help me for old times sake. We’ve known each other all our lives and you owe it to me, popping up whenever you wanted to see yourself. It’s been exhausting and I want to live for myself for a change. Plus I’m going to catch hell for breaking the rules. It’s the prime directive never to let your world see what’s really going on. But I wanted to get out of here, it’s just awful, everything nice where you are is horrible over here and I’m never free to do as I please. You gotta help me or I’m in seriously deep doo-doo. And you know what they say, God helps those who help themselves. I’m yourself, so now’s your chance.” “Okay, okay, calm down. How do I do that, anyway?” “Break the mirror while I’m in it. You’ll have to get a hammer or something, make sure you can see me in the mirror, then break it. After that I’ll do what’s necessary.” “Just a minute. That’s seven years bad luck where I come from.” “That’s idiot superstition. Go find a hammer. Come on, Jack, get moving. I’m running out of time here.” “Alright I’m going. Don’t move until I get back.” Jack turned to leave the bathroom. As he left, he heard the mirror say, “Oh har de har har, always the joker.” Jack went straight to the oddments drawer and dug around in it for a few seconds. He found the hammer and returned to the bathroom. Going straight to the mirror, he looked in. Cadge peered back at him. “Still here, are you?” asked Jack. “Very funny,” replied Cadge. “Did you find a hammer?” Jack showed it to the mirror. “Okay, then. Keep me where you can still see me and smash the mirror. Make sure you hit hard enough.” Jack moved back a bit, making sure that Cadge remained in the frame, then aimed a mighty blow at the mirror. There was a loud crash as the mirror shattered and the air was filled with flying shards. Jack pulled back sharply to avoid them. He tripped over the edge of the bath and fell backwards into it, cracking his head on the tiled wall as he did so. For a moment he saw stars and everything went dark. When he awoke, he was folded into the bath and a man was standing over him. It was Cadge. “You alright?” the reflected man asked. “I think so,” repled Jack rubbing the back of his head. “Give us a hand to get out of here - I can’t move at the moment.” “Fat chance,” responded Cadge. “I’m outa here. Gotta see my nice, new world out there.” “Mighty neighbourly of you, I must say. I’d do it for you.” “Ah, there’s the rub, Jack. Opposites, you see. Nice you, nasty me. Have a nice life.” He waved a sardonic hand and turned to go. Then a thought struck him and he said over his shoulder. “By the way, I lied about the seven years bad luck. I guess yours has already started.” And with that, he was gone. House Martell Word count: 915 For "Game of Thrones" The North Remembers, Mirror Mirror Task 1Prompt: "Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who's the ________ of them all?" |
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