She didn’t see anyone all day, and that was how she liked it.
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Notes:
1. Written on May 15th, 2024
__________Author: dng
Tales From The Town #157: A Postcard From The Depths Of Space
The Picture On The Postcard
A sea of stars, and in the middle a tiny little spaceship all alone out there in the vast infinities of space
The Writing On The Postcard
Out here in space sleep forms 99% of your life.
The sleep of boredom and tiredness
of stasis
and time dilation
Endless sleep
without even the solace of dreams
The Reaction To The Postcard
“That postcard came from space!” said Daniel. “That is so cool.”
“I don’t think it actually came from space, Daniel,” Tina said.
“But imagine if it did!”
“I think it just came from wherever all these other postcards keep coming from,” Tina said, as she held up the other ones they’d received on and off for a few weeks now, about things like mysterious towers, abandoned shops, cats, castles, forests, days.
“Maybe they also came from space,” Daniel said hopefully.
“Nothing came from space, Daniel,” Ethel said. “Not unless Nanny sent us some liquorice from the moon again.”
“Well they must be coming from somewhere,” Daniel said, thinking as hard as he could. “And… from someone!”
“Very cleverly deduced, Daniel,” said Tina.
“But I wonder who they’re from…” Daniel pondered, ponderously.
(“They’re from Dad, aren’t they?” Ethel said, quietly. “Definitely Dad,” Tina said even more quietly somehow.)
“I suppose we’ll never know,” Daniel finally concluded. “It’s a mystery.” He looked at the latest postcard again one last time (definitely his favourite postcard). “A space mystery!”
“Dad’s dead,” Claire said, stomping into the room from wherever it was in the house she’d been stomping about before. “And his postcards are all stupid.” She snatched them up out of everyone’s hands. “And I am ILL!” She threw them all on the floor and stamped on them. “And this is the worst week ever!”
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Notes:
1. The space poem was written on May 10th, 2024
2. And the rest was written on May 14th, 2024
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Int: The Kitchen (evening)
“Urgh,” said Claire. “I thought being off school on my own would be fun, but it wasn’t fun at all. It was awful!” She stamped her feet so hard to emphasise her point the water in the cat’s bowl rippled ominously. “Mum made Anna look after me because she was too tired and so I had to sit up there in Anna’s stupid room watching all these stupid films she watches at her stupid college for stupid students like stupid her! I’d have had more fun at school!”
“Anna’s not a student at college,” Ethel said. “She’s a postgrad at university.”
“I don’t know what any of that even means, Ethel,” said Claire. “You don’t even know what any of that even means. No one knows what any of that even means!”
“I know what it means,” said Tina.
“Yeah, well you would,” Claire said furiously, contemptuously, and also slightly contradictorally.
“I can’t believe you tricked Mum into letting you have the day off school, spent it watching films with Anna, and you’re still somehow angry about everything,” Tina said.
“I can,” Ethel said.
“You can’t,” said Claire, more out of habit than anything else. “And you’d be furious too if you’d had to watch that weird awful stupid nonsense with Anna. I mean, those films were so weird. So weird.”
“How weird?” asked Ethel. “Weird how?” asked Tina.
“There’s nothing wrong with being weird,” said Daniel, bouncing his hard boiled egg against the floor, up onto the wall, and back into his hand.
“There is,” Claire said. “This film was so weird it was made LAST CENTURY!”
“That’s not weird, Claire,” Tina said. “It’s just old.”
“It’s pretty weird if you think about it,” said Claire. “We weren’t even alive then! And Mum would only have been our age!”
“That’s still not weird,” Tina said.
“Nanny would have been Mum’s age,” Claire said.
“Claire, we know how time works,” Tina said. “Even Daniel does.”
“Yeah, so?” Claire said. “And it was in GERMAN!”
“That’s not weird, either, Claire,” Ethel said.
“It is!”
“It’s just… not,” Ethel said, shaking her head.
“And then it was just the same film over and over again!” Claire shouted. “Time kept repeating and this weird old german woman in this weird old german film just kept having to save herself over and over again! Why would you even watch that? What’s the point? Why didn’t she just do it once instead of over and over again?”
“Because – ”
“AND we didn’t even have any popcorn,” said Claire, finally getting to the heart of the problem. “Or ice cream. Or a chocolate bar. Or biscuits. I had to have carrots for lunch. And an apple!”
“I had yoghurt for lunch,” said Daniel. “And two oranges!”
“Shut up, Daniel,” Claire said. “And I bet they were satsumas. No way could you eat two oranges.”
“I could,” said Daniel.
“He did,” Tina confirmed. “One of them was yours.”
“So?!” Claire said. “What’s that got to do with films?”
“Maybe it’s symbolic,” Tina suggested.
“Maybe you’re symbolic,” Claire snorted.
“If anyone’s symbolic it’s you,” Ethel snapped.
“You don’t even know what symbolic means!” Claire shouted. “No one does. Especially not Daniel!”
She grabbed his stupid hard boiled egg and threw it into the bin so hard it bounced straight back out of the bin and into Daniel’s hand like magic. So then Claire kicked the bin over instead because that’s what she should have done in the first place.
“What’s any of this got to do with Daniel?” Tina asked.
“EVERYTHING!” Claire absolutely screamed as loudly and as wildly as she could directly into the camera. “EVERYTHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!”
CUT
___________
Notes:
1. Written on May 13th, 2024
2. This one was originally just going to be called This Film Is Old
3. But then I forgot and called it something else instead.
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“Argh!” said Agnes, as she was startled awake by Tina, Ethel and Daniel barging into her room as quietly as they could (which was not very quiet at all) at 7:48am on a Monday morning. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve made you breakfast, Mum!” said Tina, as she handed Agnes a cup of warmish chocolate.
“In bed,” said Daniel, as he held an egg cup holding a boiled egg above his head as proudly as if it was the world cup.
“Be careful with that egg, Daniel,” Agnes said. “The last thing I want is yolk all over the sheets.”
“It’s a hard boiled egg!” Daniel said. “Really hard! Look!”
He dropped it and then caught it neatly in the dainty china egg cup that was his favourite as it bounced up off the floorboards like a rubber ball.
“I see,” said Agnes. “Thank you, Daniel. But what are you all making me breakfast in bed for?”
“Because you’re ill,” said Ethel, who was holding a plate of burnt toast with a faint hint of embarrassment. No way could she do any tricks with this like Daniel could do with his egg.
“In bed!” said Daniel again, throwing the egg against the wall this time and catching it perfectly in the egg cup again before bowing for some imaginary applause.
“I was not ill,” Agnes said. She wasn’t allowed to ever admit to being ill, not even to herself. “I was just a bit tired.”
“For two whole days,” said Tina.
“And two whole nights!” said Ethel.
“IN BED!” Daniel said for a third time, not because it made any sense to say it, but just because it felt like he should say it, just in case.
“Well, thank you very much everyone,” Agnes said. “It’s very kind of you. But I really wasn’t ill, you know?” None of her children looked like they believed her even slightly. “So, erm, where’s Claire? Didn’t she help?”
“She’s in bed,” said Daniel. “Ill.”
“Oh no,” Agnes said. “Poor Claire. She hates being ill. It makes her irrationally angry.”
“She said if you could be ill so could she,” said Tina.
“Then she said she’s not going to school today,” said Ethel.
“NOT EVER AGAIN!” shouted Claire from the other side of the house. “SO THERE!”
“Did you make her breakfast in bed too?” Agnes asked as quietly as she could.
“Daniel offered her his egg,” Tina said.
“But she threw it out the window,” Ethel added.
“That’s how we found out it bounced,” said Daniel, as he juggled the egg for a bit, caught it in its cup one last time, and held it out towards his Mum with a flourish.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on May 13th, 2024
__________Support An Accumulation Of Things
If you like the things you've read here please consider subscribing to my patreon or my ko-fi. Patreon subscribers get not just early access to content and also the occasional gift, but also my eternal gratitude. Which I'm not sure is very useful, but is certainly very real.(Ko-fi contributors probably only get the gratitude I'm afraid, but please get in touch if you want more). Thank you!Tales From The Town #154: Paddling Pool
The best thing about the paddling pool, Tina knew, was pumping it up with the footpump, diligently stepping on the pedal over and over again and watching with pride as it slowly took shape.
The best thing about the paddling pool, Daniel knew, was slowly filling it up with the hose, watching the water form miniature rivers and lakes round the contours of the creases in its base. (If he could have emptied it out and started again every time the water got deep enough to submerge the hose he would have done.)
The best thing about the paddling pool, Ethel knew, was squealing and screaming as loudly and as long as you could while you splashed around in the water. You just weren’t allowed to shriek like that at any other time (except maybe on a rollercoaster, but who has one of those in their garden?).
The best thing about the paddling pool, Claire knew, was secretly turning the hose back on until it overflowed and flooded the garden in a manner as spectacular as a burst dam.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on May 12th, 2024
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