Niall James Bradley
Bio
I am a teacher who lives in the north west of England. I write about many subjects, but mainly I write non-fiction about things that interest me, fiction about what comes into my head and poetry about how I feel.
Stories (37/0)
Picture Perfect
Jane waited in fearful expectation, staring at her computer screen. She glanced once more around the room, especially at the bookcase behind her. It had taken her hours to perfect the bookcase: to arrange the books so it would reflect how she was a person of interest and in no way weird. Just the correct number of mementos from holidays abroad and her favourite picture of Toby. Why had he left her? She so missed their long walks together. This time in Lockdown would have been perfect, had he still been alive. They could have used the time she wasn’t wasting, commuting to work, to go on longer walks so he could have had more treats. Maybe, she thought, it was all those treats that had killed him. Either that or old age!
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in Humans
Why Missing A Year Of School Isn’t The End Of The World?
It has been a turbulent year for the pupils of this country. This time last year, the experience of a national lockdown was still novel and exciting. Now, the children of Britain are wearily exiting their third lockdown, having spent a year yo-yoing in and out of school. The British government say that missing a whole year of education could be catastrophic for their educational development, but are they correct? There are many examples of famous people who have achieved massively in life while missing out on their education, but I will focus on just one.
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in FYI
The Dragon Master's Son 4 & 5
Chapter 4 It was almost exactly as John had imagined a cell. Three sides were plain stone wall and one side was a grill of steel. He had also imagined a small, grated window, but no window was there. John was alone in his cell, in the dark. The guard had taken the solitary torch away with him. Not that John needed it. An owl charm meant he could see perfectly well, even in this poor light.
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in Futurism
The Mother Of The Sea
Even if you have never eaten it, you will recognise sushi. There are Sushi restaurants all around the world and over 4000 in the US alone. The small cylinders of rice, wrapped in dark green seaweed are iconic. But did you know that the seaweed, nori, which is so ubiquitously used to make sushi, used to have the name ‘lucky’ grass, as it was so rare? Did you know that until an English scientist, Kathleen Drew-Baker, conducted her research, nori could not be successfully farmed? In Japan, this almost unknown English scientist is known as the ‘Mother Of The Sea.’
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in FYI
The Dragon Master's Son 3
Chapter 3 John stood in the stone bowels of the castle. The room was large with an extremely high ceiling. Somewhere, way up in the murky rafters, he could make out birds flying. The lack of even a single window made it necessary for a fire, even now in the middle of summer, for light. The stone walls leached heat from the room. Even with the fire, which filled the enormous hearth, John found his teeth were chattering.
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in Futurism
The Dragon Master's Son 2
Chapter 2 'They are either very confident or very stupid,' John thought to himself, as he bumped along the rutted road in the back of the wagon, on top of all his father's work tools. If he had been a half decent apprentice, then by his age, with these tools, he would have been able to stun a fully grown adult. Maybe even a small group of men. But John wasn't an average apprentice. When it came to magic, he had the potential to be exceptional. He had been told, by his mother, that he was the sort of talent that came along once a century. Already, the dragon master, John’s father, was in awe of his powers: powers he had gained from his mother. Hadn't he just, with the flick of his wrists, frozen a dragon in flight? But for now, he needed to play his part. Be the dragon master's innocent son. He needed information. Where was his father? Who had taken him? What did they want? Was it the same people who had sent the dragon to pluck him from the stream? Yes, for now, John needed to wait, watch and learn all he could.
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in Futurism
The Dragon Master's Son
Chapter 1 He was up to his knees in cold water, his eyes scanning the stream and his feet, ice cold, no longer had any feeling. But still, John didn't move. He waited, with the stealth of an eagle, for the small fish to make its move. It lay, silent and virtually motionless, beneath a rock in the stream. Only the occasional flick of a fin gave its position away.
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in Futurism
Mother Of The Trees
Have you ever wandered through the underpass, from Washington Hospital Center, and entered Wangari Gardens? Have you ever looked at the community garden, the youth garden and the outdoor classroom and wondered: who is the woman who inspired all of this? Who was the woman who inspired these bee hives, this public fruit tree orchard and these vegetable gardens?
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in FYI
The Night Bus
I can feel it. Excitement, once more, bubbling up inside me. I take my seat, the last bus of the night to Piccadilly. An empty bottle rolls towards me as we pull away from the bus stop. Street lights and illuminated signs cut through my ghostly reflection in the window. At the front of the bus, I can see the driver looking at me in his mirror. He's suspicious. I could tell when he took my money. The question, “Shouldn't you be at home in bed?”, was just there, waiting to be said.
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in Families
Den Velt
Mark’s fingers rifled expertly through the shelf of vintage LPs. Thursday: the blessed day. The day when the new ‘finds’ would miraculously appear on the shelves of Mark’s local store. Thursday: the only day of the week where he managed to rise, Lazarus-esque, from his bed before noon. He had crafted arriving at the shop down to a fine art: one minute past nine, week in, week out.
By Niall James Bradley3 years ago in Humans
