... and brown paper
A Waiting Tale
“Up Jack got and home did trot
as far as he could caper
and went to bed
to mend his head
with vinegar and brown paper.”
Also stealing an idea from what the Guardian described as the greatest half hour of TV ever (I made a mistake it praised the series and mentioned the episode "Waiting For Gordon") , an episode of Doctors which managed to incorporate parts of Samuel Becket’s “Waiting For Godot” much to the chagrin of the hardcore fans and written by my good friend the writer Paul Campbell (he’s on IMDB you know)
Two wait at a bus stop
They are waiting , maybe for a bus , maybe for another , maybe fro a break in the weather , it is raining.
The bus stop is sheltered enclosed on three sides , with a seat running the full length, and therefore offering some shelter
The two men stand either side of the bus stop , masked , as the plague is still rampant so you don’t want to spread it, but cannot trust strangers.
In the centre of the seat is a package, possibly a box wrapped securely in featureless brown paper.
Is that yours?
No, Is it yours?
No
Should we see what’s inside it?
It might be someone’s who left it here while he went for some cigarettes , matches or just for a pee
It must not be valuable then
It could be dangerous
What do you mean?
It could be a bomb , or contain poison
But it’s at a bus stop, and one that is seldom used
And the bus is very late, it might be cancelled
They’re always doing that
The bus services these days are so unreliable
Should we hand it to the bus driver , if amd when it comes?
Like I said , it might be dangerous , that would not be a good idea.
Is there any writing on it? Or a label or something
I can’t see anything
Pick it up carefully and look
No you do it , it’s your idea
Have you got any gloves
No but I have an Aldi carrier bag , would that help?
I suppose so , give it to me
-------------------------------------------------
He examines the package , back and bottom , there is nothing written on , nothing sealing it either , no Sellotape or tabs
-----------------------------------------------------
There’s a smell of vinegar , vinegar and brown paper , like the Jack and Jill nursery rhyme
I had some fish and chips in it last night , the vinegar is probably from them
I think we should open it , see what’s inside
No, no , what if the owner comes along and it;s something personal?
Well if it’s important , you don’t leave it unattended in a remote deserted bus shelter
And where is that bus , it’s got very dark very quickly , and there;s not been any traffic along here, in fact there’s not been any people walking past , it’s like we are the last people on earth . That’s a joke.
Is it , I am getting worried about this , Im sure there were shops , but I can’t see anything down the road. It’s so dark I don’t think we could safely leave this bus stop
Oh come on the bus will be here soon
What time is it?
There’s something wrong, my watch says twelve o’ clock , and it;s stopped
So does mine , this is scaring me.
I can’t see across the road , it’s like the darkness is drawing in on us.
What is is in the package?
Well it’s us , the bus stop and the package , we need to know
Slowly unwrapping the package , they found it contained a white box , upon opening the box they took out two tickets which read ; “One Passenger: Limbo”
The bus drew up and they joined with their tickets
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Newspaper Article: Two gentlemen were found dead in the bus stop on XXXXXXX street. Foul play is not suspected , they had no families.
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More stories from Mike Singleton - Mikeydred and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Fast And Slow
I find it strange with books , TV and film how similar sized items seem to take such different times to watch or read. I suppose that is mainly whether you want to take it on or you feel you have to take it on. There are so many books , films and TV series that I have on my lists and some are enjoyable but difficult to get through and therefore take much longer and this is true of all media.
By Mike Singleton - Mikeydred3 years ago in Fiction
The Last Librarian
In the sprawling metropolis of Neo-Tokyo, where neon signs bled into the perpetual twilight and towering skyscrapers scraped the underbelly of the clouds, lived Anya, the last librarian. Humanity had long abandoned the physical world for the allure of the mindscape. Within its confines, information was readily available, experiences meticulously curated, and emotions carefully monitored. Yet, Anya remained tethered to the fading reality, the guardian of a forgotten treasure trove – the Central Library. The library was a sanctuary, a testament to a bygone era. Dust motes danced in the pale light filtering through grimy windows, illuminating towering shelves that groaned under the weight of countless physical books. Their worn pages held the unfiltered narratives of the past, the triumphs and tragedies of a bygone era. Anya navigated the labyrinth with practiced ease, her fingers trailing the spines of leather-bound volumes. Each book held a universe within its pages, a testament to the boundless creativity of the human mind. One day, a ripple in the fabric of reality announced a visitor. Kai, a young man with eyes that held a flicker of rebellion, emerged from the mindscape. He had grown disillusioned with the sterile perfection of the digital world, yearning for something more, something real. The sterile white walls and curated experiences of the mindscape felt stifling, a pre-packaged existence devoid of surprises or genuine connection. Anya, initially wary of this visitor from a world she barely understood, became his guide. Their first encounter was filled with a hesitant curiosity. Kai, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of books, stumbled through the stacks, his eyes flitting across forgotten titles and faded fonts. Anya, with a gentle smile, pointed him towards a worn leather-bound volume titled "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." As Kai delved into the story, a spark ignited in his eyes. He devoured the narrative, captivated by the protagonist's journey down the Mississippi River. The raw emotions, the harsh realities, and the unfiltered language painted a vivid picture of a world far removed from the sanitized reality of the mindscape. With each book he explored, Kai's mind opened like a flower in the morning sun. He discovered love stories that made his heart ache, scientific breakthroughs that ignited his curiosity, and philosophical treatises that challenged his worldview. Each book was a window into a world brimming with raw emotions, unfiltered experiences, and the boundless potential of humanity. Their time spent together transcended a simple librarian-patron relationship. They shared lively discussions, Anya weaving tales of the world before the mindscape, its triumphs and follies laid bare on the pages of countless books. Kai, in turn, shared snippets of the sterile perfection of the digital world, its lack of raw emotion both fascinating and unsettling. One evening, as they sat by a crackling fireplace, a flicker of determination ignited in Kai's eyes. "This knowledge, Anya, it's too important to be confined to these dusty shelves. It can change things in the mindscape." A plan began to form. Kai, armed with newfound knowledge and a burning passion, returned to the digital realm. He became a bridge between the two realities, advocating for the preservation of the past and the importance of human connection. His journey wasn't easy. The Elders who controlled the mindscape viewed physical books with suspicion, fearing the chaos and unpredictable emotions they represented. But Kai, fueled by the stories he had absorbed, persisted. He organized secret gatherings, sharing excerpts from forgotten tales, and slowly, a movement began to form. Others, yearning for something more, yearned for the raw, unfiltered stories held within the library walls. Anya watched with a mix of apprehension and hope as the movement grew. The library, once a silent tomb of forgotten knowledge, became a beacon of hope, a testament to the enduring power of the written word. Every borrowed book, every shared story, was a small victory. The climax arrived unexpectedly. The Elders, threatened by the growing influence of the physical books, launched an attack on the Central Library. Their sleek, emotionless drones descended upon the building, seeking to erase the remnants of the past. Anya and the growing legion of bookworms, armed with nothing but their passion and knowledge, rose to defend their sanctuary. The ensuing battle was a clash of two worlds. Drones whirred and sparked against the backdrop of toppling bookcases and the frantic shouts of defenders. Anya, fueled by a lifetime spent amongst the stories, led the fight with surprising ferocity. It was a battle not just for the library, but for the very essence of humanity, its capacity for creativity, love, and loss. In the end, it was the power of stories that prevailed. Kai, drawing inspiration from a forgotten military strategy book, devised a plan. Utilizing a long-forgotten knowledge of electromagnetic pulses, they managed to disable the drones. The battle ended with the acrid smell of burning circuitry and the tattered remnants of drones lit
By Saiful Islam Shawonabout 4 hours ago in Fiction
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