Friday, 28 September 2018


Warm, taken care of, we then enter this world kicking, screaming and probably crying. It’s a realisation, tough, sudden, but thankfully something that we do not actively remember. But, saying that, it’s there, every second, that experience, buried under layer upon layer of learning. We’ve escaped from that chrysalis, of sorts, that kept us safe, warm and protected.

We can barely crawl, listening, watching, experiencing how life should be, could be, would probably be, through the actions and commitments of every single person in front of our very ears and eyes. We’re that sponge, the never ending, constantly gathering, mind of knowledge. We learn kisses, to smile, to throw tantrums and especially, to laugh. Each smile brings warmth from others, each soft tender baby kiss ensures that we’re cared for, loved and adored. We’re that pure form that’s getting ready to move forward, to stand.

We’d crawled, discovered, embraced people with care and emotion as that’s what we've understood to be acceptable. We’re still laughing, we’re still smiling, while barely able to hold a spoon to our own lips. We’ll get there, eventually, soon, maybe, after speaking the very first words that, again, will bring amazement from all around.

We’re the very centre of attention, at times, asking, or screaming, to be noticed. We’re emotion, we’re love, we’re the need to be accepted and held. No matter what, or how we learn, we cannot escape that gnawing feeling at the back of our animalistic tendencies to be held. We've lived that warmth for months on end so how dare the world, we, ignore that need. Hugs, more kisses, the soon to be said ‘I love you’.

We've grown, realised our own nature, realised that we exist, that important self-realisation moment that many never notice. We’re alive, a beating heart, ready to move forward with so much gusto. You couldn't stop us if anyone even tried. We’re the caterpillar traversing towards the metamorphosis stage of life. We’re young, we’re here, now, willing, certainly able, with so much youth that it defies the logic of the older generations.

Then, right then, you start to become the butterfly. You still have the support, that you proclaim to no longer need, from loved ones and family. You’re viable, the moment ‘is’ you. You’re beautiful, beautiful wings spreading towards the sky, outwards, glistening with pure radiance and colour. You, me, I, us, everyone, are all beautiful beyond belief. You start to fly, with the years of knowledge behind you and… .

You crash. You fall. You fail. All that knowledge, the assurance, the thoughts of becoming something beautiful, something more, the realisation that you’re all ‘already’ beautiful, existing somewhere in the background of the people surrounding you. The nurture, the very nature, of all things.

The spirit within you, the very person that you've become, shouldn't stop, as you’re the papillon. You are the butterfly! Made to walk this world with the feet beneath your very words, as well as actions, but those words, those actions, can truly make you fly. Endure, become, never let your hope for a clear blue sky vanish from within your very eyes. You've felt the freedom, as a child, you've imagined, you've escaped a thousand make believe moments. You’re ready, you've always been ready, to fly. Just believe.

You’re a butterfly. Spread your wings. Show me your colours, let me hear your words and, more importantly, help me to feel your actions. I believe in you, will hold your hand until you decide to let go, until that moment you become what you’ve always meant to be. A beautiful butterfly.

Wednesday, 26 September 2018


Right now, this very second, I'm sat in a warm room that’s safe, filled with my person and more. It’s one of those moments where I reflect on my own life. Where I am. Some would say that I'm feeling sorry for myself but, instead, I’d prefer to think that I'm realising and possibly indexing the moments that are now somewhere else. The word ‘indexing’ might be a bit cold, but it’s suitable, as I'm resolving, fixing, chastising and basically getting to the root of a few things.

Being silly on a mountain.

We need this. We should have this. The quiet time where there’s no rescue, no safety blanket to enable the ignorance that I, we, some of us hold. I know that I can ignore many things, moments, mistakes, but no matter how I ignore them they stay right where they are. Haunting, reminding, calling my number asking me to answer. Heck, being truthful, my thoughts would text if they could as this is the digital age, after all.

But, instead, I wait until moments such as this. The quiet seconds, the lonely cloud threatening to spin my mind like some child’s toy. But, as I'm an adult, I have to wave away the clouds and see through the mess. As a child, adults often said, “I know that you think you know everything!” which is odd as I’d reply with,
“I know that I don’t know everything.”  I’d then look confused. Confidence doesn’t mean that you know everything but, thinking back, having an answer for EVERYTHING probably made people think the way they did. I probably still do have an answer for everything, nearly, right or wrong, as I at least admit that… I can be wrong. Imagine that. It’s true. Every opinion, every thought, every emotion, touch, kiss and more are all based on what I know. It’s a shame, as I don’t know everything, and all of that missing information might make a difference to every single person alive today.

It’s quiet here, very quiet, other than the music playing through the headphones. I can still feel the lack of activity, within my own mind, heart and possibly soul. The limbo area of life. We all have these, from time to time. Which way, up, down, left, right, the fear prodding at our hands, asking us to step back while the life, the real exciting parts of life, simply asking for each of us to take one small, little, scary step forward. I love the small steps. I love the big steps. I love every single step that a person can take to improve. It’s life, it’s progression, it’s getting in as much as you can before the big day of the future. That’s then, this is now, thankfully.

In the corner of the room the computer playing the music, has just decided to strongly suggest that I update Windows. This is the thing with life, the moments, which are difficult to find, as they sometimes  just want to interrupt. Give me that log cabin in the woods. Give me the three dogs and two cats and you might never see me again. That is, of course, as long as I can take you all with me.

Deep down, no matter what happens, I can feel the happy person within wanting to explore, to escape, to rampage out of my current life. I'm never going to complain as my life is easy compared to many, many others, the gift that I wouldn't give away, but that silence… . I need that silence.

Maybe it’s time to walk up another mountain. Maybe it’s time to explore. Energise, replenish, restock the inner foundation of smiles, laughter and more. We need these things, we know that we want those moments, so let’s try to gather them together and enjoy what we enjoy. We all have our little pleasures, the wants and needs of life, with mine being quite simple.

There might be no actual reason for this Blog post, a story as such, but it’s random, it’s thoughts, so fits the bill. I don’t usually post something like this but this is me. I'm the guy that usually has no thoughts banging around in my head, singing some song for the tenth time in an hour, calm and relaxed, which is where I need to return to.  I like to create, write, laugh and especially to make others laugh and feel appreciated. It’s what I'm here for. It’s what I was made for, every fibre of my soul, wanting to be polite, charming and, above all, a friend.

Soon, very soon, I’ll get back to that.  Until then, I’ll enjoy this moment, searching, becoming, something… new. Plus, of course, there's over 10+ books in this head of mine. Some planned, some not, some... day. I hope. xx


Stepping over a lifeless body, Samuel stopped, for the briefest second, listening, before moving at speed not normally possible. He’d made a promise and, once made, he swore to never, ever, break that promise. True to form, doing as he should, that was why he was here right now. Making things right.

He didn't need help, any assistance, despite the overwhelming odds, as this is what he did and he did it well. Problems were only solutions in disguise, the never-ending development of change, adaption, overcoming and progressing. Strive, learn, change, become more and move forward. Even if he did have to take backward steps, towards what once was, he’d make sure that they were necessary.

They’d taken her, from him, in the middle of the damn night. Cowards, hiding within the lack of light within this world, which was something that he couldn't abide by. They, for that, deserved no quarter or haven. Whomever stood within his way, on this day, would soon stand apart while facing down on the cold, hard, soulless floor.

There was something special out there and he knew this, felt this, even tasted it within his very veins and that feeling could never be replaced. Should never be replaced. That feeling being the thought of holding someone special against you and because of that, when they did what they did, he only had one course of action.

At first, he’d played it smart, scoped the scene, felt the air around him, used the strongest weapon he had at his disposal and that weapon, above all, meant that he could accomplish anything. His mind studied muscle, the development, the pure science behind such things, which resulted in the suit he was wearing right now. Tiny electrodes, placed at strategic locations across his musculature, along with a small amount of technical know-how, removed the mental safeguards that kept him from using the near full force of available strength. The boost, from adrenalized flooding, already meant that he was beyond a normal person but, with the additions, he truly could move faster, stronger, than biology allowed.

Shaking his hand, the skin around his fingers feeling the effects of exertion, he stepped back with his left leg and bent over backwards as the baton flew inches from his face. They were fast, trained, lethally so, but they were outmatched. As the baton moved in front of his face his right arm moved up to grab mid flight, stepping back once more literally lifting the guard off of the floor only to be brought down to an elbow upper-cut. Out cold the guard slammed to the floor.

Only one more door to smash through, a few more seconds before he reached her, knowing that he’d left this for far too long. Before he reached the doors they automatically opened, inviting him, tempting him to step forward. He did, with no fear, as fear didn't matter one small bit when all you cared about was another person’s safety.

Looking across the room, barren white walls all around him, his eyes focused onto her face. A sudden rush of emotion hit, embraced him, blinding him to the punch that knocked him to the floor. Shaking his head, the light blacking in and out, as he strained against the fact that his brain had literally just moved inside his head. Trauma, neurotransmitters overloaded, he closed his eyes and screamed as hard as he could. He had seconds, mere seconds before they’d be upon him and that simply wouldn't do.

The moment his eyes opened again he moved like lightning, blood literally flying through his body once again driven by adrenaline. In front of him stood one single, solitary, individual. As he fought the concussion threatening to overwhelm him, with the seconds afforded to him, he took in every single detail. In front of him stood a large man, strong, built, probably the last line, focused on obliterating anything that walked through the door.  Giving his head one last mild shake Samuel stepped forward.

With dramatic speed he jabbed, as the man easily moved his upper body to the side and, as he leaned, brought forward his right fist into Samuel’s waist. It hurt. It hurt far more than anything he’d experience before and, as he stumbled backwards, he exhaled and coughed.

Surprised, despite his advantages, he didn't truly expect something like this. Confidence, as he knew, could be your ally or demon. Raising his arms the punches arrived thick and fast. He felt the bruises quickly form, as the elbows hit his skin, smashing into his bones, blood starting to appear from the various cuts.  Through the gap he could see her, waiting, a defiant look in her face. He knew that she wouldn't have gone with them without a fight. She was ferocious, a fiery flame filled fireball of anger, love, passion and thought.

Seeing her, the look on her face, fuelled him, pushed him, to break his defensive stance. As a fist flew he moved forward, to the side, narrowly missing the fist meant for his face. With as much strength, as his adjusted frame could find, he moved to his side smashing his shoulder into the assailant’s body while grabbing the outstretched arm, pulling the guy back before he even had a chance to fly backwards. The body to his side jolted as he brought his shoulder up into the man’s chin and, immediately after, letting go to spin around with a left punch. The man fell, unconscious, to the floor.

Hurting, bleeding, Samuel hobbled forward and, eventually once reaching her, fell to his knees, “I would never let anything happen to you!” She smiled, kissing his lips, safe, rescued and alive. Samuel smiled and blinked three times.


Derek removed the helmet, sticking his finger into his nose, that had been itching for hours.  He’d finally completed the game, got the girl, destroyed the itch and was now ready for a shower.

Sunday, 23 September 2018


The dust, which settled months previous, moved as he exhaled a gust of air. The mantelpiece was old, older than him, older than he could imagine and appreciate. He’d lived in this house for many, many years and, being honest with himself, he’d missed this place despite spending far more years living elsewhere. This was his childhood, the place that helped form the person that he was right at this very second. He smiled, looking around the room, remembering so many memories. Then, from nowhere, the sadness arrived.

No-one was immortal, despite many wishing to be just that, as time eventually managed to find each and every single one of us. The dust, visible from the dim light shining through a gap in the curtains, descended to once again take its place on any surface possible.  This place, this very moment, held him despite the immense inner turmoil. Nothing, or no-one, could ever resolve the feelings and thoughts, but this place, thankfully, was a start.

He’d tried, he had truly tried, to escape the moments but that could never actually happen. He’d surrounded himself with loved ones, evaded everyone that cared, destroyed the very saviours that held him tight and worse, he’d allowed himself to fail at so many, many things. He knew that it was going to happen, as it happened to each and every single person, but no instruction manual, no amount of kisses or tenderness, could ever fill the hole within his very heart. He’d often wonder how he could drag himself out of bed in the morning but, as is the way of things, that simply wouldn't do as life always, always, carried on. With him, or without him, he would have to move forward at some point.

Feeling the emotion take control he simply chose to ignore the feelings, hold them, then remove them from his mind. He did wonder how this would effect his heart, his very sanity, but this action ensured that he could carry on. Maybe he was lying to himself. Better a lie than to let his life burn to the ground. Either way, one day, he’d have to face all of this. Face it. No running away, no fading memories, standing to finally embrace the way he felt.  Maybe, just maybe, being in this place at this very second was the start of something. He hoped so. He truly did.

He walked over to the wall, by the door that led to the stairs and front door, looking through to where the phone used to sit. A few steps later he opened the cabinet of the old wooden furniture. He knew that his Mother didn't own a lot, never wanting a lot within this world, but she did like what she liked. Within the cabinet sat the old phone with the rotary dial, the ancient phone that the next generation would laugh at, but this was part of the family.

A few second later he sat on the stairs, plugging in the phone, knowing that it wouldn’t work as the line had been disconnected many years previous. The nostalgia rose within him. Not only did you have to know the number, you had to wait for the dial to return to the start. A small laugh arose from within and, as he laughed, he picked up the receiver to hear silence. “Hello,” said a voice on the other end, “How are you?”  He paused, his heart beat instantly rising as his mind struggled to comprehend. Initially he thought that he was day dreaming but something, from somewhere, pushed him to answer,
“Who else has my voice?” replied the person at the other side.

He didn't understand as, being honest with himself, he didn't care. He’d longed to hear his Mother’s voice again. Even if it were for a brief few seconds. The Irish twang, the tone of her voice, the very words that she would say. “Is this really you?” he asked, not wanting to sound offensive even though a part of him supposed that this was a joke. Something which, he also knew, wouldn't happen. His head span, thoughts crashing, not knowing what else to say.
“Of course it is me. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay Mum!” He said the words and, within him, something broke. He felt the emotion hit his chest, his mind letting go, which resulted in tears. Deep, hidden, strong tears that had waited for such a long time to appear. If his heart wasn’t already broken it would be now, “I’ve missed you. So much and I’m sorry.”
“What for,” she replied with confusion, “You’ve nothing to be sorry for!”
The tears fell as his heart poured from within him, “I’m sorry for not answering the phone or calling back. I…” His Mother interrupted,
“You had your own life Son, you did call back. You did visit. That’s all that matters!”

He could hear the love from her voice, echoing with every single word, wanting to hold her hand once more. He also felt the intense loss, the guilt, realising that although he loved he could have done more, been more, but life was life. Instead of seeing a friend, he saw his Mother as just that, his Mother. Only when it’s too late did he realise that so much more could have been done. Could have been experienced. The realisation arrived far, far too late.
“I’m proud of you, my blue eyed boy,” she said, her voice now breaking, allowing the emotion to break her resolve, “I miss you.”
“I miss you too Mum, I miss you so much!”

Then, with no warning, the connection dropped, “Hello, Mum, Hello?” She was gone. The seconds afforded to him, done, over with. He held the phone to his ear, the tears paused, hoping, asking whomever, within his head, for a few more seconds, until the realisation eased into his mind. He closed his eyes and cried. If his heart could bleed it would have at that very second. Replacing the receiver he placed his head onto the floor and curled into a ball. Her voice was love, to him, the most precious of sound he could ever hear. He wanted to scream but, instead, he continued to cry. He knew, deep down, that he’d meet her again. One day.

Picking himself up from the floor, rubbing his eyes, he opened the front door to see his Wife and Children waiting for him in the garden. The cycle of life, the knowledge of the future within him, the ending we would all face, filled him with strength despite feeling weaker than he’d felt for months.  He didn't care that the last few minutes were impossible, maybe even just a day dream or moment of madness, as it had happened. Despite the words, despite the moment, he still wished that he’d done more, been more, but that could be paid forward to his own Family every single day.

No matter what happened, no matter the distance, the moment that he was within, he knew that he’d, at the very least, make that phone call. He had no excuses.

Monday, 17 September 2018


The car engine purred with powerful ease, the 420bhp, 6 cylinder engine resting, eager to actually move forward and drive. Samson, calmly sending an email from his phone, assured himself that all affairs were resolved. Up to date, ready, feeling a small amount of calm, he returned the phone to its flight mode and placed it within the small holder to the side of the stereo arrangement.

The burden of his affairs, his day to day life, now resolved, he knew that he had a few brief minutes before someone, somehow, managed to place further weight upon his tired mind. He looked at his watch, focusing onto the small numbers displaying his heart rate. Seventy-two beats per minute. He wouldn't actually wish to state that he was relaxed but, looking within, he was. Usually he’d feel that his heart was screaming, begging, wishing for him to relax but this was the world that he lived within. The darkness, the shear black void, often threatened to overcome his sanity.

The calm moved forward, sifting through the sadness, calm removing his emotions to create that emotionless void within. He’d been thinking, for the longest time, of ways to possibly resolve his issues, to truly escape the life that he lived within. He was an intelligent man, a thinking man, but no matter what or where his mind envisioned, it all came down to one sentence that defined his very issue. He could not deny this situation, as it rested upon everyone within his life being better off without him. It was a startling revelation, a nexus where all ideals and issues met.

Closing his eyes, for a few brief moments, he exhaled and again felt the calm within him. He was sorry, had felt those feelings, but the decision had been made. He’d ensured that certain aspects of his life were taken care of, the family, the youngsters, with no excuses being afforded to him, or them.  He’d side stepped the idea of leaving notes, letters, words to offer a certain level of peace or comfort. This moment, the next few moments, would be a simple exercise that could be explained by anyone.

He did want to stay, he didn't want to miss their faces, their memories and even kisses but that wasn't enough. He’d tried to talk, tried to involve others but the thoughts within his heart, mind and soul, were far, far too heavy. This moment, truly, was the only moment he had left.

Leaning slightly to his left he pushed the button to activate the auto-tracking feature of the car. Rotating the dial, menus moving forward, he found the setting that monitored the car’s speed and deactivated the feature. His mind cleared of all thoughts, the steady clarity of feeling and thinking ‘nothing’, eased him, clarified his intentions, no longer allowing the darkness into his mind. For the longest time he’d felt the weight of the world upon his shoulders and now, right now, that burden seemed to no longer exist.

With ease he shifted the car into drive, engaging the PDK gearbox. He’d picked this road, specifically this road, due to having a straight line to the end with no risk of hurting another person. Pressing his foot onto the peddle he felt the smooth acceleration as he reached over ninety miles per hour in nine seconds. His heartbeat, while relaxed, seemed to ease that little bit further than he’d known for the longest of times. He felt the world fade away, the silence surrounding him, as the road’s end appeared in the distance. Ahead he could see the thick slab of concrete.

Sparks of thought started to invade his mind, the clarity descending once again into the darkness of his thoughts. He wanted to stay, he wanted to be a part of something, but that despair, the desperation of being trapped within his own life, just kept on pushing him further and further away from everything he loved. He wanted to love, he wanted to feel, but to feel anything other than sadness seemed to be so far, far away.

Within the blink of an eye he asked himself one question. He knew that he had a hundred reasons to leave this world, all etched within his thoughts, constantly beating him to the ground, but all he needed was one reason, one solitary rescue from the weight that he held. He needed that one thought that ensured he lived. He asked himself, “Do I have anything worth living for?” and in that one moment he could see the smiles on his children’s faces. He could hear their laughter, feel their embrace and understand the warmth that they provided. Snapping back to the present, the millisecond it took to press the break peddle, he knew that it wouldn't save him from the collision.

He realised that if he hit the concrete head on, despite the four-piston mono-bloc aluminium fixed callipers straining to slow the car, he’d instantly die. With all his strength he violently jerked the steering wheel to the left and, instantly, back to the right. The rear end swung and, thankfully, the car hit the block sideways sending it spinning into the air.

As the air bags hit him from various angles the world seemed to pause. The car kept on spinning, his nose breaking the moment the bag struck his face, one hand pressing against the driver’s door and the other floating in mid-air. The pause quickly ended as the car hit the ground, thankfully coming to rest upside down. For a brief moment his ears stung, the crash and noise deafening him.

Pressed against the seat belt, upside down, blood dripping from his nose, he opened his eyes and quickly gathered his senses. He wiggled his toes, then fingers, thankful that he wasn't in a serious state. He felt nothing, no pain, no emotion, just the eagerness to drag himself from the car. Moving his arm, placing his hand onto the ceiling, he pressed the seat belt ejector and gently lowered himself onto the inner roof. Blinking a few times, holding his broken nose, the pain started to appear from various parts of his body. He knew that he’d have seat belt cuts but, right now, that wasn't important. He pressed the door handle, which wouldn't open. He reached across to the other door which, to his fear, also wouldn't open. He didn't want to panic, not in this second, especially as he could smell petrol fumes.

His last option, being better than no option, would be the rear window. Glancing to the rear, he looked to his side and removed his phone from the holder and started to crawl towards the rear of the car. The window had broken, more or less no glass remaining, which made sliding through the reasonably thin exit acceptable. He didn't really care as long as he escaped. On his stomach, the pain starting to increase, he dragged himself onto the thin grass and carried on for a few metres.

Finally resting, breathing heavily, the stress managing to crack through his resolve, he placed his head against the ground and closed his eyes. He knew, he damn well knew, that things had to change. He alone owned sole responsibility for his own existence. He knew that he was trapped, trapped within his life, his circumstance, his very way of living, but that didn't mean that he should simply do what he intended to do.

As he removed the flight mode on his phone, realising that he could change, he dialled the emergency services and vowed to himself, vowed to everyone and everything, that he would simply make a change. He would seek rescue, he would talk, he would take action to rectify the many, many, dark, weighted, horrendous thoughts within his mind. All he had to do, even once, was to live. To breath. To enjoy. To see the beauty of life and what could actually become of his life. Despite the pain, despite the possibility of having a broken leg, as well as a nose, he smiled and then, from nowhere, he started to sob.

Finally, after all this time, he wanted to live. He wanted to carry on.

Sunday, 9 September 2018


The warm air exhaled itself through the open French window, refreshing the room, enabling the current events to continue. She’d sat on the chair for at least three minutes, waiting, her heart wanting to beat faster, yet she felt so very, very calm. She could hear him, doing whatever he was doing, over in the other corner of the room. She heard the sound of a zip opening, probably from his travel bag, then silence. Cold, comforting, annoying silence.

She enjoyed this, all of it, the temptation, the wanton feelings, losing herself to her ever breathing, heart beating, satisfaction. To many this wouldn't even be a consideration but to her, especially to her, it was something she desired each and every single solitary day. She cared not for drama, the ever expanding destruction of another’s pointless issues, as life was for enjoyment. For feeling. For needing, craving and much, much more.

At first all of this seemed a bit strange but, thankfully, she soon caught up to the way that things could be. The side glances, the knowing, the realisation that life could be… more. Much more. Pleasure could be everything. Every thought, ever moment, if you had the imagination, the capability to realise something else existed. She knew that her emotions were directly linked to her very senses, that every single inch of her beautiful body, could be motivated to feel.

She wiggled her nose, just a little, as she wouldn't want the blindfold to move. Arms by her side, wearing the ever so small dress that he’d sent her, still waiting, allowing her mind to drift. She had a few things to do, tomorrow, running through the list but, just then, she felt his fingertips touch the side of her leg. Her heartbeat spiked, her body tensing for a mild second, before all of her thoughts turned to his touch.

Slowly, but not that slow, he moved his finger tips up the side of her legs. Her breathing changed, knowing that this wouldn't stop until… until he decided it would stop. As his touch reached the bottom of her dress he paused, one hand vanishing from her skin, until they both moved and she felt the safety scissors cutting into her outfit. Bit by bit, loosening, as each cut sent a sound to her mind. A few seconds passed, as he motioned with his hand in hers, for her to stand.

As she stood her dress fell away from her, exposing her, once again to his touch. He started, again, at her ankles. Running his touch, his soft smooth touch, up the side of her legs. As he reached her waist his touch moved around to her back, moving upwards, the feelings sending so many thoughts into her mind. As he moved she could feel his calm, soft, breath against her lips. He was right there, right in front of her. She dared herself to kiss him, to taste him, but that would spoil the game and that simply wouldn't do.

As he reached the back of her neck he stopped, moving his touch down and around, just under her breasts, staying away from the places she really wanted him to touch. But, as she knew, temptation, desire, wonder and want often didn't, shouldn't, just be about the places everyone wanted. She was a woman and every single part of her deserved attention. As his touch once again vanished, her mind relaxed a little, her legs starting to feel the moment, as did the rest of her.

A second vanished and she again felt his touch upon her skin. He was behind her, hands again starting at her legs, touching, feeling, the tips of those fingers feeling so tempting. Right now he could do anything to her, she wouldn't care, she didn't want to care, as feeling seemed to be all that she wanted. Far too much life, far too much drama, fading away due to this very moment. As his hands again reached her chest she felt his lips press against the back of her neck, kissing, making her want him even more. She felt his lips move to the side of her neck, her head falling backwards to rest against his shoulder, finally giving in.

She raised her arm, to place it against the side of his head, enjoying every second as, finally, he encompassed her breasts within his soft hands.  She turned, taking his lips onto hers, kissing deeply and as passionately as she could find. He’d been doing this to her for the last few weeks, teasing her, tempting her, but this second was the time to feel. Touching was beautiful, deeply moving, but right now, it was time to feel everything that he had.


“I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life!” said Harold, as he removed his hands from the gloves attached to the glass box. Removing his glasses, coughing a few times, he looked grim while expressing everything needed to be said in one look. The people gathered within the small room, all silent, seemingly waiting for Harold to continue which, thankfully, he did,
“As a botanist I can state that this flower, this plant, is no different from any other garden variety. But, as you’re all aware, there’s one difference. The pollen has been altered.”

A few people, looking confused, probably from only just being invited to such a meeting, looked at each other around the room. Eventually, someone looking important, finally spoke, “If you could explain the process please Doctor?” To which Harold nodded, putting his glasses back on, only to tilt his head forward to look over the rims.
“A large part of the population are allergic to pollen, due to their immune system trying to help their cells. This causes inflammation, causing tears, sinus issues as well as throat. The respiratory system can also have a difficult time as can skin, gastrointestinal system, resulting in headaches, fatigue and irritability. This can be through the very air or even food,” Harold paused, taking a small breath from throwing forward so many words, “…but in this case, it somehow forces the body to lose nerve sensitivity, nerve impulses and commands. A total paralysis of your body from the toes and fingers moving forward to motor control and finally your brain. This is a living sentence, for people afflicted, as you’re very much alive but unable to move. At all. You’re trapped within your very body waiting to die.”

As Harold finished speaking the seriousness finally appeared upon all of their faces, catching up to current events, understanding but not quite knowing what to do next. “Is there a cure?” said someone at the back of the room.
“I’m afraid not. It’s already in the air, spreading. All lab subjects, bar one, succumbed to the condition within four days. How many cases are we looking at, so far?” Harold looked from face to face, searching for the person that knew, as another random individual opened a folder to finally answer,
“So far there has been 4,000 cases, all described as a natural cause death, with 80 confirmed people being kept alive in our hospitals!”

More silence descended over the room, again burdened with a situation that was far from ordinary. Harold, taking in the information, quickly arrived at a conclusion, “Same area?”
“Over a 200 mile radius”
“Then it’s far too late. Pollen can travel as far as 22 miles away from the source. Unknown for GM crops, which is a possible source for this.”
“Is there anything we can do?” another voice exclaimed.
“Lock yourself into a sealed and filtered room as soon as possible. Drive a car with a pollen filter and especially wear pollen filtering headgear!” stated Harold with a wry sarcasm.

Nodding to each person that looked his way, he turned and walked towards the door. As he opened the door to leave, another person spoke with confusion, “Where are you going?” Harold, amused, looked over to the group, replied,
“I’m going home to kiss my backside goodbye. We all thought that we’d go out in a large nuclear fireball but whomever created this is one crazy, sadistic, son of a bitch. There’s no escaping this one… unless you’re lucky enough to be that one lab rat that managed to escape a living death!  Goodnight to all of you!”

As the door closed behind him, Harold reached into his satchel, pulling out a pollen mask. His plan had worked and soon, very soon, the entire world would reset and they could start again. All from a beautiful flower.

Monday, 3 September 2018


The door slid open with such smooth grace that any person would hardly even know that it was there. No noise, not even a blinking light, as it was set to do one solitary task. Open. Stepping through the airlock and walking forward three metres, placing the white bag onto the cold metallic floor, the man quickly surveyed the interior. He’d seen the diagrams, with the many wires hidden behind the various panels and seals, but it still required a few seconds of concentration.

Glancing through the port window he placed his hand onto the glass, if he could call it glass, as he’d studied the exact specifications of such items. Quadruple-glazed, layers of transparent aluminium ceramic composite glass, as well as three 25mm-thick pressure panels. He could place a grenade against the glass and it would hardly even notice. The rest of the structure, on the other hand, wouldn't fair as well.

He could feel the cold, despite the heating and sun bellowing heat from 93.7 million miles away. Removing his hand, leaning over to his bag as he knelt, he started to recall how this space vessel came to exist. We’d discovered a new method of travel, a new energy unlike anything known before, which was shrouded within a secrecy that no-one could fathom let alone realistically care about. We were explorers, ready, waiting, no matter the cost.

He removed a small black metallic type box, the size of a brick, from the bag and pressed a selection of buttons as the display blinked into life.  His mind, still racing, recalling, remembering that his own Father gave his life to test the acceleration of the first prototype. 1 million miles in 12 minutes. 12 minutes after the start his Father was dead, virtually compressed into the rear of the cabin. Emotions aside, he’d learnt to live with these thoughts many years previous, as a child, although they still haunted him to this day. You could learn to accept things, even move on, but if your mind’s subconscious decided otherwise there wasn't much you could do.

Placing the black box, to his side, he removed two more and once again pressed the buttons. All three, now sitting next to each other on the floor, blinked in unison. There was no going back, no way to relent, but that was okay as this was his life’s work. His Father died to bring them here and he was going to die to take them back. He could walk onto a shuttle, return to the planet below, but today was not going to be one of those days. A captain of a ship would die along with his vessel and if he was committing 2,000 people to death, then he’d damn well join them.

He thought about the people, on-board, all laughing, excited, realising that they were about to become history, the historic event never undertaken by man, woman, or child. On any other day, if there were a way to change things, he’d join them on their grand adventure to the stars. After all, as they knew, there were planets out there fit for life.

He grabbed two of the black boxes, placing one to the other side of the five metre by 6 metre air-lock. Walking to the rear of the room he placed the second just above the control panel. He turned and looked at the third box as the inner air-lock door opened. With lightning speed he reached behind his back, grabbed the gun, bringing it to head height as his knees flexed and his eyes targeted. The woman, who had just realised what was happening, placed a hand onto her stun stick. She fell forward as the solid metallic dart ripped into her knee cap, throwing blood forward as well as backwards from either side of her knee. She’d scream but it wouldn't do much good as the air-lock door closed behind her. Grasping her knee, eyes shut, the suit compressed just above the wound, cutting off blood flow, injecting pain killers and allowing her to once again open her eyes.

“We’ve come so far, haven’t we,” he said as she steadied herself, “One moment incredible physical pain and then, nothing at all.” He put the gun back into the rear holster and walked over to the last remaining black box. She didn’t know what to say, her mind racing at a thousand miles an hour, filled with fear, questions, worry and, of course, wondering what he was doing. He placed the last remaining box into the very middle of the room. Finally finished, relaxed, accepting what came next, he walked over to the woman, sat down next to her, folded his legs and smiled.

She looked into his eyes, finding it odd that he didn’t look crazy or delusional. He actually looked kind, even sensitive, a kind of warmth not often found. She pushed her fear aside, “Are they…”
“Bombs?” he interrupted, “Yes, yes they are!”
Her mind collapsed with the realisation. Her children were on this space ship. Her very reason for living, for being.
“I have children here… please!” she proclaimed with as much emotion as she could feel. As she spoke, her leg starting to pulse with the returning pain, her eyes welled, and tears started to slowly fall.

He knew about life, they both did, the cruel nature of things amongst the pure beauty of it all. He would let them live, he’d let them all live, if he could, but that wouldn’t happen. He’d planned for over a year, which meant that the only chances he’d have was, unfortunately, this single solitary moment. He looked down, taking in her pain, knowing how it could feel, “I’m so sorry. What’s your name?”
“Robin. That’s a beautiful name. What’s your children’s names?”
“Sarah and Oliver.” She replied starting to shake as the shock crept over her.
He nodded, looking at his heads-up display that was being sent from his contact lens. 25 seconds remaining before the bombs would rip away the secondary main air-lock which, in turn, would cause a chain reaction of decompression that would rip away the rear vent seals, causing three internal safety doors to buckle, cave, then completely destroy everything. The section they sat in, right now, was one of the safest areas of the ship for that very reason but, as with many plans, the right tin opener would open any tin.

He leaned forward, placing his forehead against hers, her tears still falling to the ground. “Before we go I want to tell you why I‘m doing this. Please believe me when I say that if there were any other way, I’d take it and spare everyone but there isn’t.” Her crying slowed as she listened, wanting there to be a chance of rescue, of recompense for what was happening, to which he continued.
“You see, this ship is unlike any ship ever created and may never, ever, be created again. We found something, something so unique that it might be a once in a lifetime discovery. We found a power that could cross a galaxy in days, thrust us into safety away from a single solitary point of failure. But there was a catch. With great power there is always a cost. Kings lose their minds, become corrupted. Egos flail or wise men become fools. The engine in this ship needs fuel!”

He moved his head backwards, smiled, as she looked inquisitively through her fear and pain, waiting for the answer. Five seconds remained…

“The power source of this ship is human souls and that’s why it has to stop!”

As her mouth fell open, the realisation for all of the security, the ship’s cargo manifest, the disappearing people, all became clear. The counter reached its last second and in that last moment he leant forward, his own fear taking hold, as they both wrapped their arms around each other.