In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Kindness of Strangers.”
It had been a stressful and testing day at work. The unbearable heat made it all the more insufferable. By the time I got home that evening, I was ready to flop on the sofa. I flicked mindlessly through the TV channels; I was so tired that I was as indifferent to a news story on a famine as I was to a cartoon.
I looked up to the ceiling, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. When I opened my eyes again I found myself floating upwards through the ceiling, through the roof, above the houses. I could see the streets and lights below getting smaller and smaller until….
I was rising through the clouds. I could see the outlines of continents, the movements of the oceans. Night turned to day and back again. It was clear to me that I wasn’t just floating upwards; it was as if I was being swept by the winds across the world. But I couldn’t feel the winds or the heat of the sun, or the rain or snow.
I was just there.
And soon, I found myself floating through the outer layers of the atmosphere until I was high above Earth in space itself. I could see our planet, suspended like a teardrop in the dark abyss. I looked around, spinning on the spot as if in a gyroscope. Stars and planets and galaxies and black holes and supernovas and nebulas whizzed around at unfathomable speed.
As I slowed I looked at the Earth again. I could see every person as if I was right next to them. I knew their thoughts, felt their breath, understood their hopes and fears. I came to understand why good and evil existed and the importance of hope. I saw there was a solution for everything, no matter how big or small a problem; at the same time, I witnessed how and why people in different corners of the globe make mistakes, but never truly learn.
I learnt a lot, I saw a lot, but then I forgot it all. As I came to, my mind ached, my mouth was bitter and dry. All in a moment I understood how, what, when and why; but, all in a moment, my new found knowledge and wisdom had dissipated into the depths of space.
I flicked off the TV and went to bed. I would wake the next morning only to make the same mistakes as today, not having learnt a thing.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Golden Hour.”
I think a lot about what life will be like in the future: ten years, ten thousand years, ten million years – the near and far future are full of so many possibilities.
I’ve always been interested in history – right back deep to Neanderthals and before – but studying what the future may bring has only been a recent interest.
How will people be living ten thousand or ten million years from now? Will there be world peace? Will we have reached a higher state of consciousness as a species? Will we meet people from other worlds?
The Universe contains the past, present and future. Could there be planets out there that are younger than ours yet more advanced?
These are some of the things that blow my mind. The thread of Time runs constant through it all.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Toy Story.”
Ah, Subbuteo, my fantastic, plastic, flick-to-kick hobby. Little plastic men sliding around a cloth soccer pitch after a ball that was bigger than them.
My mates and I had are own street league. I was one of three Manchester United fans, so I had to fall on my back-up plan: Luton Town FC. The night before the start of our summer tournament I would polish the bases of the players to get that extra glide. Cheers Mr Sheen!
During one summer I entered the national UK tournament. My mum pulled the plug on that – I honestly would have been slaughtered – but not before the local newspaper had got word of my entry. I made the left margin of the front page of the newspaper that week. Unfortunately, it didn’t help that the main story’s headline read “Forced to Flee By Psycho Attacker”, as my face beamed out to the local readership.
Like most of my teenage passions – grass hockey, tennis, and topiary* – Subbuteo is now confined to the vaults; it may make a return now and again if it takes mine and my brother’s fancy to play – but that is a rare event.
Has it had an effect on how I am today? Well, I’m quite nostalgic, so it fills me with happiness when I take a trip down memory lane.
* I’ve never been in topiary, really; although, I do think it should be an Olympic Sport.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Blogger With a Cause.”
I would write. I would finish those half-baked ideas lurking at the back of the drawer. Then I’d send them away to be proofread.
I’d then send them for publishing, but I’d have to learn to make myself bulletproof to cope with rejection.
I’d plan for the lifetime holiday to Japan I’m always dreaming of.
And I visit family and friends and spend proper time with them.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Childhood Revisited.”
I had a good childhood. Mum and dad always did what they could for me and my four siblings, and always gave us love. We are a very close family.
I was taught a hard work ethic from a young age. I was taught to think for myself, but was told never to be afraid to ask for help. Sharing and caring are two values that make the world go round.
Discernment is a valuable trait as well.
If I can go some way to pass these things on to my daughter, then I think that’s a good thing. She is a teacher to me too: she is fearless at embracing everybody with love, she has no ego. My dream is for her to follow her own path, to embrace that which makes her unique; I’ll support her all the way.
Love the world and everything in it. As it was said in one of the Bill and Ted films: “Be excellent to each other”.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Green-Eyed Monster.”
Dear Soccer Dog,
Yes, I know who you are. Popping up on either side of the pitch like the footballing hound that you are.
You may have beaten the English Premier League champions in your first movie; and won the European Cup in your second. However, your career is hopelessly flawed:
1) You do not wear regulation soccer boots. No right-minded referee would allow you on the field of play.
2) That ball you are meant to be dribbling is obviously an added special effect given the low budget of the movie. So, in fact, you are just running up and down – nothing else.
3) As a dog it is obvious that at any given moment you would not be able to resist the urge to wee up against a corner flag or goal post. The oversight by the script writers, producers and other individuals involved in the making of this film is not mind-blowing; it’s laughable.
In concluding, I suggest you stick to chasing sticks.
My cat would run rings round you.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Clothes (May) Make the (Wo)man.”
Yep, I tend to not spend more than £20 on a pair of trousers; I spend no more than £10 on t-shirts and jumpers.
I much prefer to use the money to pay for trainers and comfy shoes – they are about my only excess in life.
I have a dilemma if I see clothes I like in a high street shop and I know that chain has links with the child labour market: do I buy an item of clothing knowing I’m funding the continuation of child labour?; or can I take solace in the possibility that a child gets a wage (even if it is low pay), somewhere (safe?) to sleep and food?
It’s something I’ve never been able to get to grips: if I do buy an item from an outlet of a company with links to child labour, then I imagine the fat cats at the top of the business and the factory owners laughing; yet, if I don’t buy an item, I think of the children having less of a (very minimal) wage and struggling to work long hours.
It’s a Catch 22 because there have been times when I’ve bought an item and times when I haven’t. I always try to do it with the kids in mind.
I try to keep informed about these sorts of things, but I’m not so sure I’m as clued up as I could be here.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Green-Eyed Lady.”
1) People on holiday when I’m at a garden centre
3) People that bow to requests written on mangoes
4) Anybody who’s got their Amazon delivery on time cos I’m still waiting for mine.
5) People who write to Amazon with requests written on mangoes demanding they get sent their delivery today
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Your Life, the Book.”
*** I often wonder what future generations of my family might think of me. Here is an excerpt from a book that will be published in the year 2090 by a descendant of Bruce Campbell after not so lengthy interviews with my great granddaughter Ruth. ***
Shards of light pierced through the tattered curtains, giving Ruth the chance to carve a pathway through the hordes of boxes and bric-a-brac. The attic had been empty a long time now, past memories buried under piles of dust.
Ruth made out three leather-bound books perched on top of a vanity table. She shone her torch, taking care not to trip over miscellaneous items strewn across the floor. As she wiped the cover of the top book, the title became clear: ‘My Memories And Other Stuff: Volume 1’.
Ruth pulled a dust sheet off a nearby armchair, settled in and opened the cover of the book. Her great grandfather’s face beamed back at her from a photo stuck down on the inside cover. Ruth turned the page, not knowing what she was throwing herself into.
After pouring through the three lengthy tomes, Ruth straightened herself up and declared, ‘My great granddad was a plonker!’
And she left, never to return.