Kit's Wonderful Writing World

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It is difficult to describe the feeling of being undead. It's been so long since I was actually alive. All I remember is a numb butt and excessive screen time. 

Now I get exercise everyday. I’m outside all the time. And if you don’t like someone, you just eat them.

But you don’t do that. 

I mean what is it like? 

Seriously.

What it’s like to be alive?

You have to breathe. All the freakin time. How do you keep the air inside your bodies? I’ve eaten lungs, they are too squishy to contain much of anything. 

Sally told me that you cook your food. Honestly that sounds disgusting. If you eat it raw, it saves so much time. You just grab your prey, rip their jug- oh by that look you really don’t like that. 

Anyway, I was eating lunch with Sally the other day, a man in a suit who was a terrible runner. I saw this leaflet. It was torn and faded around big words, but the centre image remained. A family. Two parents and their two children. 

I had children. Not undead children, real living children, before the...you know. 

Julianna and Brandon. 

Don’t give me that look. I didn’t eat them. 

I miss them.

They were five and eight. I would tuck them in each night and read them Narnia. 

I was at work when I became what I am. I do not know what happened to them. 

If you see them please tell them that I died, I’m not a zom - I’m not undead. Tell them that, please? 

You’re nodding, good. Good. 

I will let you go now. 

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The first stroke was easy, a slow steady line. The next was less so. Thomas held his arm steady, trying to ignore the feather quivering inches from his face.

Her fingers twitched as she watched him. Her perfectly trimmed names tapped her watch matching the tick of the second hand. Tick, tick - 

Oval droplets fell across the page. He eased himself into the next letter. He dared not look at the other letters, he could already see their red-hue. 

More ink was needed. The last letter was too faded, too much wasted in the droplets. He hesitated. The flow had slowed, now only a small stream ran from his gash. He scooped some onto the end of the quill. It congealed becoming a dark orb on the tip. 

A few more letters. Not long now. He could feel her still watching. He tried not to look, but her narrowed orange eyes locked on his. What was he doing? He should stop. He should back out. But as she motioned her hand towards the paper, he continued. Sweat dropped from his chin absorbed by his already soaked shirt. 

She smiled. It was thin stretching to her eyes as he finished the final stroke. She slipped the paper from his grasp, sprinkling sand on top of the signature. 

“My business,” he croaked. “My business will survive?.”

What’s this?

It blocks my sky.  Is it fish? But it doesn’t have fins. It’s flat. No fish are under the water, with me.  It’s big whatever it is, but not too big. Not as big as me.  I’m going to touch it. I swim underneath it and twist upside down. My left fin touches its underside. It’s hard.  ‘Look!’  The voice, it’s human.  I swim back and pop my head above water. Two humans sit on a flat white thing. It’s hard. It’s not food.  The humans are small, very small. Their soft skin shines in the sunlight.  Pups?  Humans don’t live on my sea. They have land. The land is theirs, the sea is mine.  I swim to the edge of the thing and grab it with my mouth.  It’s like bone, cold and smooth, but hard and lacking meat.  The small humans try to shuffle away from me. The thing wobbles and they remain in place.  I let go and nudge the edge with my head.  The thing floats away, back towards the land. 

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Samuel fell on his knees. He held his palms together and rocked them in front of him as he looked up at Jessica. A single tear ran down his cheek.

“Please, oh mighty one, I beg you,” he said. His voice quivered. “Bless us, please. We are but weak before you.”

Jessica laughed, as did the surrounding children. All wore the same red and white school uniform. They stood in the far corner of the school field whilst other children on their lunch break raced around in play. Footballs flew across the grass, kids sat with their phones and some with their lunches. About 10 crowded around Jessica and Samuel. 

She held out her hand to Samuel, helping him up as he wiped the tear from his eye.

“Talk about overacting,” Angela said. Her arms were crossed, she had her cronies Nathanel and Jermilla at her side. They all had the same pig-tail hair, pruned eyebrows and bleached highlights; the only kids in class, in the school with highlights.

“Oh yeah?” Jessica said. “How would her highness do it then?”

Angela laughed and flicked a pigtail back over her shoulder. 

“I would not beg, that’s for sure. I would ask, politely.”

The rest of the kids laughed even louder at that.

Angela’s face grew red. She slammed her foot on the ground.

“I mean it! I can ask. You’ll see!”

She made a face and stormed off, Nathaniel and Jermilla made similar faces before following their leader.

“Good luck!” Jessica shouted.

“Do you think she’ll do it?” Samuel asked.

“Nah.”

Still the rest of the group followed Angela, at a distance of course, they did not want her to notice. She didn’t. She strode towards the teachers with her head held high. She talked with Mr Burham and Miss Pitchered for a moment before storming away. 

“See,” Jessica said. “Didn’t work. Your turn, Sam.”

She shoved him forwards. Sam took a deep breath. The teachers loomed over him. Miss Pitchered gave her large toothy smile.

“Are you alright, Samuel?”

Samuel wrung his hands. He could not meet their eyes. 

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Welcome to your End 

The sign hung above the pearly white gates. The words appeared in English, then faded gradually into other languages and pictograms.The bold black font sat in contrast to the white cobblestones, rich green grass and well worn marble steps. Beneath it stood two angels, Nese and Edda. Their robes flowed around their floating forms, concealing their feet. 

“Don’t you think,” Nese began. “That it’s a little, I don’t know, negative?”

“What do you mean? It’s the truth. Here their mortal lives have ended. It is the End.”

“Yes, but it’s a little threatening.”

Edda tilted her head. Her many eyes blinked in unison. “Maybe. I have another idea.”

She flew up and scribbled on the banner. 

Welcome Mortals to your Doom.

“No doom is worse.”

Welcome to the End of all you know

“No.”

Welcome. You are dead now. 

“Definitely not.”

Edda sighed. “I do not understand. Each of these pass the correct information.”

“Yes, but they are all a bit harsh.”

“You show me your ideal phrase,” Edda said, passing Nesse the pen. 

“Gladly.”

Welcome

“Oh,” Edda said. They took a few steps back. “Susintic. Informative. Do you believe that it is enough?”

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There it is. 

Blue, so very blue. 

It’s a deep blue, dark and vast. If you look closely you can see the tectonic plates holding the world together, where underwater volcanoes splutter and seeds of life grow. Light blue, almost turquoise sections sit around the landmasses. They seem like swashes from a painter’s brush. Much like the rivers that flow out into the oceans, long and twisted against the land. 

There are a few little landmasses covered in dark greens, yellows and brown. Massive white continents sit on the poles. Puffy clouds litter the atmosphere, obscuring the planet below. Beneath them storms could be raging, rain or snow could be falling.  

People live on these landmasses, humans, that’s what they call themselves. They are small, a few settlements here and there, but I wouldn’t pay them much heed. It is the oceans that you will rule. 

I do not think you will remember me when you spread throughout the Blue, and I am not even sure that I want you to. But I do want you to know that you were once a great people, an empire that spanned galaxies. 

You will be safe here. This planet is tiny. It is insignificant. 

A white ship sat in orbit around the planet. It was tear-drop shaped but flatter, with blue emitting from the point and a windowed section where the ‘drop’ should be. Smaller cargo vessels, miniatures of the mothership, undocked from its base and dispersed. From the windowed section an AI looked on; to a human it would look horrifying, with a mouth that stretched to the back of its head and small pins for eyes. It swam in place, and as it turned in the water filled space ship, the ship moved with it and disappeared into deep space. 

She became a legend, a godlike figure to the creatures as they evolved on Earth.

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Plain and boring. 

They were the only phrases Jenna ever associated with McMillian’s School, all encapsulated in the clothing. The trousers were black and flat. The blaiser was striped red and white with the emblem of a book and pens on the top pocket. 

“They might be a bit big for you,” Ruth said. She held the trousers against Jenna; the legs brushed the floor, each one wide enough for Jenna to fit both of her legs inside. 

“They might be very big for you, but it’s nothing I can’t fix. Can you take the dress off?”

Jenna recoiled and stepped back, hands bunched into the folds of her dress. 

“Look,” Ruth continued. She sat on the bed while she spoke, setting the trousers beside her. She folded the trousers, making sure no creases remained. “You need to dress the part. You can’t go to school like that.”

“But it’s better. Everyone will like it.” 

She held her head with her chin pointed outwards, just as Bianca did.

“It makes me look the part,” she said. 

“Of what?” Rebecca said, glancing up from his phone. “A victorian doll?”

No, like the Horseman of Death, she wanted to say instead she made a face at him. 

“None of that,” Ruth said. “You will treat our guest nicely.”

“But why is she coming to school?” Rebecca said at the same time that Jenna said: “I don’t want to go.” 

“Rebecca, can you see if Michael needs help with making Jenna’s bed?”

Rebecca sighed, pushed herself off the bed, and left. Jenna heard her shouting down the hall calling her little brother names. 

Jenna straightened out the bunches in her dress. The fabric was creasing - it had never creased before - and the silver patterning was fading. She traced the lines with her fingers. She heard Ruth move closer and found her kneeling beside her. 

“It’s a beautiful dress,” Ruth said.

“My,” Jenna hesitated. What was Bianca to her? 

“My older sister gave it to me.”

“Do you know where your sister is? Do you know her number?”

How could she contact Bianca? A woman who lived in the stars didn’t have a phone. 

Jenna’s eyes ached. Her face grew red. Her vision was blurred. 

“Don’t cry,” Ruth said. “It’s ok. Do you think you can try the clothes on for me?”

Jenna nodded then said, “Why do I have to go?”

“Because you need to see the headteacher. Mr Stricken will know how to help you. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But you need to look…”

“Less like a victorian doll?”

“No,” Ruth smiled. It wasn’t a cruel smile, at least it didn’t seem that way to Jenna. “If the police found out you fell from the sky, I don’t know what would happen or where you would go. I need you to look like one of the school kids, can you do that?”

“Can we keep the dress safe here?”

“Of course we can.”

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‘Ashoka!’

The voice. It was him. 

Strained and twisted, conjoined with the deep breaths of the machine.

Half his face was still that black metal helmet. The red pulse of the lights cast a deep darkness into each sharp dip. But the other half was human, a pale aged face. His blue eyes were orange, the blue brilliance nowhere. His cheeks were gaunt like the helmet’s creavases. There were age lines around his haggard eyes. 

‘Ashoka,’ his voice was softer now. 

‘Anakin.’

A small ten year old, surrounded by other younglings snuggled in their bunks, pushed herself from her bed. Barefoot she made her way out of the bed room. The Jedi temple was far too large for a little girl, tear stricken and alone. The ceilings disappeared into domes lit orange by the city lights beyond. 

Temple guards ignored her as she walked. 

She just walked. She didn’t know where she was going. She just didn’t want to be in there. She didn’t want to sleep.

‘Sleep can you not?’

At the stairwell the small green form of Master Yoda stood, legs crossed on the step.

She bowed.

‘Master, I - I am afraid.’

He nodded and made a low hum of acknowledgement. 

‘Nightmare was this?’

She hesitated.

‘Yes, master.’

He made another hum.

‘The code, what does it say?’

‘There is no emotion, there is peace.’

‘Let fear in, you should not, peace you must focus on. The force. Breath now, you will. Meditate.’

She shook her head. Staying still was the last thing she wanted.