Gazette 99, Fear Of Darkness

Fear Of Darkness   A serial novel by Joe Lake.

(So far: Julie meets Susan, the social worker, who says that she is from five hundred years in the future. Susan gives her a ring to travel in different dimensions. They step into a parallel universe and return. Susan leaves but warns Julie not to turn the ring as this could be dangerous. Julie tells her husband of the ring and they go for a short excursion into the void. When they return, her husband, John, is tempted to turn the ring while she is asleep, hoping to get some advantage from the journeying. He is taken by Susan’s friend, Starina, to Saturn and its moons where he finds that he can fly like a bird.)

          

 John woke suddenly and was lying next to his wife Julie in their mobile home at Cooee beach. He shook his head as do animals to rid themselves of water or metaphorically from some negativity, only what he had just experienced was the most intense dream. He stared at the ceiling of the van to clear his mind. He saw in his peripheral vision at the end of the bed a figure which couldn’t be made out clearly in this early morning light.

        “Am I still dreaming?” he asked aloud.

        “No and you are in big trouble. You turned the ring on Julie’s finger.”

        “No I didn’t,” John said with indignation. “This woman came when I was about to turn the ring and she took me way out into the solar system, somewhere near Saturn.”

        “I know where you went,” said the indistinct figure at the end of the bed. “Why did Starina appear when you didn’t call her?”

“I don’t know but I’ll show you that I didn’t. I’ll turn the ring now.” John took the sleeping Julie’s hand and quickly turned the ring on her finger to its inverse position.

Suddenly he was blinded.

“I should leave you in this limbo but for the sake of your wife who is one of us, a chosen one. What I’ll do is make you fly with me over the Earth at an altitude where you’ll feel the cold as punishment until you promise never to touch the ring on Julie’s finger.”

Blind, John suddenly felt a woman’s hand in his.

“Come, we must step outside.”

They did and then he was taken by the woman into a tornado spout that spun him to dizzying heights above the clouds as the air became freezing. The woman held him by his left hand with an iron grip and with his right he kept hitting his chest to get the blood flowing. Then the whirling stopped and way down below he saw  the coastal outline of the lit-up Burnie port and its mountains of woodchips.

“I apologise and I promise,” John shouted into the freezing strata. “I’ll never do it again, ever” but he knew that one day he would travel amongst the stars once more.

(To be continued next month)

Gazette 99, On Being, My Kind Of Man

On Being

I am the essence of ambitious themes,

A quality of much intrinsic worth;

With attributes of light and colour schemes

That quantify my spirit towards terse.                       4

Relationships within me are obtuse

All space is filled by some organic work

Where heartbeats pump to drums that are abstruse

There, in a tunnel where diseases lurk.                       8

This state where skin, like leather, hides

The churning mills that actively enrage

The enemy of life where rape abides

And through affection, warring cells engage.       12

        Where my survival is a way of life

        To make my cells a ubiquitous hive.

© Joe Lake (from Songs Of Philosophy)

My Kind Of Man

I saw you looking with a nurturing smile

At the yellow Jag, clinking keys in your hand.

You looked so suave in those tailored jeans.

 I thought, yes, this is my kind of man.

  I followed you into the library

Where I noted you looking through travel magazines

And at the check-out I saw your bundle of credit cards.

I conjured up and immersed myself with images of

Travelling together carefree in that yellow Jag,

Dinners at whim at luxury restaurants.

Yes! Yes! You are my kind of man, I thought.

When you left the library I walked behind you

And just before you reached that yellow Jag,

I accelerated my steps and accidently tripped

In front of you.

You reached down to me and you said,

Pointing at the yellow Jag, “Is this your car?”

© Judy Brumby-Lake

Gazette 99, 23 Good Reasons

23 Good Reasons

It’s 23 steps to the front door of No. 23,

A long way in 23-degree humid heat,

On this, the 23^rd day of the month;

My guests arrived in twos and threes,

And altogether there were 23 adults,

First arrival was at 23 minutes to three,

The last arrival was at 23 minutes past three,

Some turned up with two-year-olds,

And some with three-year-olds,

In all, there were 23 children,

Plus 23 adults, making a total of 46,

Half of which, for trivia’s sake, is 23!

There were 23 steps from backdoor to barbecue,

They all followed their noses to the aroma

of cooking - in twos and threes,

Sizzling hot were 2kg of sausages, 3kg of beef steaks,

2kg of lamb chops, 3kg of hamburgers,

2kg of chicken pieces, 3kg of whole fish,

2kg of shelled prawns,

3kg of sliced Dutch cream potato,

And, no, not 2kg, but 3kg of garden salad,

Making a grand total of 23kg!

Not bad eating if you’re aged 23 and slim,

Not so good if plump and, that’s right, aged 23!

End to end the spread measured 23 metres,

Which filled much more than 23m of intestine,

Later, half of those attending, which was 23,

gathered around the goldfish pond,

in which there were 23 unique specimens

swimming, contented, in an area approximately

4.80m by 4.80m – and, give or take a fraction,

this equals 23 sq.m,

The other 23 children and grown-ups enjoyed

23 bottles of fine wine,

And 23 cans of assorted soft drinks,

(A lot of over-indulgence, wouldn’t you agree?!)

Everyone had left by 23.00 hours

(extremely late for children),

Having departed in twos and threes,

Staggering the 23 steps to the front gate of  No. 23,

Most got into their cars – 23 various makes of vehicles,

And the remainder caught the No.23 bus home.

This all says something about the number 23.

© Michael Garrad June 2012

(Inspired by a conversation with Allan Jamieson,

author of  the prestigious work, The Pulp:

The Rise And Fall Of An Industry)

Gazette 99, Michael Garrad's View

No, one didn’t fly over the Cuckoo’s Nest with Jack Nicholson. Rather, it flew the coup. Roy Rooster, seeking a change in his life, landed in my garden and proceeded to enjoy the fruits of his freedom. Just scratched around quite unconcerned.

The Cat was watching his every move. “Ah,” thought the cat, “this could be my morning snack!”

“Ah,” thought Roy, “this is the best garden salad I’ve tasted in ages!”

Talk about free range!

The Cat continued to prowl, stealthily, like the black panther hunting. Just couldn’t quite get close enough, not even within a paw’s width. Salivating was The Cat, though. “Forget large fries and potato and gravy, just give me that chicken!” But drive through or drive by, Roy didn’t put a claw wrong.

And The Cat circled – and hoped.

Not once did Roy, very handsome in his white plumage, fall foul of the preying cat. A cluck here and there fixed that!

“Better the cat than all those nagging women in the henhouse!” Roy thought. “Besides, the cat is domesticated, as I am (and adventurous with it!), and he doesn’t want to have his fur ruffled if the feathers fly. And I don’t want my feathers to fly, thank you!”

So Roy just kept on scratching a living off the good earth. And The Cat? Well, The Cat gave up. Yes, walked away, tail down.

.There are eight million true stories in

The Naked City and this has been one of them!

Gazette 99, Yesterday, Today And Tomorrow

Yesterday, Today And Tomorrow

Yesterday - diamonds danced on a turquoise sea,

Clouds, like the Himalayas, rose in a sapphire sky,

A wattle-bird sang in a gently swaying tree,

The sun warmed my spirit and my back,

And I wanted to shout “I love nature -

Every day should be like this day!”

        Today - wild winds whip the coast,

        Those majestic clouds of yesterday

        Threaten to engage in war,

        Lightning spears a darkening sky,

        Thunder explodes as if to say - “Let the battle begin”,

        Rain pounds on my roof and windows

Like a motley orchestra of drums,

And I wait patiently for hours ’til it eases

To mere piccolo tinkles -

Nature is in a dreadful mood today!

Slowly the black sky turns to pearl grey -

And almost from out of nowhere

Twin rainbows pose in their candy gowns,

The turbulent wind has at last vent its anger,

The sun shyly shows a golden face -

And that wattle-bird ventures out again, trilling its song.

What a long day it has been!

But now, all is well in my world once more!

Tomorrow - who knows?

The day could be tinged with sorrow,

Or filled with indescribable joy -

It could be stormy, snowy, sunny and mild -

Or anything in between -

We just have to wait for the mystery of it to unfold!

Sadly, some of us never reach tomorrow -

The flame of life is so easily extinguished,

But while I’m alive, I aim to enjoy all the tomorrows

Fate, on her cards, has marked out for me.

© June Maureen Hitchcock, March 15 2012