Author Angst

Nothing to Say by Chris Hall lunasonline

Drag open cupboards! Rummage the dusty shelves!
Words spill out; letters separate, scatter across the floor.
Photos flame to ash, picture frames’ contents
ooze sludgily down the walls.

You fling open a window. There’s a beach, sunshine and the smell of the sea!
Waves lapping; a boy in a boat.
He points and you look
but there’s nothing to see.

A sudden squall
slams the window
shut.

Here’s a door; chained and padlocked.
There’s a message, curled and yellow, stuck to the frame
A single word, written in your own hand:
No.

You step away, anxiously.
You know. Now
is not the time.

Turn away, turn back!

You trudge step-by-step
over the disturbed contents
of your untidy mind.

Empty handed.
Empty headed?

You take a breath, drain the mug of tepid tea and realise that
Today, you simply have
Nothing to say.

Space Cadets #3

Space Cadets by Chris Hall lunasonline
Source

Previously…

The music fades out as we leave the planet’s atmosphere. The viewing screen blinks.

[STARDATE: 2607.7 – DESTINATION: SECOND STAR ON THE RIGHT]

The letters dissolve. The screen is filled with huge rocks, hurtling towards us.

“Asteroids!” yells Stevens.

The warning siren starts to wail and the red light flashes.

“Does this thing have shields?” I wonder out loud.

[SHIELDS ACTIVATED]

A medium-sized asteroid glances off the screen; the ship slews. Only our seat straps save us from being thrown to the floor.

“How do we steer?” shouts Harris.

A joystick, with a large red button on the top, sprouts from the console in front of him. He grabs hold and his eyes fix on the screen. His tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth; his gaming face. The control is hyper-responsive. Harris dodges nimbly through the asteroid belt, blowing rocks to smithereens with a dab of his thumb.

Then we’re through. The asteroids are behind us and all we can see is the inky blackness of space, peppered with bright pinpricks of light which are the stars.

All is quiet. We sit back and admire the view. My thoughts wander.

 

A huge black cube appears on the left of the screen. It glitters menacingly.  

[You will be assimilated]

Stevens peers at the screen. “The Borg Cube!

The ship is being pulled towards the vast angular vessel. Sirens wail, warning lights flash. 

“But that’s not real!” Harris protests as he wrestles desperately with the joystick.

The ship judders ominously.

[Resistance is useless]

Stevens turns to me. “Hold on. Remember what the Zyborgatron said?”

I think for a moment. “Something about the ship being ‘guided by your imaginations.’ “

“Okay, who imagined The Borg?” Harris growls.

“Never mind who’s responsible. Just think of something else; something friendly!” I yell. “Hurry!”

The Borg Cube fills the screen. Harris jabs the red button repeatedly.

The viewing screen goes blank.

 

Then I hear a familiar sound.

Tune into episode #4

Space Cadets #2

Hanson Lu on Unsplash
Photo by Hanson Lu on Unsplash

Previously…

Lights flicker into life. We remain strapped into high-backed chairs. The Professor has vanished. The spherical console in front of us rotates, lights flashing amber and green. A countdown commences: ten, nine, eight… A screen flips up showing the surface of the barren planet outside.

An engine powers up beneath us. The countdown continues: five, four… Behind us a siren wails and a flashing red light reflects on the console. The engine judders: two, one…  We are thrown back in our seats. Lift off. The siren ceases. All lights turn green.

The screen shows the planet’s surface receding rapidly. I can just make out the shape of the Professor’s Space Machine on the ground below where we left it.

I turn to Harris on my right. “Who’s flying this thing?”

On my left, Stevens points at the screen where the picture has changed. It is not a life-form I recognise. Humanoid certainly but…

“I am the Zyborgatron,” it says. We look at each other. It continues. “This craft is powered by your minds and guided by your imaginations. Welcome to the Fantasy Tribute Space Opera.”

The signature tune to my favourite TV series from the mid-20th century starts to play…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nHhePr0TKfc

 


Look out for the next episode of  Space Cadets

The Hatter

The Hatter by Chris Hall lunasonline
‘1920s Hat Shop Girl’ (photographer unknown)

She makes hats for a living. Every kind of hat, for every kind of occasion. Very special hats.

She’s famous in the town for her hats and what her hats can do. You see, she’s a crafter of dreams, a bringer of good fortune and her hats are enchanted.

They bring you health and wealth and happiness. But there’s a catch. You must pay her your dues.  And once she’s caught you in her net, there’s nothing you can do.

Try to speak out against her? Denounce her actions?

Better not. Not if you want a long and happy life.

Without you

Without You by Chris Hall lunasonline
Source

On the blank screen
the cursor blinks

Impatiently?
Accusingly?

Like a heartbeat?
A countdown?

Close your eyes
Listen and look

Who’s there?
What are they doing?

Write it down
Quickly! Quickly!

Be nice to them
Nurture them

Or one day they
your characters, might run away.

And then where would you be?

A Tom’s Life

A Tom's Life by Chris Hall lunasonline

Romeo clung to hope as fiercely as he clung to the gutter, eavesdropping on Nero as he chatted up the new little cat in town. The pretty princess had never given Romeo a second glance, but his hope swelled when he heard her rebuff his rival.

Nero leapt down, landing with the soft thud of paws on paving-stones. Immediately Romeo swung himself up onto the roof and stretched seductively before the little queen.

She slammed her paw down on the tiles. ‘Enough of you toms, you’re just after one thing! I’m going to hang out with the girl cats.’ Tossing her pretty head, she flounced off into the night.

Romeo stared after her open-mouthed. He peered down into the street below where Nero was twitching his tail in irritation. He jumped down and landed beside him. Nero turned his head. ‘No luck either?’ Romeo shook his head. ‘Wanna go rat-catching?’


From  a prompt by Hélène Vaillant of Willow Poetry: What do you see? June 4, 2019

The Characters’ Wish

promotional items for YNWA lunasoline

‘She’s been making cards and stuff all afternoon,’ says Gina in a confidential whisper to Cynthia.

‘Cards? I thought it was a book launch? Anyway, how do you know what she’s been doing?’

‘We’re her characters; we’re in her head, aren’t we? So, of course we know what she’s doing; especially if it’s about to Our Book.’ Gina nods her head meaningfully.

‘Oh, I see,’ says Cynthia. ‘I’ve never noticed. It seems a bit impolite poking about in her head, though.’ Cynthia pauses. ‘But why the cards?’

‘Marketing,’ says Gary, joining them at the little table in the back garden. ‘Giveaways, contact details, that kind of stuff.’

‘Look at you, eh, Mister Marketer,’ Gina gives Gary a playful prod in the arm. ‘Ever since he left the Social Security and went to work in that posh insurance company in town,’ she glances down at her new engagement ring and smiles, ‘he’s come over all ”private sector”. He’ll be voting Tory next.’

Gary pulls a face at her.

‘Connor showed me that lovely review she received, from that nice young lady In Sheffield…what’s her name?’ said Cynthia.

Ellie Scott you mean?’

‘That’s right, darling. I though she caught me rather well, don’t you? I’m sure she didn’t mean to imply I was something of a lush.’

‘That would never enter anyone’s head, Cynth,’ says Gary, almost managing to keep a straight face.

Cynthia glares at him frostily and stares toward the bottom of the garden where Connor is gesticulating animatedly. ‘Who’s he talking to now? Or is he just declaiming to that old rosebush again?

Gina follows her gaze. ‘It’s her,’ she hisses. ‘It’s our author! Look, they’re coming this way.’

‘Oh well, in that case…’ Cynthia leaves her sentence unfinished and disappears through the French doors.

I follow Connor back up the garden. He’s been reading to me from his latest slim volume of poetry. Perhaps I’d like to include some of it in my next book. My next book?

‘Ms Hall and I have been talking,’ Connor announces as we approach.

‘Are you going to write another book for us?’ Gina asks, eyes widening with excitement.

‘Like that nice young woman suggested,’ adds Cynthia, emerging from her French doors carrying a tray of glasses and a bottle of wine.

What’s this? My characters are at it again!

Connor gestures to me to sit down on the garden bench which has been moved to a sunny spot near the little wrought iron table where they’re all gathered. I sit and Asmar, Cynthia’s beautiful Abyssinian cat, jumps on my knee, purring his head off.

Cynthia pours the wine. ‘We do hope your book launch party goes well on Friday, darling,’ she smiles at me.

‘Hear hear, old thi…Cynthia,’ Connor adds, picking up a glass from the tray and raising it to me. ‘Cheers.’

We hear a noisy old vehicle rattle to a halt outside. Moments later Bob appears at the side gate with Fingers on his shoulder who immediately starts to chirrup excitedly. Tony Wong is behind them in what looks like a new suit. He has an air of someone who’s come into money and has plans.

‘Well, Ms Hall, the gang’s all here,’ says Connor. ‘What’s our next story?’

I take the glass which Cynthia is holding out to me. Maybe. I lean back and close my eyes. Let’s see…

asmar


If you’ve no idea who these people are, or what they’re talking about, you’d better read the book!

Fury

Superpower by Chris Hall lunasonline

Sandra’s superpowers had come as a surprise. Caused by a faulty connection in her washing machine, the freak accident had dumped her on the floor. She’d felt rather odd after that, sending out electric shocks at the most inopportune moments. It was only when she’d touched the interactive display at the mall and the whole panel had exploded that she’d realised their potential.

So many wrongs which need righting, it was hard to know where to start; but the people who had rejected her writing were at the top of her list.

Hell hath no fury like an author scorned.


Written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s Prompt May 13, 2019

The Perfect Man

The Perfect Man by Chris Hall lunasonline

How her heart fluttered at the very thought of him. This beautiful, wonderful man: tall, dark and handsome with olive skin and deep, probing brown eyes. She couldn’t believe that he’d chosen her. Never had she been so truly, madly, deeply in love. Her life was perfect. Complete.

Cliché after cliché toppled her reason. He lit up her world; he made the sunshine brighter, made her weak at the knees with a look. He made the earth move for her. Naughtily, especially with that tongue of his. She blushed at the thought. With total abandon he’d loved her and she’d loved him back. She’d explored every nook and cranny of his gorgeous, lithe, strong-limbed body. Felt the warmth of his breath, the strength of his heartbeat. The intimate tingle, that lingering consummation, together so perfectly ravished.

He was her perfect hero.

Such a shame she had only made him up.

The Characters’ Verdict

youll-never-walk-alone-by-chris-hall-proof-copy.jpg“Here it is!” I hold up the proof copy of You’ll Never Walk Alone to Cynthia and Conner, who are sitting outside in the little garden wasteland outside Cynthia’s flat. It is pleasantly and unseasonably warm for an April afternoon in mid 80s Liverpool.

Connor stretches out his hand. “Let’s have a look then.”

I hand the pristine proof over to him. He turns it over in his hands and nods. “Look rather fine, I must say, Ms Hall. Worth the wait, so it is.” He flicks through the pages and frowns. “Print’s a bit small.”

Cynthia takes the book from him. She riffles the pages, holding it up to her face. “I love the smell of a new book.”

I nod and grin enthusiastically. “What do you think?”

“It’s very nice, my dear.” She looks at the pages more closely. “Oh look, Connor, there’s a little drawing of a cat here.” She holds the book out to him, open at the title page. “Is that my clever boy, Asmar?” 

As if on cue, Cynthia’s beautiful Abyssinian cat emerges from the bushes and stretches languidly in front of us, mimicking the pose in the drawing.

Cynthia turns to the back cover. “Nice photograph of you, Ms Hall.”

“Thank you!” I smile delightedly.

“It must’ve been taken quite a while ago.”

I wince. Cynthia leans forward and pats my hand. “Well why not? None of us is getting any younger.”

Before I have the chance to reply, we hear voices coming around the side of the house. It’s Gina and Lucy. As soon as they see me, they call out in greeting. I hold up the second proof copy I have ordered for my household of characters.

“She has our book!” Lucy and Gina say together. Never mind that it’s my book. Whose name is on the cover?

They take it from me and sit down on the tatty wooden bench next to the wall. They exclaim in delight at the opening paragraphs. Lucy and Gina are, of course, in the opening scene. They start to read and for once they fall silent. After a couple of pages they look up. I can see in their eyes that they approve.

asmar


You’ll Never Walk Alone‘ a novel by Chris Hall will be published next month (we hope).