Monkey needs some sleep..

Is your brain an ordered library with a strict librarian in control? Or is it more like a zoo full of escaped animals? If my mind was a library the stern, smartly dressed librarian is hiding under a table and various, strange creatures are roaring and shouting and ruining my day. The creatures make me feel different form well dressed, together women, I'm simply a different breed, I'm a little fidgety, a bit immature and very random.   

To be a slightly different person, every morning I give the monkey a sleeping pill. The monkey is put to sleep with legal Amphetamines contained in a small yellow package. 

Like the forbidden  powder Speed, Ritalin only takes about 20 minutes to work. Once the substance is absorbed the monkey yawns, crawls into the corner of the library and snores loudly. A small amount of Amphetamines is leaked into my bloodstream so my inner mischief maker sleeps all day.

The librarian sighs, makes herself a cup of sweet tea for the shock, and starts to tidy up She has a floor to clean, she has to pick up pages and stick them into the right books. Occasionally, the Monkey snarls in it's sleep and makes the librarian jump. Sometimes the Monkey looks cute and vulnerable the Librarian remembers a fun creature who gave her a lot to do, at other times "The Monkey" is a monster she will be happy to forget.

While "The Monkey" was snoring, "The Librarian" found a big book and hit "The Inner Mean Girl" over the head. "The Inner Mean Girl's" eyes rolled, she let out a dramatic moan and fell to the floor. 

"The Inner Mean Girl" was well disguised devil, tall, blonde beautiful and perfect but under the image she was a demon. Her twisted voice would insult me in a Valley Girl whine and tell me what an embarrassing mess I was. She reminded me of every failed opportunity, every popular boy I fancied who didn't fancy me, every awkward moment from primary school to last week's horrible mistake at work. Like a God of doom she declared ambition wasn't for me, other people had secrets I didn't. "The Inner Mean Girl" would snarl and tell me every neighbour had a tidy house and crew of mates and I was a messy loner. The demon was a great time traveller, she would travel around the worst parts of my life and bring them back as lurid nightmares. 

Eventually, "The Inner Mean Girl" came round and stumbled to her feet. She's still blonde and beautiful but she's a good friend. This reformed character talks about what's amazing about me, not the horror movie details. 

She now tells me the rebellious Monkey gave me character, she tells me being unpopular was fine because it meant I was doing what I wanted, this was because "The Monkey" was always searching for novelty. Instead of hanging with a gaggle of girls I was a skate rat who would fly down big hills on a piece of wood and four wheels just to feel alive. I discovered new music and subcultures, Punk, Rap and dance music, my adventurous creature meant great experiences and more people. My loner tendencies meant I would meditate on lonely beaches, go on long walks, find photography and write strange tales. 

My latest bid for adventure means I run into the sea all year round so my brain can get the neurotransmitters it craves.

The reformed mean girl tells me I deserve a better life and that my dreams are possible. She also gently told me not cleaning my kitchen wasn't because I'm an immature, lazy slob but simply a chemical imbalance I couldn't control.  She reminds me plenty of people live untidy lonely, dysfunctional lives and never say a word about it. 

The Monkey never meant to be evil, it was a dopamine hunter. It tried to find a chemical I desperately needed to be happy in any way it could. The Monkey lead me to disaster and adventure in about equal measure.I do believe only a brain as busy is mine could dream up something as complicated and crazy as #Hatefield. 

I had to put the creature to sleep because I was failing at everyday life. I was rude, I would stare at people for way too long, The Monkey would interrupt people and fidget endlessly. My dreams never lasted long, I never felt as good as other people. I felt loved at work, a rebel who was horrible at paperwork and never taken seriously. I needed to change so I could be more social, and live a more conventional life.

So never be scared of getting rid of your demons. I may keep feeding "The Monkey" sleeping pills or I may let it run wild. I have seen a glimpse of another life,a tidy home and a quiet brain and who could have been, it's a wild road trip to destination "normal."

https://www.webmd.com/add-adhd/adhd-medication-chart

https://www.simplywellbeing.com/being-adhd/adhd-rebels-mavericks-criminals-and-innovators/#

https://www.additudemag.com/adhd-neuroscience-

101/#:~:text=ADHD%20was%20the%20first%20disorder,is%20synthesized%20within%20the%20brain.

https://www.wildswimmingcornwall.co.uk/blog/cold-water-immersionwhy-is-it-good-for-you

The Monkey's genius at work.

@Exsuarbabe

#Hatefield

Christmas in negative

 It was the night before,

Christmas in negative,

Panic buying,

Drunkenness,

Expectations.

Except lights will sparkle 

For the few,

We’re buying pasta 

Baked beans and toilet roll

Not chocolate and booze

There will be no 

Overheated living rooms

Full of too many aunties

And forgotten uncles,

Just us holed up with our thoughts.

The Dullest Fight

Some days of The Plague were dull.

I suspect I had the sicknesses, on some days I would struggle to talk through a sentence without coughing, this was hard for someone who talks like a machine gun and hardly takes a breath. In the worst of the sickness I would just sleep, people talked of “fighting” Covid 19 but is wasn’t that interesting, all you can do is sleep. The fevers were extreme and sometimes trippy, visions came and went and I was pinned to a bed. Breathing was part blocked by what felt like candy floss in my lungs, the dry coughs never seemed to get rid of the alien substances. Odd symptoms came and went, dizzy spells, loss of taste and smell, strange toilet problems, recovery was slow, boring and came in spurts.  My lungs felt disabled, I played mind games with myself to keep breathing slowly so I didn’t panic. I lied on the phone when my loved  ones asked, I was falsely cheerful but inside I panicked, I had to be strong.

I tried to ring the doctor a few times but these seemed little point, the robotic voice told me only to ring if it was an emergency. I felt utterly let down by the state, The Plague had come and they weren’t really there.

I stayed on my house for 2 weeks. The views outside started to feel like moving paintings I was no longer part of. There were occasional, eerily empty busses going past, people  jogged past or had socially distant conversations, I wondered what they were talking about. I wanted community back, I missed everyone, my close friends, my gossip mates and even the people I only tolerated.

On sunny days when I felt better painted pictures on the balcony, I painted the sea, my favourite place, these were hours of fun in a boring time, mixing pretty shades and struggling with cheap paintbrushes was something to concentrate on. I was pleased with myself when I started to use kitchen sponges, make up blenders and a spare toothbrush, they bought better results.

I became dependent on an ever shrinking bubble, my teenage son made me drinks, my boyfriend bought food. We had stained conversations in the corridor, I was incredibly happy  to see his face and feel his presence and incredibly glad to have someone I trusted and knew our tastes in food so he always bought us the right shopping.

The 14 days needed, I ventured out for my state sanctioned walks again, I was used to stomping around the world without any problems but now I felt a little fragile, a bit breathless but getting better. Covid 19 could have been a lot worse.

Mum's Moan Net

InstgarmMummy

 Help!!!!

My son looked at his Christmas dinner as if the dog had just vomited it up. I was willing to let him eat fish fingers and jam (he has Avoidant Restrictive Eating Disorder, diagnosed last year) but hubby just screamed at him. (He was a bit drunk, night out with the lads last night and whisky with his breakfast, and all day (he's always fancied himself as a rock star.) My son fired his new Nerf gun and it hit him in the eye so my husband chucked his new, full size football at his head. My son started crying so his teenage sister started shouting and hurled a bottle of perfume at hubby. (She's team captain of her school netball team, proud mummy). 

Christmas is ruined, everyone is shouting and I'm close to a breakdown. They're all still shouting at each other, what do I do?

LovelyMumma

Your husband needs hanging in the park, we need to get some girl power going and lynch him. You should be very proud of your feisty kids. Stay strong mamma bear.

Flawless50'sHousewife

Bless, this is as typical as undercooking the turkey and everyone going to A+E, pretty much a yearly event in our house. they'll tire themselves out eventually. If they break all their gifts so what, their problem.

InstagramMummy

Thank you, Perfect 50's Housewife, I tried leaving them to it but everything has just got worse.  They are now recreating "The Hunger Games". Son and teenage daughter have got the living room while hubby has the kitchen. She's now defending the door with various perfumes, sports equipment and her new (very expensive and on) hair straighteners. Of course my husband has all the knifes and the confiscated Nerf Gun. He's now stood at the door eating chocolate, gloating while son and teenage daughter are planning their next move. to "win" the kitchen. He's also drinking out of a huge bottle of whisky, I tried talking to him about it but he keeps shouting "I can't let those little shits win!"

 I've tried to talk to both sides and treat them equally but it's become a matter of principle I don't think the whisky is helping.

LovelyMumma

Your kids need more weapons, have you got any high heels you can give the kids, and don't forget toy cars and leggo....Give your pissed up hubby what he deserves. 

Flawless50sHousewife

Your house sounds so lively, what a spirted bunch. Can I come round for a drink?

PizzaandChips

Take a tip from your hubby, get some whisky down you and join in, you can't beat them, thanks for the lols!

InstagramMummy

The kids are now setting up traps with leggo, toy cars, and sports equipment. My hubby is looking terrible, it sounds awful but I'll be happy when he passes out and the kids have "won".  The funny thing is he's just not passing out, how is he doing it.

PizzaandChips

Is he just on the whiskey? 

InstgramMummy

yes, he just likes the booze, we have no secrets in this house. Too much booze though.

Oh my god, my daughter is a good aim.......

InstagramMummy

He's bleeding, she threw a bottle of foundation at his nose and it's gushing out. I'm going to have to get the tampons.

LovelyMumma

This is going too far, do you think you should call the police now?

InstagramMummy

We have a good reputation, what would the neighbors think? We'll sort it out ourselves.

InstagramMummy

What the hell is this!

PizzaandChips

Sending hugs babe, call the police, that shit shouldn't be around kids. By the way it looks like Cocaine

Flawless50'sHousewife

Well I wasn't expecting that, too much for me, I'm getting back to the Gin.

InstagramMummy

This is really bad, my daughter just answered her phone and screamed., her best friend is dead, it was a Coke induced heart attack. My daughter started screaming at her dad, I mean really screaming...I tried calming her down but she called me a "blind bitch". Her brother is crying his eyes out, he's holding on to me, at least one of my kids still loves me.

Hubby started screaming "how the fuck do you think I was making all that money, look at all this fucking stuff, you're a bunch of spoilt brats..."

PizzaandChips

Get out love, my ex was a dealer, they're all scum.

LovelyMumma

You poor things, good luck, sending massive hugs.

InstagramMummy

Hubby has gone "for a walk", he can stay out, preferably forever.

My daughter knew everything, he's been dealing to her friends for months. She was terrified for her best friend, she was taking the stuff everyday, she was 16, lovely girl, she got good grades and had a great family, now she's gone. What's worse is daughter had a secret Facebook account full of pictures of her dad partying with her friends. My daughter is rightly embarrassed and furious. He wasn't out with the lads last night, he was at a teenage house party with the popular kids from my daughters school, he was dancing and flirting. No wonder my daughter stopped going out a few months ago. 

I'm absolutely gutted, my perfect family was a mess. How could I not see the signs? I feel like an idiot. My husband helped kill my daughters best friend and I thought he was a brilliant family man...

I'm going to go to my sisters house.....

PizzaandChips

Well done, you know what babe I've been there, these men are the best liars, they're always flogging drugs for you. It's not your fault, he sold those drugs and lied, it's that simple

LovelyMumma

Well done, it's the right thing to do, we're here for you.

InstagramMummy

Well we found hubby, he was hanging form a tree at the end of the road. There was a suicide note in a Christmas card. Here's what it said..

Dear Family

I spoilt you all this year but the best gift will be the fact I've gone.

I'm was living a stupid dream powered by Cocaine. 

Goodbye.

He was swinging off the tree, the Christmas jumper and novelty hat just made the scene look surreal. I couldn't face calling the police or checking if he was dead so I got the kids into the card and drove to my sisters house. 

I was living a dream too, the Instagram pictures, the smug Facebook messages and even my silly name here were all lies. All that stuff I showed you on Instagram has been bought with debt and Cocaine. I wasn't just putting a filter on my pictures I put a glowing filter on my thoughts.

PizzaandChips

Big hugs babe, I'll DM you with my number. You're not living a lie now. I'm sure you will miss your  hubby but at least you can start again. A bad truth is better than a shinny lie.

LovelyMumma

 Start again without him.

InstagramMummy

Thanks so much ladies. 

I'm still in shock, I guess feelings will come later.

This place is poison. On Instagram I didn't just lie to my audience but myself. My hubby was a good looking man, I scrub up well and my kids are of course beautiful. We had everything we could want. The stuff just turned into weapons' because my daughter knew everything, she didn't want stuff, she wanted parents. 

If you follow me on Instagram I'm so sorry.

Thanks, especially to "PizzaandChips"

Happy New Year.

 

 

The Monkey

Is your brain an ordered  library with a strict librarian in control? Or is it more like a zoo full of escaped animals. If my mind was a library the stern, smartly dressed librarian is hiding under a table and various, strange creatures are roaring and shouting and ruining my day. The creatures make me feel different form well dressed, together women, I'm simply a different breed, I'm a little fidgety, a bit immature and very random. 

The boss of the animals that rampage around my brain is the monkey. It  runs around  causing chaos. This money is only about a foot tall but it can be everywhere at once, it tells my brain I don't need sleep, the monkey wants chocolate, social media, to fidget with everything and wants to tell everyone what I really think of them all at once and sod the consequences. The monkey wants love from social media but can't be bothered to call my real friends, it wants trainers, it wants shiny things and no amount of anything is ever enough.

You would have a guess a monkey is in control, I blank out, change the subject in confusing ways, fidget and I never look like I'm listening. The grown up me can shut the monkey up and The Librarian can crawl out form under the table to keep the animals in order and I can behave like a normal grown up. 

At other times The Monkey gets determined, it sees I want to improve but it hisses at me "If you cage me, you cage yourself". It takes over and messes up anything I try to do, it forgets things, it distracts me from the easiest task, it loses jobs, keys and my self esteem soon disappears as well as my dreams.

This Monkey is childish, it's a pest, but it has endless ideas and energy. This creature runs around the library of my brain getting a book from here, a page from there ideas get together in new ways. The Monkey thinks up random solutions to normal issues. This creature is brave, it jumps in cold seas because it seems like a good idea, it wants me to fly down hills on my bike a little too fast. This chattering creature talks to people because it's hyper curiosity trumps shyness. Some even find the monkey charming, it's certainly funny, it makes connections, it says the truth in twisted ways. 

On a good day the monkey dreams up a crazy blog or tells me taking a picture of a building site and the edit it with trippy colours is a good idea. The creature tells me to not take a pretty selfie but one in a creepy mask. The monkey can even help me at work when I need to deal with four things at once with a smile. The monkey gives me guts and energy, the monkey makes me quirky and fun. 

So is the monkey an emery and a friend? The Monkey is not good for anyone's self esteem but it's fun, it's creative, it makes people with ADHD fun and unique. The problem is life is tough with a wild monkey running around my head...

https://www.additudemag.com/neuroscience-of-adhd-brain/

https://adhd-institute.com/burden-of-adhd/epidemiology/gender/

https://www.additudemag.com/slideshows/benefits-of-adhd-to-love/

Ghosts

I bomb into town on my bike, first I ride through the park. It’s a cool, early summer afternoon, families are out playing football, kids are learning to ride bikes, and the air is clear. The only that that’s strange is the swings and roundabouts are untouched even though there are children who would love to use them. Groups of people stand an abnormal distance apart talking about the sickness.

Birdsong, the homeless and the occasional ambulance are the loudest noises. We no longer walk in couples or tribes: we walk alone. People are ghosts, no longer connected to or jobs or each other, we are in a new world that doesn't work the way it used to. There are new, petty seeming, bizarre rules to protect us from disease in a world that looks oddly clean.

Clothes shop windows are stuck, they display spring coats and jeans, not summer swimwear and shorts. Many windows are blank with their glittering prizes packed away. No one sits in cafes sipping overpriced coffee complaining about their children’s antics, analyzing their boss or congratulating each other on small achievements, people only talk through the safety of screens or on the phone, this is slightly inhuman and a little less connected  than before. Some lonely ghosts swig furiously from bottles of booze, they have nothing else to do and no reason not to be drunk, as the scaffolding of people’s lives has gone.

A lost tribe of the homeless stick out, they argue loudly and carry on as normal. These people were always there but now nothing drowns them out. They play out high drama and crisis for the few ghosts left to see. These drifters are also a reminder that the world before the virus was troubled and chaotic.

Some people see this vacant town as a new playground. Some make the most of their emptier lives and small privileges by taking up jogging. One lad skateboards through town enjoying the vacant streets that are devoid of endless activity where  new laws and new freedoms can be found. People may walk around like ghosts but the world to some is a new environment.

Black Lives Matter Vigil

June 10 2020

Fun was cancelled thanks to The Virus. It was the year of disappointment. Gigs, festivals and fun would simply have to wait. 

I rode my bike through the High Street towards my boyfriend. The town was mostly full of young protesters, they seemed spirited and with their banners and masks. We poured into the square trying to keep in our germ free bubbles and most people succeeded to a small degree. The speakers were quiet so the crowd repeated what they said by chanting. 

People from the BAME community spoke about their issues, there were lots of shocking statistics about how BAME people are treated by the police. Community leaders from Respect spoke movingly, making us remember that we don't live in a fair society but a reminder people are working extremely hard to change this. 

We all knelt down in honor of George Floyd, it was a somber and moving tribute.  

The atmosphere was charged and serious, partly because of the pictures we had all seen of the way black people have been treated by the American police and partly because of Corona virus. There wasn't the usual background noise of a busy Saturday so our attention was on the speakers and we were out in the pandemic. The masks made a difference too, people couldn't tell if each other were smiling, this made for a slightly strained atmosphere. Rain and cold on a summer afternoon added to the determined feel to the vigil.

Exeter caught the spirit of righteous anger. The year before radicals and people who wanted a better world had fun events as a form of protest and spreading the word, we had Respect festival, a sober but fun day of dancing, choirs, live music and stalls. We had Gay Pride, as day of parade, fun, self expression and drinking with the cause of accepting and understanding everyone. These events are great but this Black Lives Matter Exeter event felt important.

 2020 feels like the year of the disaster with empty streets all over the world and then pictures from America that look like civil war. The world seems a frightening and darker place thanks to shock after shock. Maybe the conditions for big changes are here now, it's up to us if the world gets better or worse.

Recovery

She sat alone, her six-year old hands touched the warm tarmac, they felt the tiny stones, she looked up at the scattered white clouds and bright blue in between, she heard the other children and this is all she needed. She could feel every bump of the tarmac, she could enjoy every shape of the clouds.The colours and materials all around gave her a joy that the other girls and boys gained from running around, gossiping and praise from teachers.

The other girls tried to be kind, when they got no response they tried to be mean but neither would make her speak: the girl knew exactly what the others were saying it’s just the rest of the world was more interesting. Sometimes the girl would listen to the kids playing but she never thought to join them, the chatter was too much. The girl was delighted when the others gave up and left her to enjoy the world.

A sharp, piercing noise broke through her perfection, it was the bell:  her stomach churned at the thought of another human’s words, rattling chairs and being made to talk. The teacher let the girl sit at the back of the class with a kindly assistant who tried to help. She would speak in soft, sing song tones but the girl would be too busy staring at a perfect shade of green on a painting. Eye contact meant nothing, cuddles bought screams, and words were frightening.

At the end of the school her mum walked over to the painted square her daughter always stood in. The paint was fading like The Plague. The other kids happily burst out of their germ free bubbles but her daughter seemed to stay.

Mum dodged the stares and pitying smiles from the other parents. Again her daughter refused to hold her mum's hand. She remembered her daughter as a baby, she was born with symptoms  everyone feared this big-eyed infant and no one would touch her. The day her daughter stopped crying was the day her mum couldn’t stop weeping, mum realized her daughter was now a victim of The Plague forever.

Supernatural

The first time we held hands
In that Hipster cafe
It was supernatural
Magick passed between us
A spell was made
Two lives were changed.

The people on that cafe knew
Something big happened
Holding hands felt indecent
Did the lights fuse?
Was there a magick strange blue light?
Did cups and saucers fly around the room?

The magick just got stronger
As we lay in bed
On ordinary afternoons.
As we spilled more secrets
Something in our souls became clean
life became more.

We saw the beautiful
in each other,
In everything, our minds our bodies
A magick blue light continued
Beautiful chaos was all around
And we could feel the universe spinning.

We could see the colours of the world
So you remember the beach
We became one
With the nature, sand
And the sea
Magick made real.

Life pulled us apart
By forces we could never predict
Now the magick becomes more
I can conjure up spells
In my mind
I see your face again.

Shopping in the time of Coronavirus

The bright blue sky had stayed for weeks. We got to the supermarket, my son’s skateboard by his side. There was a modern winding path to the carpark, me son asked,

“Should I skate”

Usually he wouldn’t ask and just jump on his board the world was different now.

“Sorry”

He nodded, sad that his world was a little less of a playground.

The first summer dresses were out, the sunglasses were out and men wore shorts. This should have been a joyful Spring day.The only things that looked out of place were gloves, masks and a line of super ordered, obedient people lined up outside.

The people were stood on crosses marked out with tape on the ground, they were at the new super polite distance of 2 meters apart. Occasionally a few people were allowed in and people would shuffle forward. Most people were alone but some were out in their “family groups”. There was no gossip, there were distant smiles but no conversation, this was the new shopping order

We did the distance shuffle and wound our way around the carpark.

Not long ago sometimes I went shopping with my boyfriend, we’d giggle our way around the supermarket, cracking jokes and being loud, treating ourselves to way too much chocolate.Sometimes if my boyfriend knew if I was single mum poor he’d give me some cash and sometimes he’d cook curry and we’d banter over if we should play Punk or Rap, we’d talk over dinner and I’d complain about life. Now liquid relationships were on hold, everything had to be defined, love was either long distance, or you were locked down together. Part of me knew this was to protect us all the other part was furious and frightened at governments interference in our personal lives.

The distance dance continued in the shop. Tape defined  the space between up between humans. Some people made light of the distended dance and dodged around comically, others took the dance deadly seriously, they gave defensive looks protecting their safe, germ free bubble.

We looked around. the half empty shelves. Some baked beans were back, I was delighted at this small bonus. Cheap honey was out,a normal sized normal priced bottle of cooking oil was out so I bought a huge bottle. We had never seen shortages, before the virus we were spoilt children who’d complain if a supermarket didn’t have the right flavour cake, now we had to take what we could get.

We dragged or thought through shopping to the till. The young cashier is hidden behind a thick, clear, plastic screen. My son went to help me pack and an employee told him to stay clear. I pass heavy items to put in his college bag.

We leave, as we walk out the world looks sunny and all in order  A petty trip to the shops just showed how much a tiny virus could change the petty, domestic details of our lives.

The New Normal.

The sky had been a delicate blue for weeks, the bird song was louder than the cars and a happy family played in the gardens behind the flats. The world looked like a cleaner version than the last. That was until you ventured further than your garden, and then everything got strange. The gaudy screen at the bus stop no longer flashed up tempting beaches advertising holiday deals, they no longer showed a lovely figure in tight fitting jeans they showed state sanctioned PSAs.

“Save lives, stay inside”. Along with a picture of someone in protective clothing.

If you dared get on a bus, you would be the only one, or if there was someone else one would sit at the front, the other at the back. You never gave cash but waved your cash card over the machine until it beeped. There were few other cars on the road.

In town a few shops were open. Only a few people were allowed in at the same time, and there was a new dance, one where everyone stays away. Some people would have gloves, some had scarves around their mouths, others wore masks.

The clothes shops were closed, some had stacked up furniture and no clothes in them. This was prof vanity and endless consumption were meaningless now, we had to make do with our out of fashion but over filled wardrobes. Every trendy haircut was turning into a mess or a buzz cut, identity from the outside was becoming less important than not catching the tiny virus that was. changing the world.

Hatefield Quarintine

Murdering minutes,
and slashing seconds ,
in the only life we have,
the only life we'll ever get.

And you,
a mate in wasting oxygen,
killing ourselves
in abstract.

Milliseconds are shattered
as seconds tick by
a day on repeat
as Twilight comes.

We are killers
who won't need a shovel
to bury the evidence
We kill each other, in a cowardly way.

The Queen

Lauren watched flowers snake their way through the stubborn, red mud and flower in seconds, she was hypnotised. The furrows flatted themselves and a carpet of bright green appeared. The sun became summer holiday warm on Lauren’s back, everything had become perfect. The vibration that wanted to be a buzz came back, it was the only thing in this quick utopia that annoyed Lauren.

 One of the girls showed Lauren her face in the mirror.

“Oh my god, I’m stunning”.

Lauren’s face transformed from a slightly spotty, round face, to a beauty, she studied her new glowing skin and high cheekbones, she looked like her perfect selfie.

“Later, we will crown you.”

The  group chanted in perfect, blank unison.

“I’m fine just here, you’re all very entertaining.”

“We’re all happy that you’re happy dear Queen.”

Lauren couldn’t make up her mind if she wanted to look at her new face, her willing subjects or the strange landscape that appeared in front of her.

“We are happy at our new, beautiful Queen.”

“Thanks, you lot.”

Giggled Lauren.

“The Queen is happy, that means we are happy.”

Lauren felt the unseasonal sun on her back, she looked around a once bleak, British field and forgot the who situation was ridiculous. Lauren forgot there was a post Christmas takeaway on the table, she also forgot her little brother and sister were missing  and her older sister was worried and mum now deeply regretted letting Lauren go for a walk by herself. Lauren was in her own utopia and nothing else mattered.

The subjects  carried on with their strange, spiritual mosh pit. Lauren eventually became slightly bored of her new face and made daisy chains while laughing at her subjects spinning around enjoying Summer in December.

The chosen one?

Lauren felt a push from the robed man.

"What"

She shouted, then went with it, she spun into a robed woman, the woman looked into Lauren's eyes with a deep love and sincerity. Lauren was pushed again and into a large man who gave Lauren a bear hug. Chants became louder, the words were simple but the tune was odd, it was in a minor key and alien to Lauren.

"We love all in "Hatefield, we love everyone."

The tune was hypnotising. Lauren stopped noticing her wreaked trainers and  wet jeans and felt dazed, she felt ecstatic and anxious at the same time. The slate grey sky seemed to turn lavender and she could smell mud, it smelt comforting.

Lauren tried to stop spinning so she could think, she was picked up and sent into the dance again.

"Will you stop a minute, I might be sick....."

The song changed.

"The beautiful one won't be sick, she has powers now."

"Just stop it, I need to go home, mum wants me home for tea."

The whole group started laughing.

"But we love you."

The spinning got faster and faster, the sky became brighter and then the sun burst through and the day felt like spring.

"You've spiked me, my sister warned me about this, I need to go home, like now, it's not sunny, it's December."

The song changed again

"She doesn't know she has power, she is special, she is the one."

The sun became hotter.

"The one what?"

Asked Lauren. She began  to enjoy the unseasonal heat, maybe she was special.

The Entrance....

The sky was a flat, slate grey, dramatic, naked trees spilt the sky, Lauren marched through the post Christmas dank, cold air.

The rest of the family had gone shopping. Lauren had grown tired of endless stuff and glittering lights, she wanted to think. Lauren looked down at her trainers, they were her old ones, bored of the path by the new housing estate she started to stomp through mud and grass. She enjoyed the small adventure away from her loud tribe, she felt truly herself away from the visual noise of endless selfies from mates, gossip and claustrophobic drama of her life.

Lauren took in the morbid beauty of a field. Every colour was dull but she enjoyed it.

Lauren felt a sudden nervousness, she looked everywhere, the warnings of rapists and bad people chimed in her mind. There was no one around. She sensed a buzz, a vibration that never turned into a noise. She heard singing, it sounded odd sung minor keys and an unfamiliar, discordant tunes. Lauren was drawn to the sounds and walked a little faster so she could work out where the singing was coming from.

She marched through the field with new purpose, the grass got a little longer and the ground became rougher. The wet was soaking through her jeans but she carried on. A crowd of oddly dressed people gave Lauren empty smiles.

A small man in glasses and red robes hugged Lauren, Lauren stood stiff. The man stepped away.

“What’s your name?”

Lauren asked, it seemed the obvious thing to say

“My name doesn’t matter here.”

“OK”

Replied Lauren.

“Where am I?”

The man replied with an empty love in his eyes

“Hatefield”

Christmas in Hatefield

Lauren slowly opened her eyes, she noted her head felt fuzzy, she noted she couldn’t remember the day before and she wasn’t sure where she was. She felt ties on her arms and something was stopping her legs moving. As Lauren opened her eyes she could see flashes and gaudy colours, the colours of Christmas. She turned her head and was relived to see her boyfriend, Rob, at least someone who loved and trusted was in this fever dream with her.

The room put itself together in her perception. There were paper chains, tinsel and lights, Lauren sat at the table with her Auntie Pat, her cousins were there too. Lauren looked down at her hands, they were tied together with strings of tinsel and flashing Christmas lights, she looked down on her legs and they were wrapped like a gift with tiny Santa’s that seemed to be grinning sarcastically at her.

“What the hell? Pat what is this., you’re crazy.”

“I just wanted you to have a happy Christmas.....”

“I’m tied to a chair, you madwoman”.

Her round faced cousins had their phones pointed at Lauren.

“Great, you two, I have evidence, I’ve been kidnapped, listen you lot, someone call the police, I been drugged and kidnapped, that’s illegal you lot, illegal.”

“Keep going, you nutter, this is well funny.”

Laughed Lauren’s cousins.

Lauren turned to Rob..

“Rob do something, get us out of here.”

Rob was being untied.

“Nah, they’ve put so much effort in, I mean the dinner,the music and this  Duck looks lovely.”

“Rob you’re vegan, don’t eat that bloody duck.”

“ Stop nagging, your auntie put so much effort in, anyway, it would be a shame not to enjoy it.”

“We knew this would happen, Pasty, get the drip.”

Demanded Auntie Pat.

Pat and Patsy tipped the chair over, the held her thrashing limbs and then attached the drip full of sweet sherry into her arm.

The whole room started to chant

“Merry Christmas Lauren, Merry Christmas Lauren, Merry Christmas Lauren”.

Eventually her senses became dimmed, later they untied Lauren and she had a very Merry Christmas.

Hatefield by the Sea

And you were drowning,
So I held your hand,
I gripped it tight
And down I went,
But I thought I could swim.

Looking in your eyes
I felt that thing,
Love, that word from the songs
But I feel further into the deep.

And out of the corner
Of my eye
I saw white rabbits
And colourful chaos,
Creatures breathing underwater
From half forgotten
Dark fairy tales.

And the white
Rabbits turned to monsters
With red eyes,
huge teeth
Princesses turned to demons
And Princes turned To vengeful gods.

And I flickered
Somewhere between a giant
And an ant.
As you loved me,
Then hated me.

And your ever shifting view
Turned into me,
My soul depended on
storms ground
And soon it wasn’t my own.

No sleep came,
And you fell into darker waters.
The sun and sense
I drank more potions
Some made me ecstatic
Some made me hopeless.

And as I almost
Fell into the deep,
The place where I
Could see nothing
And the biggest
Most hungry monsters lived
I wanted to stop you drowning
But I had to save myself.

So I let go of your hand,
And Then I learnt to swim
The fairytale world started to fade.

And then I broke the surface
I started to swim,
At first I could see the visions,
I wanted you love back again.
But  I left you behind.

The pictures came back
like a poison
or a twisted magic spell
from a children's story gone dark
my stomach would churn
I'd see your face in the dark side
of my troubled mind.

The monsters faded,
I loved and lived again,
I learnt to swim again
to live with or without love,
I become the author,
of my own tales.

Hatefield Primary School

“You asked what what the easter bunny had to do with Jesus being crucified, you asked who made god and your handwriting is dreadful, and then you talked to a stranger.”

Jane looked around the classroom, the colours looked  wrong and the dulled children’s pictures had a nasty twist. The alphabet poster had the headline, “learn this or ruin your life” written at the top. Then the word examples of the letters were bizarre. “A was for abortion, B was for battery and showed a picture of a dad hitting mum with a frying pan, “c” was for crying.

“ There are no searches for you, your schoolwork was never on the wall ans you asked questions that Mrs Allit could never answer, you had fewer than 5 little friends too., no one will miss you.”

“What about mum”.

The woman turned on a projector, Mum was drinking with friends, including a heavy set man, her neighbor who always who always smelled of cigarettes flirting with her mum.”

“She’s fine”

Tears were producing in Jane’s eyes.

“Jane, Jane, will have no tears, don’t upset the other rejects, and the god you don’t beleive in.”

Jane looked around the dingy classroom to distract herself, she noticed a filthy window, skinny children and plastic chars that weren’t the right size for anyone.Jane choked her trears back and put on the blank expression that saw her through her life before.

“Tracy misses me, go on show me.”

Jane spoke in a tone she knew drove teachers mad, the teacher turned on the projector Tracy was with a pretty girl called Stacy, they were gossiping

“I only hung out with Jane because I felt sorry for her, but now we’re together forevermore, Tracy and Stacy, it’s perfect.”

“Just like our friendship “ Gushed Stacy.

Jane looked at the floor, her shoes were too big, her skirt was too short, She felt defeated and look like a an urchin who lived in a primary school.

“Carpet time”

Chimed the teacher. The children hurried to the faded green carpet .

“Now, we’re going to hear why our new girl Jane is here, Jane is here because she wanted too much truth. She was only 4 when she questioned the existence of Father Christmas, that’s way too young and then there were the questions about God making the world, poor Mrs Allit wanted to love her but Jane kept asking silly questions, what Jane doesn’t understand is we lie to protect our young from the world so hopefully she can leave Hurtfield correctional Primary school believing happy lies and with lovely, new neat handwriting as a reward.

“Jane, why don’t you believe in Father Christmas, the rest of the year is soooooo boring.”

Jane was determined to tell the class the truth.

“Don’t be silly, how does he get around the whole world in one night? And how does he watch every children all the time?”

Some of the children started crying, other nudged them and warned them against it. An old caretaker with a badge that “Crying children exterminator “ came and took the weeping children “No”


“That’s what telling children the truth does, you have to beleive in lies so so can be a productive member of society, you’re so clever and stupid Jane, no wonder no one loves you. Let’s see wheat mum is up to as you like truth so much.”

“please no”

Screamed Jane.

The crying children walked back into the room.

“Now tell the better truth Jane, the one Mrs Allit would like.”

“Father Christmas is alive and he loves you all.”

Jane, write your name at that desk

Jane produced the prettiest handwriting she had ever seen.

“Girls with lovely handwriting have better friends and their mummies love them more, you can go back.”

One of Seven

A man sat in a caravan. He looked at his phone, it was stuck on the same image of his daughter, 
her cute face was red and tears were streaming down her face. He tried to get his phone to work 
so he could call his wife or find out where he was but it was just a static photo.

Next  he looked at the 3 clocks, they had a read 6 o'clock for hours. Then he looked outside the 
musty caravan he found himself in; the sky was every shade of bruise, it also hadn’t changed in 
hours. The sound of the wind comforted him at first but he soon realised the roar was continuous 
so it was unnatural and it just added to the sick feeling in his stomach that he wasn’t on holiday.

He was a permanently bored man so it didn’t take him long to count everything in the damp 
smelling caravan. The kitchen cupboards were covered in an old fashioned rose design and there were 3 blooms on the 3 doors. He counted the windows and there were 3. The curtains match the kitchen cupboards and there were 7 blooms on on each one.

Out of desperation he followed a tea stain on the table with his finger and he had a strange 
compulsion to count 21 circles.

Just as he’d counted everything and the image on his phone no longer had any emotional impact he tried to get out but he felt dizzy for a minute and he was thrown back into the same seat staring at his phone.

The door opened. A large woman came first. The man was relieved, another human was
something to do.

“What the hell....”

Then the man felt a cold cloud of dread come over him,

“My wife was right, hell does exist, am I here forever., if only..”

“You hadn’t texted through mass”

Said the round, motherly looking woman in a robotic tone

“ All will be explained, come on sinners”

The man took in the sight and contradictions of this woman. She was round in every way, her skirt was billowing and her top was a mass of pale blue fabric but she spoke like Seri.

6 sinners walked in and sat down on the plastic benches, they all had a stone in front of them 
apart from the man.

“Do you remember your name.....”

Asked the woman in the tone of his sat nav.

The man suddenly realised he’d forgotten his own name.

He shook his head and the feeling in his stomach became alarming.

“That’s because you’re Greed for now, you’ll remember your name when you’ve detached yourself from your many sins.”

“What are the stones for”

Asked Greed.

“He who is without sin can cast the first stone, so if anyone gets angry at what you say and throws a stone they go to hell. We’re New Testament here you see.”

“So I’m not already in Hell”

“Nope, you’re too boring for that, you’re where most humans end up, Purgatory, most humans commit sins out of addiction or despair, they’re seedy little acts that build up and hurt god, but more importantly the people closest to them. All these sinners are just grubby little people, take a look at them. “

Lust was a rather striking woman but her attractiveness was dampened by a look of shame. Pride looked out of place in the rundown caravan in a suit so flashy you would guess his soul would have to be cheap. Envy had artificial green eyes that darted around at everything as if on the hunt for something she already had, gluttony had a face so fat it was circular and his mouth faded into the mass of his face. Wrath was a small women with mousy hair but an expression that scared Greed and sloth had long, unkempt hair and a grubby tee shirt but Greed could tell this wasn’t a grunge fashion statement but horrible self neglect.

“What a sad bunch, they’re people with intelligence and potential but their grubby little sins ruined everything, they rebelled against God and let down everyone around them. Today is the day, Greed you hate your sin. Look at your phone now”

Greed looked at the screen, there was now a video of his daughter, she was singing. The roar of the fake storm stopped and a deeply annoying tinny tune started Greed noticed how beautiful his daughter was with eyes so big and blue and with neat face and a button nose. How did Greed only notice he had a lovely daughter when he died? His daughter was singing Karaoke at a holiday camp. The tune  got louder when everyone heard a child singing with clarity and emotion.

“Who is that” asked Envy

“It’s Greed's daughter. And Greed, what were you doing when your daughter was singing?”

A projection appeared on the wall, it was a tweet.

“ Bloody hell not this tune again #Let it Go”

Under the tweet there was a score, he had 100 retweets and 200 loves.

“So you were so busy needing love from your thousands of followers you didn’t notice you daughter has a lovely voice, given by god to make people happy”

Wrath looked furious, she played with the stone on front of her.

“He’s not worth it, remember Hell is eternity”

Wrath nodded with a defeated look on her face.

"Look at your phone again."

Said the robotic voice.

Greed looked down and saw a home movie in sickly, advertisement like colours, his wife and child looked thrilled, they bounced on a big bed. This caravan was clean and luxurious. Geed shuddered.

"Oh god."

Exclaimed Greed, what did I do?".

The robot smiled.

"This shouldn't take too long now, I can see the sadness."

"Do you want to pass your phone around and share with the group..."

Reluctantly Greed passed around his phone.

"Do tell"

Said the robotic voice.

"This is the caravan we could have got, if I hadn't spent some of our savings on the tablet."

The film carried on, his daughter and wife ate ice cream and giggled. The sinners gave Greed dirty looks.

"And who do I look like?"

Said the woman.

Greed thought, pictures of his life flickered through his mind.

"You look like the councillor woman."

"The one you refused to see because your life was perfect."

Greed felt an unfamiliar tear slide down his cheek.

"My life wasn't perfect, was it."

Greed wept the words.

"And now it's too late. Oh look the film changed."

Greed looked at a horrifying film of his own death, he was holding his phone grinning on the edge of a cliff, he stepped back and a massive force of wind made him tumble down the cliff face”.

"Your family were gutted for a while but they moved on, your lovely Catholic wife married again and your daughter is at music school, she  was so proud to get in."

The man's phone disappeared and it was replaced by an old fashioned phone. Greed looked  at the contraption in disgust.

"Greed this is the only thing you can talk to your family on, you can say sorry."

"What the Hell"

Shouted Greed  

Anger went to pick up her flickering, virtual rock.

“So you’re going to send this woman’s soul to Hell because you can’t talk on an old school phone, seriously?”

Greed picked up the phone, everyone could hear the crackling call.

“Hello”

Choked Greed.

“Dad, why weren’t you there, that bloody phone.”

“I’m Sorry, I heard you got married, is he good for you?”

“Yes”

Replied his daughter.

“And the best thing is he doesn’t own a moby, he hates technology, so I know he’ll always look our kids in the eye.”

“Well grandad was there for me, I didn't have him for long though, and then you, with your stupid bloody selfies….”

“By the way, where are you? How the hell are you on. the phone to me?, you fell off that stupid cliff, showing off as ever.”

Greed had tears streaming down his face.

The crackles overtook the voices

“If only I has Skype”

He sobbed.

“Nothing would show, we only exist to each other.”

Greed shuddered, he could speak to his daughter but not give her a hug.

“So do you want to hand me your phone?”

Greed looked at the phone, the picture had changed to a woman, his daughter and she now had a smile on her face, she was next to a bearded man who would always look her in the eye.

The woman handed Greed a polaroid picture of his daughter.

“Now hand me the phone..”

Greed loved the smoothness of the object and the lurid, digital colours, but the picture of his daughter faded and he slowly let go.

The roar of the weather faded into birdsong, the clock showed 7 an and the sun began to rise. Greed smiled.

“Not so fast Greed, Sloth, now it’s your turn.”