Tuesday, 11 February 2014
Wurlds ( A blog Serial)
I can't remember the last time I stared into the moon's face and asked one of my questions, looking back I think it could well have been my own fault she left and took the ants with her. Ever since I was seven I used to ask the most ridiculous questions and I'd wait for an answer that always came. I think sometimes I imagined the answers but usually they came through the mouths of others, my mum, Lucy, people on the radio, even the pope answered one once.
When I was eleven I asked 'How come God doesn't float down from heaven in a river boat and make mum better?'
That night I had a dream where I was in a river boat and God was up front and he was trying to steer our way through a storm while half the whole world was screaming at him and the other half were praying. My prayer was in there somewhere but you couldn't really hear it because of all the others. Poor God, I don't know how he managed to concentrate but he managed to get us through the storm but I had my answer. God was busy and would get back to me as soon as possible.
I kept my questions to myself until the Moon disappeared and then I had nobody to ask my questions to anymore. I can't explain how lost I felt but I guess it was like when Lucy lost her dolly in Blackpool and cried herself to sleep for months. Mum and Dad searched high and low but never got it back but somehow Lucy got through but never got a replacement. I wish I had another moon to replace the old one, it wouldn't have to be identical, just reasonably moony. It would have to be round of course, I couldn't cope with a square one or a triangular one and it would have to be bright but most importantly it would have to answer my questions. My first question would be,
'Why the ants? What did they ever do to upset you?'
But if the moon came back tomorrow, and I'm hoping she will one day, I will have a million questions to ask. Like 'What did you do with my sister?' and 'When will I stop travelling?' and finally
'Please let it stop.'
Wurlds is my first Blog Serial and I hope to update it perhaps twice a week and share it at various places including Wattpad. It is a work in progress and no doubt I will edit it as I go along. I'm not sure how long it will end up or how many weeks it will go on for. Please feel free to leave any feedback or ideas or to tell me about any grammatical errors etc. Although I have a general idea where the story is going I am pretty much writing it at the seat of my pants and God knows where it will take me but I hope it is fun to read as well as enjoyable and exciting to write. I am hoping to update it regularly as well as my other writing projects.
The first time it happened I was in school. I must have been around seven or eight because I was in assembly and Mr Carruthers was at the front talking about God. I wasn't listening, I never did in those days. I don't know if any of the other kids ever listened but God wasn't very entertaining in those days and Mr Carruthers rarely got the party started. I don't know what I was expecting. Vicar's in those days didn't exactly put on an extravaganza and still don't beat box as far as I know. I was probably playing with my shoelaces or trying not to fart. As I recall somebody always did fart and it was usually the loudest, wettest fart know to mankind. I just never wanted to be the one. Nobody did but somebody always was.
It didn't last long when it happened. Maybe a minute or so. I think that's why I just presumed I was day dreaming, I mean how was I supposed to tell the difference? Even at that young age I was a serial day dreamer as well as being a serial nose picker and flicker.
It came without warning. One minute I was sat with my legs crossed and my buttocks clenched and the next I was rolling down an orange hill in a bubble. Horns were honking somewhere in the distance and my legs were covered in fur. My bubble was getting faster and faster and the hill was getting steeper and steeper until the hill was gone and I was flying through the air and below me was a sea of silver.
Somebody had farted and Mr Carruthers was going on about tadpoles. To this day I haven't for the life of me discovered what exactly tadpoles have got to do with The Bible. I'm sure he had his reasons and I've looked but there are no tadpoles in there.None that I can see.
I spent the rest of the assembly trying to look as if I was listening at least and I didn't really think about the bubble and the orange hill or the silver sea but to this day I believe it actually happened. It was the first time I travelled. I just didn't know it at the time. And it wasn't the last time that I was to set foot on Gallywoot.
Nothing changed after that first time.
At least nothing that I can recall and I have recreated that day to the best of my ability on so many occasions, I am no longer sure how much of it actually happened or how much of it I have edited over the years. I just know that so much has disappeared since and most of it hasn't come back.
It was my tenth birthday before it happened again. I am grateful now that I was spared a few years because it seems the older I get the less time I get between episodes. I call them episodes as if this is some kind of illness but the truth is I don't know what this is or what is going on. I started calling them episodes many years ago and somehow the term has stuck.
It was the middle of the afternoon and a Saturday and my mum had driven me and Lisa to a playground near our home. I was sliding at the time and Lisa was waiting behind me for her turn. I don't know what it was about me and Lisa but we always seemed to want the same thing at the same time.
As I got to the bottom I didn't end up at the bottom but instead found myself in what I now know is the longest queue in the universe.