Hi all,
Sorry, still no updates to those epic sagas I was writing. I'll get back to them, I promise.
This year I have only one student, a boy in year 10. I see him once a week for an hour and tutor him in English and he's actually starting to get a lot better. Over the course of this year I've had opportunities in and out of my tutoring sessions to do some creative writing. So today, here is all the creative writing I've done at or for work this year.
In case you want to pick and choose: the first story is a bit dull, the second is really short but a bit lame, the third is a set of 3 letters and the fourth is a play which, in my opinion, is pretty fun and you should definitely read it.
Anyways, enjoy!
♥Nancy♬
"Confusing Funeral"
Jake raised his right hand and adjusted his uncomfortable black tie. He was bored and he felt weird about being here, but mum was grasping his other hand pretty tightly so he wasn’t about to complain and upset her. Next to mum stood dad with his arm around her shoulders, leaving her other hand free to wipe her eyes. On dad’s other side was Sally, who was busy adjusting the hemline on her black dress. Usually dad would have complained about the length of her hem but this morning he hadn’t mentioned it. There weren’t a lot of people around. There were a few old people wearing black, frumpy clothes. Jake looked at the old men in high-waisted pants and thought that they couldn’t be comfortable. He looked at the old ladies with their silly little black hats and floppy flower brooches and was glad that the girls at school didn’t dress that way. Off to one side stood six men in dark military uniform. They all had stern, angry faces. Jake couldn’t tell if they were sad or not.
Two nights ago, mum had received a phone call from her Aunt Sylvie, Jake and Sally’s great aunt.
“Hi Sylvie,” she’d said, and then, “what’s wrong?”
The rest of the family had been sitting at the kitchen table, eating dinner, but dad stopped eating when he heard mum’s tone change.
“He’s dead?” she’d said, and her free hand had flown to her mouth in shock. “Oh my god.”
Jake had stopped eating then, too, and so had Sally. Who could have died? Dad’s parents were happy and well and holidaying in Vietnam at the moment so it wasn’t them. Mum’s mum had died a long time ago.
“Saturday?” mum had said on the phone, “that’s two days away.” And then, “I’m not so sure Sylvie...”
The rest of the family had waited patiently while mum finished the call.
“We’ll be there,” she said, “thanks for calling, Sylvie.”
Jake tried to adjust his tie again. They were horrible things, ties, and he hated how uncomfortable this formal wear was. Why did you have to dress in all-black formal clothes for these things? The person in question couldn’t tell so Jake figured it didn’t matter. Dad had insisted though so here they were at the cemetery all in black. Sally bent down to retie her shoelace; or at least, that’s what she was pretending to do. Jake saw her texting on her phone and thought she was lucky that dad couldn’t see her. He thought it was pretty disrespectful of Sally to be doing that but she was only fourteen so he didn’t expect much more of her. He thought about all the study he had to do and sighed. He knew it was sad when someone died but he’d never met this guy and his upcoming Chemistry test seemed way more important.
Mum hadn’t explained the phone call that night. She just sat back down at the table and started eating again.
Dad questioned her: “Beth?”
“I’ll talk to you later,” she replied, and that was that.
The next night, after dinner, dad sat down with Jake and Sally to talk to them.
“Mum’s dad died last night,” he said.
“What?” said Jake.
“Mum doesn’t have a dad,” said Sally.
Jake said, “everyone has a dad, idiot.”
Dad said, “Jake, not cool,” his tone was sharp and warning.
“Sorry,” he said in reply.
Dad explained that they were going to his funeral tomorrow so they should cancel whatever plans they had for Saturday.
“Are you serious?” asked Sally, angrily.
“Yes,” said dad.
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Sally got up and walked away to do her own thing but Jake wasn’t ready to end the conversation.
“Mum doesn’t seem that upset, if her dad died,” he said to dad.
It wasn’t a question but he hoped that dad would provide an answer. He didn’t know anything about his grandfather on mum’s side and the way mum was reacting made him think that maybe he didn’t want to know anything.
“Her dad was... he was an interesting character, Jake. They had a mixed relationship and it wasn’t always great for your mum. Hold on a sec.”
Dad left the table where they’d been sitting and returned a few minutes later with an old photo album. He explained that it was mum’s from before they’d gotten married. He showed Jake the old pictures in it.
“That’s your grandmother,” he said, pointing to a pretty young lady in one picture, “she died when your mum was just seventeen. And that,” he pointed to a handsome young man, “is your grandfather, the year before mum was born.”
“He looks like a nice guy,” Jake said.
And dad said, “he was, at first.”
Aunt Sylvie came up to them. She was a very elegant lady. Her black clothes were neatly ironed and perfectly straight. She wore lots of black and silver jewellery and a little black hat on top of her silver hair. Jake didn’t like her very much, he never had. It had something to do with the fact that mum didn’t like her much either and also something to do with how posh and stuck-up she seemed.
“Hello Beth,” said Aunt Sylvie.
“Sylvie,” said mum, nodding at her in greeting.
“Have you changed your mind about the eulogy?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“People will talk, Beth.”
“I’m not doing it, Sylvie.”
Aunt Sylvie looked down at mum along her long pointed nose. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed together into thin lines.
“Fine,” she said, and stalked off without another word.
Sally, who had actually paid attention through the whole thing, said, “wow!”
Her eyes were very wide and her eyebrows were raised in surprise.
“Aunt Sylvie’s a total bitch!”
“Sally!” scolded dad.
But Jake was watching mum and saw that she smiled a little, which made him think that she agreed with Sally, no matter how rude it was of her to say that.
Over near the group of military men, Aunt Sylvie was talking very animatedly and loudly.
“His own daughter won’t even speak, despicable!” she said, loud enough that the whole family heard every word.
“Told you,” muttered Sally.
Mum looked over at Sally and said, “yeah, she is, Sally.”
“Ted,” said mum, gently, from behind Jake.
He jumped in surprise; he hadn’t realised that mum had snuck up behind him while dad had been talking and showing him the pictures.
“Come on Beth,” said dad, “Jake’s curious, you should talk to him.”
Mum seemed reluctant but at dad’s urging she sat down at the table with them.
“Tell him about your dad,” said dad to mum.
She gave a huge sigh.
“When I was little,” she said, “my dad was a really great dad. But when I was twelve, he went off to fight in a war. I missed him a lot and so did my mum, but we managed by ourselves for a while. And then he got back from the war and he was different.”
Dad chimed in, saying, “today he would have been diagnosed with PTSD, do you know what that is?”
Jake nodded; he’d learned about post traumatic stress disorder in his psychology class. He’d done really well on the test about that stuff so he remembered it pretty well too.
“Back then people didn’t know as much about PTSD, so he just went back home and had to get back on with life.”
“He’d changed a lot,” said mum, sounding sad, “I know now that he was abusive, emotionally and physically. At the time it just seemed to me like he was a mean dad.”
Jake had nothing to say. He would never have guessed that mum’s life had included something like that.
“I wasn’t his little girl anymore,” mum continued, “and I think that was hard for him. When I started dating your dad...”
Mum’s voice trailed off. Dad put his hand on her arm and they both gave a great big sigh.
“Mum and I moved in together as soon as she turned eighteen,” dad said.
“I haven’t seen my dad since then,” finished mum.
And that was the story.
The men in military uniform were all quite old, but between the six of them they had the strength to lift the coffin and carry it to the grave. Jake and his family stood well back as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Jake noticed that mum was crying, but he didn’t say anything.
“Should we throw some flowers or something?” asked Sally, eyeing off the pretty white roses that the old people were starting to throw into the grave.
“No,” said dad, “let’s just stand here.”
A priest came up and said some words, waving a smoking incense burner and sprinkling some holy water over the top of the coffin.
Aunt Sylvie came up next to say her words - the eulogy, they called it.
“Jack was a great man,” she said, “a great brother to me, a great husband to Martha and a great father to Beth.”
Jake thought to himself, no he wasn’t. He wished that he didn’t know what his grandfather had really been like. He wondered if Sally would say nice things about him when he got old and died. He hoped that they’d be true things, not lies like Sylvie was saying. At least, he thought they must be lies. Because he’d listened to mum’s story and he couldn’t believe that a man like that was “great,” not in any way.
Was it possible to hate someone you’d never met? He’d missed his chance to meet his grandfather and find out what he was truly like. It seemed kind of unfair, like his grandfather should have had the chance to prove himself. All he had was the knowledge of what had happened to mum. He figured it wasn’t fair to mum, either, that her dad had changed so much after the war. Sometimes life didn’t seem very fair at all.
Jake adjusted his tie again and shuffled his feet. He felt uncomfortable being here, at the funeral of a man who had hurt his mum so much. And yet... he came from there, and so did mum. How was he meant to feel about all this?
The funeral service finished and everyone started to leave. There was to be a wake at Aunt Sylvie’s house but Jake and his family weren’t going. Before they left the cemetery, mum and dad walked up to the grave, holding hands. Jake and Sally stood back, watching them.
“Mum’s acting really weird,” said Sally, quietly.
“I don’t think she really knows how to feel,” Jake replied.
“How are we meant to feel?”
Jake was silent for a while and then he said, “I don’t know. Sad, I guess?”
“But we didn’t really know him.”
“No,” said Jake, “we didn’t know him at all.”
Mum and dad spent a few minutes staring into the grave, talking quietly to each other. Then they turned and started to head back towards their kids.
Just before they reached Jake and Sally, Jake overheard mum say something quietly, under her breath.
“Good riddance,” she said.
Jake didn’t think he was meant to hear that. He stayed very quiet on the way back to the car.
"Craig and the Bird"
Craig was walking through the park on his way to school when he heard a surprised chirping sound and then a crash. He stopped and looked around. Ah! There it was; a nest had fallen from a tree.
"Oh my gosh!" said Craig, "there's a baby bird!"
The little brown bird was too small to fly. Craig picked up the nest but he couldn't reach high enough to put it in the tree again.
"I'll be back," he said to the bird, and left it there while he ran to the shops.
In the cleaning aisle at Coles, Craig looked at the brooms. He was sure they'd be long enough to help put the bird back in the tree.
"Damn," he said, when he read the price, because he couldn't afford a broom.
"What's up, stupid?" asked Stella, a girl from school who was as tall as a giraffe.
"Hey Stella," said Craig, "can you help me put a baby bird's nest back in a tree? You're tall enough!"
Stella burst out laughing.
"No!" she said, and walked off.
"What a bitch," thought Craig. Sadly, he headed off to school. Halfway there he met his friend John who had a nose like a pig.
"Hey," said Craig.
"You all right?" asked John.
Craig explained the situation.
"I'll help," said John.
The boys ran back to the park. John gave Craig a boost and finally the nest was safely back in the tree! They ran back to school but they were still a bit late. Craig didn't mind because they'd helped save a little bird.
The End.
"Three Letters"
Pierre de Marseilles
The Palace
Marseilles
Dearest Pierre,
I write to you now as swift as a squirrel and more secretly than the mouse that hides its cheese. I can only hope and pray that this letter reaches you, and finds you well.
I fear discovery here and these English are not kind to the French. Perhaps it is the case that I will never see you again. Nevertheless, I travel for France as quickly as I can whilst still avoiding detection.
The English, Pierre, are planning a terrible ambush. But now you know and perhaps it will not be so terrible. Be cautious, mon cher, for they disguise themselves as Frenchmen. But their accents are atrocious and their mastery of French grammar little more than an abomination. Please be wary of all who dare to enter The Palace, lest you become the victim of a Trojan Horse.
As far as I am aware, they believe that the king is still in Paris. Send your army there, Pierre, if you still trust the intelligence of your most loyal servant.
And the girl, Pierre, I send her to you. She speaks English, Italian, Latin but no French, despite her pure French blood. Educate her, mon cher, and soon I hope to return to be a family with you and also her once again, if only I avoid discovery.
Be safe, my lord Pierre.
Faithfully,
Marguerite, Spy for the French
Francis Smith
23 Exwyzed Street
Fremantle, WA
Dear Franny,
I sure had a neat time with you last weekend! Not many other girls like to ride bikes anymore, they all want to roller-skate but I prefer riding so thanks for coming with me. My mum says you can come round anytime and she'll cook a nice casserole for dinner.
It was so chill of your mum to let us eat some of her mulberries. I heard she cried when Danny stole some and that your dad got real mad and chased him off. I felt sorry for your mum.
Do you want to come to the shops with me next week? I know you want to buy some jeans with flares like Cassie from down your street has. I don't like shopping but I wouldn't mind so much if we went together.
Anyway, Franny, I really want to hang out with you again. Peace out.
Love From, Alfie Johnson
The West Australian
Head Office
Osborne Park, WA
To whom it may concern,
I am writing to complain of the young hooligans who keep stealing my mulberries. Every year for the past 60 years my mulberry tree has produced beautiful fruit and for the past 59 years I've been able to eat it.
But not this year! Those nuisance youths have been stealing my mulberries and the police won't do a darn thing about it.
The world is falling apart, make no mistake. What sort of world is this where an 87 year-old can't eat her mulberries in peace?! All I wanted to do was cook a nice pie for my grandchildren - if they'll get off their blasted oPhones or xPhones or what have you to eat it!
Something must be done.
Regards,
Francis Johnson (Fremantle)
"A Dramatic Xmas Eve Party"
Setting: a suburban home dining room, the adult characters sit around the dining table, eating.
BEN: A glass, Maggie?
MAGGIE: Oh, just a drop, why not? It's Christmas, after all!
JESSICA: Everyone set? Cheers!
ROBERT: Here's to a Merry Christmas!
EVERYONE: Cheers!
A phone rings.
JUAN: That's me, excuse me. Hello?
SAMANTHA: So what are your plans for tomorrow, Maggie?
MAGGIE: Oh we're going to see my parents. And Joseph wants to drop by to see the baby so I told him he could come over in the evening.
JESSICA: Maggie, you've got to stop letting him back in your life!
BEN: Jess, honey, it's not your place.
MAGGIE: I can't stop him from seeing the baby at Christmas, that would be too cruel.
SAMANTHA: It's your grave, Maggie.
ROBERT: Ladies, leave Maggie alone.
JUAN: Amigos... I have to go.
JESSICA: Oh Juan, what's wrong?
JUAN: They need me at the hospital, it's a serious spine injury. It's time for me to do surgery! I am so sorry.
SAMANTHA: Well, you can't be blamed for saving lives.
BEN: Merry Christmas, Juan.
JESSICA: Let's eat!
They eat the Xmas Eve dinner.
ROBERT: Oh!
SAMANTHA: What is it, love?
ROBERT: I... ah... ahem. Were there nuts in this?
JESSICA: Yes, peanuts. Oh no! I forgot you were allergic!
ROBERT: Ahem. No trouble, will you fetch my epi-pen, Samantha?
SAMANTHA: I'll be right back.
BEN: Anything I can do, mate?
ROBERT: Cough! Water!
JESSICA: Oh Robert, I'm so sorry! I didn't even think. I love you!
SAMANTHA: I couldn't find the... you bitch!
JESSICA: It's not what it looks like!
SAMANTHA: You kissed him!
ROBERT: Cough! Epi-pen! Splutter!
BEN: Who kissed whom? Here Robert, drink this.
MAGGIE: I saw it too!
JESSICA: Shut up Maggie!
SAMANTHA: Where's the damn dpi-pen?
BEN: You kissed Robert? Jessica, how could you?
JESSICA: Find that epi-pen!
MAGGIE: Oh, if only Juan were still here!
A phone rings.
MAGGIE: Juan? Oh no! Joseph's in the hospital?!
JESSICA: Oh please, you don't even like him, that's why he divorced you!
The baby begins to cry.
BEN: I found the epi-pen!
ROBERT: Thank God! That's better.
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