Sammy -as her mother likes to call her - left school five years ago with stars in her eyes and dreams of the West End.
Three years of college destroyed that dream, and the jumping between temporary retail jobs is starting to become comical.
I suppose that Sammy's goal of having a Ferrari before she was twenty-one is about to go up in flames. She is more focused on how to get herself out of this hell hole.
Learning how to legally castrate that two-timing stupid son of a whore would be a bonus.
The walk to her house from Ben's is only about five minutes, yet Sam's mind keeps replaying those warning signs again and again.
Its like her bother said, he's not bloody worth it.
She mutters under her breath as precession of cars and limousines whose drives past, they are definitively taking their time.
She gives them a cursory glance over when she spots a guy sat in the back of a limousine staring towards her
"What do fuck do you want?” She thinks to herself before losing the will to follow thorough with her hasty planned tirade.
News travels fast in this town. Sam walks into the back door of her house that leads into the kitchen and is greeted by her dad who opens up his arms,
Sammy is able release the tears that have been bottling up. After a few moments she begins register the smell of shepherds pie and that her dads does not have oversized palms but rather he's wearing oven mitts.
“Are you cooking?” Asks Sam with a slight laugh and a hint of optimism.
“Yep...And I don't need my mother to do it for me.”
Sunday, 25 May 2014
Saturday, 24 May 2014
Miss Montgomery's Cat
Mark spreads out his head in palm of his hands, it's going to be a long morning. His tie is loose and his chubby red cheeks combine perfectly with the fat wrapped around his arched neck. Tuned to Radio 4, Mark looked up to the old clock on the wall, the one that looked liked it came directly from the Thatcher era.
“The safe seat.” That's what his high and mighty leader told him, “There is no way we can loose this one.”
“I've just been tweeted.” The soft female voice came from the radio. “When will you give us the results for the Green Party?” Who care about your twitter? Mark wondered, whose wanting to tweet her?
Geography, that's it. He could have been a geography teacher, at least that way he might have had a chance at gaining some popularity.
“The conservatives have lost Boemen End.” Mark threw his pen across that room and refilled his whisky glass. What's the point any more? he wondered as his eyes start to grow heavy.
His mind went back to when his was fourteen and dressed in his school uniform. His teacher pitched him against Hawkings, one of the larger members of his class; Hawkings excess weight would often leave him short of breath, couple this with his set of unwashed clothes and bits of food stuck in his teeth, you are left with a very unfaltering subject.
Even thought it was an easy win for him, Mark still debated his life out. In the foolishness of youth, he honestly thought that he might be in with a chance to change the world. How wrong he was.
Now a failed fifty something year old councillor, the once razor sharp jaw line has been blunted. What would that plucky fourteen year think if he could see his future.
Politics is a game, Mark had learnt; a game, like the ones you play as a kid, but here, you win or go home with your tail in between your legs and a place just for you in the hall of forgotten and humiliated souls.
He looks around his desk and come to the realisation that he must be the only ex-politician that does not have at least one picture of his family on his desk. Mark promised himself that he would get around to framing a photo.
Just as soon has he has started a family.
Deciding that it's too stuffy, Mark leaves his office and walks into his hallway, on the wall to his right is a set of coat pegs which hold up a trusty fifteen year old mac. Putting it on, he heads to kitchen at the end of the hall and rummages though three different draws before opening the cupboard nearest the window to find two half empty boxes of cereal, one large muit-pack of salt and vinegar crisps and a think plastic torch, with a clear see through body, and black grips.
Mark steps out of the front door and locks it behind him, he buttons up his mac, and switches on the flash light, the only other light comes from the moon desperately fighting through the clouds to light ground below and to give life to local werewolf’s.
I wonder if Miss Montgomery is a werewolf, Mark has never seen her at night. He looks down the street to his right, her kitchen light is on but the living room is lit up by the white glow of her televisions. She must still be up, watching the election.
Her cat walked up to Mark and circled, as if she was inspecting him.
“Did you vote for me?” He asked. The cat meowed in reply. “I would give you a 'I voted' sticker, but I've run out”
The houses on her side of the street look like they were lifted directly from Clint Eastwood movie. Mark's shoes made a clopping sound as he walked up the four wooden stairs to the porch. Even in this bad light, the ivy that crepes up on either side of the door shines with a dark green glow.
“Miss Montgomery.” he called as he knocked the door. “It's err...it's Mark”
There is no reply, the only sound to come from the house is from the wrinkled BBC reporter, patrolling across his studio as if he was some kind of president who has just won a war.
Mark chooses not to touch the pitch black gargoyle knocker held almost out of reach. If he woke any of the neighbours, he would be fighting on two fronts. One battle was enough for this year. He taps on the white door again. It crept open, as if the wind had invited him to enter.
“Miss Montgomery” he called out into the house, deliberately staying on the porch, the sound carried up the stairs on the left hand side and into the empty landing, eventually warping around the entrance to the living-room and then through to the kitchen.
Miss Montgomery's cat walks past Mark and gives him a respectable meow, making him jump in the process.
Spooky walks though the door, nudging it just a little. She's strutting her stuff down hall way as if he was some kind of supermodel.
Spooky's walk and her feline invitation is enough for mark to take in one deep breath and open the door fully. He calls into the house again.
“Miss Montgomery”...”Miss Montgomery, its Mark..erm, Mark, from across the road.” He steps into the hall way. The wood under the pink welcome rug creaked with Mark's body weight. This did not help his nerves.
On his left side, there is a small waist high cabinet. The home of a snow white vase that Mark had given her for her 48th birthday a few months ago. Some of the pieces have been thrown on the floor while the main base is still resting, where the vase would normally live.
Spooky pokes her head out from the living-room at the end of the hall and meows at Mark.
Mark, with some caution, follows Spooky's lead. He walks with his neck stretched out in front of him, as if his eyes were acting as a forward scout for some kind of army. With a final meow from Spooky, Mark enters the living room but stays just in front of the door way, he flicks the light switch that searched around the wall for what feels like an eternity.
The energy saving light took a few seconds to come to life, when it illuminated the room in its vanilla glow, it reviled the location of the quiet Miss Montgomery. It take all of Mark's willpower to keep himself from vomiting.
<<<<END>>>>
You don't have to read this bit, it's just here as quick note should you want some find out how this post came to be.
So I'm starting to take up writing, I began last November with NaNoWriMo. I wrote just over 10,000 words. While doing that I touched base with some other writers in my area who were also trying to do Nano. A few months after, one of the members posted a link to the groups Facebook page which lead to a number of courses that were free and starting soon.
The task is to turn on the radio and write about the first thing that is talked about. I had the misfortune to turn to Radio Four, at 1:32am on the EU election night.
After a few seconds of listening to a station that I'm sure is used by Scotland Yard to integrate subjects, the idea of a failed politician came to mind. The name 'Mark' was just a random name.
I then got stuck at about 200 words and called it a night. the next morning I had to take my mother shopping, I decided to wait in the car while she went around Sainsbury's. I took my laptop with me and started to tackle this again. After a few moments, Miss Montgomery came to mind, I kinda had an image of how she might look but I let Mark lead the way instead.
I've omitted the last two paragraphs, I am not happy with them, I might add them later but right now the current ending seems to be doing the job.
“The safe seat.” That's what his high and mighty leader told him, “There is no way we can loose this one.”
“I've just been tweeted.” The soft female voice came from the radio. “When will you give us the results for the Green Party?” Who care about your twitter? Mark wondered, whose wanting to tweet her?
Geography, that's it. He could have been a geography teacher, at least that way he might have had a chance at gaining some popularity.
“The conservatives have lost Boemen End.” Mark threw his pen across that room and refilled his whisky glass. What's the point any more? he wondered as his eyes start to grow heavy.
His mind went back to when his was fourteen and dressed in his school uniform. His teacher pitched him against Hawkings, one of the larger members of his class; Hawkings excess weight would often leave him short of breath, couple this with his set of unwashed clothes and bits of food stuck in his teeth, you are left with a very unfaltering subject.
Even thought it was an easy win for him, Mark still debated his life out. In the foolishness of youth, he honestly thought that he might be in with a chance to change the world. How wrong he was.
Now a failed fifty something year old councillor, the once razor sharp jaw line has been blunted. What would that plucky fourteen year think if he could see his future.
Politics is a game, Mark had learnt; a game, like the ones you play as a kid, but here, you win or go home with your tail in between your legs and a place just for you in the hall of forgotten and humiliated souls.
He looks around his desk and come to the realisation that he must be the only ex-politician that does not have at least one picture of his family on his desk. Mark promised himself that he would get around to framing a photo.
Just as soon has he has started a family.
Deciding that it's too stuffy, Mark leaves his office and walks into his hallway, on the wall to his right is a set of coat pegs which hold up a trusty fifteen year old mac. Putting it on, he heads to kitchen at the end of the hall and rummages though three different draws before opening the cupboard nearest the window to find two half empty boxes of cereal, one large muit-pack of salt and vinegar crisps and a think plastic torch, with a clear see through body, and black grips.
Mark steps out of the front door and locks it behind him, he buttons up his mac, and switches on the flash light, the only other light comes from the moon desperately fighting through the clouds to light ground below and to give life to local werewolf’s.
I wonder if Miss Montgomery is a werewolf, Mark has never seen her at night. He looks down the street to his right, her kitchen light is on but the living room is lit up by the white glow of her televisions. She must still be up, watching the election.
Her cat walked up to Mark and circled, as if she was inspecting him.
“Did you vote for me?” He asked. The cat meowed in reply. “I would give you a 'I voted' sticker, but I've run out”
The houses on her side of the street look like they were lifted directly from Clint Eastwood movie. Mark's shoes made a clopping sound as he walked up the four wooden stairs to the porch. Even in this bad light, the ivy that crepes up on either side of the door shines with a dark green glow.
“Miss Montgomery.” he called as he knocked the door. “It's err...it's Mark”
There is no reply, the only sound to come from the house is from the wrinkled BBC reporter, patrolling across his studio as if he was some kind of president who has just won a war.
Mark chooses not to touch the pitch black gargoyle knocker held almost out of reach. If he woke any of the neighbours, he would be fighting on two fronts. One battle was enough for this year. He taps on the white door again. It crept open, as if the wind had invited him to enter.
“Miss Montgomery” he called out into the house, deliberately staying on the porch, the sound carried up the stairs on the left hand side and into the empty landing, eventually warping around the entrance to the living-room and then through to the kitchen.
Miss Montgomery's cat walks past Mark and gives him a respectable meow, making him jump in the process.
Spooky walks though the door, nudging it just a little. She's strutting her stuff down hall way as if he was some kind of supermodel.
Spooky's walk and her feline invitation is enough for mark to take in one deep breath and open the door fully. He calls into the house again.
“Miss Montgomery”...”Miss Montgomery, its Mark..erm, Mark, from across the road.” He steps into the hall way. The wood under the pink welcome rug creaked with Mark's body weight. This did not help his nerves.
On his left side, there is a small waist high cabinet. The home of a snow white vase that Mark had given her for her 48th birthday a few months ago. Some of the pieces have been thrown on the floor while the main base is still resting, where the vase would normally live.
Spooky pokes her head out from the living-room at the end of the hall and meows at Mark.
Mark, with some caution, follows Spooky's lead. He walks with his neck stretched out in front of him, as if his eyes were acting as a forward scout for some kind of army. With a final meow from Spooky, Mark enters the living room but stays just in front of the door way, he flicks the light switch that searched around the wall for what feels like an eternity.
The energy saving light took a few seconds to come to life, when it illuminated the room in its vanilla glow, it reviled the location of the quiet Miss Montgomery. It take all of Mark's willpower to keep himself from vomiting.
<<<<END>>>>
You don't have to read this bit, it's just here as quick note should you want some find out how this post came to be.
So I'm starting to take up writing, I began last November with NaNoWriMo. I wrote just over 10,000 words. While doing that I touched base with some other writers in my area who were also trying to do Nano. A few months after, one of the members posted a link to the groups Facebook page which lead to a number of courses that were free and starting soon.
The task is to turn on the radio and write about the first thing that is talked about. I had the misfortune to turn to Radio Four, at 1:32am on the EU election night.
After a few seconds of listening to a station that I'm sure is used by Scotland Yard to integrate subjects, the idea of a failed politician came to mind. The name 'Mark' was just a random name.
I then got stuck at about 200 words and called it a night. the next morning I had to take my mother shopping, I decided to wait in the car while she went around Sainsbury's. I took my laptop with me and started to tackle this again. After a few moments, Miss Montgomery came to mind, I kinda had an image of how she might look but I let Mark lead the way instead.
I've omitted the last two paragraphs, I am not happy with them, I might add them later but right now the current ending seems to be doing the job.
Tuesday, 11 February 2014
The Book Thief - Movie Review
So, I was lucky enough to get my grubby little hands on a pair of preview tickets for the movie adaptation of Markus Zusak’s; The Book Thief. Set in Germany before and during world war two, the Book Thief follows the story of a young girl named Liesel Meminger (Sophie Nélisse) who is adopted by Hans and Rosa Hubermann when her mother finds that she cannot cope after her brother passes away.
It’s rare for me find a movie where I do not have any negative criticism, I will try my best to avoid spoilers however I hold no guarantees.
The open shots are class; we see the German landscape in pure unrivalled beauty, which is carried along through the film resulting in a grand total of zero ugly scenes. Even the ones which towards the end which show the pain and devastation of the people caught in middle of war are beautiful.
The story is guaranteed to make you ball and cry yet it ends on the most happiest of notes. We see a life that was lived to it full. You end up rooting for every character, even Ludwig. You almost feel like you know them.
Sophie Nélisse’s performance was way beyond her years, she took the role and played with more gusto and respect than any audit actor, it was remarkably brave of her to take on such a strong character which I suspect many fans have taken to their heart. Did I mention? She’s only 13. If Nélisse keeps this up, she will have the most amazing future ahead of her.
The same can be extended to her co-star Nico Liersch, his portrayal of Rudy Steiner was on such a level that if the current adult actors don’t watch there then they will be taken by Steiner, we saw emotions and power that the Hollywood elite would kill for. Liesel’s love interest is one of the few that has not made me want to throw up on the director, I was willing them, I wanted them to spend the rest of their lives together and go on amazing adventures.
Liesel adoptive parents are in a word, phenomenal. We are introduced to them early on in the film where we are greeted by the kind Hans who chooses to refer to Liesel as ‘her majesty’ and Rosa who is disappointed to find that only one child has arrived, not the two that she was expecting. However as we progress through the film we see beyond Rosa’s cold exterior and see that inside she has the most warm and loving heart in the world. Emily Watson’s portrayal of Rosa is one the best examples of character development in film. Geoffrey Rush and Emma Watson gave a master class on pure acting.
I then found myself wanting to care for Max Vandenburg who just arrives on Hunermann’s doorstep almost unannounced, we are introduced to him about a quarter of the way into the movie where he forced to leave his mother and seek refuge at Hunermann’s. His love of words and stories bring Liesel together, one scene that really shows this is when Max asks Liesel to tell him what the weather is like outside, he then asks her to ‘tell’ him, if her eyes could see, what would they say?
Special mention should be given to John Williams who has produced let another legendary soundtrack, unlike his more well-known work such as Star Wars and anything directed by Steven Spielberg, John Williams kept it simple, the piano theme which works its way through the movie, practically tells the story on its own.
I left the cinema speechless, I am sad that I have wait until the 26th
before I can see this movie, I am also sad that The Book thief has not received as much promotion as it truly deserves. This is a story will most likely stay with you forever and everyone should see it at least once.
The open shots are class; we see the German landscape in pure unrivalled beauty, which is carried along through the film resulting in a grand total of zero ugly scenes. Even the ones which towards the end which show the pain and devastation of the people caught in middle of war are beautiful.
The story is guaranteed to make you ball and cry yet it ends on the most happiest of notes. We see a life that was lived to it full. You end up rooting for every character, even Ludwig. You almost feel like you know them.
Sophie Nélisse’s performance was way beyond her years, she took the role and played with more gusto and respect than any audit actor, it was remarkably brave of her to take on such a strong character which I suspect many fans have taken to their heart. Did I mention? She’s only 13. If Nélisse keeps this up, she will have the most amazing future ahead of her.
The same can be extended to her co-star Nico Liersch, his portrayal of Rudy Steiner was on such a level that if the current adult actors don’t watch there then they will be taken by Steiner, we saw emotions and power that the Hollywood elite would kill for. Liesel’s love interest is one of the few that has not made me want to throw up on the director, I was willing them, I wanted them to spend the rest of their lives together and go on amazing adventures.
I then found myself wanting to care for Max Vandenburg who just arrives on Hunermann’s doorstep almost unannounced, we are introduced to him about a quarter of the way into the movie where he forced to leave his mother and seek refuge at Hunermann’s. His love of words and stories bring Liesel together, one scene that really shows this is when Max asks Liesel to tell him what the weather is like outside, he then asks her to ‘tell’ him, if her eyes could see, what would they say?
Special mention should be given to John Williams who has produced let another legendary soundtrack, unlike his more well-known work such as Star Wars and anything directed by Steven Spielberg, John Williams kept it simple, the piano theme which works its way through the movie, practically tells the story on its own.
I left the cinema speechless, I am sad that I have wait until the 26th
before I can see this movie, I am also sad that The Book thief has not received as much promotion as it truly deserves. This is a story will most likely stay with you forever and everyone should see it at least once.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)