For Writers

By Writers

Ascriber / Writers Eyes Workshop - 13

Fairies, Goblins, Giants and Things.

Skip the Workshop take me straight to the submissions

Before you say, 'I'm rough, I'm tough - that's kids stuff,' and switch off your computer, read on.

Short story writers, we want you to write any well known fairy tale. Yes we know it's already been written, all you need to do is use the plot and update it to modern times.

So, what would the ugly sisters be nowadays in Cinderella? and who would Cinderella be?
What makes Sleeping Beauty sleep and who is the prince who wakes her with a kiss?
What about Beauty and the Beast? There are so many possibilities but please keep them clean.
So come on writers, a modern fairy tale please of around 2000 words.

Poets. We want some poems. They can be either updated nursery rhymes or set around fairy tales.
Your limit is up 100 lines. How about that then. That should give you plenty of scope.

Article writers. We want a humorous article of around 2000 words based on any aspect of fairy tales or the description of a 'Pantomime'. The latter is for the benefit of our overseas members who have yet to 'suffer' the delights of the British Pantomime.

So there you are e-mail your submissions to our writing group submissions address and we don't mind if you attempt both prose or poetry.

Limitation:-

Submissions are from:
Jack and the Skyscraper by Roger (Short Story)

Prose Submissions

Jack and the Skyscraper

"Jack, Jack, where are you?"

Jack clattered down from his bedroom, his ancient Doc Martin's resonating on the carpetless stairs.

"I'm here mother," the weariness sounded in his voice. Just thinking about having to spend another day fruitlessly job hunting, was enough to make him feel tired.

"The rent man has just pushed this through the door." His mother held a letter up for him to see. "They're putting the rent up again. We're already two months behind and if we don't pay it off this week, he's going to throw us out on the street and feed us to his dog."

"We'll have to sell something else." Jack said looking around the barren room.

"Just show me what. We've only got the two old dining chairs and the mattresses. I even got rid of the cooker last week. Not that it was any good with the gas being turned off."

"It'll have to be the car mum." Jack had to turn his head away. He knew what that car meant to his mother, not only had belonged to his late father but also the memories of better times, now long past.

"It'll have to be. Give it a good polish and see what you can get for it Jack, there's a good boy."

Jack went outside, looked up and down the road of derelict houses, it seemed everybody had been forced out by the new landlord. He pulled at the rotten tarpaulin barely noticing the stray cat shoot out as it fell to the ground. The car looked worse than he could have possibly imagined. Where paint had been, so great blotches of rust marked the body work and through the grimy windows he could see the roof fabric hanging down in folds. He opened a door, it fell off and crumpled where it landed painfully across his boot.

"What's that son?" The rent man stood at the gate a wily look across his face, a nasty looking, large black and brown dog stood at his side, its teeth bared and its lips curled into a vicious snarl.

"My dad's car." Jack answered. "I've got to sell it to pay the rent."

"I'll take it away for you," the rent man answered. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out an old bus season ticket. "I'll even give you this for it. Look there's a bus coming, if you hurry, you can use it now, it doesn't run out until this evening. You might even get a job."

"But.."

"There is an alternative, I can set my dog on you now." The dog gave a growl of appreciation at the suggestion.

Jack snatched the ticket from his hand and ran down the road after the bus.

It was a long journey into town but eventually the bus stopped in the middle of town, right by a tall skyscraper of a building. It looked almost derelict and absolutely filthy but full of hope and anticipation a great thought came into Jack's mind. 'Perhaps they need a cleaner, why this would be a job for life,' and pushing through the main door he went into a large reception area. But apart from a few rats that scampered for cover as he went in, the place was deserted.

"Anyone there?"

No answer.

"Anyone there?" Again only distant scampering came as a reply but there in a dark corner by a wide staircase was a lift door and on it was an old notice, 'Management' with a large arrow pointing upwards. There was also another notice, 'Out of Order', so he started a very, very long climb up the stairs. Although each stair seemed the same as the one before it, Jack didn't get bored because every now and again he'd come to a little landing with a window and he could get a better and better view of the town with each one he looked through. There was also a door on each landing, but most were locked, and those that weren't, obviously hadn't been opened for many years. He had noticed though, the higher he climbed a sort of humming noise got louder and louder. So on and on he went until at last he reached a landing with a large glass door with a sort of bluish light shining through it. The stairs didn't go on any further and he knew he was at the top.

The loud humming noise was extremely loud now and it was coming from behind the glass door. He pushed and it opened easily and he went in. That's when he heard the voice.

"Master, I'll soon have them out. All they had left was an old car, and I got that from them this morning. They didn't even realise it was valuable special edition model."

A large screen flickered and on the face of the rent collector. "You have done well." A loud voice boomed. "As soon as Jack and his mother are out in the streets, bring in the demolishers and start getting our factories built."

"Yes master, I'll do that. I shall need the deeds to the land though."

"They're here, right before me on the central table along with the clone of my processor. You will need that as well for the pattern for my factories to make. I may be a computer but I promise you that by this time next year I will rule the world and you will be my deputy. Why, tonight I will take over all the world banks and their money will be safe in my own banks, my memory banks." A weird noise followed that might have been construed as laughter.

Jack looked over to the central table, a gold coloured box stood there and he started to make his way over to get a closer look. He didn't notice the electric cable on the floor until one foot hooked into it. He brought his other foot down hard to save himself falling. Crash. The booted foot hit the floor and he sprawled across the table, grabbing at the box in an attempt to save himself.

"RAM, ROM, Twain, Sym, I hear the sound of a Doc Martin." The voice filled the room so that Jack felt it jar through every muscle and every bone of his body. "Be it dry or be it wet, I'll spread its owner over the Internet." A jagged blue spark shot across the room and hit the table beside him leaving a gaping hole.

Jack turned and fled. Blue sparks began shooting around the room all around him and every time they hit the walls or the floor so a belch of acrid greeny smoke curled upwards. He pushed back through the glass doors just as they dissolved into a molten mess and started flowing across the top landing.

"Drop my box!" The voice echoed through him.

He looked down. The golden box was still in his hands and he clutched it tightly to his body, bounding down the stairs amid showers of the blue sparks. At last he realised he was on the ground floor. The door to the street just before him. He pushed. It wouldn't open. He pushed again. It must be locked. The computer thing upstairs must have locked it.

"ROM RAM, Twain, Syms," I'll kill the owner of those Doc Martin's." The voice still echoed through him, Sparks started bursting from the lift doors, a blue light glowing from behind. The rats that had scampered away before, were scampering back and as the opened their jaws so jets of blue fire burst from their mouths.

Another smell now, that of burning fabric and Jack looked down to see smouldering areas from the many near misses glowing on his jacket. He needed to get out fast. That's when he saw it. A large fire axe, behind a strong strap and near the bottom of the stairs. He had to get back across the reception area to grab it. One arm wrapped around the box, the other extended he bolted across, sparks flew, a rat opened its mouth, a jet of blue seared towards his hand and he snatched back quickly, feeling the scorching heat as it hit the strap, burning it through so that the axe almost fell into his hand. He turned to run back again. His foot caught something solid and he tripped and spread-eagled across the floor, the box skidding on before him.

Jack looked around him. It was another cable he'd tripped over, like the one upstairs. The rats had now circled him, he could see their whiskers twitching as they lined up to open their mouths one last time. One had its front legs on the cable watching him, a malevolent glow in its eye. In desperation he swung the axe at it. It missed but felt it did hit something else. It was the cable, and as the axe cut into it severing it with that one blow, so the rats rolled onto their backs, smoke billowing from their fur and barely showing the multitude of wires and microchips contained inside them, before they dissolved into piles of dust.

With a clank, the lock on the door slipped open and Jack was able to see out onto the pavement beyond and the sight of the rent collector running away, a large black and brown dog shooting sparks of blue flame into the seat of his trousers.

And that's how it is that Jack and his mother now own a large modern house, in the middle of a large factory complex that builds small toy animals. It's a pity he can't find out how to stop them shooting out sparks when they're annoyed, but they make good pets all the while they're kept happy.

Comments will be displayed here

  Comments will be displayed here