Mats very random rambelings

Ok so its rare ill be posting here but this is a short story i wrote this morning.

This is a tale of a Squirrel in search of an adventure……

In an oak tree there lived a red squirrel named Sidny, like many red squirrels Sidny enjoyed having a bright coat, bushy tail, tufts on his ears that resembled cotton buds and of course the essential MP3 player just so he could take up when burring nuts became a dull and laborious task which unfortunately life seemed to enjoy making him do as a matter of survival, life on the other hand thought this was fair as squirrel look cute they need bad lives to stop them becoming to vain. And so it was Sidny’s lot to find and burry nuts only to forget were there are for winter, however he became discontent with this life of a squirrel that ate nuts and listened to Annya and the Chipmunks on his personal music player Sidny wanted to go on an adventure and for him that wish was about to be answered because the gods are very quick these days have nothing better to do.

It was a bright sunny morning when Sidny left his dray behind him setting out on his so called adventure, the night had brought him visions of grandeur and a life beyond the confines of nuts placed there by some god bored of trying to fix man as a species, what he would do on this adventure he hadn’t a clue but the fact he was no longer gathering nuts to loose once he’d buried them was a relief and one that frankly would have made a very dull story. All day he travelled not another squirrel in sight not an adventure to be had, just an awful lot of nuts that looked just about perfect to bury, but keeping his head high and listening to his favourite song: What The Hell Are You Doing? by Annya and the Chipmunks. He journeyed far leavening the bounds of known space (at least to a country squirrel) long and hard he slogged striving forward to reach something interesting (in fact he travelled all of 5 miles but for a squirrel that seems to a long way) after many hours work he entered the city of Lytton.

The city of Lytton was built on the crumbling remains of the ancient city of London humans had thrived in it once but a terrible famine, lots of bad luck and the occasional rain of toads had left it a wreak until some bight spark though it would be a good idea to rebuild the place in an exact replica to the original, after running out of money and frankly the will to live the project was abandoned. Until the humans decided life sucked every ware else it may as well suck there too, and so London was rebuilt and later renamed Lytton so as not to curse the population and because the guy that ran it was a vain git. Humans rarely noticed the habits of squirrels in the city, if they had some may have questioned just who the hell was really organising the city with congestion charge paid in nuts and grape fruit (great for parties) and a third house to Westminster which no one had technically ever been in which never had a use for the following reasons.

Sidny had wondered around Lytton for some time before reaching the supposed parliamentary building of the Great and Glorious Squirrel Empire, which basically meant no ware in particular where someone with a big ego liked to give orders to passers by, mostly because parliament within the squirrel community was for the most part absent. Started in 1847 the Squirrel Parliament looked initially for a building to house itself after failing that they sent a requisition form via the postal service for one and disbanded, 2 weeks later the postal service went on strike and was closed by an act of the none existent parliament as the funds were needed for the army which never got over one less than able bodied squirrel with a potato gun. And so no really knows were parliament is and this is the adventure Sidny is about to be given.

“Oi you there” boomed the voice. Sidny just ignored it not accustomed to being called Oi you let alone having someone to talk to. “yes, you the scruffy one with red fur get over here” casually our hero (debatable at this currant time in the plot) shuffled to the voice and listened intently to what it had to say. They spoke for hours about nuts, events, adventures, Gods that lived on asteroids. Because the narrator is lazy the outcome of this long winded and for the most part pointless conversation was as follows the voice belonging the Clive, high ruler of the squirrels in Lytton, instructed Sidny to collect followers and to seek out the lost parliamentary building and once and for all sort out the mess that was their society, he was also told his favourite band was playing live in 3 hours and that he should attend both evenings as Annya had a strange singing style were by he would start the songs forget the rest of the lyrics about half way though each song in the 3 hour set then on the second show sing the second part of each song that he started the previous night, no one was ever sure why he did this just that it was a fast way of making lots of money out of very few fans.

God it seemed had given up on the squirrels too so he gave visions to some random guy (our hero) that wanted an adventure in a last ditch attempt to fix their society, having divined the future and discovered his last hope hadn’t a hope in hell, he buggered back off to his asteroid Pink Floyd were he claimed to the other Gods that is was the only place left in the universe that he could listen to Syd Barret singing live in concert.

The sound of Annya’s voice echoed off the walls as ever half songs were popular it generally helped that most of his fans were by now drunk on acorn juice (a concoction mixed out of acorns mashed up and vodka) or scotch. The after show review hailed the show as great success and contained a few minor speeling mistakes as the reviews were still hung over when they wrote them, the second show however did not receive such a glowing response from the reviews partially because they were no longer drunk but mostly because Annya was following his greatest fan (always good for your ego) on an adventure to find parliament.

And so our two brave travellers left Lytton and began travelling in search of a way to get to Brownsea island, an island of which there is no escape, lead by some random piece of knowledge Annya had claimed was infallible our hero’s ended up in Basingstoke, anyone that knows basic geography will know this is not even in the right direction to the one they wish to be going. This was suggested by Ann as he put it “the Squirrel International Airport is great we can reach Brownsea in days” what he had failed to realise was if he’d had gone towards the place he wanted to go he would have got there in days also. He was not the smartest squirrel in existence but he does bring comedy to the story as Gods buggered off.

The Squirrel International Airport on the Basingstoke roundabout is quite possibly the greatest achievement in the history of squirrel kind not only was it in a completely useless space but it was not even completed as all the trees were cut down by the humans to build the roundabout now situated there as no one believed the locals when they said it was going to be an airport (the squirrels still had to apply for planning permission). However the master of the skies Henry was adamant he could get them to were they wanted to go failing that they could always get a taxi at spaghetti junction a service so brilliant no one ever saw its patrons again.

The flight to Brownsea was shorter than they had thought it would be and a miracle that they took off at all since without a runway Henry had just insisted on jumping off a tall building and missing the floor in that age old method of flying popularised by Douglas Adams were by the trick was to throw yourself at the ground and miss (God in his brilliance decided to look in on them, the supporting band was on, just as they were about to hit the pavement and die, realising he had really smegged up in his choice of champion he saved there lives and sent them to the island they intended on flying to). The landing was soggy as Annya had described it, well they did land in a bog it was to be expected to be a tad soggy. Now stranded on the island from which no squirrel can escape Henry joined the party searching for Parliament.

The island of Brownsea was once considered to be the greatest in the Squirrel Empire till its decline due to a cult of squirrels following a mad ruler in a despotic tyranny at least that’s what the squirrels that were executed said on the subject everyone else thought it was nice and fluffy as well as well run even God approved. In explanation no squirrel can escape this wind swept island were storms, that everyone else says don’t exist, happen on a regular basis cause flying off the island to be impossible and swimming hazardous, also it’s ruler got offended if you tried to leave. And so our hero’s try to get out of the bog Henry crashed them into.

“Halt strangers, thou hast trespassed on thy land speak thy purpose or suffer the wrath of Queen Khiri, Queen of the island of Brownsea’s.” The voice echoed all around the little party bouncing off the trees and swamps. “thy hast elected to hold thy tongues thou shoult surely perish, have a nice day.” the voice trailed off in a cheerful tune.

“wait, were just looking for parliament have you seen it any ware?” squeaked Sidny in an attempt not to get killed, it did work sort of he only died a little bit when he was told he’d come to the right place however this would not help in their overall adventure as started before they were stuck on the island and Khiri is about to become very unhappy.

“Ooh that it’s a wreak what matters here is nuts, and finding them again after you’ve lost them” squealed Khiri “so iv drawn a map” (to kill suspense the map will be lost in approximately 3 minutes when the a freak storm blows it out to sea this pisses Khiri right off and she will spend the rest of the story sulking)

At about this time it is prudent to point out that despite the fact parliament as a building existing there is no way of getting off the island due to the weather conditions which also lead to the crash landing of our hero’s in the first place. This fact has not escaped the writer and he is now trying to find a way to get them off the damn island to continue the story.

To be continued…..

Wtf? That made me laugh. Love it.

Thanks im expanding on it, compleating the plot then maybe try and get published can tell im bored and have a year of nothing to do

Here is a little peice Iv just written, no proof reading I just wrote it as I went

The conscience of murderers.

It was as many stories start a bright morning birds were singing in the sky above, the sun was beating down and children could be heard laughing in the distance another day in paradise or so he thought, To the man in the gray uniform it was always another day in paradise. Yet beyond his narrow view of the world lay the truth of what was happening.

The atrocities made real by him made to look just and right, the murder disguised as being done for the victims own good and the needless suffering slapped on those that had no reason to suffer beyond being different to him. But still the man in the grey uniform sat in his office, content in his own world, in his own paradise. Far beyond the reaches of that which he wrought. This was not an uncommon site, it had happened before and no one seemed to care not in the least, it was just one of those things that had to happen, people lived and people died it just happened in a more mechanical and controlled environment in his world.

This is not to say he is evil at least he does not think so the rest of the world may judge him in time but for now he is doing good in his eyes. He has a job to do and gets paid for it quite handsomely too. He just gets orders on his desk every morning and 8 o'clock telling him how many are being sent today, how many need to be butchered, which ones should be sent for experimentation and which are the lucky ones for now that live just waiting for there order to come though.

Still he sits behind a desk receiving orders. However the birds no longer sing they left when the intoxicating fumes from the pyres got too much polluting the sky with the dead. The sun no longer beats down on paradise it merely rains all day long in the frozen lands, the children can still be heard but now he can hear the screams of his victims too.

They come at night, when he thinks hes alone to remind him of all that hes done, the people he didnt care about and tortured, casting there lives asunder for his orders, killing without mercy. Those he didnt care about coming back screaming to him all the time. He no longer sleeps in his bed and naturally his wife is worried she never goes to where he works only revels in the pay he gets for it never asking questions. He sleeps in his office with gun in hand waiting for his victims to attack him from beyond the grave. Its just outside his window mass grave one some ten thousand corpses just sitting there under ground naked decomposing, and screaming to him all night long.

Its getting late the war is going wrong his side are loosing, he does not get paid any more for his work and his orders all say the same thing "kill them all." There possessions stacked high no longer being sorted, the meticulous records he kept are to be burned and destroyed. His life is falling apart, and still they come at night, you reap what you sow they scream and he knows what he must do.

On the last morning of his life, he stares out into his paradise, the green grass is all but a fading memory. The days of yore nothing more but pages in the book of his life, a life he now knows was wasted fighting for the wrong side and he despairs. Slowly he walks to the graves of those he ordered killed apologising all the while asking for forgiveness were none can ever be given. He takes from whats left of the store room the gas which killed so many, slowly he fires his gun at the walls of his tomb there will be no easy way out this time. Setting the gas to go off in two minuets and explosives to collapse the building in 3 hours he closes the door and awaits his destiny.

As the gas seeps into his body the man in civilian clothing sees the land of the dead no scream escapes his lips he knows now that there is a God and he has no redemption, no hope only his guilt. Slowly he falls into his eternal sleep and as hes dragged into his own personal hell.

Time for a poem I hate writting them Im rubbish at it but enjoy

What If
If I could live with you for all eternity with you Id still be jelous of the sun, for all the happiness and smiles I would surly miss.

If I could spend every moment of happiness with you, Id still be jelous of the moon for hidding all your sorrow in the comfort off the night.

If I could give you all the love I have Id still be affraid it could never be enough to do you justice.

If I could be there for you everytime you feel down just so I could help you to get back up again, Id forever live in fear of the day I fail to catch you.

Because of this I give you all that I am and all that I could be I the hope that for one brief moment youll love me as much as I love you.

Wow I love that

That is amazing!

That's really wonderful Mat

Bored again, wrote this listening to a lovely peice of music called "sad violin"

Far away

Another day flittering slowly by,
The dancing of the moonlight,
Reflected in the softness of your eyes,
Whilst I dream softly of the ones I love
So far away.

Forgotten dreams pierced by suns first light,
Echos of the beating of our hearts,
Together entwined in starlite nights,
Forever in the world of dreams,
So far away.

The earth slowly spining never ceasing,
Pulling us with her on its long journey,
Time passing by until the day we shall surely meet,
But for now your just,
Too far away.