Going to Mars on MAVEN

Always been a big fan of Mars, so earlier in the month myself and my son Connor wrote some haiku to be sent aboard the Maven space probe to Mars. Poetry...on mars! Get in.

Here are Connor's two...

In the red life of
Dust, there was shining water
Flowing, through the rocks.

You and your friends are
Floating in your rocket while
Reading this poem.

He decided to send the first one. You can vote for Connor's entry here

I went with

In the red silence
Old ice cracks and bursts with life.
Soon we will hear it.

Do happy tripods
Build little red sandcastles
Down by the canals?

I've sent the second one, and am now wondering if there's a gap in the market for a kids book featuring Lil HG Wells Martians frolicking across the arid landscape of Mars.

Red Weeds

It being almost Martian invasion time (HG Wells Martians invaded in the summertime), here's a wee excerpt from my War of the Worlds story Terminus, which is a collection of personal histories, poetry and banned texts detailing the truth of the Martian invasion.

“While visiting a friend in Southsea recently, I was fortunate enough to be invited to an evening dance in one of the many villas. The hostess - a charming lady renknowned for such gatherings - had arranged for a medium to be present, perhaps to give a small show during the band's intermission. At first I must confess to thinking this a terribly vulgar addition to so formal an evening - I believe such characters to be charlatans who should remain at the furthest away end of any seaside pier. My friend shared my opinion, but in the interests of etiquette, we stayed silent on this matter.

The intermission arrived, and a woman took to the stage. She introduced herself as a Mrs. Guppy and I must admit that she was not the sort of swarthy individual I had been expecting. Indeed she looked entirely at home in such company. After the traditional summoning up of various deceased family members, she looked toward my friend with a great deliberation. She asked - though it sounded very little like a request - that he should join her on stage.

Naturally my colleague complied, though I am certain he would have done almost anything to avoid this fate. She lulled my friend into a sleep, and explained that through him, she was going to 'channel' a message from the stars. I was incredulous and asked why she could not channel this message herself. Mrs. Guppy explained to myself and the crowd that there were only certain of us who could receive these messages. And while she herself could not, she was able to "sense" those who could. Such bunkum continued for a further five minutes, and I was surprised to see that the rest of the audience were enthralled by her theosophist babblings.

After a time, I began to see a change come over my friend, his complexion paled and although his eyes were now opened, he seemed to be staring into space. I was about to move toward the stage to rouse him from his trance, when all of sudden...there was the most frightful howl. It took me a few moments to realise that the source of the noise was my friend himself. Again he howled "Ulla! Ulla!". The sound was like no other I have heard before, and it was obvious that my friend could not be the true source of so inhuman a cry. I resolved to wake him from his stupor, for I had the most definite belief that he was in danger. The howling rang out again, certain of the ladies were beginning to weep and couples were making to leave. I stepped toward the stage and reached out for my colleague. Mrs. Guppy chastised me sharply. 'Do not touch him. Despite what you hear..he is not in pain. It would be more dangerous for you to wake him from this trance so suddenly. I will bring him back.'

I asked her what the noise was....where it was coming from. I still hoped -half heartedly-that there was some sort of theatrics involved. She turned from me and addressed the remnants of her audience. 'This is the sound of the dead planet Mars preparing their forces for attack. You will hear this sound again. When they arrive.'

Mrs. Guppy woke my friend gently, and then left the stage."

Terminus is part of the Stramashed ebook which, as has been previously noted, costs less than many of todays popular chocolate bars, with markedly better impacts on health.

Here's an even briefer excerpt, a wee Martian invasion haiku

Dead trees are daubed 
In gaudy red violence 
As the weed marches.

And if you would like to send actual haiku to Mars, the MAVEN spacecraft which is heading to Mars this November, is looking for your poetry. You have until July 1st to enter and potentially have your name and poem basting off towards the supposedly dead planet Mars...

Doctor Who - Schadenfreude

There are not many constants in life, Doctor Who is one of mine. Peter Davison is My Doctor, the one I enjoyed writing stories about and pretending to be when I was 8 years old. I've written some Doctor Who fan fiction before, quite indulgent, but comforting - like ferrero rocher.  

Nyssa tried very hard not to smile as The Doctor wandered crestfallen from the cricket field.
"Bad luck."
He glared at her politely and stomped off towards the Pavillion.
"Or not."
"Did you see that?" he asked "Did you see what he did? Totally inappropriate!"
"Totally." agreed Nyssa.
"Celebrating like that…"
"Entirely unsporting." she shook her head, "Can we go to the fete now? I thought that's why we were here. 'The best church fete and custard scones in the galaxy' you said."
"Well I'm certainly not going to dignify the rest of this match by watching it. Disgraceful."
The Doctor grumbled off to get changed.

"I was expecting it to be a bit more…picturesque?" said Nyssa.
The Doctor looked at the rows of vandalised cottages; here and there, dustbins burned gently. In the short half mile walk of the village main street, they had passed two ambulances and three police cars attending various incidents, including the rescue of a man who had become trapped under a grand piano he was trying to lift up some stairs.
"Yes. It has been a few years since I've visited…but all the same…"
"Look out!"
Nyssa jumped into the road, pulling an elderly lady back onto the pavement, out of the way of an out of control ice cream van.
"Oh! Thank you dear!"
"Are you alright?" asked The Doctor.
"Getting so you can't go out your front door this week."
"It's been like this all week?"
"Yes dear. At first it actually seemed rather funny, that local councillor slipped on a banana peel and fell down an open manhole, but then the really bizarre things started happening - raining frogs at rush hour or houses being hit by meteors and frozen…toilet stuff…from planes."
"So…a very unfortunate place to be then Mrs..?"
"…Pepperton."
"Delighted to meet you Mrs Pepperton. I'm The Doctor and this is Nyssa. Now, before all this started happening…was there any unusual activity, lights in the sky, that sort of thing?"
"Oh no. Nothing like that round here. Only thing that's happened in Shepley recently is them starting to build that new supermarket no one wants."
"Nothing unusual there I'm afraid Mrs Pepperton."
"They've had to stop though…since they discovered that time capsule."

Mrs Pepperton showed them into the museum.
"And it's been on show in here for the last week?" asked The Doctor.
"Yes…not much to see really. There was a big hole in it when they dug it up. A couple of little straw soldier dollies inside..."
The rusting capsule and the accompanying dolls were in a glass case in the corner of the room. The Doctor started searching through his pockets, eventually producing his sonic screwdriver. He began examining the capsule.
"A few folk think that one looks like Hitler, but I'm not convinced..." said Mrs Pepperton.
"There is definitely a malignant energy," he said.
"That's probably just the community council meeting upstairs…" said Mrs Pepperton.
Nyssa looked at the box.
"It doesn't look very old."
"It isn't," said the Doctor, "mid 1940s I'd say. There!"
"What?"
"I think I've isolated the source. Let's get back to the TARDIS and follow it back along the timeline. Back soon Mrs Pepperton."
"Be careful!" suggested Nyssa.

The TARDIS had materialised near a small forest at dusk. The Doctor and Nyssa quietly walked towards the small fire visible through the trees. Two figures moved around the flames, chanting.
"What are they doing?" asked Nyssa.
"Well...it looks like a really rather traditional black magic ritual."
"Does that require them to be naked?"
"Generally that depends on the ritual. Or the coven. Or the weather actually. We’re near midsummer. Midwinter magic usually involves a lot more robes and jumpers."
"And this dancing and chanting is actually magic?"
"Well...they certainly think it is. That’s half the battle. Come on, if we get a little closer maybe we can make out what’s really going on."
As they drew nearer, it became clear that it was two rather elderly gentlemen that were standing in the clearing.
"Hill.Ash. Land. Flesh. Baals fire ever burns. Flesh. Stone. Tree. Bone. Baals fire ever burns!"
"Oh great ones! From beyond our ken...listen to our supplication and....join us!"
There was a slightly awkward silence while nothing happened. One of the old men coughed.
"Did you bring that flask of tea Jack? My knackers are going to drop right off if I don't warm up here."
"Wilf! We’re in the middle of the summoning. And it said in the book we had to be 'skyclad' for it to work properly."
"Well its no wonder Irene didn’t come when you told her that. You’re very lucky not to have got a black eye for your trouble."
"Yes. She was a bit upset about that wasn’t she?"
"I'm not in the best of moods myself Jack! We’re supposed to be Home Guard not up in the forest playing Merlin and Mandrake with voodoo dolls."
"This is Home Guard. If we get this ritual right the war could be over by September."
The air fizzed and crackled, there was a low gurgling laugh.
"What’s that? What’s happening?"
"It’s working. It’s working! Focus on the box."
The trees shook and splintered as the laughter gave way to a manic giggling.
"It’s coming through the trees!"
"The box Wilf!"
Nyssa looked worried.
"Doctor?
"Interesting!"
"I thought magic wasn’t real. It seems to have worked."
"In a manner of speaking. Look out! Its coming."
"What is it?"
"It’s a Ghanfelik! And it looks terribly hungry!"
"A what?!"
"Ghanfelik. A sort of trans-dimensional imp. It creates bad luck and feeds on the resultant negative energy. Usually more inconvenient than evil."
There was a shriek and a muffled crunch as the huge creature stood on Jack.
"Though this one may be the exception to the rule."
Wilf ran towards them screaming, still holding the box.
"Drop the box!" shouted the Doctor "It's being dragged towards the power in the..."
Wilf was squashed nosily underfoot. The Ghanfelik glared briefly and ravenously at the Doctor and Nyssa before disappearing. The box rattled angrily, and then was still.
"Those poor men." said Nyssa.
"Yes. Well…misguided, but brave. Still, we know what we're dealing with now. So, let's get back to Shepley and sort it out."

Things had not improved in Shepley, the fire station had caught fire. Mrs Pepperton was trying to help put it out with increasingly leaky buckets of water.
"So how do we get rid of it?" asked Nyssa, dodging a randomly tossed custard pie.
"What we need is a concentration of negative energy to lure it…Mrs Pepperton, I need you to go and speak to the people in charge of the fete, I think I know how to catch it."

There were stories told about the last Shepley Fete for many years; how you couldn't win the bottle stalls, that the fortune tellers all overcharged and then gave you bad news and that the prizes in the fixed raffle were all awful. But mostly people remembered when a big green monster rampaged through the car park and squashed the local radio roadshow truck upon which the Old Folks Home display team had just started their zumba demonstration. It was chasing a man dressed in his cricket whites and a girl in a very plummy jumpsuit.
"Run…into the tarot reading tent!" shouted the Doctor.
The Ghanfelik ran after them both, disappearing into the tent, which promptly started wheezing and then collapsed entirely as the TARDIS inside disappeared.

By the time the Doctor and Nyssa returned for some of the famous Shepley Custard Scones, the town was already on the mend.
"It wasn't keen on leaving the TARDIS was it?"
"Yes, a real shame, we had to jettison so many rooms. I was very fond of that swimming pool. Still, can always build another."
"Could it really have caused all that bad luck Doctor?"
"Hmmm. Most of it. Though it would have required the folk of Shepley to give it a foothold. Mind you, I suppose it could explain my performance at the cricket match earlier. That was very unlucky."
"Hmmm. Very." said Nyssa. "Speaking of which, there's the Captain of the other team."
"Really? Being rude to someone is he?"
Nyssa pointed across the street to where the man was walking past some of the rebuilding work that was already underway on the main street of the village. As he passed a scaffold, a pot of paint toppled off, hitting him squarely on the head and covering him in light pink paint.
Nyssa silenced The Doctor's laughter with a very stern look. He gave an embarrassed cough.
"Yes. Well. Probably just some residual energy. Let's just get back to the TARDIS shall we?"
"Yes lets. Carefully."



Wee Nasties and More...

As part of the first Inverclyde Festival of Heritage, Magic Torch will be launching a childrens book supported by Heritage Lottery Fund Scotland. It's a poem intended to introduce younger readers to some of the myths and legends of Inverclyde.

You can get Wee Nasties, written by myself and illustrated by Mhairi Robertson at The Dutch Gable House on Thursday 16 May. It will also be available for free download via amazon later in the month.

Here's a recording of Wee Nasties and some other silly childrens poems...



Here's a few draft chapters from Tin Jimmy, the other locally based childrens book I'm working on.

And here's some of Mhairi's wonderful sketches for the project, which will be on display with other original artwork from the book at The Dutch Gable House from 16 - 19 May and again later in the month...

could this be the infamous gourock monster?

Greenock's most controversial son...the pirate Captain Kidd...

Have your fortune told by the Port Glasgow Mermaid...

Tin Jimmy - Chapter Three

Port Glasgow Air Raid Shelter

Another bit from a book I'm messing around with. If you haven't already, you can also read Chapter One and Chapter Two.

Megan's Gran has died, leaving her a mysterious map of her home town. Megan and her friend Cam spot the first location on the map during a school visit to a local shipyard to watch some public art being made. When everyone else has gone, Megan and Cam here a strange, angry tapping coming from inside the Phoenix Egg sculpture...

Chapter Three

The lights flickered back on, silencing the tapping instantly. Startled, Megan and Cam turned to see Mr Finn at the doorway, staring.

'Your class are leaving,' he said, 'you had better go and catch them up.'

'Dropped my phone,' said Cam by way of explanation.

'Yes. You should really be more careful.'

Mr Finn stood, waiting for them to leave. Both of them were only too happy to get out.

It took Megan all day to convince Cam that following the map into the old air raid shelter behind the supermarket was a good idea. Probably because it wasn't a good idea. It was a terrible idea. A terrible idea with a very good chance of rats.

'Hah! You aren't scared of rats are you Cam?' she'd said, not even fooling herself.

'No. I'm scared of black death and lymes disease.'

Megan had to google that.

It was pretty scary. So many scabs.

Eventually she gave up trying to convince him and announced she was going alone. That's when he agreed to come. Megan made a mental note to remember that for next time.

The old air raid shelter was a series of interconnected tunnels hollowed out under a cliff. Cam said it ran down underground for miles. It had been built especially for the workers of a nearby munitions factory which had just been turned into very posh flats.

Officially of course, it was now a hazard to health and safety, all blocked off and locked up. Unoffically, you could squeeze in behind the dodgy garages.

Cam was tucking his waterproof trousers into his welly boots for the third time.

'Cam honestly, you're fine.'

'What about leeches?'

'I don't think you get leeches here. Or pirhana.'

'You might. No one's been down here for years. It's an undisturbed ecosystem. Anything could be living there.'

'Velociraptors under Port Glasgow?'

'No. But there's that Big Cat people are always seeing on the hills behind the town.'

'And with miles of moorland to run across, it lives behind a supermarket? An urban puma.'

'Puma, velociraptor, pirhana...if I get eaten, you'll have my mum to deal with.'

Megan was actually a bit scared of Cam's mum - she was a nurse and not really one for nonsense. One time she found out he'd been trading all the fruit in his packed lunch for sherbet and wham bars and he was only allowed to eat raw vegetables and porridge for the rest of the month. That had been a really tough month for everyone.

'Okay? Ready to go?'

Cam nodded glumly.

The two splashed into the darkness. The water was deeper than Megan had thought it would be, and she was starting to wish they hadn't bought their torches in the pound shop.

‘My gran wrote a story about a place like this…maybe the old railway tunnels that people hid in during air raids?’

‘Was it a funny story with a happy ending?’

‘Not really. The end of the tunnel had collapsed as people were running in to shelter, and for years after there were always these wee sad grey figures who would try and get kids to come down and play on the tracks with them. Every so often, someone would go down to play, and they would be found later, people just thought they had been hit by trains or electrocuted on the tracks,  but actually it was because the blitz children had dragged them off into the tunnels with their wee cold hands.’

The dark seemed briefly darker, and colder too.

‘Great story Meg. Thanks for sharing. She was always a right laugh your Gran.’

‘I know a few more…’

‘Do they have clowns in them? Or rats? Because those stories can wait.’

Megan stopped suddenly and gestured for Cam to stop too.

‘Shh. What’s that?’

There was a distant splash which echoes through the empty dark. Then another. And another. The unmistakeable splish splash of something else, walking through the tunnels towards them.

Cam looked around, trying to get his bearings, ‘Which way is that coming from?’ Megan shushed him again.

More splashing, faster now, and nearer.

Cam reached for Megan, taking her hand to run back the way they had come.

‘No it’s coming from that way. Go this way!’

Cam turned his torch towards the nearest junction in the tunnels, two eye beamed eerily back at them, reflecting the faded torchlight. They both screamed as the creature splashed quickly towards them, its startled eyes dancing ever closer through the black. In a moment, the terrified deer had run past them both and back out into the streets above.

Cam was still screaming long after it had gone.

‘Cam? Cam it’s away now. It was just a deer.’

‘Did you see those eyes? It looked evil.’

Cam fumbled through his pockets, finally producing a packet of chewing gum.

‘Evil.’

The two friends stood in silence for a moment.

‘See,’ said Cam, ‘there could be a puma down here.’

‘Maybe that’s why the deer was running,’ said Meg, it was supposed to be a joke, but it was too soon.

‘Can we go yet?’ Cam scowled.

‘Just five more minutes. My gran wanted me to come down here, I’d really like to know why.’

Steadying one another as they went, they wandered through what felt like miles of tunnels, past the rotted bench and bed frames where families must have huddled together as the bombs fell, past the tiny cubicles people used as toilets and down towards the huge machines which stood at the tunnels end.

‘What are these?’

‘Maybe for air conditioning. Or water pumps?’

The torchlight illuminated a face amongst the rust, startled, Megan stumbled back into Cam.

‘Look at this!’

It was a figure, a person, sculpted and built from metal. The head was a near perfect sphere, studded with rivets. Two eyes, large hexagonal bolts, stared vacantly into the shelter and a wide rectangular gap, like a broken letterbox, was the figures mouth. It hung open as if in surprise, or perhaps, silently screaming.

‘Cam, it’s…it looks like a robot.’

In the low light of their pound shop torches, steel still gleamed through all the grease and dirt.

'It looks a bit like one of those new Waterworx statues.' said Cam 'What do you think its doing down here?'

'I've no idea. Looks like it's been here a long time though. This must be what Gran wanted me to find.'

'But how did she know it was here? Did she build it do you think?'

'Doubt it. She couldn't even do lego.'

Cam tapped it gently. At once, the robots eyes flared an angry orange and it grabbed Cam's arm.

'Unnnnnderaaaaaattack. Ehhhhhnnnehmeee.'

'Run!' shouted Cam.

Chapter 4

Loch Ness Haiku

Beneath quiet dark,
The creature, restless, writhing,
Rising toward sky.

Bad Gold

A monster sketch from mhairi robertson

Three warriors protected the village. It was a small village, and they were brave warriors, just and well respected. They defended with honour, taking no pride in their skill, caring only for the families in their village.

One day an elder from the next village asked if they would help defend them from bandits. At first, the warriors refused, their place was with the village they loved, defending their families and friends. But the elder offered them a bag of gold coins for their trouble.

'What harm can it do?' said the First Warrior, 'with this gold we could buy more defences for our own village and even build more houses.'

So the warriors left and defended the next village from bandits, and returned a little richer.

Word spread further about the warrior's skills, and more villages came to ask for their assistance, offering more gold.

And the warriors took the gold, built more houses, and bought weapons to arm other warriors to defend the village while they were gone.

So it went for many months, the warriors trained more warriors, and sent scouts to other villages to ask if they needed defending from anything. That's how they found the dragon.

The dragon was causing all sorts of trouble for a town in the north, but it was so large and so vicious that it would take an army to defeat it. But by now, the little village had an army.

'If we best the dragon, people will know how skilled we are.' said the First Warrior.

'And if we break the dragon, it will be ours to command.' said the Second Warrior.

'We will be unbeatable.' said the Third Warrior.

So it was they marched north, battled the dragon, and won.

And the dragon was wonderful and terrible, assuring the warriors victory in every battle, but it was greedy, needing gold to survive. So the warriors had to ask for more gold from the villages they defended, and to steal gold from villages not in their care. They swept across the land, feeding the dragon.

One day, the warriors came upon the village that had once held the most important place in their heart. Blackened from the fires and smelts of the forges which crafted weapons for their many armies, the houses all gone. And on the mountain above, rested the dragon, always hungry, always waiting.

The warriors saw their folly, but it was too late to change things. The dragon roared, the forges burned and the gold rolled slowly in.

And the warriors marched to the next village, no longer remembering whether they were there to defend or attack, knowing it no longer mattered.

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