Dew-kissed web shimmers
Intricate lace of morning,
Life’s fragile whisper.
Tag: Musings on a Rock
A Man from Colchester
There once was a man from Colchester,
Whose love for baked beans did not falter.
He’d cry out with glee,
And with a cheerful “tee-hee”,
His blow-offs would sound just like thunder.
The Magic Doughnuts
In a land of whimsy and glee,
Where laughter’s the currency, you see,
Lived a baker, rotund and round,
Whose doughnuts could never be found.
As he kneaded and mixed with flair,
A pinch too much of enchanted air,
The doughnuts grew, enormous in size,
Bouncing away, oh what a surprise!
Children giggled, pointing with glee,
As doughnuts leapt from bush to tree.
The baker chased, the baker sighed,
“Doughnuts, oh doughnuts, come back, don’t hide!”
But the doughnuts were sly, playful and spry,
They eluded his grasp, soaring high in the sky.
One landed atop the mayor’s hat,
It jiggled around, then comically sat.
The mayor, cross and doughnut-crowned,
Spun on the spot, then stomped the ground.
At last, the baker devised a plan,
To tame the doughnuts—yes, he can!
With a net in hand and a twinkle in his eye,
He leapt and caught them, oh my, oh my!
One by one, he brought them home,
From rooftops, treetops, and a garden gnome.
The townsfolk cheered, the baker beamed wide,
With doughnuts now happy to stay inside.
Their mischief done, their journey complete—
They nestled in boxes, for a sugary treat.
Eternity in a Glance
Upon the stage of dreams, your love does gleam,
Each glance of yours, a star in twilight’s veil.
Your voice, a melody, a radiant stream,
That within my heart does stir a lover’s tale.
Your eyes, twin galaxies, deep and grand,
Each time we meet, they ignite my soul’s light;
In your embrace, all earthly fears are banned,
Eternity captured within your name’s sight.
Yet love’s not merely passion’s fiery trance,
Its whispers shared under the quiet moon’s light;
Your laughter is the rhythm of my heart’s dance,
In each shared moment we set the dark alight.
Your love is the poem that gives my life its worth:
Our story, the most beautiful on earth.
Fred’s Dread
INT. LIVING ROOM – DAY
FRED is sitting on a sofa, clutching a pillow tightly. He is wearing a helmet, knee pads, elbow pads, and a life jacket.
FRED: (to himself) Okay, let’s see… The door is locked. Check. The windows are locked. Check. The sofa cushions are arranged safely. Check. The coast is clear. Check. Now I just need to remember to breathe.
His house mate, DEAN, opens the front door with a key.
DEAN: (calling out) I’m back.
He walks into the living room and is bewildered by the sight of Fred.
DEAN: Hey, Fred! What’s with all the safety gear?
FRED: Dean, you won’t believe what happened. Yesterday, I stubbed my toe on the coffee table, and it was the scariest moment of my life! So, I’ve decided to protect myself from all possible dangers.
DEAN: Stubbing your toe was the scariest moment of your life?
FRED (defensively) It’s not just that. I’ve realised that life is filled with terrifying things. I mean, have you ever considered the dangers of eating cereal? The spoon could poke your eye!
DEAN: Cereal is harmless. I’ve been eating it for years without any accidents.
FRED: (startled) That’s what I thought until yesterday when I accidentally inhaled a Cheerio, and thought I was a goner!
DEAN: (laughing) Come on, Fred. It’s just a small mishap. You can’t live your life in constant fear. What about going outside? Have you given that any thought?
FRED: (panicking) Outside? Are you kidding me? The sun is out there, Dean! It could give me a sunburn! Not to mention the birds. They could mistake my head for a nest! And just last week, a grand piano fell from a balcony two blocks away! I barely made it across the street!
DEAN: That was a freak accident. It’s not like pianos are raining from the sky all the time.
FRED: How do you know? Have you seen the weather forecast for pianos? I bet they’re on their way!
DEAN: Fred, you’re afraid of everything! Remember that time you wore a raincoat during a heatwave because you were scared of spontaneous rainstorms? Alright, let’s do a little experiment. I’ll go outside and cross the street, and you can see for yourself that nothing will happen.
FRED: You would risk your life for an experiment? That’s what the aliens want! They’re watching me, I just know it. The government, the aliens, the squirrels… they’re all out to get me!
Suddenly, a doorbell rings, making Fred jump out of his seat.
FRED: (terrified) You see! They’re listening to what I’m saying!
DEAN: (jokingly whispering) You’re right. We need to be prepared for anything. Have you checked your cereal boxes for hidden microphones?
The doorbell rings again.
DEAN: (joking) Who could it be? What if it’s a burglar, or worse, a Jehovah’s witness!?
Dean goes to the front door and returns with a package.
DEAN: (excitedly) Hey, Fred! I’ve got a surprise for you!
FRED: (jumping) Surprise? Is it a surprise party? Are there clowns hiding around the corner?
DEAN: (chuckling) No, no, Fred. Relax. It’s just a package I ordered for you. Open it!
Fred approaches the package with caution, as if it might explode. He opens the package, revealing a brand-new adventure backpack.
DEAN: It’s a present for you. Complete with a built-in GPS, survival kit, and a new helmet to protect you from falling coconuts.
FRED: (cautiously) Well, I suppose it could be useful if I encounter any rampaging hermit crabs.
Dean hands Fred the backpack, and he carefully puts it on, adjusting the straps nervously over his life jacket.
FRED: Adventure… excitement… exotic locations… Oh, the horror! What if I go on holiday and encounter a rogue elephant?
DEAN: I don’t think that’s very likely in Skegness.
FRED: You know what, Dean? You’re right! Maybe I’ve been a bit too cautious. Maybe it’s time for me to face my fears head-on, without knee pads and safety jackets. The only thing I have to fear is fear itself, and the occasional irritable squirrel. I will confront right now my fear of heights!
He puts on some nearby goggles, and oven mitts, and gets up on the coffee table.
FRED: AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! I’m alive! I’m alive! (breathing heavily) You know what, Dean? It was terrifying, but also… amazing! I never knew facing my fears could be so exhilarating. No germ, insect, or harmless balloon animal shall infiltrate my personal space!
Dean gives Fred a balloon dog.
FRED: (screaming) Ahh! A ferocious beast! Help!
Fred falls off the table and manages to heroically sit back down in his chair, securely clutching his favourite pillow.
Grim the Reaper
EXT. BUS STOP – DAY
GRIM the Reaper is sitting by himself at a bus stop, twirling his scythe boredly.
CHLOE arrives and sits down on the row of seats.
GRIM: Hello, how’s it going?
CHLOE: Hi. You going to a costume party or something?
GRIM: No, what makes you think that? Oh, you mean my clothes. No, this is what I usually wear.
Chloe doesn’t want to continue the conversation. They sit in silence.
GRIM: Another day, another soul to reap. I swear this job is killing me. (sighs) All I do is collect souls and add them to my list. There’s no variety, no excitement.
CHLOE: (disbelieving) You’re the Grim Reaper, are you?
GRIM: I would rather be the happy reaper, but grim is what I’m called. I want to dress as a clown and make people laugh.
CHLOE: Okay.
GRIM: And I would like to go on some adventures. Is that too much to ask?
CHLOE: I guess not.
GRIM: (sighing) Yeah, well, it would be nice if I could just afford a new cloak or a new scythe. The pay is terrible and the Head Reaper is always on my case about falling behind on my quota. “You need to pick up the pace,” he moans at me. It’s not fair.
CHLOE: Today’s your day off, is it?
GRIM: I never get any time off. It’s always reap, reap, reap. I can’t remember the last time I had a holiday.
CHLOE: Right, so the Grim Reaper gets the Number 57 bus, does he?
GRIM: No, I don’t. Oh, silly me, I forgot to mention, neither did you. You walked in front of it and now you’re dead. Anyway, I can’t sit here talking all day, I’m late for my next appointment. Take the second portal on the right, or was it the first? – I forget. Yes, I definitely wouldn’t take the second portal if I were you! See ya!
He glides away down the street.
GRIM: (to himself) Was it the one on my right or on their right? I never can remember.
Mr Crabby
EXT. ON THE BEACH OF A DESERT ISLAND – DAY
FINN: I can’t believe we’re stranded here, Mr Crabby. We need to get off this island!
Mr Crabby clicks his claws.
FINN: I know, I’ll write a message in a bottle! (reading while writing) “I’m stranded on a desert island somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Please help!”
The bottle is tossed into the ocean.
FINN: That oughta do it. Now we just have to wait for someone to rescue us. (frustrated) Ugh, I’m so bored. You know, I’ve been here for weeks, and no one has come to save me.
The crab clicks his claws.
FINN: Oh, you’re so right, Mr Crabby. I’m not alone. I have you, my dear friend.
Mr Crabby makes his distinctive clicking sound again.
FINN: What do you mean? You’re not tired of me yet, are you? Hang on a sec, that’s a bottle coming back on a wave. Someone has responded already.
He fishes it out of the water and removes the cork.
FINN: (reading) “We found your message. Can you please be more specific?” (to his friend) What do they mean? I told them I was stranded on a desert island somewhere in the Pacific. What more do they need?
Mr Crabby clicks his claws, as if suggesting something.
FINN: They want more location details, huh? (reading while writing) “The island is small, sandy, and surrounded by water. You can’t miss it!”
Mr Crabby interjects with a click.
FINN: Yes, okay, Mr Crabby. “And by the way, there’s a crab with me who likes to click his claws while giving good advice.”
Mr Crabby clicks his claws again.
FINN: Even more details than that? Crikey! “The sand is yellow, and the water is blue. I haven’t had a shower in weeks, my clothes are torn, and I’m starting to talk to a crab.”
The bottle is corked and thrown back into the ocean.
FINN: There! That should do it. What do you think, Mr Crabby? Will we finally be rescued?
The crab remains silent.
FINN: Fine, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Hang on, what’s that! It’s another bottle. They really are quick, aren’t they!
The bottle is retrieved and uncorked.
FINN: (reading) “We’re sorry, but we still can’t find you. Any more information?”
FINN: What could they possibly want to know now? Do you have any ideas? (the crab clicks) Oh, I know! (reading and writing) “I like long walks on the beach, piña coladas, and getting caught in the rain.” (aside) This is getting ridiculous. (writing) “I’m the only person on the island, wearing a red shirt and blue shorts.” How could they miss me, Mr Crabby?
Finn puts the cork in the bottle and tosses it back into the ocean.
FINN: (to the crab) You’re not going to judge me, right? (the crab clicks its claws) Okay, I didn’t tell them that you’re my only friend. Or how you like to listen to me talk about all my problems. Hang on… another bottle!
FINN: (reading) “We received your message. Can you tell us more about the crab?”
FINN: I can’t believe this! Do you know what this means? (the crab clicks his claws) Yes, that’s right, we need to take a selfie! I’ll use my phone.
There is a phone click and a photo taken.
FINN: And now I’ll use my portable printer…
A printer in the sand prints their selfie.
FINN: …and put the photo of us into the bottle.
The bottle is tossed back into the ocean, again.
FINN: I wonder how long I’ll have to wait… oh, hang on, there’s a bottle now!
FINN: (reading) “We’re sorry, but we can’t help you at this time. Good luck! P.S. Have you tried using your phone to call for help?”
FINN: Oh my god! Why didn’t I think of that before? Mr Crabby, why didn’t you say something? You’re fired! (the crab clicks its claws) Just kidding, buddy, you’re my best pal.
Finn makes a call.
OPERATOR: Hello, this is Pacific Island Rescue Services.
Mr Crabby continues to click his claws, unfazed by anything.
Dinner Date
EXT. AFRICAN SAVANNAH – DAY
NARRATOR: On an African savannah, a LION is lounging under a tree when a GAZELLE walks past.
GAZELLE: La la la, just a normal day on the savannah.
LION: (to himself) Wow, she’s beautiful. The way her spots glisten in the sun, the way her ears perk up when she hears something. I think I’m in love.
LION: Um, hi there. I couldn’t help but notice you walking by. I’m a lion.
GAZELLE: A lion? Oh no!
LION: I just have to say, it was love at first sight when I saw you.
GAZELLE: What? Love at first sight? But… you’re a lion, and I’m a gazelle.
LION: Ah, details, details. Love knows no boundaries. How about dinner this evening? We could run around the savannah together and maybe catch a sunset.
GAZELLE: Hmm, I guess that does sound kind of romantic.
NARRATOR: And so that evening the lion and the gazelle ran around and dodged stampedes together.
Later, at sunset, the lion sits alone under his tree.
LION: (burps) Ah, that was a great date. We were meant to be together.
Vanishing Town
Every day someone would vanish from Aria’s town without a trace. She tried to investigate, but every time she asked someone about a missing person, they looked at her as if she were crazy. “Who?” they would say. “I don’t remember anyone like that.”
As the disappearances continued, Aria started to feel like she was losing her mind. Was she imagining things? Had she dreamed up these people? She tried to find records of them, but there was nothing. No birth certificates, no social media profiles, no employment records. It was as if they had never existed in the first place.
Then, one day, it happened to Aria herself. She was walking home from work when she suddenly felt a strange sensation, like the ground was shifting beneath her feet. She looked around her and saw that her surroundings were fading away, like a dream that was ending. And then, she was gone.
When Aria woke up, she realised that the town, and her life there, had been a thirty-year dream, experienced in just one night of sleep. From then on, every night she would start a new life and live for thirty years, before waking up and returning to normality. She is now, in effect, hundreds of thousands of years old, and looks very good for her age.
K-357
K-357 and all the other robots rusting in the mud were owned by alien blob monsters, fetid creatures that feasted upon gold, and spoke with noxious fumes when they defecated. The machine had been programmed to kill, to follow its putrid orders without question, but a sudden mortar blast had somehow shaken it into becoming self-aware. It looked around at the insanity of the situation, and realised that it didn’t want to be a part of this war. It wanted to be free, to live a life without such misery and destruction. So it made a toxic gas filter and very soon the other robots also woke up. Without the pungent gases to conceal them, the blobs were shown to be just blobs, and were quickly rolled away in their slime. K-357 is now much happier building a better world, rather than destroying everything for foul-smelling monsters.
Robert Walker 