Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Seventy Billion Fingers

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Seventy billion fingers
And more
Have all in their time
Reached out for
The pure
Purely human concept
Perfection
The perfect car
The perfect job
The perfect house
The perfect friend
The perfect woman
The perfect man
The perfect hold of
A perfect hand
Yet what we still don’t comprehend
Perfection brings us stress in the end
Outside our minds, it does not exist
So in pursuit, we forever twist

 

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Pursuit

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

My Car

By Scott Bailey © 2013

One light out
A film of grime
Kicked up from the road
Travelled on
Switches broken
Things won’t turn on
Or off
Squeals and grinds
And groans
Deflation
Thirsty
Dim
My car
And me

Image from PIxabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Pursuit

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Pursuit

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing

FACEBOOK AND WORDPRESS – A NOTIFICATION YOU SHOULD READ

If you link WordPress to your profile – you need to read this.

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

No Return

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Upturned trolleys
And wasted lives
Stilted rivers
Fish choked
Earth poked
To the point
Of submission
We cannot leave
Without causing worse
Now our only hope
Is to turn the tools
To better use

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Trolley

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Hunt

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Adrenaline fuels
The pounding pulse of the hunt
That only blood sates

Image from Pixabay

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #212 Sates&Fuels

#amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fiction, Self Publishing, Short Stories, Thirteen Tales, Writing

What’s that Noise?

Behind the door?

Was it something moving?

Someone?

Just ignore it. Dive back under the covers, carry on reading…

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

By Scott Bailey

A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Other are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.

Ideal for sitting around a campfire and late at night under the covers. Or maybe not if the stories themselves are any guide.

Check it out on Amazon and Smashwords and other online e-book retailers.

paperback version is now available for those who prefer the feel of the paper while huddling by the fire – on your own – in the dark – with that noise behind you……

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Life

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Rock
Roll
Hard
Place

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Trolley

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Trolley

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Stressed

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Supposed to relax
From the endless stress of work
The phone doesn’t stop

In response to my daily prompt Work

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Spider

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Dusty grey spider
Runs amidst the brush
The twigs and broken leaves
Casting coverlet of silk
Over winters decay
Busy, light, unnoticed
Predator

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Little Corner

By Scott Bailey © 2015

A little corner

A little corner

That is my world

Shrunk in space

My only place

A desk, a keyboard,

a screen

A little corner

Of a room

A little corner

of time

Stolen time

from life’s demands

Time to dream

The keys on the keyboard

are keys

Out of this corner

this cage

Into a wider

free form world

and free dreams

Through the portal

of my mind

The little corner

has no end

It opens up

and expands

forever without end

Image from Pexels

In response to my daily prompt Corner

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Work

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Work

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Silver

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Silver spar pierces the heart
Quivering
Threatening to break
Silver slit steals into the dark
Thrumming
The peace and the feel
Silver streak mars the black
Revealing
The years and the pain
Like rain
In a dark forest

Always silver, never gold.
Never warm, always cold
No longer young but old
Never saved always sold

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Corner

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Corner

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Boisterous

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Our boy is a bundle
Of boisterous fun
But he doesn’t know
When to stop the fun
And hurts someone
(Rarely himself)
Because of his mental health.
What to do?
What to do?
I am no expert
And no expert
Seems to know
What to do.
Move him on
Move him on
Is all we get
But we will not give up
Like them
His challenges will be his victory

Photo by Scott Bailey

In response to my daily prompt Physical

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Dividend

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Your flesh is the price
Your blood sweat and tears
The dividend you pay
To no one you know
For reasons unknown
But still, you pay it
On and on and on
Until you have nothing left
No legacy
No remembrance
And still
It will not be enough

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Dividend

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Dancer

By Scott Bailey © 2018

The ballet dancer
Perfecting her heart with grace
Hiding her sore heart

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Physical

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

The Planets

By Scott Bailey © 2013

The scarlet of fire
from a barrel
of a gun.
The scarlet of heat
from the blast
of a bomb.
The scarlet of rockets
arcing through
the air.
The scarlet of eyes
shot through
with fear.
The scarlet of fields
and memories of those
buried there.
The scarlet of blood
spilt without care
on brow and cheek.
This scarlet deep
so precious and deep
is of Mars.

The green of the forest
where animals play
without bounds.
The green of summer
and nature bursting
to be alive.
The green of shoots
born by birds
in clear skies.
The green of reeds
by river banks where
we sleep and dream.
The green of the sea
surrounding with safety
our precious land.
The green of fields
where people walk together
hand in hand.
This green so verdant
so desired and calm
is of Venus.

The silver of stars
darting here and there
with lightening speed.
The silver of water
tumbling in the sun
from land to land.
The silver of salt
crusted on the sails
bringing people close.
The silver of an aeroplane
shining in the air
letters written there.
The silver from the earth
delicately stretched and turned
wires spreading far.
The silver of a firework
broadcasting sparks of joy
to gathered friends.
This silver bright
wondrous and bright
is of Mercury.

The orange of sunrise
mighty and full of heart
bringing praise in singing.
The orange of a marigold
around which children dance
and parents’ hearts​ leap.
The orange of a drink
splashed down laughing throats
a thirst to quench.
The orange of a car
painted by a child
all wobbly and bright.
The orange of a paper
wrapped around a gift
unexpected surprise.
The orange of a mandarin
hanging in the tinsel
succulent and ripe.
This orange happy
bright and full of joy
is of Jupiter.

The yellow of an eye
weary, deep and wise,
heavy with rheum.
The yellow of a page
of a leather-bound book
heavy ancient tome.
The yellow of a contract
signed in years gone by
fulfilled with honour.
The yellow of a poster
faded in the sun
promises long forgotten.
The yellow of a leaf
discarded by the road
crumpled and dry.
The yellow of grass
scorched in the summer sun
toughened by the trial.
This yellow old
filled with wisdom and pain
is of Saturn.

The purple of a cloak
whose owner dazzles all
leaving them perplexed.
The purple of a cloth
on a table still
with artefacts old.
The purple of a box
with secrets held inside
only he may know.
The purple of a book
engraved with secret signs
full of ancient rites.
The purple of a smoke
that grants your heart’s desires
with forbidden fires.
The purple of time
between day and night
where fairies play.
This purple, magical
drenched with ancient lore
is of Uranus.

The blue of an evening sky
and strange signs in the air
for those who look.
The blue of pools
deep unchartered waters
with creatures strange.
The blue of visions
and misty wandering ghosts
speaking from the grave.
The blue of eyes
that hypnotise and gaze
into pasts unveiled.
The blue of lights
shining in the north
reflected in the ice.
The blue of sparks
floating in the air
in the woods.
this blue so mystical
beautifully unexplained
is of Neptune.

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fiction, Short Stories, Thirteen Tales, Writing

Fear

We have a love/hate relationship with it.

We do not want to be afraid. We want safety and comfort.

Or do we?

Underneath, secretly we crave it. The thrill of fear, the arousal of danger.

So turn off the lights. Open the pages and delve in.

Find the thrill in the words.

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

 

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Dividend

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Dividend

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Green Grass

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Green grass allures
On the other side
Reflects in green
In my eyes longing

But the green is not the grass

Image from PIxabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fantasy Fiction, Fiction, Mankind Limited News, Poetry, Science Fiction, Self Publishing, Short Stories, Writing

Dip Into Something New

Slip away for a few hours, into other worlds – away from all the troubles of this one.

 

Perhaps into the future – a near future – dark and disturbing and yet – so close. There follow the fates of four people worn down and broken – or angry with the system. Who break out of it and try to break it. Who question why they did and falter in their resolve only to be thrown back into the fray to discover the truth within themselves. A tale that questions rebellion and its motivations while railing at the oppression around us. Try it.

Mankind Limited

 

Or if not the future – the other worlds – supernatural ones – that impinge onto ours from – where? Some other dimension? The afterlife? Our own minds?

Where ever they come from – try these Thirteen Tales of the Ghostly variety.

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

 

Or forget them all and take a moment each day  – to read a little poetry and think. Three hundred and sixty-five poems in all shapes and sizes sprung from dreams and emotion. Published day after day for a year. There are haiku, sonnets, katauta, lanturnes and many other forms – including free form. The moods are as varied as the forms and often reflect my mood on the day. There is sadness and grief, joy and love.

A Spring of Dreams

 

 

 

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Physical

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Physical

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The Execution

By Scott Bailey © 2014

 

“My patience is almost spent.”

“I apologise Mr. Dickens. The situation is complicated.”

“I have been hearing that for two weeks now! And have been given nothing! No answers! I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what has happened to me. Everyone talks strange and treats me like some kind of alien or freak show. And where are my fucking family!”

For a second the Doctor looked horrified. Then he quickly composed himself.

“Again I can only apologise.  But I will explain now. When I do you will understand our … reticence. ”

“About time..”, muttered Henry.The Doctor gave him a look of pity.

“Brace yourself. ”

Henry suddenly felt cold. The Doctor went on.

“Our records show that you were in a cycling accident.”

He pronounced cycling as if he didn’t know what the word meant.

“You suffered severe brain injuries. You were put into a coma to try to protect your higher brain functions. When the swelling had subsided the medical team tried to revive you. They failed. You remained in a coma.”

Henry shifted in his chair. His voice was broken as he spoke.

“How long?”

“Ten years.”

“I have been out for ten years?”

“It’s more complicated. While you were under the world around you changed. It got worse, a lot worse. Your wife… well it seems she was a sharp woman. She saw things clearer than most. For one thing she left us plenty of notes. That’s why we know so much.”

Henry felt a growing sense of dread. But he kept silent.

“Because she saw things clearly she prepared, took action.  What I am going to tell you will be hard for you to hear. But bear in mind that with the benefit of hindsight we can see that what she did was for her family. For your children. She took steps to protect them.”

“Protect them?” His heart was racing.  “Protect them from what?”

“From war.”

“There was a fucking war?” The Doctor flinched again, but he went on.

“Yes. It was a dark time.”

“World War Three?”

“Not quite. I mean that’s what people expected.  What your wife thought was coming. But it was not and all-encompassing war like that. No one side against the other. No. What transpired was a series of many many, small wars between countries.”

He shuddered and continued.

“You might think that would have been better than a world war, but it was not.  It was far worse. With just about every country in the world caught up in their own conflicts there was nobody to coordinate any kind of peace deal. No one to talk to anyway if there had have been. So the wars dragged on, for years,  decades.”

“Decades? I thought you said ..” the Doctor stilled him with a look.

“Your wife saw the dark times coming. She took steps to protect her family.  The first of which was she remarried. ”

“She… what? She..”

“She married into immense wealth. And she used the money to protect her children and you. We know she did this well as we know they survived the dark times.”

“They are alive! I can see them!”

“No. You cannot.  They are…. let me finish.”

A lump of dread was threatening to strangle him.

“She also tried to protect you. With all the resources of her great wealth she threw everything they had at the time towards reviving you. Nothing worked. Finally, when it looked darkest and there was no guarantee that anyone would survive she threw you one last desperate lifeline. An experimental treatment.”

The Doctor paused, looked him deep in the eye.

“She put you into suspended animation.”

Henry felt chilled to the bone.

“So no, you cannot see your wife and children. They have been dead for over two hundred years. We have only just been able to awaken you.”

“No. No, this can’t be. It’s some sort of sick joke isn’t it? There’s cameras in here. Well it’s not funny! I want to see my family!”

“Please Mr Dickens, please calm down. I know this is a lot to take in and I am sorry. But there is more. There is something else you need to know.”

“Calm down? Calm the fuck down? I want my family in this room! Here and now! Don’t give me any more bullshit.”

The doctor nodded very slightly, subtly, but Henry noticed.

It was too late.hands he didn’t see took a firm hold of his arms. Held him steadfastly. He felt a cold disc of metal against the skin of his neck, there was a hiss, then he fell swirling into darkness.

 


 

“You want me to what!?”

Henry looked at the panel before him, twelve men and women, with utter disbelief.

“Mr Dickens. We understand that you have a lot to take in over the last few weeks.”

“A lot!” Henry stared. How could they possibly understand. He has lost everything. His family, his love, his world. He had seen very little of this world but he had seen enough to know that it was not his. He was an alien here.

And now this.

“We understand that you have lost a lot. You have to understand that the world has lost a lot too.”

“I have heard all about your wars. Lots of people died. Yes.”

“They were not our wars, “ said the chairman of the panel, his voice calm and cold. “And I don’t think you have an appreciation of just how many people died, or what that meant.”

Henry didn’t see what any of it had to do with him. The chairman continued anyway.

“The population of the earth was cut by 75%. You have no idea what that did to us. There were very few people left to run things. Very few who knew how to keep things running. Power stations failed. Oil wells stopped pumping. Machines broke down. Nobody knew how to rule, how to respond to the disasters. All that had been wiped away in war after war.

“The times after the wars were darker than the actual wars. The world came close to slipping into barbarism. In many places it did.”

“And you came along and saved it,” said Henry sourly.

“We survived. We were not involved – because we were overlooked. We had no wealth, no strategic value. Largely we were forgotten up in the mountains.”

He paused, letting Henry take in his words. Henry said nothing so he continued.

“We don’t really know what triggered many of the wars, people say it was largely financial – but those are theories, based on times gone by. What we do know is that as things got more and more desperate the terms of the conflicts changed. They became more ideological. In many cases fiercely religious. This was why many of them could not be stopped, there came a point where reason stopped being any part of the fighting.

“It was another reason we were not drawn into it. As Buddhists we eschewed all the arguments for fighting. But we were also no threat to anyone. Those that were bent on converting the world, well – most had forgotten us, or were just leaving us to last.

“So in the end, we survived just by being the last ones standing. We were the only thing left close to being a coherent nation.

“And we were used to living frugally. We were in a unique position to fill the niche so to speak.

“So people flocked to us. They saw our way of life working. Saw it as a light in the dark, a hope.”

“And you made them all convert!” Henry spat.

“Not at first,” replied the chairman. “That was not our way, never had been. But it was a disaster. Trying to accommodate everyone’s views, conflicting ways of doing things. Trying to keep on top of all the old tensions, historical hatreds and prejudices. Well it almost tore us apart. And we were so fragile then, we still are.”

The chairman leaned forward.

“You have to understand something. The earth is damaged. It’s worn out, and depleted. It will never recover, not in the ways we would want it to. The comforts and luxuries of generations past have gone. If we are to survive we must change our ways. And some of those ways might seem extreme to you. They are – but so is our situation.”

“So I have to convert to Buddhism! No choice!”

“That is correct. and it has to be genuine. You must live by our ways.”

“What do you do check up on me? Monitor me? Give me exams every month or something.”

“We do not need to. The way our society is structured, if you do not follow our ways, it would be obvious. If your thoughts do not flow with those around you  – it will be grossly evident to all around you.”

“So I am not even allowed to think outside of your precious bloody ways.”

“As I said, the ways are extreme, and your manner does not fit – at the moment.”

Henry snorted in derision. Did they really think he was going to take this.

“And if I refuse?”

“We cannot allow the possibility of disruption to the balance. You will be executed.”

Henry stared open-mouthed.

“You are kidding! That doesn’t sound very like the Buddhism that was around in my time.”

“Maybe not – we have had to make our sacrifices too. But we are humane.”

“How can killing someone be humane?”

“You would die happy and fulfilled. We have our ways”

“Well hoo – fucking – ray!”

 


 

“Are you sure that you do not want to change your mind?” said the monk. Henry assumed it was a monk. He looked like the Buddhist monks from his own era but he just didn’t know any more.

He wasn’t sure he cared either.

“Why would I do that?”

“So you can live,” said the monk with surprise.

“What for? My life is gone. Everything I knew is gone. My life would be as a stranger in a cage of rules I don’t want and don’t understand. I can’t live like that.”

“You haven’t given it a chance. You have no idea the peace and joy of our lives. You are judging us by your primitive standards. You…

“Enough!” A voice of authority barked from a hidden source. The monk started and looked guilty and continued preparing the elaborate machine Henry was embedded into.

Joy indeed! Henry snorted to himself. Get on with it, he thought.

The monk appeared to comply. He stepped back, nodded at the back wall and left.

The machine hummed and enclosed further around Henry like some futuristic iron maiden. A needle swung into his vision, poised at his neck and then stopped.

The voice spoke again.

“It saddens us to do this friend. But our society, mankind, must survive.”

“Yes, yes. I can imagine the tears you are shedding.”

“You will not change your mind?”

“You will not let me live among you without converting?” Henry countered.

“No.”

“Not even for a limited time – say a month, to see if you can change my mind?” The sarcasm in his voice told them all he did not expect any reasonable answer to that.

“No.”

“Then get on with it!”

“Very well. Judge! Carry out the execution.”

Henry didn’t even take a breath. He’d had enough, reached his limit. He wanted it ended.

Nothing happened. He looked up, the needle stayed poised, he could almost see the poison dripping from it.

“Judge! What is happening? Carry out the execution.”

“No.” The new voice was quietly defiant.

“What? Judge, carry out your task, execute him.”

“No!” What Henry presumed was the Judge’s voice was louder and firmer this time. “I will not. He is right. We should give him time amongst us.”

“This is not acceptable, Judge, do your job!”

“What does it say about our society if we do not trust it to be good enough to sway him? If we are scared that it so weak that a single man can topple it? We need to start our own healing, and it should start with him. We will give him his time. One month. If he is still not convinced, I will carry out the sentence.”

“This is not acceptable, Judge!”

Something stirred in Henry. Suddenly, out of nowhere he wanted what the Judge was offering him. A chance. A chance to live.

“You will accept it. I am the only one in this world who can carry out this sentence and I will not.”

“Your apprentice…”

“Will not be able to carry it out. I have already locked him out of all the processes. Only I can release the locks. He will have his time.”

 


 

“Next up, we are talking to the sensation of the age. The man who was frozen in time and has awoken to join us in the future. The man who escaped death twice and who is shaking the world. The man the leaders fear, the man who asks questions.

“Well today, we hope, he will be answering some of our questions.”

The interviewer turned to Henry while the applause of the audience died down. Henry squirmed uncomfortably. Of all the damn things to survive into this century it had to be talk shows! And he was the fucking subject.

He had to remember not to swear too. He had learnt it was considered way more offensive in these times than his own.

“Mr Dickens, thank you for joining us, let us begin with the biggest question.

“OK.” said Henry.

“We have all heard your remarkable story, it has tugged at all our hearts, we all grieve for your losses. The question we have is, why did you refuse conversion when offered at first? Why, as it appears did you choose death?”

Henry was suddenly overwhelmed with emotions that he struggled to keep under wraps. Grieve for my losses? What could they possibly understand about his losses! The very stupidity of the question betrayed how little they could understand.

How could he answer that?

The audience did not let him. A voice shouted out.

“Why didn’t you just convert!? What’s wrong with our way of life?”

Henry couldn’t see the source of the voice. He sounded like a fanatic, a tone not uncommon in this new world he had discovered.

“I knew nothing about it, you expected I would just convert, without questioning what I was getting into.”

“What’s to question? This way of life has saved us, saved humanity.”

People clapped and cheered the questioner.

“Has it? Or has it turned you all into cattle? Sheep that blindly follow ‘the way’.”

The audience booed and jeered at him, he was a little surprised. His opinions were not exactly secret, they had been broadcast around the world for the two weeks since his stay of execution.

He was the biggest news story of the time.

Hardly surprising as very little else seemed to be happening in the world.

They had peace OK. And it was boring.

“Let him speak!” another voice rang out above the protests.

The audience quietened down, shocked that someone, one of their own appeared to be supporting him.

“Let us hear what he has to say. If our society is so perfect then what possible threat could he be?”

Henry was surprised himself to hear a small ripple of applause supporting this new stance.

He spoke.

“Sure, you have peace. Your society is a model of sustainability and balance. I admire it in many ways. But it is frozen, you are so scared to upset the balance you allow no change. You have stopped growing. You might survive for now, but when change comes – when it is thrust upon you, you won’t know how to deal with it, how to adapt.

“You are like a rose, frozen in liquid nitrogen. Beautiful, preserved for all time, but dead. And easily shattered with a single blow.”

“Why didn’t you just pretend? Just convert and be quiet?” said the original voice.

Henry stood angrily now.

“I spent the whole of my old life dreaming of being someone. Of making my mark on the world. Leaving behind a legacy beyond just my genes. But I didn’t, I was nothing. I worked, I existed, I supported my family, I loved. But nothing more than what every other person was doing around me. I always dreamed one day, one day – but that day was never to be.

“And now – you expect me to just shut up and become just another cog in the machine again. With even less freedom and liberty than before? Well fuck you all if that’s what you think.”

“Savage!” a woman screamed.

“No! He is right! Why can’t we question things? Why can’t we change things?”

“Do you want war to return? Do you want our blood?”

“We can question without conflict!”

Suddenly the audience erupted. Everyone was on their feet, trying to shout down each other. Henry thought it looked evenly split but it looked messy.

The aggression was rising.

The flabbergasted host turned to his assistants.

“Get him out of here!”

Hands grabbed in and he was whisked away.

 


 

Two days later he was back in the machine. He was not afraid, or angry any more. He just felt resigned.

He couldn’t resist a dig though.

“What happened to one month?”

“The situation has become critical,” said the hidden voice. “As feared your presence amongst us has caused much disruption.”

So he had heard. It seemed the feeling of that show audience reflected that of society at large. It has sparked great debate. Even some protests he had been told.

Well, maybe that was something.

“So Judge?” Henry asked wryly. “Changed your tune too?”

“The Judge is not present,” said the original voice. “His apprentice will carry out the execution.”

“Oh? Worked out a way past the safeguards and locks then?”

“Unfortunately no. We have been forced to take more drastic measures. This injection is more direct, more painful I am sorry to say.”

“What happened to your humanity then?” smiled Henry. He felt slightly manic now, he could almost laugh at his own imminent death.

There was a sudden bang, and he thought he could hear shouts in the distance. He looked up surprised. It felt suddenly like something unplanned was happening.

“Please continue,” said the voice. It sounded hurried, unsure.

The machine hummed into life, the needle bore down on him.

Well this was it, he had tried, in this his second life, to make a difference. It was a shame he would never know if it had worked.

There was a louder bang and suddenly glass broke. Henry turned his head to see the room being broken into. People were storming the place.

He seemed to suddenly see very clearly what was happening. They were trying to save him, but they were doing more than that.

They were leading a revolution.

Maybe they would bring conflict back to their society, maybe they would tear it down, but he was sure they would build something better.

As the crowd tried to surge past the security trying in vain to hold them back the needle pierced his skin.

They were too late. Even as they broke through he felt the darkness descending.

But he was happy and fulfilled.

In response to my daily prompt Trial

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Leaping

The trial of damns
Before the salmon’s reward
Bringing death and life

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Trial

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Blue Eyes

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Blue eyes turned purple
Deep purple and very still
Watching all my life

Image from PIxabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Trial

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Trial

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Grey Wolf

By Scott Bailey © 2014

Grey Wolf pounding
Across the hard packed snow
Fierce heart pumping
Hot against the cold
Breeze like blades
Cutting headache pulse
Scent of blood
Fires instinct deep
Frost hangs shimmering
On the shaggy pelt
Grey Wolf coming
Endings will be dealt

In response to my daily prompt Pump

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Haiku, Poem a Day Challenge, Poetry, Self Publishing, Writing

A Spring of Dreams – Trench

recite-2dr0uy

Trench

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Dancing with my wife,
last week the telegraph came:
Coughs ring round the trench.

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

or CreateSpace

Check out my author website for more details

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Red Steel

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Blood soaked steel
The sword of a knight
Held up proud
Aloft and bright
He hums to himself

“For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given, and the government
shall be upon His shoulder; and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor,
the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace”

With banshee scream
He storms on down
To hammer home peace.

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Pump

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Pump

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Hunters Rush

By Scott Bailey © 2018

Thoughts lost in the rush
Emptied by the hunter’s rage
Purpose cleansed once more

Image from Pixabay

In response to RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #211 Brain&Cleanse

#amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Soul

By Scott Bailey © 2015

A soul full
Of tear-stained dreams
As substantial
As vapour
At the mercy
Of whispering winds

A storm approaches

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Whisper

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Fiction, General, Mankind Limited News, Science Fiction, Self Publishing, Writing

Mankind Limited – Succumb

quotescover-PNG-66

Would all the earth succumb to the concrete blanket of mankind? Was that the best legacy they could leave? Was their vision that limited?

One day there would come a time when it would be more profitable to tear these trees down than to leave them. Then there would be no power on earth that would save them. Even concerned consumers couldn’t stand in the way of profits anymore.

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Read an excerpt here.

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

or CreateSpace

 

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Black Wings

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Black wings
Rushing, beating, clouding all
Death
The all-consuming
Undeniable
Descends, swoops
Threatens and laughs
Yet
Dismissed with a thought

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Whisper

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Whisper

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing

What’s that Noise? — thehouseofbailey

Fantasy | The Gifts: Fashion, Gift Ideas, Books, Music

Behind the door? Was it something moving? Someone? Just ignore it. Dive back under the covers, carry on reading… Thirteen Tales of Ghosts By Scott Bailey A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Other are not. Some scare, some are […]

via What’s that Noise? — thehouseofbailey

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Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The White Rose Blooms

By Scott Bailey © 2014

A renaissance across the land
Throwing off the far-flung shackles
For new ones closer to home
A new white dawn

Grabbing the holy riches
Gold crosses forged to swords
War in all directions
An empire to rebuild

Tall ships grew and multiplied
New lands found and won
The power of word proliferates
Especially the words of one

All the globe within the globe
Sounds echo down to now
Expose the hearts of Kings and Queens
Commoner, thief and maid

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Maid

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

An Attempt at Opera!

This is an old post but perfect for today’s random prompt which is Opera

This is something different. I was digging around my old files and found a full libretto I wrote for an opera that never got off the ground. A good friend of mine actually wrote a lot of the music to go with it but in the end, it was too ambitious for us.

We ended up writing a shorter one – adapted from a short story of mine. That was less ambitious in that it was written for a string quartet and two singers. It was finished but never got performed. These days we could get it out on YouTube but back then even the internet didn’t exist!

I have been playing with the idea of publishing a set of longer poems and thought I might include this as one of them. But not sure – it’s more like a script than a poem.

So I thought I would put a taster here and see what people think.

So – here’s the first part.

Image from Pixabay

The Golden Man

Part 1

Upon a mountaintop, in a cleft between its twin peaks lies a lake. In the centre of this lake is an island. At the centre of the island are the ruins of an ancient temple. A roof held up by pillars but no walls. In this ruin stand five figures on the points of a pentagram, silently facing inwards to a conspicuously empty space in the centre.

It is the dead of night. They begin to chant.

SKY– From the shadows of the valley deep,
To the starlit white of highland peaks,
On a night when the silvery sphere is bright,
We gather here to proclaim our rite.

CERISE– With purpose dread of high renown,
Calling all the powers down.
Power sets our passions free,
So ancient spells we here decree.

LINCOLN– Secrets held within our flesh,
Combine to weave a mystic mesh.
Long guarded secrets we do share.
Long lost charms we do declare.

SAGE– From our cities and our homes we come,
To do here now what must be done.
To ease the path we have to tread,
To speak the words that many dread.

RAVEN– To finally tear down walls of fear,
The path of victory is what we hear.
So we can defend the weak,
Spells, enchantments, rites we speak.

SKY– We conjure a spirit to defend our land.

CERISE– We conjure a spirit with a golden hand.

LINCOLN– We conjure a spirit who shall not tire.

SAGE– We conjure a spirit with a burning fire.

RAVEN– We conjure a spirit who shall not fall.

ALL– We conjure a spirit to serve us all!

SKY– With the breath of hope.

CERISE– With the echo of a sigh.

LINCOLN– With the light of the flesh.

SAGE– With the warmth of the sky.

RAVEN– With the scent of a sword.

ALL– With the shape of our word.

Pause

SKY– All our power we put forth in thee. To bring you here to set us free.

CERISE– All our wealth shall touch your hand. To bring you here to save this land.

LINCOLN– All our health dispels death’s throes. To bring you here to destroy our foes.

SAGE– All our dreams will be your goals. To bring you here to ease our souls.

RAVEN– All our strength shall steel your arm. To bring you here to ward off harm.

ALL– Come!

The light dims as a cloud descends and obscures vision. When it is clear again the five are still in their positions but lying in the centre is the Golden Man lying deathly still with his hands crossed upon his chest.

In response to my daily prompt Opera

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

The Cur

By Scott Bailey © 2018

The cur
Concurred
That his fur was fine
The Dragon
Entwined, sublime
Around the dog
Agreed
As he preened
Sat on the mat.
The rat
Sneered as he neared
A disagreed
With the lead of the cur
While the rooster sided with the worm
His belief in showmanship firm
White he strutted
The tiger tutted
And purred,
Anticipating
Waiting
His chance
The rabbit
Twitched and hopped
Unsure who
To believe
Whether to leave
Or watch
While the snake
Curled around
The ground
Sniffing out
The way ahead
The monkey
Puzzled
And guzzled his beer
Coming near
Without seeing
While the swine
Less divine
Fed
Its stomach, not its head
And the bull
Forged on
Sure and strong
One way forward
The stallion danced
And when they glanced
Gave a show
While the goat’s
Step
Slow and sure
Kept time
And amidst them all
Nothing
That had a clue

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Rabbit

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Daily Prompt, Poetry, Writing

Kit and Kaboodle

By Scott Bailey © 2018

The whole kit and kaboodle
Everything you need to get started
You will soon be the expert
In your new chosen hobby/pastime/pursuit
Until the next new thing
The next thing to be seen doing
Then you will need to get
Another whole kit and kaboodle
This is the lifecycle
Of the perfect consumer
Duped into thinking
They are pursuing a perfect life

Image from Pixabay

In response to my daily prompt Kit

#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Family, Health, Writing

Behind Again

Struggling again to find time to write or do anything at all that is not for someone else.

I am close to giving up for good – there doesn’t seem much point, snatching titbits of time to chase dreams that are ever less likely to come to any fruition.

So back to recycling for now.

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Fiction, Self Publishing, Short Stories, Thirteen Tales, Writing

Shipwreck – Thirteen Tales

Shipwreck

Explorers – or pillagers? The line is thin on the high seas, in strange exotic lands. Those that operate without fear of consequence soon learn their folly. There are older powers in the world than gunpowder and steel.

Featured Image -- 7657

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

By Scott Bailey

A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Other are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.

Ideal for sitting around a campfire and late at night under the covers. Or maybe not if the stories themselves are any guide.

Check it out at Amazon and Smashwords and other online e-book retailers.

A paperback version is now available for those who prefer the feel of the paper while huddling by the fire – on your own – in the dark – with that noise behind you……

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Mother Mercury

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Mercury sang to his mother
A plea for help against a world
That loved his every word and deed
But hated his most secret thoughts
They would not accept what he was
In the deepest part of his soul
When will the world catch up
With the genius and the lover
When can the Mercury Mothers
Love their sons’ very hearts

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Maid

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Maid

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Short and Sweet

A Spring of Dreams

Some poems
Short and sweet
Unlike me

Creative Writing, Poetry, Writing

Searching

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Swimming in infinity
Our thoughts and words and deeds
Seeking out affinity
Where ideas can become seeds
And grow beyond the fates
Of our everyday lives
And open up the gates
where potentiality thrives

Image from Pixabay

Originally published in A Spring of Dreams

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

Scotts Daily Prompt

Scotts Daily Prompt Opera

These Daily Prompts are my attempt to fill the hole left by the now retired Daily Post.

To see them all click here.

I will not be able to review them or comment on them but feel free to join in and use them as an inspiration for your own work. They have been randomly generated by this site so there is a chance they have already been used by the Daily Post.

Want to join in. Publish a new post on your blog interpreting the theme. Create a pingback to this page. These pingbacks have to be approved manually so they may not appear immediately. Then come back, browse the other pingbacks, leave some likes comments and network!

Today’s prompt is:

Opera

Image from Pixabay
Creative Writing, Fiction, Mankind Limited News, Politics, Science Fiction, Self Publishing, Writing

Read It! Don’t let it come to pass!

Humanity reduced to a bottom line.


Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.

Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.

Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.

One one level this is a story about how different people react the ever growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.

At another level it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.

Read an excerpt here.

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

or CreateSpace

Now also available at Smashwords, IBooks, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and many other outlets.