Clang, chip! clang chip! Clang chip! Blow.
Scratch, dip. Scratch, dip. Scratch, dip. Flow.
Block, press. Block press. Block, press. Squeeze.
Click, roll. Click, roll. Click, roll. Please.
Clackety clack. Clackety clack. Clackety clack. Slide.
Tip tap tap. Tip tap tap. Tip tap tap. Pride.
Stone to scroll to press to type to screen.
Where next the word?
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
There was a young diver called laurel
Who spent her life in the coral
Of the men of the land
She dismissed them offhand
As she found them just far too amoral
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Scott Bailey skillfully wove a tale of intrigue and suspense with just the right amount of dystopian dread. Bravo!
In the Author’s Words:
“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 the state and self-doubt.
Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.
Four people, four rebels. Four journeys of self-doubt and discovery that converge on the road to revolution and the discovery of an ancient secret.”
My Recommendation:
*The author provided me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review which follows*
I have never been a fan of dystopian novels. For me, they were always too dark and miserable, filled with human misery and oppression. You can imagine my joy then when I dug intoMankind Limited to find a book filled with characters who were well-rounded and human, flaws and all. I even found an element of hope buried within the pages that drew me further into the story.
In a time, possibly not too far in our future, the MOD has assumed complete control of the government. Nobody crosses them or even attempts to. People become automatons, there but for one reason – to earn money. Individuality is frowned upon. All you are allowed to do is work.
If you lose your job, which is considered a public failure, you are allowed to stay on welfare for only a very short time. The possibility of getting another job after that would be slim to none. Once an individual falls off the bottom of the Personal League Tables, they become illegals, forced to live on the street. Tens of thousands of illegals are shot in the act of criminal activity each year, simply trying to survive.
The government has found a way to manipulate and drug people so they can control them. The MOD believes a docile employee will work hard and earn more money. One such man, Marc, finds himself struggling to survive in this world. It is as if he cannot adapt. Eventually, he loses his job and his wife. He finds himself part of a fringe group of illegals hunting for information about a MOD program called Noah’s Ark.
Richard and Jane, brother and sister, along with their friend, William, welcome Marc into their group of illegals. One day, during a reconnaissance mission to a laboratory high in the mountains, the group comes upon a secret so deadly, it could spell the end of the world for them all. Evidence must be destroyed, so the group plants a bomb to insure the secrets are never used against humans.
As they make their escape, they discover the President is on his way to the facilities for a briefing. The bomb blows the research laboratory and the President to smithereens, branding the illegals as murderers on the run.
Now, this is where I found the story got really interesting. This series of events leads the foursome on an adventure of self-discovery. Each person deals with the trauma from their life decisions, leading the reader to a culmination of events at the explosive ending where the secret is finally revealed.
The plot and characters were superb. The only thing I found I had to get used to was the way the author switched scenes and characters within the same chapter. This was done, I am sure, for perspective and as a way to show what was happening to each character all at the same time.
I must admit, I was surprised by the ending. Scott Bailey skillfully wove a tale of intrigue and suspense with just the right amount of dystopian dread. Bravo!
Character Believability: 5
Flow and Pace: 4
Reader Engagement: 4
Reader Enrichment: 5
Reader Enjoyment: 4
Overall Rate: 4.0 out of 5 stars
In response to my daily prompt Activity
#DailyPrompt, #amwriting, #postaday
The fat white man
Built a castle
And ruled within his walls
Lived with impunity
and flowing wealth
A harem for his use
and other toys
spiced and prepared
He slumps
In his foetid
white
flesh
Those without
devalued
cheap
Turned cheapness to gold
Built better
Bigger castle
The fat white man
Never noticed the decline
The decaying walls
The deserters
The fall
Time
is
Up
Tarns tributaries tumble down
heather cloaked hills
red-brown tufts twitching in the wind
Cold water, cold air, eagle riding the high winds
Wolves range over moors
Sheep shiver, shepherds huddle
Fire crackles, broth steams
Tarns tributaries tumble down
heather cloaked hills
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Electron around and around an atom’s core
Atoms around and around each other
Mass around mass and air around rock
Rock around and around rock
Moon around and around earth
Earth around and around Sun
A billion suns around galactic core
Spiralling into the dark
A billion galaxies dance their endless dance
Around and around and around
I stand still
(A triolet)
Hand in hand we all walk tonight
Mother, Father and loving son
Watching darkness bursting with light
Hand in hand we all walk tonight
Sky flowers blooming burn our sight
This time of year is always fun
Hand in hand we all walk tonight
Mother, Father and loving son
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Life gives us all gifts
Wonderful, tearful, joyful
Death gathers them back
A silent sunset
Calm waters ripple slowly
Dark storm clouds gather
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
The carnivores
Cruising
Among the vegetarians
Only the toughest
Weeds will survive
This
Trick or treating
With our son
For the first time
Wishing the other
Were here
As the demons cavort
and dance
Gathering their loot
Doing their worst
Other flesh freezes
Starved of food and hope
Is one man’s fun
Another’s murder?
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
A pounding headache
The fruit of today’s labour
Now going to sleep
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Tiny starbursts
The peak on tiny waves
Deep green over yellow
Swaying weeds
Dappled stones
Dark fish darting
The scent of rich water
And reeds
Time to watch
Relax
The life I crave
Instead
Work, bills, sleep, stress
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Celebratory
The warming rays of the sun
Making the waves dance
#haiku
Time for the flowers to bloom again
Red
Like blood
That was shed
A century ago
And every day since
One day
They will be white
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
If I am a student
Of life
The lessons
Are lost
On me
As I can change
Nothing
Stuck
In the proverbial
Mud
Passing the parcel
Noisy musical statues
Children’s birthday joy
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Tyrant storm rages
Lashes the land in fury
Still, the flood brings hope
He slew the great beast
Whose mother took her revenge
The great Beowulf
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
The King who was
And shall be
Stirs restive in his sleep
Sword in hand
Ready
Who will it smite?
Invaders or haters
Will justice by the sword
Ever be served?
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Age lends hindsight depth
Wisdom accrued painfully
It still doesn’t help
I am the hunter
The bringer down of prey
The destroyer
The shadow
The bringer of fear.
I am the master of war
The hoarder of riches
The steel lord
The holder of lightning
I am strength and glory
So why do I still struggle in vain
There was a white fleck on that dark skin. Tiny and mysterious. Despite his situation, despite his thirst and an undetermined, lurking threat Dan was drawn to that fleck.
It sat on his captor’s left cheek, just beneath the deep well of his eye. Neither the man’s sweat or occasional movements seemed to shake it.
What was it? A fleck of stone? A crumb? It did not belong there and it was starting to annoy Dan.
His captor did not appear to notice it.
That annoyed him even more and he did not understand why.
Was it correct to think of the man as his captor? He was not preventing Dan from leaving.
He was not helping him either. That was the point. Without help, he would die out here in the bush. He was spent. He did not even have the energy to struggle any more.
He had lost his way in his arrogance, thinking he could travel the outback like those explorers he loved to read about.
He was no explorer. He should have stayed behind his desk. But he had wanted to see something of the land he had been helping to administer for so long. He had wanted to see the fruits of his work.
He had wanted to feel first-hand the pride of taming this uncivilized wilderness.
That was what had drawn him over the wide seas to the other side of the world. The promise of adventure. The chance to relive the dreams of a young schoolboy. The final chance to push the last frontier. To achieve man’s mastery of the world and complete the map.
His dreams had outstripped his abilities. He realised that now. If he had not been so dry he would have shed tears.
At some level, he supposed he had always known this. That’s why he had spent his life here behind his desk. Dispensing mastery through letters and paperwork. Bringing the world to order, bringing knowledge to the dark places of the earth.
His stare once more returned to the man before him and his fleck of white. He sat on his rock, waiting patiently.
What was he waiting for?
He had arrived yesterday. Dan had already been collapsed where he was for several hours at that point. Already resigned to defeat. He had walked in calmly and sat down. He had not acknowledged Dan in any way.
Dan should have felt relief, a renewal of hope. Yet he had not. He felt no surprise, no hope, nothing but a vague sense of threat.
He could not explain why he felt that.
The stranger was an aborigine. He was barely clothed, barefooted and dusty from his travels.
Dan had clothed himself with the very best outdoor gear he could get. He also had every travelling device you could ask for. Compass, knives, maps, glasses and much more.
In little more than a loincloth, the stranger looked infinitely more comfortable than he ever would.
He had sat there for a day and a half and still looked as composed as when he arrived.
Dan had stared at him for what felt like hours. He had no idea how long it had really been. Finally, he had summoned the energy to speak. He dragged a word from his throat as if regurgitating sandpaper.
“Help.”
The man stared back at him now. He had deep, dark irises on yellow pools. His face was wide and gentle.
Yet Dan still felt the threat peeking over his shoulder.
He seemed to study Dan for a long moment. Then he spoke.
“Where are you going?”
Dan had frowned. What was that supposed to mean? He was going nowhere right now.
He had swallowed hard and gathered his strength.
“How far?” It was all he could manage. He had wanted to ask where the nearest town was. The nearest house would have been enough!
The stranger stared again for a longer time. He had seemed to understand though and eventually, he said.
“It is four days walk.”
They had fallen silent then as Dan absorbed this. He would not survive a four-day walk. Not without help.
This stranger did not appear to be inclined towards aid.
There was another long silence. The stranger appeared relaxed as if he were sitting in his living room on a Sunday afternoon, reading.
Dan doubted he could read, doubted he had a living room.
Now he thought about it he didn’t even know where these people lived. In caves? In hovels?
He should really know that he had enough dealings with them. With their children at least. But they were always brought to him, he received them into civilisation.
Civilisation! The thought of it brought back memories that made him thirst, made his throat burn. He found himself involuntarily moaning – though it sounded more like a rasp.
The stranger stirred.
“What do you do?”
Dan did not understand. The man’s accent was thick but he understood the words, not the meaning.
“I am thirsty,” was the best reply he could manage.
The man looked at him with a measuring stare. Then he stood and strode to a nearby bush. With a flash of sunlight, he whipped out a knife and slashed off a thick, fleshy leaf.
It dripped with green liquid.
Any other time he would have been repulsed by anything other than tea or water. Now, this was nectar to him.
The man brought the leaf to his mouth and squeezed.
The taste was acrid and perhaps would have made him sick if he hadn’t been so desperately dry.
He swallowed and it gave him respite. His throat felt slick again and he could talk.
But he knew it was not enough – not enough to let him walk out of here and back home.
“More,” he pleaded.
The man simply sat back down calmly.
He repeated his question.
“What do you do?”
Confusion swirled around in his mind. Why did he not help him? Why didn’t he give him more of that liquid? It was a big bush – surely there was more in there.
What was he asking him? Did he want to know what his job was?
He should keep the man talking. Gain his trust, maybe then he would help.
In faltering sentences, he tried to describe his role in the education system to this native. He tried to keep it simple, in terms he might understand.
He wasn’t sure he succeeded. The man gave no reaction as he spoke. Eventually, Dan trailed into silence, exhausted by the effort.
After a short silence, the man said,
“You are a teacher man.”
It was not a question but Dan nodded.
Then the man spoke again.
“You take our children.”
It was spoken in the same calm tone he had spoken since he arrived. There was no anger or threat in them.
But Dan felt a chill nevertheless.
“We educate them, give them a better future.” He protested.
“They are not with their mothers.”
“But they are given knowledge they would not get otherwise. They will be greater for it. In my country – we do it too.”
“Did you miss your mother?”
That struck him, dredging up memories he thought he had buried long ago. Pain that he had considered childish and worthy of contempt.
“Mothers cannot teach what we know,” he said angrily.
The man gave him that measuring gaze again. Then he nodded.
Dan turned his head, not without some pain.
Nearby he saw a deer. It appeared to be completely unaware of their presence.
There was a younger one by its side. The older one nudged the younger to a bush where it proceeded to nibble.
Dan snorted. Did this savage think things were that simple?
“The world is changing. Your children need to know things, to be prepared.”
The man sat silently, calmly.
“The world is changing – you can’t stop it. There’s nothing you can do about that. Civilisation is coming.”
The man sighed. He picked the white fleck from his cheek, casually, and flicked it away.
“We can wait,” he said.
The information superhighway
It is a heavyweight
Data, redundancy
Processes
Alerts
Objectification
Frames
Presentations and investors
Response
Time
High availability
Validity
Technical, radical, practical, logical
Balancing load
Stresses
Testing
Testing
Test
Craving
Simplicity
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Cheese, onions, bread and beer
Like it or hate it
Sharing an experience
Over thousands of years
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
A spokesperson
That one who speaks
Has their own agenda
And will render
Your will
To theirs
There’s
A truth
To ponder
Every buzz and chime
On the phone
Is a worry
Something has gone down
Something is wrong
Another demand
On my time and my brain
Which are both drained
Something
Must change
A little more give
And a lot less just taking
More uplifting hands
If we just stop competing
Ivory towers will fall
In life’s tournament
There are Kings and Queens
For whom the suffering and pain
Is entertainment
There are fighters
There are spectators
There are hawkers of wares
There are thieves
But most of us
Are picking up
The horses shit
The wild is calling
Feel the breeze
The scent of trees
The hunt!
Feel the ground
Rise and fall
Feel heart pound
Heed the call
But tomorrow
I will sit again
At my desk
And fear
Mistakes and failure
Do my best
Do the right thing
And the wild will still call
Until
I answer
There
A girl called midnight
A fighter
A lover
A spy
Danced free and deep in the valleys
Beneath a dark starry sky
She hailed from the lands
Of our fathers
With hair as dark as the night
And eyes a grey as the water
Where the bones of her enemies
Lie
No knight would come to her rescue
The dragon she rode upon high
Would burn every dreamy lover
With the glance of a fiery eye
What became of
The girl called midnight
Led by her passion and hate
Some say that still, she is dancing
In the icy heart of the lake
Bound to serve
The master that we crave
Enduring the pain
Not struggling in the ties
That bind
Taking the punishment
Utter submission
Belittled
Stripped
Of dignity
All for the reward
The release
The coin
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Deterrents
Silently waiting
Mighty weapons
Hushed death
Deterring
But who will deter
The stupidity
That made them
Necessary
Deep red
The varnish of old wood
Worn by years
Of rested elbows
And beer mats
As red as the liquid
In the glasses
Rich with age
Hobbit
Brave Brandybuck
Bringing sense to his friends
Finding honour in Rohan’s ranks
Small knight
#cinquain
Passion
Wanes while years pass
Becomes something finer
Matured, refined, rich with wisdom
Mellowed
Do not be fooled by its calmness
Maturity and depth
Do not weaken
Passion
#Cinquain #Butterfly-Cinquain
A new clutch of chicks
Awaken to a cold dawn
The fox scents a chance
A silver sylph slips silent through the trees
Spreading silver stardust upon the trees
Disappearing into the deep shadows
Where foxes hunt
Image from Pixabay
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
Potential new life
Excitement when waters break
New life brings us cheer
Six forever hours
Caressing a fading pulse
All cheer drains away
The darkness where the heart beats fast
The shadows where no moonlight’s cast
The deepest dell of starless nights
Gleaming eyes the only light
The sound of cold and ancient breath
On the breeze the scent of death
A rustle from behind the trees
A snapping twig the blood to freeze
The conflict of the fight or flight
But where to run on icy night?
The frozen legs the burning fear
The certainty of danger near
Imagination births these fears
But even as the presence nears
Pointing out what we must mark
Why do we so fear the dark
Image from Pixabay
Originally published in A Spring of Dreams
I sit upon my bed alone.
Thinking thoughts of you.
My heart sinks slowly like a stone.
In a pool so blue.
The pain grows greater every day.
Need I make that cut?
Alas, it is the only way.
All other doors are shut.
So take the knife and cut me deep.
I know it must done.
Though this pain will make me weep.
Relief will soon be won.
So now at last I say goodbye.
I need you now no more.
You must believe me, I did try.
My efforts though, were poor.
We could no longer stay as one.
So you were cut away.
It was the only thing to be done.
To take the pain away.
Farewell, my dear appendix.
A deep green canopy
Back-dropped by a swathe of gold
Corn
Swaying in the wind
An overwhelming urge
To dive into that green sea
The climb and swing
And scream
With primal joy
But there is a mountain of time
Between me and that green
Eden
Made of commitments and constraints
Burdens and dependencies
So it dwindles
In my rear window
A deep green canopy
In mist
The traffic slowed
We were all following a hearse
Today
In respectful frustration
I took the time
To look around
At the rivers and fields
That normally
Speed by
We are all following a hearse
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
or hardback
from Amazon
Shake!
Awake!
Shake!
Awake!
The sun.
Is up!
Rise up!
Rise up!
Open eyes!
Beneath
Blue skies.
Cast off
Sleep’s reins.
See!
The plains.
No sleep!
Breath deep!
Sun warms.
No storms.
Stretch arms.
Take arms.
Run!
In the sun!
Take bow!
Go!
Take spear!
Disappear!
When
Wind blows.
Lift nose.
And scent
why they sent
for you.
They come!
They run!
See!
The birds.
Speak.
No words.
Watch
them lead.
They
will feed.
Feel
the land.
Trust
your hand.
See
grass sway.
They come
this way.
Feel
the ground.
Hear
the sound.
Thunderous sound.
All around.
A mound
of meat.
Trust
your feet.
Spear
and bow.
Blood
will flow.
With
one voice.
We
rejoice!
And the buffalo pass,
to greener grass.
It’s not fair. He started it, I didn't. He called me names. I had to do it to stop him. How come I get told off? It’s not fair. It’s a shameful waste. What they do to our world today. The forests they cut down, the whales they kill. The fields they destroy, the new roads they build. The way they leave their scars on the world. It’s a shameful waste. It’s a bloody liberty. I will not stand for it! I earned my money fairly. I will spend it pleasantly. I will not stand being ripped off! It’s a bloody liberty. It’s a downright disgrace. The way these youngsters behave. They will not heed my words. They will not do as they are told. I will leave my mark on the world. It’s a downright disgrace. He needs no name on his grave. He was a model man. He stood for what we all stand for. He spoke the words we all speak. He was me and you and all those to come. He needs no name on his grave.
I don’t dare to dream
Reality is too harsh
To just brush aside
Shining silver line
Whirling axes high on the hill
The pride and strength
Of the Saxon’s lands
They had hammered back the sea
Eaten up the road
Crossed the kingdom wide
With deeds of valour bold
Unbeaten and unbowed
How could they know
This would be the day
The kingdom was brought low
Little stone church
Nestled on a hill
Overlooking the sea
Watching over the harbour still
The boats nestled cheek to cheek
And those tossed on the waves
The bell rings out a guiding peal
Above the moss stained graves
And every sailor on the deck
Mouths a silent prayer
The church windows watch their pleas
With a cold and empty stare
The settlement around the church
Huddles to the old stone walls
Strong but cold strange comfort their
As the tolling calls
Older still the hill
Watches the fleeting boats
The flighty homes and towers
Their occupants dust motes
More enduring still
The constant shifting waves
Will eat the hill, huts the boats
Even the very graves
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
