Dreams of Flight

Once he had finally fallen asleep, Alex began to float peacefully on a sea of dreams. That is, until the water became land. Inside his own mind Alex ran, he saw flashes, pictures of dreams he had dreamt in the past, and those he had not yet conceived. Finally, one caught his eye, and once again, his dream world shifted.

He was flying. A long, torn, black cape attached to his shoulders was being dragged and twisted behind him. Suddenly he was aware that he was chasing something, a jet. Straining muscles that could never have existed in an ordinary human, Alex sped up, quickly gaining on his target.

Small suckers grew on the palm of his hands before he latched onto the outside of the cockpit. The pilot, a balding man with more hair on his chin than on his head looked up in surprise; he began to descend immediately, trying to shake Alex off. The newly grown suckers strained but stayed in place as Alex watched his biceps grow

When he was ready, Alex pulled the cockpit door off its hinges, and grabbed hold of the man within. He was terrified, but no matter how loud he forced his voice in desperate bargaining, the jet engine’s roar drowned him out. Before flying to the ground, Alex pushed the joystick forward, sending the plane plummeting toward the city.

Alex was fast, he was down in the streets before the jet was halfway to the ground. Once he had handed the man over to the police, he flew back into the air. Again, he began to expand his muscles. He became a huge, hulking mass, floating above even the tallest city skyscraper.

The jet was falling at an alarming rate, and even Alex was worried he wouldn’t catch it for a second, but he did. Slowly he allowed it to push him down to the roof of a nearby tower block, where he extended his arm into the cockpit, and switched off the engine.

That is where the dream ended, Alex’s alarm woke him up; it was 7.30am. He got out of bed and walked to the bathroom to wash his face. Looking in the mirror, he noticed he had changed in in his sleep. Suckers covered his palms, and his muscles were huge.

“Shit” he muttered, “I have to stop doing that.”

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The Detective

On the seventh floor of a four star hotel in London, a detective marched down the hallway. He had been called from his bed, from his wife, for a suicide; he was angry to say the least. Inspector Barker met him at the hotel room door; its inscription read 7B. David, the detective, shuddered. It was following him, he was sure of it now. The apartment in the West End had been 7B, and the gun that was used to kill Mary was inscribed with the hellish, mortifying, 7B.

David calmed himself. “Inspector Barker” he said in greeting, “what’s going on? Where’s the rest of the force?”

Barker shook his head, “There have been a few, developments…we need you to take a look at this, I sent the rest home, didn’t want them getting in your way.”

“Then let’s take a look” said David, trying to keep his composure. The room was stale; blood had dried into the carpet beneath a young man’s head. It looked like he had put a gun into his mouth, just as the report suggested.

David scoured the room for details but saw none. He began to turn back to Barker, “What exactly am I supp-” Stopping mid-sentence David sighed, Barker was pointing his gun at the detective’s head.

“Read this” said Barker as he handed David a note splashed with blood, “they want you to know before you die.” He read the note aloud:

They found me, I thought I was safe. I’m taking the easy way out. I won’t be like them. I won’t turn into one of THEM! 7B started this, and it will end it…

Terrified, David managed to utter three words, “What are, they?”

Barker laughed, “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

In his final moments David heard what had been irritating him at home, and at work; a scuttle, like that of a beetle, across the windowpane. Full of fear, he tried to look at the window behind him, but he fell to floor before he saw them, dead.

The Police Officer

Last night, on patrol, I witnessed the most horrific crime I have ever seen. We were called to a pub on Oxford Road called The Oxford; we were told a fight had broken out. My partner, a man I had only known for a few days accepted the call. He said a simple bar fight would be a good training experience; I had only joined the force a few days before.

When we got there people were streaming through the door, as if terrified. Peter, my partner, called for backup, he said people don’t run like that from a simple bar fight. Hurrying into the pub we were immediately hit by a spray of blood. I froze.

On the floor was a dead man, his face had caved in; he must have been hit pretty hard. The assailant was still going. He had smashed a bottle and was stabbing the man in the chest repeatedly. My partner acted first, he tackled the madman to the ground and knocked the bottle out of his hand. I just stood there, I couldn’t move, I just stared at them struggling.

That’s when the backup arrived; they pulled my partner and the criminal apart and within a few minutes the pub was locked down and forensics were on their way. My partner drove me home, he said I needed a rest. I don’t want to go back there, I’m going to quit. There’s too much evil in this world.

Sunset

As the Sun set over the Manchester skyline, the city came to life. The clubs finally opened, filling with students. One of them, Ben I think his name was, told me where I can buy the cheapest Cocaine.

I feigned interest, the truth is he disgusts me. Low-life scum, I’ve spent years getting to where I am now, I’m not messing all that up for a drug to take it all away.

He even offered me a line of his, just to try it out; I told him I needed the toilet, I didn’t intend to come back. When I got to the toilet it was empty, I thought it was a bit weird for a busy club but I didn’t think too much of it.

That’s when I was mugged, they knocked me out from behind. When I woke up everything was gone, my phone, my keys, even my jacket. This city is full of scum…

Review 1: Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight Saga Part 2

So last week I talked about the underlying themes of the Twilight Saga as I see them: anti-feminism and sexual restraint. It’s not just me who believes this by the way, arguments like mine are plastered all over the Internet on sites like WordPress and Wikipedia.

Moving on from that, I finished last time with a quote from Stephen King:

“Stephenie Meyer can’t write worth a darn. She’s not very good.”

This is an opinion I share in so many ways that if I listed them this post would take five years to read! Ok, I’m exaggerating, but still, King’s right. The description is lacking, the dialogue is unrealistic and repetitive, the characters aren’t well shaped at all, and the narrative voice is pathetically weak.

As the books are written from Bella’s perspective, it’s possible to argue that because Meyer may have intended Bella to be a ‘stripped-down’ character, she is incapable of describing the world around her in a well-formed manner. To be honest though, I think Meyer just isn’t very good at writing; she had never written anything before Twilight, that’s just not fair!

I’ll be truthful, I’m jealous and I wish my writing would be noticed in the same way. Although I would prefer to be noticed on the merit of my writing, not the possible popularity of my book due to underlying sexual themes which young teenage girls can relate to. Oh and the attractive actors who play the main characters in the film, which shouldn’t have been made in the first place.

In summary, Stephenie Meyer is a woman who can market herself very well considering that what she’s marketing goes against popular culture, and that her writing style is under-developed and downright shoddy. She should have gone into advertising…God I wish she’d gone into advertising…

Train Wreck

Travel Journal Entry 4

I’m on the train to Dharamasala now, it’s just north of the so-called ‘Golden Triangle’ in India so i think it will be quieter than anywhere we’ve been before.

I can’t wait to start teaching in the school; still can’t believe we were delayed for seven hours though! I suppose I’m sort of glad; we played games with Jeremy on the platform and a huge crowd formed around us. I don’t think many had seen a white person before, they were fascinated by us.

Travel Journey Entry 5

I couldn’t sleep in the bunk beds so I went to the toilet; I met a pair of men by the door with the conductor, they had opened the train door to let some fresh air in.

They seemed friendly enough, we talked for about an hour. Apparently the two men were brothers, they were both metal workers on their way to see family; they told me they worked in the city for months at a time. One of them had a new daughter he was going to meet for the first time when he got home!

I’m sat at the door now, the train is moving slow enough to hang my legs out the carriage. It’s hard to see but I think there are small villages all along the tracks, they don’t have electricity so I can’t see any lights. Everything is so peaceful he-