Danny's Piano Trick

This piece follows a character called Danny, who is a train driver on the run, and hiding at a girls' school under the pretence of being a music teacher.  A concert is happening at the school along with some boys from a boys school.  However, the boys are plotting to use a trick piano to upstage the concert, and Danny overhears this, and plots how show the boys up in front of their headmaster, who is conducting the concert, instead.

This piece is inspired by a running gag in the Looney Tunes, where a musical instrument, usually a piano, is rigged to explode when a particular note is played.  However, the intended victim will hit the wrong note a couple of times, causing the one behind the plot to get angry, take the victim's place, and they all fall for their own plot.  Here's a link from YouTube for your viewing.

*

Miss Tara Sharpe was getting ready to walk on stage and take her place on the piano seat when Danny appeared.  "Tara."  He called.
     "What is it?" She asked.
     "I'd like to play the piano."
     "Why?"
     "The boys from Kennal High are up to some dirty trick, so I'm doing to teach them a lesson."
     "Do you know what tune to play?"
     "It's Those Endearing Young Charms."  Danny answered.
     "Go on then."  Tara insisted and Danny walked onto the stage and up to Mr Milne, the boys' school's headmaster.
     "Where's Miss Tara Sharpe?" The concert conductor asked.
     "I'm playing instead."  Danny answered.
     "Oh very well." Mr Milne replied, "Take your seat at the piano."
     Danny turned to face the black piano in front of him, spotting a way for his trick to work, he then asked, "Where's the piano?"
     A few in the the audience laughed as Mr Milne looked at Danny.
     "In front of you."  Mr Milne pointed at the black piano.
     "This is not a piano."
     "What do you mean?"
     "A piano stand vertical and it's colour is brown, this is horizontal and black."
     "Meaning?"
     "This is not a piano, it's a grand piano."
     The audience burst into laughter, even those in the wings were laughing too, including Tara.
     "Well, take your seat at the grand piano then."  Mr Milne spoke through gritted teeth.
     "Certainly I will."  Danny replied and took his seat in front of the grand piano on stage, all the students in the audience applauding.
     Mr Milne took a deep breath and spoke out to the audience, "Sorry about that.  And now, for your delight, we shall play Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms."  The audience applauded again.
     Danny waited till the applauding stopped before he began.  As he played, however, he noticed wires from a certain key.  Guessing that the key was to one to set off the trick, he pressed the key beside it.
     At once, Mr Milne and the boys behind the trick, who were hiding the wings, shouted out loud, "That's wrong! Try again!"
     So Danny started again, but he dodged the trap again.
     Noting the stage in keys, Mr Milne, who demands to best of music playing, burst into anger and marched to Danny, gesturing him to get off the seat and took the seat himself.  "Not like that! Like this!" He declared.
     Realising what was going to happen, the boys cried out, "Mr Milne-"
     "Shut up!" Their headmaster thundered, then placed his focus onto the piano keys and stared to play.  However, he failed to notice the wires and when he pressed the key, the lid that covers the pain keys slammed shut on his fingers, causing him to cry out in pain, and causing everyone to burst out in laughter, and the boys behind the trick to start planning their escape route.
     "Get this lid off my fingers!" Mr Milne shouted, but everyone possible was laughing so much, they couldn't stop, and the boys are starting to make their escape, for now.
     Danny walked back into the wings where Tara was laughing.  "Thanks for that."  She laughed.
     "Anytime."  Danny smiled a laughing smile as he walked past.
     Mr Milne thundered for "those brats behind this", but they were gone.

*

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece and I hope to expand the character Danny and this story too.

I hope that you will have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.

25th Blog Post - The Little Curious Shop

Here's my 25th blog post, and I can't believe it.  I hope that you will enjoy this piece and it fits in well for Christmas.

The little girl of seven years of age was running up the street, full of joy.  Melissa enjoyed running through these busy streets as it enabled her to escape the ever watchful eye of her stepmother, Mrs Wragg.  It wasn't often that she was brought here into town, and Melissa will always try to enjoy as much as possible.  Right now, she has managed to escape once more and was running free through the city streets, full of its modern shops and retailers.
     It was here that she noticed the shop.  Compared to the neighbouring shops, it was small and looked a bit of place.  It had Birds and Sons written in gold lettering over the shop window.  The window looked old, but it was full of wonderful site that made Melissa become filled with joy.
     In the shop window display, there was dolls in pretty dresses, toy soldiers standing to attention, fancy clocks that marked the time with singing choirs and birds, wooden puppets with smiling faces dangled from above and near the front and at the back of the window display, there were trains steaming along railway tracks pulling coaches and trucks in and out of tunnels, round mountains and across bridges.  It looked like an old-fashioned Victorian toy shop.
     And, of course, Melissa wanted to go inside.  And so she did.
     A doorbell rang above her head as she entered the shop, and the sight amazed her more.  There was beautiful crafted wardrobes, tables and chairs.  More toys of all sorts, but none of them modern.  It was like she had entered a new country.
     "Hello?" Called a voice.
     Melissa turned to face the counter as a white bearded man entered the room.  As soon as they saw each other, their smiles brighten.
     "Good afternoon, young lady."  The man bowed.
     "Good afternoon, Mr...?"
     "Bird.  Ishmael Bird."
     "What a strange name."
     "I know," Mr Bird chuckled, "my father gave it to me.  What's your name. young lady?"
     "Melissa."
     "Please to meet you Miss Melissa."
     An elderly lady came in behind Mr Bird, "Hello there."
     "Hello Mrs Bird."  Melissa waved.
     "And what can we get you?" Mrs Bird asked as she came round the counter to Melissa.
     "What have you got?"
     "Would you like a doll?"
     Melissa couldn't contain her excitement, and for the next fifteen minutes, Mrs Bird showed the little girl what must have seemed like all the dolls, but Melissa just couldn't make up her mind.
     The doorbell rang again and a tall young man entered the shop.
     "There you are."  Mr Bird greeted him with a smile, and both embraced each other.  "Did you get the wood I asked for?"
     "Of course Grandpa," the young man answered, "and it will be here first thing tomorrow."
     "At a boy."  Mr Bird clapped his hands.
     The young man noticed Melissa, "Who's our visitor?"
     "This is Melissa, Melissa this is my grandson, Frederick."
     Melissa approached with a smile.  "Pleased to meet you Mr Frederick Bird."
     Frederick laughed, "Oh that's not my name, it's Frederick Roberts.  Bird was my mother's family name."
     "Sorry about that."  Melissa spoke.
     "It's alright young lady."  Frederick then looked at Melissa really hard, "Have we met before? You look familiar."
     "I don't think so."
     "It's alright, I rarely see any I know these days, I suppose, I see them in everyone I meet."
     The doorbell rang, and Mrs Wragg entered the shop.  "So this is where you're hiding young lady."  Her thunderous voice echoed in the shop, even the puppets were rattled.  "What do you mean, running off like that?"
     "I'm sorry."  Melissa said sadly.
     "I should think so."  Mrs Wragg's voice was deep, and it didn't match her fair looking face.  "What did you have you eyes on, then?"
     Melissa returned to Mrs Bird, and picked the smallest doll and brought forward.
     "Would you like to have it?"
     "Yes please."
     Mrs Wragg's face, brightened up so quickly and her personality had changed so much, Frederick and the Birds couldn't believe that she was the same person who entered the shop less than five minutes ago.
     "Do come again."  The three called as the visitors.
     "I hope so."  Melissa called back as the doorbell announced her departure.
     "Oh we're sure you will."  The Birds nodded.

     She will, but that's another story...

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece, and that you found it enjoyable for the time of the year.  Merry Christmas.

The Man on the Corner - A Poem of the Homeless

Today, it is estimated that nearly 3,600 people are homeless in England alone.  The Labour says that they can remove homelessness wishing 5 years if voted into Westminster.  But there many reasons for homelessness:

• No job (some may have a job, but no place no place to stay)
• Disabled 
• Unaffordable houses 
• Drug problems
• Abandoned 
• On the run 

The list is endless, I have no doubt.

I was inspired to write this poem by seeing a homeless sitting on the corner of the street junction of the B861 and Church Street in Inverness, beneath a clock tower.  This poem is for the homeless.

There he is
     The lonely man
Is he standing?
     No, he sits there
Does he sit straight?
     No, he sits bent-double
How does he sit?
     He sits with his legs crossed
He wears clothes like us
     But he can't afford clothes new
All he might afford
     Is meals small from McDonald's
As he watches the opposite restaurant
     While its visitors delight themselves with meals extra large
Does he have deformed?
     None that can be shown to our eyes
What does he drink?
     Drink? ye ask me. What drink?
From the cup before him?
     Oh that is no drink he possesses
Then what?
     A place for coins
What coins?
     From passer-bys like us
We take loose change out
     That choke up our wallets or purses
To drop into his cup
     While we will sport with tener notes later
Sometimes a coin
     Can be joined by rarest notes
Does he speck?
      Very rarely
Where does he speck?
      Where do you speck?
What speech does he give?
      One of gratefulness to those like me
All I hear when I drop a coin
      Is a grateful "Thank you kind sir."
That is all
      That I hear
But I'm sure he specks
     When he asks for few offered comforts
When does he sit?
     Any time of his liking
All weathers?
     Hot shine or rain cold
Is he moved?
     I don't see it, but I imagine by force
Why do you tell me?
     What time of year is it?
Christmas, of course, so?
     It's a time of giving and charity
What can be done for him?
     Open your heart and empty your wallet or purse
What's his story?
     Sadly one of too many, take a pick
Know what I was for Christmas?
     You want the latest Xbox game, don't you?
What do you want for Christmas?
     I'd like a family Christmas for me
What he'd want for Christmas?
     Charity to begin with, then a good home
Who'd give him that?
     Those who'd give more than given
What's his shelter from night cold?
     His shelter is his coat and anywhere he wonders
Is there any hope for him?
     If you're willing to give hope
And if ask me
     It would be his favourite Christmas present this year

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece and that you will help spread Christmas joy to the homeless this Christmas.  Merry Christmas.

The Night's White Sun

Last night, there was a bright full moon above my home, so I went with my camera and took a few photos.  I was then struck to write this poem.  I hope that you will enjoy this poem here.

It is prefect round
     It is shining bright high
She can shone any time
     She can shine day or night
Oh look at her
     She hand high tonight
Oh look at her
     She hangs about alone
Oh look at her
     The night sky is clear
Oh look at her
     Quick! Quick! grab the camera
Quick fumble of camera bag
     Quick! before the clouds win race
Oh look at her
     Despite shadow clouds, she shines
Oh the waiting
     Get the setting sun
Oh the waiting
     Get a couple of evening stars
Oh the wonder
     Which is Sirius or Venus?
Oh look at her
     Quick! she's clear now. Quick!
The clouds glow shorty
     But her face shines features old
Despite the December air
     Gloves are useless with camera mine
Zoom close as possible
     While another zooms closer
Oh look at her
     Snapshots to remember her by
Gained cold fingers I did
     But the few snapshots are my rewards

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  Merry Christmas!

James's Surprise

I wrote for the writing class I go to at Eden Court for homework under the theme Self Portrait and expanding on topic we discussed, character trees.  The idea of character tree is similar to a family tree, expect a character tree shows the relationship between the characters.  This scene is inspired from a scene from Doctor Who.

In this piece, James is a young man who witnessed a war in an area called the Wetlands and he has returned to find that what he hoped to return to isn't when he hoped for.  Eventually, he and some of his friends get kidnapped to a place run by a man called Farquhar, who calls himself a collector, and James and Doris are about to find out what one of Farquhar's collections is.

James and Doris entered the dark room.
     "Hello there."  Doris greeted the darkness.  Silence.  "We're here to help you."  Still silence.  "Perhaps we should introduce ourselves.  My name is Doris."
     "And mine is James."  James finished the introductions.
     "James?" The darkness spoke.
     Doris loked at James, his face had gone deadly white, his jaw dropped, as if a spring holding it shut had snapped, and his eyes were as big as golf balls.
     "It can't be."  He rasped.
     "James Pike?" The darkness demanded.
     A light flashed on, flooding the room with the scene of a scarred man in a hospital bed.  His eyes fixed on James's eyes.
     "It can't be."  James's rasped voice repeated.
     "You know him?" Doris asked.
     "Of course we know each other."  The man sat up, revealing an iron ring round his right wrist.  "We first met during the latest Wetlands War."
     "But you were dead," James shook his head.  He sounded stronger seeing the man chained to hie bed.  "I saw you fall into the water when your ship exploded."
     "I swam."
     "You are just like your Order's self portrait, willing to kill to conquer, but a coward at heart, equally willing to abandon your loyal followers to their deaths while you flee."
     "Spoken like a warrior."  The man spoke.
     "You said that you were a bystander."  Doris spoke.
     "Did he?" The man asked, "now who has a false self portrait, lieutenant?"
     "Lieutenant?"
     "Of course my dear lady.  He was an officer of those inferno blockade runners."
     "And a good thing too."  James's voice was very changed.  There was no hint of fear, but the sense of reserved strength bursting from a breached dam.  It caught Doris by surprise.  "You Imperialists were stopping trade routes and much needed supplies to keep the islands alive.  I admit it, I was a blockade runner officer, and I'm glad of it.  I was there when I saw your whole order sink in that final battle and I was glad to see the end of it.  Now, I am going to finish it!"
     And with that sentence off his chest, James lunged his hands onto the scarred man's throat and pressed hard.  Doris watched on in horror as the man's legs kicked air under the blankets, hi left hand-less arm struck James's side and as James beard gritted teeth, his eyes burning red and his hands' grip pressed tighter and tighter.

I've hope that you've enjoyed this piece and that I will expand on it, revealing more of James's role in the Wetlands War, more of the mentioned blockade runners, and what the affects the war has left behind.