I’m not going to lie, day 34’s story was like pulling teeth. I had very little sleep as my air mattress got a hole in it and the tent had leaked. It was the final day of December and I had been sent in a beautiful prompt:
“A diary entry from when I was 10. Below is a tally of how many times my brother (N) Nice to me (A) Annoys me (H) Hurts me (T) Teases me (O) Other. I was a strange child, and Dylan was a mean brother.”
I was determined to do it justice but obviously didn’t have the brain power. After much scribbling out and re-writing I settled on this. I still don’t really like it, and it had more words spelt wrongly than correctly (this Woodford trip made me realise that without ‘spellcheck’ and the oxford dictionary site I am nothing).
POWER BECKONS FOR GEORGIA II
Queen’s first day
The youngest Queen ever to take the throne began her reign today. First on the agenda was the implementation of NAHTO. Citizens will be rewarded or punished based on; niceness, annoying habits, hurtfulness, teasing and “other”. Most fear these harsh new regulations, personally overseen by the Queen herself. However, it seems most punishments are based on the denial of ice cream and only the Queen’s brother has been in the line of fire so far. Many did enjoy the Holi party thrown by her majesty, especially the Vegemite catering.
Home correspondent Sam Smiles
PS. Sam Smiles is a radio presenter and keen dancer who I met at Woodford. We bumped into him at nearly every gig we went to and it turns out we also have the same taste in TV. If I didn’t seen him at a gig I began feeling anxious that I was in the wrong place.
On day 32 I got sprayed with “Temple of Light”… I’m still not sure exactly what this is but it was 40 degrees so any cool liquid spray was welcome. On day 33 I decided to write a story about what ‘Temple of Light’ might be.
I’d worshiped the Temple of Light my entire life. The whole town did. We lived by its strange flashes and obeyed its glow. Then the light went out. We tried everything to get it back. Nothing worked. We are lost without the light. The work is hard, the days long and the food tasteless.
Today I decided to go sit by the Temple and remember those better days. I sat right at the back, so no one could see. Leaning against the wall I felt something stick into my back: a tiny switch labelled “reboot”.
At that moment I saved the town and lost my faith.
Written whilst listening to the people’s orchestra at Woodford, who were playing a monster inspired piece (this year’s theme)
Everyday was the same. Always hiding from the humans. Occasionally one spotted a tail disappearing behind a tree, or heard our claws crunching on a branch. But we were never seen in our full glory. The elders are scared we’ll be hunted for our beautiful fur or strong horns. But I didn’t believe them. I led a group into the town in peaceful protest.
The elders were wrong. As we marched the humans tried to kill us, but they didn’t seem interested in the fur. They looked scared. The others escaped but I was hurt. As I frantically limped away, a girl let me hide in her house. She said she’d known about us for years but was too scared to march through our dwelling. As she bound my leg I felt perhaps we were more similar than we first assumed.
Stimulus this day was verbal submission from Alita who saw two girls with face paint and gave me “Laughing Butterfly”.
A Butterfly told me to fly into an electric lamp. They think they’re so much better than us, always laughing at us. I was angry, but then a man pinned him to a board and hung him next to the lamp.
So begins the long backlog of story posts from Woodford land where I saw Canadian beards, Bollywood elephants, Sentient dreadlocks and much much more.
Day 30 (the 27th Dec- my birthday!) was my first day there. I decided to use one of the street signs at my campsite as inspiration:
James always said dad was a pansy. I’ve always liked dad. He wasn’t around much. Most days he was away, but I always got a note in my lunch box. Nothing special, just a little joke. James looked after me most of the time. He was a few years older. A very cold and tough brother to grow up with. Last week we found out dad was really sick. As he wrote out his affairs today, I noticed his handwriting wasn’t like the notes in my lunch box all those years ago. Then James signed off and I realised. It wasn’t dad at all. I confronted James but he just said, “Don’t be ridiculous, Dad’s the pansy.”
“This December a parent comes to the realisation that it is time to tell his 12 year old that Santa Claus may not be real.” – Georgia Wellington.
I embellished on this slightly… I’ve actually done what happened after this parent told their kid.
I will be away at Woodford Folk Festival for the next week (till new years day). So! All my stories will be written there and ideas taken from people there. There is little internet and electricity there so I’ll be taking a photo of my handwritten stories each day and sending them to facebook/twitter on my phone.
I’m sorry I told you Santa wasn’t real. I’m a terrible parent. You must have been shocked when you noticed and I was gone, but I’m told I should be able to come home soon. It’s so cold here. At least I’ve made friends with some a few other parents at the re-education camp.
If lost please return to sender:
1 Reindeer Lane
I Challenge you… to one of those Christmas letters people send to everyone they know to tell them all about their year – From Michael Gillette. Merry Christmas all!
Dear loved one,
This year has been filled with joy and discovery. I joined the Spirit Collective and had my eyes opened. So I would like to give you the greatest gift of all this Christmas: forgiveness. Last year’s Christmas Cuddles Gathering is all water under the bridge. I certainly don’t blame anyone for not getting into the spirit or going to mum’s without me. I know many of you told me not to join another group but the collective is truly wondrous. They’ve even taught me how to listen again.
Hoping your year will be as filled with joy as mine.