Planet 125

Taking flight through visions
Of our maddest, hare-brained schemes
From wondrous thought to vellum page
We bring to life our dreams

We shall read, and read out loud
For we know that we’ll be heard
And surely they’ll be listening
Hanging off our every word

From Hogwarts through to Mordor
Our heads up in the skies
We’ve never had such fun
As on Planet 125

A fleeting ninety minutes
Time moves so quickly here
We hope for more adventures
We hope it’s on next year

Supernova

Being out here makes me feel alive.
Now isn't that just sad?
I am here with you,
I'm not supposed to; I feel bad.

I'd apologise and beg forgiveness,
In truth, I don't know why.
I'd sooner stay here with you,
Then leave, go home and cry.

Standing here, look up and down,
Gaze up into the night.
We'll sit and dream a while,
Though our consciences may fight.

I feel so safe, much safer now,
It's a shame that that is true.
Out of all the people in the world,
I'd sooner stay with you.

Night goes dark, much blacker now,
Glittering orbs hanging high.
This beauty is magnificent,
It makes me want to cry.

In the night, with you, I sit,
We sit gazing out.
You make me feel freedom,
You make me want to shout.

I know it's wrong to write it,
Or think or say out loud.
But when I'm with you, my love,
I feel oh so proud.

Look at me! I chose "The One",
The right one in my arms.
I didn't alter looks nor smile,
Nor laugh, personality or charms.

In truth, I am a supernova,
My stars shall shine all night.
Regardless of the others,
My heart will put up the fight.

I'm your only supernova,
And my love, you are mine.
We stars are not possessive,
Us two were born to shine.

Time

Like a bomb set to detonate

The clock is ticking fast,

Like watching a flower seed to bloom,

And knowing it can’t last.

It’s a glimpse towards the future,

and accepting the change as fact,

It’s what you know you’ll look back on,

And claim was all too fast.

It seems time sets to engulf us all,

And change what’s left behind,

It blurs the edges of what once was,

so you just can’t bring to mind…

samurai blood

Samurai Blood   

Chapter one

Enemy hunter

Two men were in a Japanese dojo, it was during ancient china. The two of them wore clothes that resembled dressing gowns; they also had pyramid shaped hats made from straw. The two had a negative history between them. There was the grinding sound of their sword being taken out.

Then the fat one said to the skinny one said “we were brother.” And then the skinny replied “All wishes of the emperor must be obeyed. And all enemy’s of the emperor will die and will suffer in the land of reincarnation.” Then there was silence then a monk entered the dojo. The two men were on different sides of the room. There swords grasped in there hands. The monk then said “戦う, (fight).”

Then there was the sound of a gong the two of them then sprinted to each other there swords razed above them, then there come the sound of grinding metal as the swords made contact, there was the sound of grinding metal, the friction of the two sword made sparks shower everywhere. Then Dai, the fat one, then lost grip on his sword, as it fell to the floor, it the made a cut into his shin, it was then wedged into the floorboards.

 Then his brother, Fuyu then gave him a ‘Round house kick to the face’ the power of the kick then made the man fly in to the air and crash through the wood and paper shutter leading on to the balcony Fuyu then when onto the balcony.

 Dai was already up on his feet but he was not armed, using lightning fast speed Fuyu then swerved behind him and then attacked vital point in the back, there was a loud crunch as Dai then fell to the floor, he was paralysed from the waste down.

Fuyu then unleashed paranormal power, he then burnt his brother alive, using telekinetic powers, he then walked away as there was the stench of burning flesh, followed by the sound of a bloodcurdling shriek, and he then leaped from roof top to roof top staying in the shadows…

As Dai’s body then disintegrated into ash his last words were “I get you, I will kill you, just how you got me…”

Then his ghost then erupted from his body, the ghost then saw a victim it was a woman the ghost then took control and flew in to her body, using it as if he was the driver and she was the car, her will power.

Later that night; Fuyu had finished praying he then, he then “I knew that you were an imposter, you have not spoken to me since I have come home, there’s only one thing left to do there isn’t there?” the women then collapsed on the floor, she was having a fete “I knew that you was controlling her, Dai!!!!”

Fuyu knew that there was no way Dai could come out of her body and give her freewill back; there was only one alternative out of this, he had to kill her but in a way that to defend her honour in the afterlife, he then summoned his sword it flew across the room and into his hand, he then sliced though her hip, but only half way, he then chopped her head clean off.

He then berried her body in the back of the house, then when he enter the house he then hared a sneeze, then there was silence, Dai then ripped up the floorboards’ with his hands and pulled out a surprised and fat ninja, “how sent you!!” Dai shouted, “I will never say, you will have to kill me you old man” then using telocentric energy, the ninja was thrown and pinned against the wall, then ninja-stars flaw towards him and penetrated into his body, then using dark magic Dai then wiped the ninja’s existence, the corps then dissolved into nothingness, gone from history itself.

For some time Dai’s sister had been kidnapped but by who, then Dai realized that there was a sheet of parchment, from were the ninja once led on the floor, it had appeared to be blank, but once he had picked it up word appeared on it in a flash of green light as the map of Japan appeared on the parchment, there was a purple dot representing were he was, then there sowed a green line represent the path that he must take to find his long lost sister, he then transfigured in to an eagle and then took off into the night sky…    

              

The Library

The library is silent, or that's what they'd hope,
but the people caged up here, they just couldn't cope,
without the hushed exclamations, oh, how rebellious they are,
ignoring the steel angered glares from afar.

There's a girl in the corner, she's reading a book,
but her eyes are glazed over, she just doesn't look,
at the words there before her, tumbling out of the page,
she doesn't seem to get it: it must be her age.

There are thousands of fantasies here for people to enjoy,
to escape the mundane feelings of a normal girl or boy,
even for adults, it's an escape from their lives,
a deadend job, a tradgety, or maybe just their wives.

The library that stands here, can swallow people up,
immurse them for days, as they wouldn't think to look,
at such a thing as a clock while a battle rages on,
it flashes across their face, but in a moment it's gone.

There are countless adventures, just waiting to be had,
to make you laugh, shake you up or even make you sad,
but when life gets you down, you can return there with ease,
to forget your obligations, and be who you pelase.

The Lizard boy.

Mr Crest had owned one of the shabbiest, most scruffy-looking static caravans that had ever sat in the little world of Ocean Gates Caravan Park. He was a tall man, with jet black hair and a crooked nose. He had had the battered little shell for years, and was now known to have taken a permanent residence there. There had once been a time when he had visited the little place every weekend with his wife. They had been a happy couple. She had always worn the prettiest dresses, and her large eyes were glittering blue orbs.

However, one weekend he appeared, and his wife was nowhere to be seen. That was the day that Mr Crest’s face had become sullen, and his eyes had sunk deep into their sockets. Weeks and weeks after that, nobody saw his wife, and people began to assume she had passed away.

He led a quiet life after that. Apart from some occasions in which he had played music awfully loudly, and he had had to be told to keep the noise down; he kept to himself, and didn’t leave his caravan other than to have his breakfast at the Ocean Gates café, or to post a letter. I thought he had been quite a nice man; not at all capable of what he had been recently accused.
It was only yesterday that I had witnessed the scene of the body being carried from Mr Crest’s battered old caravan. It was Mr Lizard. The old, pot-bellied, red-haired, red-face little man who owned Ocean Gates.
Mr Lizard had never married, and with no children, he was completely alone. Who was now the rightful owner of Ocean Gates Caravan Park, you may ask? The police had set some private detectives to find someone who could take his place. If not, they would have to sell the land.

I had been going to my parent’s caravan every weekend since I was a young boy. The place offered me an escape from the horrors of reality, and instead gave me a sunny atmosphere, fresh, salty air and a wonderful view of the sea. But although Ocean Gates had always been my blissful retreat, the death of Mr Lizard had awoken something in me.

His body had been found lying in the centre of the sitting-room of Mr Crest’s static caravan. Surrounded by the dull, brown moth-eaten sofa which surrounded the walls; and the petite wooden dining table with its three matching chairs. A puncture wound went right through his heart, and a large slash down his left cheek. Mr Crest had apparently been standing over him, holding a tiny silver kitchen knife. It was said that Crest had been playing his music rather loudly again, and old Mr Lizard had only gone over there to kindly tell him to lower the volume.

He had been arrested of course, for murder. But he hadn’t done it. I was certain. My clue, my only clue to prove this, was that the knife gash on the side of Mr Lizards face was on the left. Only a left-handed person could have done it. Mr Crest was right-handed. Mr Crest hadn’t killed Mr Lizard. And I was going to prove it.

And so there I stood, in the empty living room of Mr Crest’s old caravan. The dried blood stains still on the grey carpet, everything else still intact. I had obtained the keys from Mr Lizard’s old office (no one ever went in there anymore) and let myself in.

I didn’t exactly know what I was looking for, but I had hardly been in there for ten minutes when I found it.
A shrill, screeching howl filled my ears. It came from the room which I knew to be Mr Crest’s bedroom. I ran inside, not even thinking. Nothing. Just an empty room. Mattress, wardrobe and all. But then it occurred a second time, and I realised that the interior of the caravan didn’t match the exterior. It was far too small inside for it to fit the outside. And then I pieced together the mysterious wail and the too-small interior and pushed open the wardrobe door.

Inside, sat Mrs Crest. Her skin was yellow, her dark hair matted and thick with dirt. She wore nothing more than a bed sheet and as soon as she spotted me began to screech again. Mr Crest had been keeping his wife locked up in here all this time. Had it been she who had killed Mr Lizard? Had she escaped from her tiny prison and slaughtered him? Had Mr Crest taken the blame for her madness? What had made her become so mentally disturbed?

Just when I thought I had found the answer to Lizard’s death, something extraordinary happened. A young boy, around the age of six, jumped out from behind the door holding a knife. She had a son. The mad woman had a son. But from his rosy-red cheeks, and his bright red hair, I knew instantly that Mr Crest wasn’t the father.

And so, from that little boy’s harsh, protecting glare; his mother’s mad eyes; the secret room. I knew. Of course it hadn’t been Mrs Crest, I always knew she had been right-handed from when she would write stories in the café.

Mrs Crest had had an affair. This had resulted in a pregnancy, which Mr Crest had already known was not something he had caused. He had become angry, terribly angry, and hurt, threatened and sent his wife mad because she had hurt him so much. He then had no other choice to lock her in a secret room. And the wailing? That was the purpose of the loud music.

Now the child had grown up with his mentally insane mother, and he and Mr Crest had done everything they could to keep her hidden. This also meant keeping the existence of the boy concealed.
Mr Lizard had come into Mr Crest’s caravan to find a mad woman, escaped from her room. Who had killed him? The boy, of course. The only one who cared about his mother that much; the only one who would be willing to kill to stop her being sent to a madhouse.

Why had Mr Crest taken the blame? After all the time he had spent with the child, though he wasn’t his own, he had grown to love him. He couldn’t see anything bad happen to him.

And who inherited the Ocean Gates? The little boy, with Lizard’s red hair, and his mother’s blue eyes.

R

Once upon a time there was a bearded scarf person called Egbert Jalamar. He lived in a blue room which he thought was nice, thank you very much. One day, a strange woman arrived at the room: her short brown hair was tied back in a yellow and black scarf. WHAT A SURPRISE! Thought Edgar, readjusting his beard, which had started to drop off. He never got visitors.
Egbert thought her scarf was rather spiffing, and asked her where she got such an item. 'Hogwarts!' She said. 'My school!' Egbert thought that was an odd name for a school, what things did they learn about there? He thought. Did they study warts on hogs? It sounded very different to the school Egbert had gone to, where all they had learned about was how to kill and tap dance at the same time.
He didn't feel very inclined to tap dance at that moment, nor did he feel threatened by the strange looking girl, so had no desire to kill her. Instead he gestured forwards with his crooked fingers, waving her inside. "Would you like some tea, my dear?" He asked kindly. "Or perhaps something a little stronger?"
"Firewhiskey?" she asked hopefully. 
Egbert pulled a face. What on earth, he wondered, was she talking about?
'No, dear,' he said 'you can't set fire to whisky, that causes a big hot thing to come out of it which we sane people like to call fire.' The girl looked him up and down, Egbert thought, rather like a predator.                                                                               'Where are you from?' she asked.                                                                                          
Egbert puffed out his chest. 'I? I am from somewhere great! Somewhere far too wonderful for people like you to know about.'                                                                    
'But wher-'                                                                                                                               
 'I WAS BORN IN A WORLD FILLED WITH ALL SORTS OF CREATURES AND MACHINES.'                                                                                                                                     'Wher-'                                                                                                                                    
'WE HAD MAGIC AND POWER AND TRANSPORTATION DEVICES MADE OUT OF THE HARDEST METAL.'                                                                                                                            'Yes, bu-'                                                                                                                                 
'I WAS BORN INTO THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SPOT THAT HAS EVER BEEN KNOWN IN THE GALAXY!'                                                                                                                                'OH FOR GOD'S SAKE, WHERE?'                                                                                     
There was a pause, as Egbert looked suspiciously from side to side, before coming close to the girl's ear. 'Asda car park.' He whispered.
The girl almost choked on the tea she had poured. Spluttering, she said "Asda car park?"
The man puffed out his chest as he nodded, obviously proud of his heritage. 
"As in, the supermarket? Where they sell bread and cheese and... stuff. THAT Asda?" 
Egbert looked agast, his senses were beginning to tell him he had been wrong about this girl. The idea of her death was becoming more and more desirable. Infact, he could almost feel his hand reaching unconsciously for the pocket of his armoured jacket where he kept his sword. 
The girl stepped backwards, hand darting to a weapon of her own.
Just then, a small boy with jet black hair, bright green eyes and glasses sellotaped in the middle jumped between the two of them just at the right moment. 'DON'T YOU DARE!'                                                                                                                                 Egbert and the girl looked at each other, confused. 'Who are you?' They asked in unison.                                                                                                                                  'I AM HARR- err Neville Longbottom.'                                                                                             
'Hello Harrerneville, it's nice to meet you.' said Egbert, holding out his hand.
Harrerneville took the pro-offererd hand suspicously. And looked back at the girl, "you don't know me yet" he proclaimed, sighing deeply. "But with this time turner i will guide you home and ignite your bones and I will try... to fix you."
The girl glared at him.
"I don't need your help, actually!" She huffed, folding her arms across her chest. 
Egbert stood with his hand still outstretched, completely baffled. 
Harrerneville shook his head once, before gripping hold of the girls arm. "Sorry," he sighed.
And then, like spinning on air, they were gone. 
Egbert was alone. 
He smiled. 

THE END

BY BECCA AND JAYNE.