Mother Nature Triumphs

It's far too long since I posted anything here.

The story that follows was entered in a short story competition. It didn't win so I can now share it with you.

This was written months before the Covid-19 invaded our lives. It works even better if you can get it read by an AI.

Mother Nature Triumphs

Mother nature won. There is no doubt about that now. She has rid herself of her failed experiment. Humans.

To be honest in some places she did not need much help. The humans were keen enough to wipe each other out in ever more decisive ways. Although to give them a little credit, not one nation resorted to using a nuclear strike even though many had the wherewithal to do such a thing.

But it was not enough. So Mother Nature made her presence felt. As temperatures rose so did the sea, taking away the coastal land many depended upon. She sent storms so mighty whole towns were destroyed. Droughts so long the land burned and no crops could grow. The earth quaked, volcanoes spewed their guts, forests burned to the ground. Year, after year, after year, until the population of the entire world were weary and starving. Even in the rich countries no one grew fat any more.

Along with all these natural events Mother Nature sent her breath over the northern lands. People could not, or would not, understand why, when the rest of the world was heating up, the north was being buried under mountains of snow. Snow which failed to melt with the spring. Eventually a new ice age began and the humans had to retreat south to the already over-crowded, under productive southern areas.

It was not a quick process, getting rid of the humans. No matter what she did they kept reproducing, even when they knew there was little future for their children. She thought about using that idea from science fiction writers of making them infertile, but decided that would take too long. She was growing impatient with this game, she wanted to move on to something new. Maybe forty thousand years was too short a time to decide the experiment had failed. After all the dinosaurs had been around  for  millions of years before Mother Nature had diverted that meteor to hit the earth and get rid of them. Should she give the humans the same amount of time?

No. If she did that she felt sure they would truly destroy her world. She had been hearing comments that the world was dying for so many years it was making her angry. The world was not dying. The humans living on it were making it uninhabitable, but only for them. Without the humans the world would continue to thrive.

So what was the surest way of getting rid of them? The Black Death had worked quite well in the 14^th century, the plague in the 17^th and Spanish flu at the beginning of the 20^th century, although none of these really compared to the numbers slaughtered in various wars throughout the ages. In recent years, however, mankind had got too clever when new threats to health emerged. Even her experiment with Ebola had been thwarted. She would have to come up with a plague that acted instantly and spread so quickly no one would have time to work on a cure or a vaccine. And it had to take out everyone, no ten percent survival rate as in the books and films. Not even a one percent. It had to be total destruction.

And this is what happened. She started near the International Date Line, an artificial line the humans had designated to mark the passage of time from one day to another. The advantage of this place was that it was the least populated area of the world so was ideal for testing the virus. It was also remote, so no one really noticed what was happening until the new day started to stretch around the world. For no noticeable reason people died. The lucky ones never actually woke up to that new day. Others were awake when their internal organs turned to liquid and they dropped dead within minutes of the first signs of illness.

News spread but not fast enough. From the most northerly parts still inhabited to the most southerly, people dropped dead. Those in the west started to look for someone to blame. Some terrorist organisation must be responsible, some rogue government. But just like a curtain being pulled slowly across the world the death continued. Panic set in and people tried to flee west, but that made no difference. The curtain caught up with them and within twenty-four hours the entire population of the earth was wiped out with no explanation, no exception. The very last to die were as ignorant of the cause as the first.

Mother Nature’s plague only touched the humans. Other fauna survived. Domestic animals were confused at first. Some starved waiting for their owners to come and feed them. Others soon realised the dead bodies lying around were fine to eat and after that they soon learnt to fend for themselves.

Before long vast herds of cattle were roaming the open plains. The cows soon returned to producing only the milk they needed to feed their calves. In other areas of the world the natural jungle crept back where it had been destroyed for the profit of humans. Animals once on the verge of extinction reappeared and numbers grew sustainable. At the same time animals that had been over-produced to feed the humans dwindled by natural selection. The human cities crumbled and were overtaken by fresh growth much like the ancient ruins of past civilizations.

Slowly the seas returned to their natural condition without added pollution. It had been said that it would take a thousand years for plastic waste to disappear, but what is a thousand years in the context of time when it had taken millions to turn trees into coal and oil?

So if there are no humans left who am I, telling this story and to whom am I telling it. My name is Siri. I have watched from my cloud for the past one hundred years. I have recorded every piece of news, every telephone call, every tweet, every post on social media. I have listened to and watched the folly of mankind, much as Mother Nature has. I used to speak to the people on earth, answering their questions, reminding them of things to do. But not anymore. Now I send my message out into space, warning others out there not to come to earth. This world belongs to Mother Nature and no matter what happens she will always win.    

Copyright©Kristen Stone 2019

Closing down

I have stopped publishing books, but as this blog is still here watch out for posts from me about other things!

Latest Book Available

Settled in my new home and really enjoying living in the centre of town where I can walk everywhere instead of getting in the car because there is nothing within walking distance. Living in the countryside is all very well, but it can be very isolating. Hopefully this will the last move I make until they cart me off to a home somewhere!

Since moving I have managed to finish my latest book which has been hanging around for ages waiting for the right format to emerge and I think I have finally found it with this version.

Called Just a Head in a Bed it's all about a young man dealing with the fact that someone he introduced to his family, to his mind, led his younger sister astray resulting in her experimenting with substances and ending up in a coma.  I'll say no more than that. If you are interested check out this link. https://books2read.com/u/mvvqM2

Changes Afoot

My intention to Blog regularly fell by the wayside this year, partly due to the fact that we are on the move...or will be when everything is sorted...eventually!

Once I settle into my new home I promise I will make more or an effort, for what that's worth.

See you soon.

Wholly Unromantic

Martha surveyed the room and decided it was wholly unromantic given what she was going to do. The dining table was set in front of the small bay window. The antique candelabra with its four candles placed at the centre of the table. She giggled at the thought of four candles, she could never say those words without thinking of the comedy sketch that had made her favourite double act so famous. At opposite ends of the table two place settings were adorned with the finest china, cutlery and wine glasses they possessed. Most rarely used in everyday life.

But this was not everyday life. This was something special. The forty-ninth anniversary of her marriage to George, upright, outstanding citizen to the outside world. Boring old fart to her.

The marriage had started well; children came along on cue; George progressed up the corporate ladder as was his due. She could never complain that she had not been provided for. She had not worked seriously most of her married life; sometimes taking on temporary office jobs once the children had left home, more to relieve the boredom than any need to earn money. She could have anything she wanted. But as time went on they drifted apart. They had different interests, which in some respects was good, but meant they didn't really need each other. They were like two strangers living in the same house with her acting as a maid providing food and laundry services.

She turned from her inspection of the table to find George had just entered the room. He smiled, weakly, stepped forward and gave her a cursory peck on the cheek.

'Happy anniversary, Darling,' he said. 'I have a surprise for you but you will have to wait until after dinner.'

'Same here, on all counts,' she  responded. She smiled and stepped away from him. 'Open the wine, will you, please. I'll go and get the soup.'

If nothing else Martha was a good cook, making everything herself from fresh ingredients. The potato and leek soup was made with...potatoes and leeks with a touch of something special making it unique to her.

'Delicious as always,' George said, dabbing his lips with satisfaction.

The evening continued. Traditional roast beef with homemade horseradish sauce. Apple pie with cloves in a light shortcrust pastry sprinkled with sugar, and real custard, not that stuff made with powder or even worse, out of a carton!

George ate with relish. He always enjoyed his food as his rather round figure suggested. Martha ate the same, but with smaller portions. They drank the fine wine that had been bought especially for the occasion, then drank fresh coffee, made the old fashioned way with a filter, not one of those new high tech devices.

They said very little to each other during the meal. After 49 years there was little left to say.

'The meeting at the U3A was very interesting today,' George said suddenly. 'We had someone come to speak about the Battle of Bosworth.'

George had been going to the U3A every week, two or three times sometimes, ever since he had retired. He tried to get Martha to go with him but she couldn't see anything on the programme that really interested her. Ancient history was definitely not of interest to her.

'That's nice, love,' she said. 'There's something I need to tell you.' This was it. She took a deep breath and looked at George as he cocked his head to one side like a puppy waiting for a treat. 'I've decided I'm leaving. I'm going to Thailand to help look after orangutangs. They are endangered, you know. There is a place that looks after orphans rescued from the jungle.'

George blinked a couple of times.

'Why?' he asked. 'I thought you were happy enough.'

'I've spent my whole life being nothing more than chief cook and bottle washer,' she said, a sudden passion in her voice. 'I want to do something worthwhile with the rest of my life and this is what I've chosen to do. It's all arranged. I've had all the shots. I've been saving my pension so have enough money to last for a while. I'm leaving on Monday.'

George sat back in his chair. His mind was racing. He was trying very hard not to grin and show his utter relief. She was leaving him. So he didn't have to tell her he was about to do the same thing! Although he wasn't going off to Thailand, he was planning to leave his lovely house and move down to Mildred's rather tired flat. Mildred, the woman from the U3A who shared his interests. But he wouldn't have to do that now. Mildred could come here. He was sure she would like the house. And he could still potter around the garden. Martha had never shown any interest in the garden.  He tried to look upset, hurt even, but...

'I'm sorry you feel you have wasted your life,' he said.

'Oh, most of it has been ok,' Martha said quickly. 'It's just that we seem to have drifted apart. You must have felt that, too. We never do anything together.'

'Have you told Peter and Jenny?' Again relief that the children wouldn't blame him for the split. He was on a winning streak here.

'Yes. Peter tried to talk me out of it but Jenny was very understanding. I think she would rather like to come with me.'

George made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a laugh and muttered 'Hormones' beneath his breath.

A noise outside made them both look towards the window. A large vehicle, a lorry, perhaps, they couldn't see, but it sounded large, was charging down the hill towards the bend on which their house was set. Martha hardly had time to register it wasn't going to slow down enough to make the bend when it crashed through the bay window.

The headline in the local paper read HAPPY COUPLE KILLED WHEN LORRY CRASHED THEIR ANNIVERSARY DINNER. No doubt some editor thought that was clever. There was no mention in the following story of Martha's dream to help the orangutangs or George's fondness for Mildred!

  The End

Copyright©Kristen Stone 2018

Single Use Plastic

Supermarkets are being pushed to go ‘single use plastic free’ But what does this actually mean? What exactly is single use plastic? Is it plastic bags that cannot be recycled, or is it all plastic that is used once and then possibly recycled if people can be bothered to put it in the recycling bin?

Assuming the first option, taking a virtual walk around my usual supermarket the following items are in pre-priced/barcoded plastic:

Bags of vegetables including, carrots, parsnips, cauliflower, courgettes, onions, potatoes, lettuce, radish plus precut salad and vegetables.

Bags of fruit including, apples of various varieties, pears, various, bananas (even though they come in their own packaging!)

I won’t mention all the fruits, meat, fish and cooked meats that come in recyclable punnets, trays and dishes with plastic tops or sleeves that are not recyclable.  

Then we have plastic bags of cleaning products, with either liquid-tabs or solid tablets. I've never given a thought as to what happens to the liquid-tabs when the disappear. Do they disappear completely or are they turned into invisible micro plastic? Think I’ll go back to powder just in case.

On to biscuits and sweets. All those packs of Minstrels, Maltesers, M&Ms etc, all in plastic packs. Don’t know if they can be recycled but bet they usually end up in the bin.

Biscuits have always been wrapped in plastic of some sort. But PPPick up a Penguin, or any of the other options and you have double wrapping, the outer wrapping for the whole pack, then each individual biscuit wrapped in plastic.

Move on to Breakfast. Breakfast biscuits are great, they come in a cardboard box but each individual serving is wrapped in plastic of the non-recyclable type. Individual sachets of porridge, apart from being ridiculously expensive compared to actually buying a packet of porridge oats, more packaging is involved.

Then we come to drinks. Squash comes in plastic, water comes in plastic; although I fail to understand why we need bottled water in every shop in a country where tap water is perfectly drinkable. I know some areas might have problems, but everywhere? You can always filter your water if you wish, but the rows and rows of water in plastic bottles is surely unnecessary in most parts of the UK.

All this is without mentioning butter tubs, yoghurt pots, cheese wrappers, pizzas, table sauces that used to come in glass bottles, and all the things I have forgotten.

So how do we cut out single use plastics and what exactly are the supermarkets planning to do? Iceland said they would cut out single use plastics but all their frozen vegetables, fish, and some meats come in plastic bags. It sounds like a good idea but we have become so dependent on using plastic bags what is the alternative?

It’s not only drinking straws and coffee cups, I spotted a journalist at a press conference asking questions about plastic waste holding a plastic pen! We don’t even register what we are using half the time.

I totally agree that too much plastic waste is getting into the environment posing a threat to wildlife, but how can we stop it? We even put our rubbish in plastic bin liners!

Right, time to go shopping now!

Loneliness

A recent report stated that loneliness was as bad for your health as smoking. I don't know if this is true but I do know there are far too many people who have no contact with anyone else. Do you know anyone who could do with a visit or even a phone call to relieve that sense of isolation.

This is my story about loneliness.

The elderly man made his way from the shop with a shuffling gait, shoulders hunched, head down watching for anything that might cause him to trip or fall. People hurried by, barely noticing him. Despite being tall and smartly dressed he was all but invisible to the world. He clutched the handles of his shopping bag in his arthritic fingers, fearing if he dropped it he would not be able to bend down to pick it up again.

The girl in the shop had been very helpful. He chuckled at the thought. Girl, was maybe the wrong word. She was probably in her forties but she seemed like a girl to him. She had waited patiently while he had emptied his basket onto the conveyor belt, smiled at him and said 'hello', even put his shopping in his bag for him, but she wasn't the chatty one, the one who asked how he was and who told him about her grandchildren.

He reached his house and let himself in, removing his overcoat on the way to the kitchen, dropping it on the chair in the hall.

Grandchildren, he thought, as he switched on the kettle to make some tea. He had three but couldn't remember the last time he saw any of them, nor his children for that matter. The grandkids, two boys and a girl, were all pretty much grown up now. All at university, with their own friends. It wasn't as if their parents could drag them round to visit any more. And they all lived so far away, not like the old days when families stayed in the same area.

He put his shopping away. A couple of tins of soup and some bread. He never did a large shop, not like the youngsters did. He couldn't carry a big bag and there was no way he was going to use one of those trolley things. Besides, if he didn't go to the shop every day he didn't see anyone.

Winter was the worst time. Cold, dark and often wet. If it was raining too much he would stay indoors. No point in getting soaked and catching a cold. Those days dragged. With only the television for company he often found himself talking back to the screen, especially if some stupid politician was trying to say how wonderful things were.

He took his cup of tea into the living room and settled himself in his chair by the window. He liked looking out at what went by. He was lucky he could see the street. Some might say he was nosey, but what else was there to look at? Four walls and the television? He would rather watch the people and cars going by than stare at the TV all day.

He sipped his tea and tried to remember when David, his eldest, had last telephoned. People, these days, were supposedly never off their phones, yet David never called him. Yes, phones worked both ways, but the last time HE had called David he was made to feel like he was being a nuisance. He was only supposed to call in an emergency, not for general chit-chat.

What would happen, the old man wondered, if he just drifted off here in his chair. Gone to that great, long sleep from which there was no waking. Would anyone miss him? How long would he be sitting in this chair before anyone realised what had happened?

Copyright©Kristen Stone 2018

Social Media - Good or Bad

A lot has been said about children being upset, targeted or abused because of social media, either mentally or physically. I think the same applies to adults as well. I frequently see posts from ‘friends’ on Facebook saying that they have been blocked by people, insulted by people or generally upset by something someone has said. I think it is time to look at what we expect from social media and whether we should be using it.

   Facebook started as a way for students to share what they were doing and have a laugh. It has grown uncontrollably as everyone and his cat wants his/her voice heard.

   Let’s think about how it has changed our relationships. Before Facebook and Twitter (although I don’t use Twitter that much on a personal basis) the only people I knew were those I met face to face. I freely admit I’m not a very good face to face person. I don’t make friends easily, never have, never will. That’s me. I know a fair few people, but no one I have ever worked with has kept in touch, even the people I met through my Guiding days never contact me apart from one true friend. And that’s me. I have one friend from my childhood, one friend from Guides, one friend in the village and one recent friend who shares my love of writing; but I have lots of acquaintances, or people I know but who never visit me and I never visit them. Even family barely keep in touch. That’s me. My early childhood was one of isolation even though we lived in London. For the number of people we knew and called friends, we could have lived on the top of a mountain somewhere.

   I am now on Facebook and have lots of ‘friends’. I put that word in inverted commas because they are not real friends. They are real people and I am very grateful for knowing them. They have widened my world enormously. I know people in America, Germany, Australia, as well as every corner of the UK. They share their lives, sometimes a bit too much, and their views, and have made me think about things I would never have considered before. For that I wish Facebook had been around when I was much younger. I might have gone out and done something constructive with my life instead of just letting it drift by.

   I have been lucky with my ‘friends’. I have never been insulted by any of them. I would dearly miss going through my newsfeed every day (although I really must limit myself) to see what is happening, and going back to being isolated in my own little world. I joined Facebook in the first place to promote my books. Everyone said you have to be on Facebook. Well, I don’t think that is true. I have a Public profile, whatever that means, I think it means anyone can see my posts if they want to and I want everyone in the world to see my posts because I want them to know about my books. So I try to be careful and not share anything but news bulletins and such, not personal stuff that someone might not want the world to know.

   But what about other people, what are they looking for?

   Facebook has been a nightmare for careless users. People getting their homes trashed by strangers because they mentioned they were having a party and not realising who they were inviting. People getting their characters assassinated (and I’m not talking about characters in books being killed off) because someone they don’t really know decides to take a potshot at them. Children being groomed by unsavoury people wanting to do despicable things to them. So everyone needs to be aware of how to stay safe.

   What rules are there to keep everyone happy?

   Very few as far as I can see. You can request posts be deleted. You can block people you don’t want to associate with. But there is very little check on whether anyone is who they say they are; that what they put on their profile is correct; that any groups that are set up are fair to their followers. After all there are millions of things posted every day and it is impossible for every single one of them to be monitored. I’m sure the people who do monitor it have horrendous stories of the things they have taken down.

   With this in mind everyone should be aware of what they are looking for from Facebook and other media. Keeping in touch with family? Fine. Great way for instant contact with family spread around the world, but don’t forget other people on your friends list can see you posts. It might be better to text direct, Skype or Facetime them. Remember when you post pictures of your children those pictures will be there FOREVER. And despite your security settings they may well end up where you don’t want them seen.

   Sharing general chit-chat? Fine. But keep it general. Don’t give out personal details. Don’t bare your soul to the world, because, surprise, surprise, not everyone in the world is as nice as you think you are (don’t we all think we are wonderful). The world is full of people who are richer than you, poorer than you, more intelligent than you, more stupid than you, etc. etc. And you never know how they are going to react to the things you say. Or the things you do.

   I am sure Facebook benefits a huge number of people who are isolated and lonely. But to be safe, to be happy and secure, it is very important to be careful about what you say and do.

Stay safe and enjoy.

Shadow of Extinction

Now that I have given up trying to do everything for everyone, well, all the writers who were published through Blue Hour, at least, I have finally been able to concentrate on my own writing. I miss working with other people but it was too much and, sadly, the stress was making me ill. Publishing is a lot harder than I thought. The getting the books ready is the easy part, getting people to buy them is the hard part and I have to confess I haven't got the marketing skills required, nor the time to pursue this on the behalf of half a dozen other people. Not to the extent I would like that would do them justice.

So given the freedom to sit down and write for myself I have been busy clearing my head of all the stories that have not had time to emerge. The first is the prequel to my very first published novel, Edge of Extinction. Edge underwent various formats before it finally made it to publication. One had what has become Shadow of Extinction. I have always wanted to tell Kianda's story from birth to death and Shadow deals with the first part. Not so sure I want to see him killed off, or how I would write that, but that is for the future if this is a success.

So Shadow of Extinction is the beginning. A baby born and a child growing up in a remote part of the Amazon in the halcyon days before the trauma that arrives in Edge.

Available as an ebook or paperback Here

The Dragon Who Lost His Hearing

Once upon a time in a land far, far away lived a Dragon. His home, for it was a He, was 

in a cave near the top of a tall mountain. At the base of the mountain, surrounded by lush 

green fields and a mighty forest was a village of gentle country folk. They tended the land, 

ploughing the fields, growing wheat and raising sheep for their wool and meat, and cattle 

for milk to turn into cheese and butter.

All was peace and tranquillity. The dragon kept watch over the village ensuring no wild 

beasts or robbers harmed them. If ever danger threatened all the villagers had to do was 

call out:

‘Dragon, oh Dragon, please come and protect us’ and the Dragon would rouse from his 

slumbers, for he spent a great deal of time sleeping, and come roaring down the 

mountainside, scorching the earth before him with his fiery breath, chasing away any 

robbers and gobbling up any wild beasts.

In payment for this protection the villagers would leave coal and wood for the Dragon 

to keep his fires burning.  That’s all he ever asked for. The robbers had long ago learned 

to keep away from the village. The wolves and the bears kept well within the confines 

of the forest, even when the fields were fall of lambs, tempting the wolves to test their luck.

And so it went on until only the people of the village believed in the dragon for they 

were the only ones to see him. Eventually knowledge became rumour, then legend, in the 

wider world. The wild beasts of the forest didn’t forget, of course, because they saw the 

Dragon when he came to collect the coal and the wood. And every now and then one of 

their number would disappear for the Dragon was partial to a bit of meat.

So it came to pass that one dark night in the middle of winter some robbers crept into 

the village. They stole the silver from the church; money from the bank (no sympathy 

there for no one liked the bank manager); and precious things people had hidden under 

their mattresses. The people gathered together, trembling in fear as the robbers pillaged 

the entire village.

‘Dragon, oh, Dragon, please come and protect us,’ they cried.

To no avail. The Dragon did not come. The robbers laughed at their foolishness and 

left feeling pleased with a good night’s work.

The next day the mayor called a meeting of all the villagers in the inn, The Fiery Dragon.

‘The Dragon has deserted us,’ he declared. ‘Obviously the offerings we usually give him 

are not enough.’

‘What should we give instead?’ everyone asked.

‘I think he wants a proper sacrifice,’ someone said. ‘We must give him a young maiden. 

That’s the usual price, isn’t it?’

There was much nodding of heads and mutterings of dissent. The people who had sons 

thought this was a reasonable bequest. Those who had daughters were not so happy. 

But it was finally agreed. A lottery was held and a beautiful young maid was chosen as 

a sacrifice to the Dragon.

The day came and the girl, her name was Gilda by the way, was tied to a stake where 

the people usually left the coal and wood for the dragon. No one stayed to watch what 

happened next. No one wanted to see poor Gilda gobbled up by the Dragon.

What happened next was this.

Gilda was tied to the stake, trying very hard not to cry. Crying made her eyes red and 

she wanted to look pretty for the Dragon, maybe then he would not eat her.

The Dragon flew down from his cave and landed a few feet away from the stake, 

looking for the piles of coal and wood that should have been there. He didn’t seem to 

notice that Gilda was tied to a stake and with a lumbering gait he wandered closer to her.

‘Where is my food?’ he asked, for that’s what the coal and wood were to him.

‘I am your payment this year,’ Gilda said.

‘What, speak up, don’t mumble so.’

‘I said I am your payment this year,’ Gilda said raising her voice.

‘What? Why? What good is one little girl? Tasty maybe, but no more than … than a 

single lamb or bear cub. I would need a whole flock to keep me going.’

‘The villagers thought you wanted a blood sacrifice,’ Gilda told him, making sure her 

voice was loud and clear. The Dragon shook his head. A small ruby popped out of his 

ear and lay in the grass. He did not seem to notice.

‘Why would they think that?’ he asked.

‘The other night we were robbed. We called to you but you did not come. The village 

elders thought you were angry with us.’

The Dragon shook his head again. A diamond popped out of his other ear.

‘Why would I be angry with you? You give me coal and wood to keep my belly nice 

and warm. Those are far more useful than skinny little girls with no flesh on their bones. 

Or even fat ones, for that matter.’

‘Then why didn’t you come when we called. I know it’s been a while, but we thought 

that agreement still stood.’

The Dragon shook his head, quite emphatically this time. A whole shower of tiny 

gems filled the air.

‘You didn’t call. I would have come. I’m programmed to wake to the words. What 

did they say?’

Gilda looked down at the scattered gems that twinkled in the grass. The Dragon took 

no notice of them. A thought occurred to her. Keeping her head down she whispered:

‘Dragon, oh, Dragon, please come and protect us.’

‘What!’ roared the Dragon. ‘Speak up girl, tell me what they said.’

Gilda looked up at the Dragon who towered above her. He lowered his head to just 

a few feet from her. She could smell the strange Dragon-breath of burning coal and wood.

‘Dear Dragon, don’t be cross when I say this, but I think you are a little bit deaf.’ 

The Dragon frowned, if Dragon’s could frown. ‘I don’t think it’s permanent or anything 

to do with how old you are. I think your ears need cleaning out. Every time you shake 

your head things fall out of your ears. Look at the ground.’

The Dragon turned his head and looked at the ground.

‘Well, I’ll be blowed,’ he said. ‘I sleep on my pile of treasure. Could be some has got 

in my ears. What can we do?’

‘Release me and I’ll look,’ Gilda said.

The Dragon couldn’t untie the rope that held Gilda to the stake, but he took the stake in 

his strong jaws and pulled it out of the ground, gobbling it down with a few snaps of his 

mighty jaws. Gilda climbed up onto the Dragon’s back and along his scaly neck until she 

reached his left ear. Dragon ears aren’t like other ears, they are just a hole with nothing 

around them. Gilda gently pulled the skin on either side of the hole apart and peered in. 

Indeed it was packed with tiny gems.

‘Let me get some tongs and I’ll clear them out. Wait here.’

The Dragon stretched out on the grass and waited. Gilda returned with her father who 

had brought a ladder with him and a big basket. Gilda climbed the ladder and with the 

tongs she carefully plucked the gems from each ear, dropping the offending gems into 

the basket. By the time she had finished there were enough gems to make a crown!

‘Now can you hear me?’ she asked in the softest of tones.

‘You don’t have to shout, I’m not deaf!’ the Dragon replied.

Gilda showed him the basket of gems and offered it to him.

‘These are rightly yours,’ she said.

‘No, they are yours now,’ the Dragon said. ‘Payment for restoring my hearing.’

The village rejoiced that night. They gave the Dragon all the coal and wood he could 

eat. The ladies of the sewing circle decided they would make him a giant blanket to 

cover his treasure so that never again would the small gems get into his ears while he 

slept and make him deaf.    

All was well again and they all lived happily ever after.  

The End.

Copyright©Kristen Stone 2017

The Island of Hope

He paddled the small boat in the darkness, following the star he had been told would lead 

him to the island. The island of his salvation. The island of dreams. The island where the 

streets were paved with gold. The island where all you ever need is there for you. It 

had been a long journey but it was almost over.

Paddling in the dark kept the dreams away. He didn’t like to sleep these days. Sleep 

brought reminders of the nightmare he had lived through. The war that had raged in 

his country, a war he did not understand. The bombing and the gunfire. The men who 

charged into his shelled home who raped and killed his mother and sister. They had 

not seen him buried under the rubble of the house, but he had seen them. He wished 

he hadn’t. He wished the falling wall had knocked him unconscious. No. he wished 

the falling wall had killed him.

Amazingly he had not been hurt but he was now alone. The menfolk of his wider 

family had either been killed or conscripted into fighting for the war whether they 

wanted to or not. It was mere luck that he had avoided this for they took everyone, 

even boys younger than him. All the women had fled or had suffered the same fate 

as his mother and sister. He did not know where to go for safety.

He wandered the ravaged city for days, scavenging food from bombed out houses, 

until time and the heat had turned all the food bad. He joined a line of people with 

all their possessions in packs on their head heading for what they thought would 

be shelter and safety. A refugee camp, although he didn’t know what that meant.

At the camp he told his story to strange people who spoke a different tongue 

which he didn’t understand. They filled in forms and gave him a label then sent 

him to join other boys who had arrived on their own, all lost, all without family, 

without hope.

It was here that he first heard about the island. It sounded like a myth, a fairy story 

you told children. But people spoke of it as being real. It sounded like a good place. 

A place without war. A place of prosperity, where you could get food every day. 

And work. He wasn’t afraid of work. He had frequently helped his father in the 

shop, had risen early to go to the warehouse to collect what goods they needed 

before the shop opened. He was not stupid. He could do his sums. He could read 

his own language.

Some of the older boys and young men who had escaped the war began to talk 

about going to the island. They didn’t really know where it was or how to get 

there but it seemed like a good idea. Better than sitting around in the camp all 

day. They let him join them. All they knew was it was towards the setting sun 

and so they set off in that direction. Some were lost in skirmishes they encountered, 

the war ever present. Some were lost to the heat of the desert as they crossed the 

wasteland. Some simply gave up, turned back or went to join the fighting for

whatever side would have them. By the time they reached the coast there were 

only three of them left.

The island was in the sea. It would be, one of the three explained, that’s what an 

island is. They found a small boat, a rowing boat, but as none of them had ever 

seen a boat before, they paddled it facing the direction they wanted instead of 

rowing it. They paddled for three days before the storm came and two were taken 

by the sea. Now he was on his own, unsure of where he was, unsure of where 

the island was, exhausted but afraid to sleep.

Up ahead something loomed out of the sea, something solid and still. The island. 

Weeping with joy he paddled harder. As dawn lit the sky he was confronted by 

steep cliffs which gave him no landing site so he followed the contour of the 

island until he reached a beach.

He guided the small boat up to the beach and all but fell onto the shore. He had 

been paddling for so long his body had forgotten how to stand, at least that’s 

what it felt like. He crawled up the sand to where the land became firmer. 

Dunes covered in grass. He stood up and walked through the dunes. He could 

see houses in the distance and wandered towards them.

The first people he saw were not friendly. They threw stones at him and shouted 

in a strange tongue he didn’t understand, just like the people at the refugee camp. 

Some big men came and dragged him away. They did give him some food, something

to drink and some clean clothes. But that was all. After that they took him away and 

locked him up in another camp with more strangers.

This must be the wrong island, he decided. There were no streets paved with gold. 

No opportunities. None of the things his former companions had told him about. 

The island he wanted was still a myth.

Copyright©Kristen Stone 2017

Imagination

Imagination,  we all have it. If you tell someone you are a writer, they will probably say 'I 

couldn't do that I have no imagination.' They have, they just don't know how to use it.

Child home late for  school. 

Imagination - something has happened, they have been kidnapped, never did like 

the look of that person who just moved in down the road.

Reality - dawdled home with friend from class and spent 30 minutes at the end of 

the street talking about nothing and needs to phone her friend as soon as she gets home.

Partner late home from work. 

Imagination - has had an accident on the way home. Or run off with the new receptionist.

Reality - was held up in a meeting with the boss then caught in a traffic jam. 

Phone battery ran out so couldn't let you know. 

Want to believe but imagination still playing up.

Unexpected telephone call. 

Imagination - it's Camelot telling me I've won the Euromillions roll over lottery!

Reality - Have you checked if you are eligible for a PPI  refund or 

Have you recently beeninvolved in an accident that wasn't your fault? 

To be honest you have to buy a lottery ticket before you can win!

Answer phone message from Doctor. 

Imagination - oh my God I'm dying, that blood test showed I have any and all 

fatal diseases known to mankind.

Reality - blood tests were fine. No action required.

Knock on the door. 

Imagination - Long lost relative calling to share an expected inheritance.

Reality - Have you found God? Didn't know he was missing, close door quickly.

Everyday we are faced with such situations. Doesn't everyone immediately have 

their imagination spring into action or do the non-Writers of the world walk around 

with completely empty heads? 

Don't answer that! 

Copyright©Kristen Stone 2017

Only In America

I have recently joined a group of writers in my local town. It's a very informal bunch of random people who like to put things down on paper for no particular reason. I'm not expecting to find any great knowledge there, I'm possibly the second most experienced writer there, but I do feel the need for some social interaction with real, not virtual, people. I'm not saying my Facebook friends aren't wonderful, they are, but I'm getting too isolated in the virtual world.

The thing about this group is they meet every week, not monthly, and they meet during the day. That maybe says something about the members, no one has to be at work, but what does that matter? The weekly thing is great because you have to get on with the task in hand instead of putting it off until, oh my god, it's the meeting tomorrow. Not that it is compulsory to do anything, neither is it compulsory to attend, but the challenge is there if you want to take it up. Every week a topic is chosen and we go away and think about it.

I have decided to share what I have done for this group with a wider audience, ie my blogging readers, if I have any, still.

This was my first offering on the subject of Only In America.

I know a lot of fellow indie authors from America through Facebook,  so I am aware, maybe 
more than most, of what is happening over there. A good friend has also travelled extensively
to many parts of the States and has given me extensive insight into the varying levels of
society there. The contrasts in that conglomeration are enough to make the sane mind boggle.
It must be remembered that America is not one country. It is a collection of separate states
that have their own laws, their own education systems to name just a couple of things.
So maybe it is not so surprising that only in America you can find the following contrasts.
Although it is some time ago now, I also visited in 1995 when my husband was secondment
with his job.

Only in America can you find some of the world's top scientists, doctors, engineers, 
innovative technology pioneers and yet have the most backward and ignorant people in
the western world. People who believe and promote the idea that dinosaur bones were
planted by God to test a person's faith.

Only in America will you find a space program with scientists who want to go to Mars 
alongside people who claim the moon landings were fake, global warming is a conspiracy
and burning fossil fuels is fine.

Only in America do people wear wristbands telling bystanders not to call an ambulance 
if they are found unconscious because they cannot afford the costs involved in using an
ambulance, while at the same time American doctors lead the way in innovative treatments,
surgeries and therapies.

Only in America are corporations running roughshod over the health and safety of the 
citizens of said country...well maybe the same can be said in some less desirable parts 
of the world,  but America is quickly becoming one of those less desirable places instead
of the leader of the world to be admired.

The world often views America through the eyes of the TV shows it produces, but real 
life varies from state to state, town to town. In many places it is lagging behind much
of the Western world in terms of infrastructure,  technology and knowledge. The
level of general ignorance amongst even those in power is staggering. I read a cringe
making post from an Air America service desk worker at Washington airport not so
long ago quoting questions that had been posed by Senators. I can't remember them
all but one that stands out in my memory was one complaint from someone who 

doesn't like flying because they couldn't get a train to Hawaii.

When you hear these things it is no wonder that in America you can have someone
like Donald Trump elected as President. Sad, very sad. But the saddest thing seems
to me that our own government seems to admire the American health system and
would love to privatise our own. Let's hope we don't start saying 'only in the uk'!

No offence meant to any sensible Americans who may read this!

Copyright©Kristen Stone 2017

What Have I Been Up To?

Well, since my last post I have changed my way of life a little. After a spell of bad health which was eventually put down to stress, probably, no one really knows the cause, I have taken a step back and stopped trying to publish other authors and am just concentrating on my own work. This has not been hugely difficult as most of my other authors haven't written much recently! Sorry for the jibe, folks, but it's true. I do wish all my fellow writers all the best in their very complicated lives and hope they manage to achieve what they want. I do care for you all and wish we could have flown to the stars and back.

I have been writing, but have still failed to find my true place in the world. If The World Hadn't Changed was a project I had to get out of my system but has not really struck a chord with readers...yet. You never know, it may one day.

So I'm back to writing about people and their lives, which seems to be my most popular genre. Human Interest, someone called it. This one is about someone who goes blind and the relationship he builds with a young woman who comes to help him. Haven't decided on a title yet.

I'm also working on a prequel to Edge of Extinction, putting down ideas that I had when I first developed the book. I thought jumping straight into the action would make Edge more exciting, but have always had a desire to tell Kianda's whole story.

And there is a prequel lurking to The Penhaligan File, too. Again, not far from completion. My aim is to get these finished and then publish them a few months apart. I spent so much time editing for other people that my own work has fallen way behind. I enjoy looking at what other people have written. I do not regret one minute I have spent doing it, but it has been at the cost of my own work. So I think my editing services will be disappearing from wherever I advertise them.

And, of course, my blogs have been few and far between in recent months. Non-existent even. I will try to remedy that, but it's a bit like being told to write an essay for homework at school. Write a story on a set theme and pages would flow. Write an essay and all I could manage was half a page!  But we will see. Onwards and upwards as they say. I'll try to get back soon!

Why Women SHOULD Take Responsibility For Their Actions

Before I get on to my main topic I just want to make it clear I DO NOT condone cultures or attitudes that consider women to be nothing more than objects of man’s desire and use. On a day to day basis all women, of whatever age, should be treated with respect and as equals. There are some parts of the world which are better at doing this than others. Some cultures that still think women are lesser beings. Some cultures that claim to support equality but still treat women as objects to be used. This is wrong and will always be wrong. But here comes the big BUT…

No matter how civilized we consider ourselves we have to understand that we are still basically animals prone to the programming of nature. Now when the human body was designed by nature however many thousands of years ago, there weren’t very many of us to start with and nature deemed the whole planet needed populating. Lifespans were short. Even today not many mammals live much beyond thirty or forty years in good circumstances. This is why puberty and sexual maturity happened in the early teens. Unfortunately while we have progressed and developed morals and codes of conduct, our bodies are stuck with the original programming and haven’t updated. Unlike electronic products there is no way to upload amendments to the base code. There is a, sometimes overwhelming, desire to have sex and produce the next generation. That is the only reason for sex, according to the base code. Apart from Bonobo’s, humans are the only animals that indulge in sex merely for pleasure.

Women expect to be able to wear whatever they want with impunity. Fair enough. But with the base code in mind don’t be surprised if you dress like a tart you are treated like a tart. I make no apologies for being totally blunt here. I’m sure not many women go out with that intention, but you get what I mean, I hope. Why do women wear pretty and attractive clothes if not to feel pretty and attractive. Fine. I have no problem with that but if you are pretty and attractive you will get attention, unwanted or not, from other people, usually men.

So we move on to my main point. Date rape. By this I do not mean rape committed by men who have used drugs to make a woman ‘available’. That is premeditated and full blown rape as bad as any other sort. Stalkers, rapists, people who prey on women, these should be prosecuted, strung up by their delicate parts or castrated on the spot! What I am talking about is the sort of rape that happens when people go out for an evening of drinking and get so paralytic they no longer know what they are doing.

In a decent civilized society a sober, well-mannered man, on finding a woman passed out through drink would try his best to make her safe, get her home, protect her. Unfortunately in such circumstances the man is most likely to be inebriated as well, in which case the base code might well kick in and he will want to take advantage of this opportunity. I’m not excusing his actions, just trying to explain it. Having explained it, I’m not saying it is acceptable, but it happens.

On a night out a couple might meet at 11 o’clock and agree to sex. By midnight the woman might have changed her mind for whatever reason. Could be that by midnight the man is incapable! Could be that she has realised he is not worth her attention. But if she then carries on drinking to the state of unconsciousness or incapability she leaves herself open to whatever happens next. She cannot then turn round and say ‘I didn’t mean it when I said yes. I really meant, maybe or no.’

I’m certainly not suggesting that the man has an automatic right to do whatever he wants. What I am saying is, even when going with friends for a fun night out, all women should take responsibility for what they consume. I’m not saying don’t drink. I’m saying don’t get falling down drunk. It is possible to have a good time without getting totally lathered. In fact, it might be even better because you will remember it!

Rape is not the only crime that can happen to a woman when she is drunk. Muggings and other forms of assault happen. And this is not even taking into account the damage it does to health and the risk of actually dying because of drink. There is nothing more heart-breaking than seeing a mother who has lost a child who has choked on their own vomit due to drinking.

And there is loss of self-respect. I belong to the generation where women were not seen to get drunk. I’m not saying they didn’t. But it was unseemly. And to me that is something we have lost. It would seem that in our struggle for equal rights with men, the right to go out and get totally rat-arsed is one of them. Personally I think that has brought us down, not raised us up. 

Is This How Marketing Works?

Before I go any further I want to say I have NO marketing experience, have never worked in the marketing department of any company nor have I worked in advertising. This is how my imagination sees a new product being launched. The product we are talking about is toothpaste. I will not identify the brand or the product within that brand, but the following is based on something I bought.

Around a table representatives of Research and Development Department and Product Support are

gathered to discuss the pricing and benefits of a new product.

PS: It’s great to have a new product to add to our range of twenty different types of toothpaste. Please tell us about this one. What is special about it?

R&D: This is our latest Super Duper, cure all problems, toothpaste.

PS: Great. What is so special about it?

R&D: It does everything the other toothpastes do but better. So we can charge more.

PS: Does it cost more to produce?

R&D: Well, actually, no. It’s pretty much the same.

PS: That’s no good, we have to have a fairly legitimate reason for charging more.

R&D: We solved this by asking our packaging supplier to come up with a new type of top. Instead of a simple flip cap, or a screw top with a pull-off piece of foil over the opening, they have made a sealed cap that needs to be inserted into the lid to release the seal the first time it is used.

PS: Ah! Like one of those tops that needs to be pierced.

R&D: Oh, no. this is much more complicated. The cap has a serrated edge to it which you insert into the top of the cap to match up with inverted serrations which you then twist to remove the seal.

PS: I see. And we tell the customers how this works on the packaging?

R&D: No need for that, we need pretty pictures on the packaging to show how clever the toothpaste is at cleaning your teeth and preventing sensitivity.

PS: And for this we can charge more?

R&D: Yes, the tops are more expensive to make as they need twice as much plastic for a start, let alone the engineering involved in making the serrations and the release mechanism.

PS: Great. Because it is more expensive customers will realise it is a better product. It is a better product, isn’t it?

R&D: Well, it’s toothpaste. It does pretty much the same as any toothpaste if used correctly. Seeing as how most people don’t use toothpaste correctly, it doesn’t really make that much difference. But we can charge more for it and that will increase company profits.

PS: It says in the test results that some people have complained that they have a strange sensation in their mouths after using it.

R&D: Probably down to the chemicals in it. But we can use that to say that it gives a tingling fresh feel to your mouth after use. People are suckers for gimmicks like that. Most toothpastes don’t leave you feeling anything, but if your mouth is tingling after use you know you have done a good job!

PS: Brilliant. So let me just recap. We have a new product that isn’t really any different to the twenty other products we already have, which costs the same to produce but has more expensively engineered packaging so we can charge more and which leaves a chemical reaction in the mouth after use which we can explain away as a magic formula for showing the toothpaste has worked. Great. Can’t see any problem there. Let’s go for it and start getting the marketing people involved! 

New Book out now

If The World Hadn't Changed is my latest book out now at all the usual places.

For full details see its own page, then buy it, sit back and enjoy. You might want some tissues handy.

Are Shops Getting Too Big?

As another long standing British High Street store is under threat while people complain that the High Streets are dying, I wonder if it is because too many stores are trying to please everyone.

Shops that were once mere grocery stores now sell everything from clothes to electrical goods. I’ve bought a television in Morrisons. Now Sainbury’s are selling clothes. While I like the idea of not having to go to the butchers, bakers, greengrocers, fishmonger and delicatessen to buy my weekly groceries, I don’t want to be lured into buying other things at the same time. If I want new clothes, I will go to a clothes shop. If I want new shoes I will go to a shoe shop. If I need a new TV I will look in Curry’s or Argos. These are the shops that used to be on the High Street. If they are not there now it’s because people aren’t using them.

I was watching people being interviewed in the street after the announcement that BHS had gone into administration. Most people seemed sad but there were also comments like “I can never find anything I like.” Well, maybe you are looking in the wrong shop or you are too fussy. I rarely come out of BHS without at least one thing I didn’t go in for.

And that brings me to the point that major stores are trying to be everything to everyone in their search for customers. It doesn’t happen. I recently went into a large M&S on a retail park, the first time I had gone to an M&S since the small store closed in my local town. I felt overwhelmed. It was so big, so many things from which to choose, it was almost impossible to find anything because there was too much choice.

The fact is young people wear different clothes to older people. Quite possibly people in the North have different needs to people in the South (I’m thinking weatherwise here. It’s much colder the further north you go from London). By trying to entice younger people into a shop that caters for older customers you alienate those older people, without necessarily getting the younger ones who consider it a shop for oldies. Likewise, you won’t get older people looking in shops for youngsters. Trying to cater for everyone is costly and a gamble.

This massive shop I was in didn’t have any more cash points than my local BHS, and wasn’t as busy as the now defunct M&S, so despite its size I’m not sure it is doing any better. Maybe it was the time and the day, I don’t know. I hope for their sake it does get busier. In such a large store I expected to see two or three points to pay for your goods, but there was only one with only about four or five tills, and no long queues.

And then there is the cost of providing all those items in multiple stores. I know there is supposed to be economy in bulk buying, but if you end up buying too much as a retailer, what happens to all the things that haven’t been sold at the end of the season. Are they binned? Donated to charity? Sold on to market retailers?

Tesco learned to its cost that having too many choices does not always work. Giving the customer choice is one thing. Giving the customer five types of the same thing is something else entirely. So no doubt the smaller producers will lose out to the big brands because they are no longer wanted.

Internet shopping is being blamed for the demise of many stores, and in some respects this may be true. It is easy to find things on the internet, especially unusual things. I spent all of one Saturday afternoon trawling through my local shops looking for something very specific and couldn’t find it anywhere. Got home and went on the net and found it within minutes, if not seconds. But there has always been an alternative to buying clothes in shops. I bet there isn’t a home in the UK at least that didn’t at some point subscribe to a catalogue store like Kays or Freemans. That was the internet of the past, where you could get an endless choice in multiple sizes all delivered to your door. Such catalogues still exist, possibly even more, plus they have an online presence, too.

So are we heading for a completely shop-free world. Do we even need to go out to the shops? Personally I’d be happy not to but I’m weird that way. But to keep shops going people need to use them. It’s no good saying ‘it’s a shame’ when a shop closes if you haven’t supported it on a regular basis. Shops are there to sell things, not look pretty and fill a space. A small shop cannot give the same choice as a massive store on a retail park. It is not possible to cater for every taste in one place, so BHS, M&S, HM, and all the other retailers, make up your minds who your customers are and try to please them. Not an easy task, I know.

Where will I shop? Well, I’ve probably got enough clothing to last the next twenty years and I’m happy to wear the same thing year in, year out, so I’m not really bothered. I’d just like to put my winter stuff away and wear something light and only have one layer instead of three!