I don’t usually blog stories or poems, but just for variety (and because it’s far too silly to try to actually sell) here is a little storyette what I wrote. It’s called “Bored”.
The sky hangs dark and menacing above the horizon. Rain beats mercilessly onto the cold barren land. A light shines from a single dwelling-place, defiant against winter’s icy hand.
Inside two men survey their labours, waiting for the coming of the hour.
The older man speaks. “Come forward, young apprentice, and behold.”
“Do it properly. We agreed.”
A sigh. “Behold what, oh glorious and worthy master?”
“Behold the power in this land writ large.” He holds aloft a manuscript covered in mystic runes. “Above us,” he declaims, “only the Great Ones. Below us, the minion classes quake in their fear.”
The young one takes the manuscript and reads in wonder. “Then it is finished?”
“Why are maintenance-”
A sharp look from the wiser older man quashes his tongue. He tries again. “Why are those who tend…” he shrugs, ”…those who tend this mighty ground on which we stand shown green?”
“Because, my youthful friend, green is the colour of hope. Green is the colour of life. Green is the colour that was prophesied.”
The younger man pauses. “Can we stop doing this now, Dave?”
The older man scratches his armpit and gazes out across the Rotherside and Armley Business Development Centre carpark. “’Spose.”
His colleague puts down the manuscript and spins on his seat. “It’s good that you finished the Org Chart.”
A sigh. “It’s ok. You wanna do corridor chair races?”
The young one nods. “Why are Maintenance in green?”
Another sigh. “I quite like green.”