Seven Stories

I missed last week because it was the last day of the summer holidays and I took my son to Seven Stories, the children’s book museum in Newcastle http://www.sevenstories.org.uk/.

So here are seven stories to make up for missing a week. They bear no resemblance to the real Seven Stories apart from the drawn boat, but I did try to use plots of the seven universal stories identified by Christopher Booker https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Seven_Basic_Plots

Seven Stories

The Cellar

You walk down the stairs unworried into the dark.

Then you hear it…the scrabbling and the soft groans. You smell the fear, taste the tang of anticipation waiting for you. You feel terror but see nothing.

One step into the room.

The scurrying gets louder, you taste the waiting creatures waiting, waiting ready to pounce. You see only black. Then you tense your eyes shut and lunge for the switch.

A blaze of white.

Scuttling stops, you sense nothing. You open your eyes and see nothing. The light scours the fearful, fearsome things away and you are safe.

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Ground Floor

Once upon a time she went to work on the ground floor. She opened the door and stood in the light of the sun shining through the window. She saw the room full of people busily working. She went to the corner and put the kettle on.

‘Make us a coffee, Jen,’ said her boss smiling at her.

‘If you’ll take me for a stronger drink after work,’ she replied.

It was her story and she knew she could make it happy ever after.

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First Floor

Deep in the middle of the first floor there was hidden a magic wand. The one that found it would have riches beyond their wildest dreams and happiness beyond measure. The bold man entered the dread room determined to take the wand for his own. He battled the dark guardian and bamboozled the wise witch. He cut the thorns with his shining sword until he reached the very place he sought.

He stood for a moment looking at the wand in its crystal case. A movement behind him made him turn, brandishing his sword. The wolf’s head fell to the floor followed by its bloodied body. The man reached for his wand.

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Second Floor

Ugh, I really could do without this. Sunday dinner with the family. I hate sprouts and mum always makes them. Billy is a pest, dad is boring, and gran smells of wee. Still it could be worse I suppose, I only have to do it once a week. Imagine if it was every day.

Over cooked joint and undercooked potatoes. Huh. Billy goes on and on about my girlfriend all through the meal. Mum smirks, dad and gran tease and giggle. I want to stab them all with my fork.

Then it happens. I don’t know why but gran starts choking. Dad pats her back and mum shouts useless advice. Then her lips go blue. She struggles to stand up. I get behind her bring my arms round her and heave up under her ribs. She coughs up and breathes again.

I feel odd. I sit down and watch the others cluster round gran. She’s OK now and smiles at me. I pat her hand and smile back. While I wash up I think about it all. I saved her life. What if she’d choked to death?

The afternoon is just like normal. Monopoly and rubbish TV. But I’m not the same. I see it all differently. They won’t always be here. Or maybe I won’t. Who knows? Best make the most of it as mum always says and I always sigh.

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Third Floor

I silently thank my godmother as I walk into the third floor ballroom. She gave me this stunning dress. I threw my old jeans down gladly, they were worn out to tatters. And these shoes! So sleek, so shiny, like polished glass. I sashay into the roomful of dancing chatting people with my head held high. This might be my only chance to do this. A party, and I’m the best dressed and the most sparkling.

I meet his eyes across the room. Yes, yes, cliché alert but that’s how it happens, for real. His eyes are almost as black as his hair and I swim through them, lost. I’m just standing there looking like a lemon watching him. He comes up to me and holds my hand. I’m still staring, but it doesn’t matter because he’s staring back. He touches my cheek with his lips and I know. He’s the one.

We danced all night and talked. I’ve never talked like that with anyone. Then I have to go. I meant to give him my number but it was too late. My godmother would turn my dress back to ragged jeans if I didn’t leave. One of the shoes drops off as I run out of the room but I have to leave. We’ll find each other again, I know.

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Fourth Floor

A beautifully drawn boat is bobbing on the painted sea by the door. She climbs aboard and sets sail for adventure. Across the room she sails, through strange, bright-coloured lands filled with flat, but loud creatures. Talking birds are drawn overhead and annoying rabbits chew carrots and cause trouble.

She escapes the sea-monster. A superhero flies up and bubbles saying ‘ker-pow!’ ‘Crack!’ and ‘Blam!’ appear above the creature. She is whisked out of danger and back onto the boat. Meddling kids solve mysteries for her and unmask villains. Yellow skinned people make her giggle so hard she nearly crashes the boat into a nuclear power plant.

A cat and mouse die over and over, teeth shatter and tails blow up. She pilots her boat safely round the room and lands by the door once more. She ties the boat up, draws a doorhandle onto the door and leaves.

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Attic

I can do this. I fling open the door and look for him. I know he’s considered to be the hero but I will rule. I will have no time for his wishy washy nonsense. I have the laser gun and my knives. The witches run, screaming my name. I kill them and walk on to the hero. I tie him up and tell him my plans. I will run this place properly. My enemies will quake and I will be given everything I deserve.

I kill his snivelling little friend and laugh at his tears. I point the gun at him. He tries, oh how he tries. He appeals to my non-existent better nature. He feels sorry for me and my tragic childhood. He tells me I can kill him but will never get the better of his order. Then he begs.

I pull the trigger but there’s a blinding flash from his eyes. It hits the gun, it hits me. I burn, I burn, I burn…