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…

Library Girl to the Rescue

I wrote this for world book day!

Library Girl to the Rescue

They had sighed when books had been banned. They had cried when books had been burnt. They had shouted when bookshops had been shut…but now, this…this was the last straw.

The president had been scared of the power of the books. People dreamed of work, of school; then the words and the worlds from the books got into their heads and their dreams. They had whole new ideas and freedoms every night. They questioned the government, its policies. They had their own ideas about how the country should be run. It had to be stopped.

The libraries were to be closed.

The adults sighed and cried and shouted. But Jake Matthews took action. He gathered all his friends, from school and football and cubs onto the streets, they marched to the libraries and refused to leave. Some tied or chained themselves to the railings.

‘Library Girl, Library Girl, Library Girl!’ Jake chanted, and his friends and their friends all joined in.

Library Girl was the main character in the best selling children’s book of the last ten years. She was a superhero with a difference. She was quiet, she was ordinary looking, she had glasses and grey clothes. Her only concession to superhero convention was her bright red cloak. But despite, or maybe because of, her ordinariness Jake and the other children loved her. She always found a book to help. She always found a new world, the right word, the imagination, to save the day.

The children outside the libraries waited. The police arrived. Their parents and teachers tried to take them home but they would not leave until Library Girl had been.

A long black car appeared. It drew to a halt by the long line of policemen and women. The door was opened and a tall blonde haired man got out of the car. Everyone gasped. It was the president himself. He held up a hand and made a long, passionate speech about hate and violence and how new and dangerous ideas and words made them grow. He promised to make peace, to solve wars, to end new ideas, new words, new books.

There was a stir behind the crowds and a bell rang out. The people moved to the side and Jake stood on tiptoes, then climbed the railings, to peer over the heads of the crowd. He could see someone on a black bicycle, her red cape streaming behind her. Wow! Library Girl had come! He cheered louder than anyone as she braked by the president and took off her helmet. Her braids fell loose, she put up a hand to her glasses and straightened them. Her brown eyes shone as she took out a book.

‘Words, dreams, worlds. These are what makes us human, makes us real. We dream of better things, of new things, different places. Without books we become blank paper for bold men to write their own thoughts on. We become what they tell us, what they want. We lose all ideas of our own. All dreams are gone. We must not lose our books, our lives.’

Jake chanted ‘Words, dreams, worlds!’

The rest of the children shouted ‘Words, dreams, worlds!’

Then their parents and teachers joined them ‘Words, dreams, worlds!’

The police gathered round chanting too ‘Words, dreams, worlds!’

The president had no words to help him, no dreams to placate the crowd, no worlds for the future. His books had been burnt.

Library Girl smiled and opened the library doors. She gave the people books, full of new words, new worlds, and their dreams became rich and full of colour and life once more.

Dancer

Dancer was a reindeer I crocheted for my niece last year and this is her story.

Dancer

Dancer was only a small reindeer but with her flashing hooves she seemed to be everywhere at once. The rest of the herd ran fast, in straight lines. Dancer skipped along, threading in and out of the reindeer lines never hitting any of them, sidestepping neatly and quickly. One day she was practicing her dance moves in a snowy clearing when she heard voices from above.

‘No, not that way! NOT THAT WAY! Aaaarrrrrgh!’

A sleigh full of toys, elves and a big man dressed in red tumbled onto the snow in front of Dancer. Attached to the sleigh was a tangled mess of reindeer and harness ropes. While the elves rushed around picking up the presents Dancer went up to the reindeer heap and quickly sorted them out. She ran around giving them directions.

‘Two steps back, to your left, down a bit over there. You come this way.’

In next to no time the reindeer were all standing in straight lines attached neatly in front of the sleigh. The big man in red came up to Dancer

‘Well Dancer, you sorted them out very tidily! Would you like to help pull my sleigh? I don’t want to get tangled round the chimneys tonight, you can help plan the crew’s moves.’

‘Oh Father Christmas, I’d love that, but I can’t fly!’ Dancer said sadly.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got some magic to sort that out’ laughed Father Christmas shaking some glittery dust over her. Dancer leapt up into the air at once and danced through the sky, her hooves flashing a complicated pattern among the treetops. Soon she was harnessed up and leading the reindeer team through the sky.

‘Wow! That was amazing!’ Dancer said weaving patterns around the North Pole. The elves got some hay for the reindeer and put the sleigh away while she danced.

‘Ho ho ho! Well done everyone!’ Boomed Father Christmas happily ‘Come and eat now Dancer! Don’t you ever get tired after all your dancing?’

‘Oh but it was so exciting’ said Dancer happily. ‘I could dance all day and all night!’

‘Well we’ll have to think of a way to use all that energy the rest of the year!’ smiled Father Christmas as Dancer finally stopped long enough to eat.

Father Christmas, the elves and the reindeer thought of a brilliant way to use Dancer’s energy all year round. Several times a year all the reindeer entertained the elves and Father Christmas with dance shows. Dancer was lead dancer and helped all the others to put on a great show. There was no time for any shows at Christmas time but at spring, summer and autumn the Christmas workshops were full of the sound of tapping hooves.

When they practised their shows Dancer flitted here and there helping the other reindeer with their moves and making sure everyone knew where to move next. At showtime the elves all sat around the pole and Father Christmas dragged out his favourite armchair to sit in the middle.

The reindeer had a little bit of magic dust to use for the shows so the dancers could leap up into the sky and dance in the clouds. Dancer always leapt the highest and danced the longest. When the show was finished and the applause died down Dancer would scamper round the elf audience dancing rings of excitement until she almost fell over with hunger and tiredness!

On Christmas eve if you look up you might see what looks like lots of little shooting stars darting round the sky but it will be Dancer leading the reindeer, dancing through the night.

About

I’m Kathryn, aged 46 and a mum of a 6 year old boy. Here’s some of my stories.

I’m going to post a story of some sort once a week. Some will be children’s stories and some won’t. I’ve been writing on and off since I was a child but only on a regular basis for the last year or two.

I’ve started a series about Zanzibar Postlethwaite, her odd and embarrassing parents and her real life invisible possum, stories for 5-9 year olds. I’m working on a novel for teenagers now, about a pirate captain’s daughter who has to find her unknown not fully human side.

I hope you find something you like.