23
Apr
Taking A Break
This Week We Are Mostly: taking a peedie break. But fret not, ShiverWrigglers! We’ll be back next week: possibly even with a new contributor. How exciting is that?!
13
Apr
Barriers
By: Tess
As my teacher bumbles like a droning bee,
My mind flutters to get free
Of tales of War fifty years in the past,
And of the peace that will never last.
As fifty years ahead I blink my eyes,
I stand and stare in mild surprise.
The classroom’s gone – changed into waves
And the desks and chairs to wires and staves.
My fellow pupils are tall, dark men
Whose weary arms and backs all bend
And stoop to lift again and again
The stones and rocks – regardless of rain
That trickles down their hair and face.
They all continue at a steady pace
To build and toil and heave and strain
With eyes that are blank, yet laced with pain.
I blink my eyes and look once more,
But the scene is different from before.
My friends are the same men, smiling now,
But with similar work I know not how.
For still they build and still they toil
Yet now it’s on more fertile soil.
They talk and laugh with twinkling eyes
That shine with faith and compromise.
And as they work I hear them sing
Of peace and love.
Their songs take wing
And now, back whole again, I bend and pray
In the chapel I saw them build that day.
Their work is done and now they rest,
Hands serenely folded on their breasts.
Yet in the stillness I hear them sing
And through the silence their songs take wing
And settle together in the form of a dove
Whose face returns their undying love.
This poem, written over ten years ago, was inspired by The Italian Chapel on Lamb Holm in Orkney. You can read about the Churchill Barriers and the Italian Chapel online here.
13
Apr
Postponing the First ShiverWriggle Tag #swtag
Now I know we promised that we’d be hosting and playing a game of literary tag from 10am on 28th April to 10am on 29th April 2012, but sometimes things change and life gets in the way. Due to a change in circumstances we’re going to have to reschedule ShiverWriggle Tag, but rest assured it will take place this year (possibly the end of September, but this is at present merely idle contemplation). And, in case you were wondering, no; we haven’t got a full complement of interested authors yet so there’s still plenty of time to register your interest. You can read how to do so and read about #swtag in general here.
10
Apr
The Banshee of Dún Rí: Book Two: Chapter Four
By: Finlay
Falbach the scout pressed forward into the thicket a little further. He was sure there was no one here. In fact he agreed with those who had counselled that the ambush was likely a mere invention of the vagrant they had come across. He stood still and sniffed the air, he put his ear to the ground. Nothing. He turned to go.
He only managed one step. He felt a sharp pain in his back and cried out. Almost before he hit the ground a thong was round his neck, choking his eyeballs from their sockets. His tongue, squeezed from its proper place lapped at the earth under him. Then a leather boot stepped deftly onto the back of his neck – Falbach sensed the boot had done this before – and his head was twisted round. With a grating crunch the bones of his neck shattered and the shards went into the flesh either side. Another twist and head and neck separated for ever. Falbach had just time to hear the outraged voice in his head, “But by Nuada’s beard there was no one there!”
*
The battle was fierce and hard, and almost went ill for the King of Ailech, for though the King’s men outnumbered the bandits by a score they were taken unawares and in a tight place. Two men were skewered like herrings for the smoke as they hurried to close ranks around the king; two more met the reaper’s scythe in the hand fighting that followed.
The man called Amrecht fought two bandits at once a short distance from the king, hoping to win honour for himself. But parrying a thrust the sword slipped downwards and injured him grievously. He screamed as his severed manhood slithered, wet and limp, down his leg, and fell to the ground. His foes left him where he lay until he begged his brother to appease his shame in the only way possible and his head was sliced cleanly from his shoulders.
At length though all the bandits were slain or fled, and Flaithbertach tipped sweat from his helm and cursed as he surveyed the scene. He waved to his men, “Get this foul carrion cleaned up and out of my sight. Except for the heads. Bury our dead, and set up camp. And send a rider to bring back that vagrant I turned away.”
03
Apr
Waking
By: everylittlething
The young mother cradled her little one close to her breast and thought that human love could never be deeper than this. For many months she had been aware that her behaviour, her lifestyle, would affect the little bud as it became a flower inside her. Of course the days of eating for two were long since gone but diet was an important consideration. There had never been a better time to learn about the nutritional qualities of all she ate. No smoking – not a problem – never touched the things, but no drinking – well that seemed a pity until every cup of tea or coffee made her so sick that all she wanted was clear unadulterated water. Well that was easy – not really self denial – more like self preservation really. Visits to the gym could continue but a personal exercise programme had to be devised. Very clever that because, not only were we keeping fit, we were also preparing our bodies for childbirth and, at the same time, learning exercises that would help get our figures back after the event.
It had been a tense time – nothing was guaranteed – until the last few weeks, when she felt quite relaxed about everything. The little one could survive if it were born just a few weeks early and, besides, the young woman didn’t seem to let anything bother her when she had reached the stage where she positively rolled from one appointment to the next. All this was history now and here she was with a little life in her arms – no longer safely cocooned in her womb but cosy and warm in a mother’s embrace. The little life slept, occasionally moving a tiny finger with delicacy. The mother thrilled. Now they were home. This is our home. How do you like it Baby? I hope you will be happy here. When you fall, I will help you up; when you are ill, I will be your nurse; when you feel sad, we will play a game or read a story to make you smile again. We will watch the birds as they visit the bird table: I’ll tell you which is which. We will listen for their airs and arias – we’ll try to copy them – try to whistle. Oh Little Person, I will love you always.
When the man came home, mother and child were both asleep in a corner of the sofa. He sat opposite them and the stresses and trials of his day just left him. This little being, this child of his, was theirs, for a while, to cherish, to nurture. Together. Their new little family would make the world a better place. He looked around him at the familiar things. They seemed different now. The fire would soon need to be guarded, the table cloth would need to be replaced by mats – little hands would soon be tugging at anything left hanging down. The fragile things would need to be placed on a higher shelf. How this little newcomer would change things.
Baby woke up and made those special newborn noises which are not cries, not words, but gentle sounds without meaning. The mother woke too and was aware that she perhaps shouldn’t have allowed herself to doze off with this precious life in her arms – supposing she had let go her grip and the baby had tumbled to the floor. Her husband, as if reading her thoughts, nervously took the child and carefully placed it in the crib, next to the sofa. His baby continued to make the meaningless sounds. The mother couldn’t wait to refer to her child’s father as Daddy. She chatted to the small person about all that Daddy would have been doing that day. The little one had been used to the sound of her voice since before being born, so a sense of security lulled Baby back to sleep. Both parents sighed deeply and hoped that these precious moments would stay with them always. Life had been good before but they had not really understood its incompleteness. Their love for one another had resulted in this new life. Their own lives were now so full of purpose. The future was en famille. Positivity, hope and, oddly, belonging – these were all feelings the couple now experienced. Neither expected this sense of belonging – Baby belonged with them, they belonged together – and life belongs to every new family. It is Springtime. The little one has woken up.
29
Mar
Introducing Pip Sherbet
It’s exciting times in the ShiverWriggle family right now: Pip Sherbet, our very own little sister, has finally unveiled her own little corner of the world wide web. Born with more than her fair share of happiness, she’s on a mission to spread Bilberry Happiness around the globe.
Find her on the web here: pipsherbet.com; on facebook here, and Twitter here. Do call by and say hello, won’t you?
As if a second member of the family isn’t enough, our little brother’s starting to make noises about making himself known too. He won’t be around quite yet, though.
SWx
28
Mar
New 6-blade razor unexpectedly brings about overnight demise of global capitalism
By: Patrick
In a move that slipped under the radar of even the most shrewd economic analysts, yesterday’s launch of the new 6-blade ‘Synthesix’ razor by UK-based company Wilkinson Sword inadvertently led to the overnight collapse of global capitalism, it has been widely reported.
Bemused and shame-faced economists, including formerly smug author of The Black Swan: The Impact of the Highly Improbable, Nassim N. Taleb, were struggling to come up with a cogent explanation for this unprecedented phenomenon. One notable exception was Steven D. Levitt, co-author of the influential Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything, who suggested in an interview earlier today that the introduction of the ‘Synthesix’ to an already, in small parts, sceptical consumer market had resulted in what he termed a ‘global bullshit epiphany’, in which people finally in one moment that Levitt likened to ‘a kind of Enlightenment’ understood the cynical mechanisms through which they had been enslaved for so many years. Levitt commented:
“If you consider the field of consumer electronics, for example, there is clearly a significant technological leap from a black and white TV to a colour TV, or from a cassette player to a CD player, or even from a CD player to an iPod. But increasingly, attempts to sell newer forms of technology to the public, based perhaps on size, weight or curvature, have been founded on rather more nebulous technological pay-offs. I had anticipated that the much-hyped launch of 3-D television would bring about something like the ‘bullshit epiphany’ we are witnessing today, but I was somewhat premature in that judgment, as many people have in fact gone out and spent considerable sums of money in order to watch television programmes in a three dimensional format. It turned out that people needed an even more bullshit product to be presented to them in order to bring about this epiphany.”
Although Levitt’s ‘bullshit epiphany’ thesis has not been widely disseminated, it appears that in a cruder form it has been lurking for a while now. Indeed, Proctor and Gamble, who, through their brand, Gillette, have largely pioneered the move to add increasing numbers of blades to what was already a highly satisfactory product, released a statement earlier today condemning Wilkinson Sword for their hubris and naiveté:
“We realised with the launch of our 5-blade Fusion razor back in 2006, in which we not only added two more blades than our 3-blade Mach3 razor, but also a single sixth blade on the rear for precision trimming, that we may have pushed the public’s capacity to swallow our bullshit to its very limits. However, through a highly skilful and expensive advertising campaign featuring some of the world’s top sporting figures, we managed to persuade an economically significant percentage of the more aspirational male population that this was a worthwhile investment. Indeed, it turned out to be so successful that we then released the Fusion Power, which was battery-powered and emitted micro-pulses to increase razor glide. And I guess we should also mention the Fusion Power Phantom with the darker colour scheme, and the more recent Fusion ProGlide and Fusion ProGlide Power series with re-engineered blades. But be that as it may, we have always been highly respectful of the public and we never even considered adding a straight sixth blade to any of our products. Instead we have focused our attentions on other products to which we could profitably – and ethically – add a number of additional bullshit features, such as fabric softener and dog food. We feel that Wilkinson Sword would have done well to have heeded the increasing public literacy over bullshit products (although given the phenomenal success of Apple in updating their products with bullshit features on a bi-annual basis, we retain a degree of sympathy). Through their impulsivity, naiveté and hubristic desire for increased market share, the world as we know it is no more and we are all out of a job.”
Perhaps the most interesting aspect of the overnight collapse of the increasingly hegemonic global capitalist system has been how peacefully it has happened. Reports have come in from all over the globe of people, most of whom are newly unemployed, walking the streets with inane smiles on their faces and occasionally bursting into fits of giggles. Yet this behaviour has come as no surprise to Jonathan Zeitlin, professor of sociology, public affairs, political science and history at the University of Wisconsin-Madison:
“In many ways what we are seeing on the streets today is reminiscent of the behaviours of those who experimented with hallucinogenic drugs as part of the counter-cultural revolution of the 60s. Under the influence of these psychoactive substances, people came to understand the absurdity of everything their lives had stood for up to that point and this epiphany induced hysterical laughter in the majority of people (along with a few unfortunate suicides). I think that what we are seeing on the streets today is a similar collective enlightenment, albeit one mediated by the launch of a shaving product rather than the ingestion of a hallucinogenic substance. In many ways, this makes this neo-enlightenment both more authentic and, perhaps, more sustainable.”
In support of Zeitlin’s position, former futures trader Paul Fox commented:
“Like many people I have spoken to in the streets today, the ‘Synthesix’ advert hit me with the force of a revelation, a miracle even. I feel ashamed to admit it now, but I have been updating my TV, laptop, car, and, of course, my shaving products, on an almost yearly basis for a long time now. When I look back, it is difficult not to collapse in hysterical, side-splitting laughter at the new features which seduced me into making the purchases, and then of course show them off to my friends. But at the time, it all seemed so real, so new.”
A spokesperson for the soon-to-be-liquidated company behind the ‘Synthesix’ razor, Wilkinson Sword said:
“While this was clearly not the kind of outcome we had anticipated or hoped for following the launch of the ‘Synthesix’ razor, we would like to think that we will be remembered fondly in the post-capitalist society that we have in no small way been responsible for creating.”
There are some reports that pockets of resistance remain in China, as many of the newly aspirational citizens of the People’s Republic do not seem to find the ‘Synthesix’ range in any way amusing or preposterous and have in fact been showing off their new purchases in public locations, such as gymnasium changing rooms. The full implications of China’s resistance are as yet unclear.
19
Mar
Leave it there
By: Elysia
Leave it there, my love,
Lest you disturb far more
Than dust and bones
And corpses of flies
Who withered in the attic there
During long, hot summers
When the room’s dead air
Was still and thick,
Yet safe.
Leave it there, my love,
Lest you lie in bed
Awake at night
Scared and alone
As her voice wails high
Through the summer air
Long after dark, and dry
Creaking wings beat
The night.
Leave it there, my love,
Lest I wake in the morning
And find you gone,
Switched for a changeling
Of grass and straw
And though I’ll weep
I will see you no more.
Leave it there,
My love.
Concealed shoes: Australian settlers and an old superstition
13
Mar
My Scar
By: Tess
I don’t tell people
now.
It’s not that I want to hear
the sick jokes,
but I hate the embarrassed
sideways look
when someone remembers you.
They don’t know you,
they only know
the scar you left.
Their cautious pity
tears my skin as you did.
I keep it hidden now,
my scar.
It is not shame
I feel.
I just refuse
to live as your victim
throughout my life.
You made me stronger.
I will never thank you,
but I can walk where
others dare not tread. They flinch
where I walk unfazed.
It is my strength,
my scar.
You will have
nothing.
No part of it. You are
nothing.
My personal triumph,
my scar.
I don’t tell people.
Not any more.
06
Mar
My 12-Inch Wood
By: Craig Forshaw
Title by Steve Clarke
They were called Seedlings. People no taller than a centimetre, living amongst the tall blades of grass in the garden.
They almost burned to death on the day Olivia discovered them with her magnifying glass. She tried to apologise, but they didn’t understand her.
So, Olivia just watched them.
They had houses, about five centimetres high, dotted around the twelve-inch settlement, but Olivia didn’t know what they had used to build them. They would be awake when Olivia arrived in the morning, and went to sleep several times a day. It wasn’t until she was watching a nature documentary, years later, that she realised that time passes more slowly for smaller creatures. An entire day must be tiring for the Seedlings.
They wore silver suits that reflected in the sunlight like the top of a bottle of milk. The children had a game where one of them would have to touch the others with a blue glove, and they would freeze in place. When only one person was left, the others would unfreeze and fall about laughing.
Olivia laughed, too.
She wondered whether they had always been here, or whether they were spacemen, because of their suits.
One day, she awoke to the sound of the leaf-blower.
Autumn was here.
Her father, oblivious, swung the blower towards them.
When Olivia arrived, they were gone. Only a miniature shoe remained.
On her knees, she cried, though she didn’t know them.
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