Moving Stories

Once upon a time eight years ago, I was a teenager doing my GCSEs. English was one of my favourite subjects, not least for the short-prose fiction stories we read and analysed. Here I was introduced to the story ‘Games at Twilight’ by Anita Desai. I studied it until exams were finished, and didn’t read it again. That was, up until now.

For eight years that story had been sitting in the middle of my mind, nagging at me, asking me to remember it. The story follows a young boy playing with his peers and his emotional and cognitive reaction to how he is treated by them (I shall say no more, lest I spoil the story) . I remember the story, and reading it now moves me as much as it did all those years ago. It speaks to me, and isn’t that the core of a moving story?

And then there’s this comic:

‘This is is something I saw happen on Tuesday’ by Eleanor Davis. This is another quick read, but in so few pages and sketches, the feeling it evokes is so profound. The character, the real life man, he is lost while everyone around him is watching.

The two stories speak to me so much over where I am in life at the moment, that I couldn’t not share them!

Poem – Incessant Noises

If they couldn’t hear the voices,
The sound of incessant noises,
In the ears buds that replaced
Nature’s hum with discords of whispers,
All would feel askew.

If the transmissions failed,
The late night workers bailed
From the satellite towers,
That did indeed tower the cities,
Havoc would come.

Because none want silence;
Silence revokes violence,
And in the words of philosophers
‘Where is the fun in peace?’.
Let misery rule.

Stones tap metal frame.

Knives pinch running wires.

And what is this? A monologue? An infection?
Booming from somewhere
Atop the satellite towers
That do indeed tower the city.

‘May all beings be happy’.
Families sit now on trampolines,
Listening beneath the plastic of those ear buds
To the lectures of ‘enlightened’ ones.
Until it fades.

A stillness falls,
Until children of savages bawl.
What was that deafness that was so beautiful?
That embraced the people as would relatives
Lost long ago.

But now where none hear the noises,
Of their siblings’ inner voices,
Hardened glances monopolise communication.
And all the while,
The hoopla crawls to her feet.

 

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New Comic – Ook-Exit (Brexit)

Maybe i’m a little late for this to be topical, but with Scotland’s refused wish for a referendum on their independence, I thought there was some tie in!
Context: I used to live in Denmark on an artists’ residency with lots of international people.
This comic is published, among a selection of other ‘Patriotic’ comics, in the Cyclops Zine.