Back at my parents in Gosport for a while. Slowly healing and recovering.
This is a story. A 4000 odd word short story which I wrote this weekend, using suggestions from various Facebook friends. It's a little bit of a nonsense, but it's the first creative thing of it's kind that I've written in years and I'm pleased with it :) Have a read if you fancy!
It was a time of Great Unrest.
Fires burned in the city of Bright Helmstone and hordes of evil Who’d-ii ran rampant, looting and torching anything they couldn't steal. It seemed that nothing could stop them – not even the fearsome Dragon Guard. Try as they might, they could not control the terror. For weeks now, the city had sat beneath a shadow; an actual shadow of ash and smoke combined with the deep sadness and fear that had enveloped the people below.
A decision had to be made.
Princess Stephanie stood in the office of Mayor Vee, looking forlorn, and clutching her Hello Kitty in one hand, a bottle of Bud in the other. Mayor Vee himself sat behind the imposing desk, his dark, smouldering good looks still perfect in spite of the scenes of horror unfolding outside the vast windows behind him. He was unflappable. His personal Aid, the impeccable Mr Mepham was poised to take any order and follow it through to the end.
“Oh Mayor Vee, please, we must do something! This Who’d-ii horde is too great a force for our Dragon Guard! They are tearing the city apart at the seams! Please, make the call!”
Mayor Vee looked disconcerted for a second.
“But, your majesty, you know that she left the city with no intention of coming back. I cannot.”
Mr Mepham cleared his throat.
“Sir, I wouldn't interrupt if I didn't think it was necessary, but I believe Princess Stephanie is right. We need someone the people can rally around. Even Dastardly Jason left Bright Helmstone last night, taking his gang of urchins with him. The rats, it would appear, are abandoning the sinking ship”
Mayor Vee sat deep in thought. Calling her back might just be their only chance. The Guard were managing to hold back the worst of the attacks but they didn't seem to be able to put an end to the violence. Too many beautiful landmarks had fallen, the Palace Pier, the Pavilion, the Clock-tower, damaged perhaps beyond repair at the hands of the enemy. That afternoon he had spoken to the Guard Captain, the terrifying Pipski; (Do not mock her name, nor think that it means she's a cuddly, fluffy dragon. Oh no, her multi-coloured flames burned hotter than any other dragon on her Guard. Her turquoise and pink scales were as bright and strong as any other and she was the only female dragon in the city) They had discussed at length the options available to them and the outlook was, she admitted, rather bleak. And after all, the horde had attacked the Bertrum Thumbcat Home for Abandoned Kitties earlier that evening, leaving slightly singed and soggy moggies all over the surrounding streets (Of course, the fire teams, led by Chief Matthew Bush, had raced to the scene and put the blaze out almost as soon as it had started. In fact, that Captain was due a proper Maylorly thank you...). If that wasn't enough incentive for her to go against the decision to never return, nothing else was.
“Mr Mepham? Fetch the special iphone. It's time to call for the Scarlet Harlot”
* * * * * * *
Somewhere in the deserts of France, a small yellow and black striped dune buggy was speeding along a dusty track, flying past boulders and cacti. The driver was crouched low over the wheel, his amber-tinted goggles glinting in the fading sunset, carrying deep in the pockets of his black and red leather jacket a very special phone with a very important call waiting, for a very different kind of girl. And just over that craggy hill was the girl, if the chip he'd implanted in her boots was still working properly...
He sped up the hill, taking off for a few seconds at the peak and then careering down the other side; a bullet suddenly tore through the air just beside his left ear narrowing missing him; taking evasive action, he slammed the breaks on and turned to the side, rolling off the buggy and down the last few meters towards the structure built out of tyres and scrap metal. Standing on top of that structure, bright red hair streaming out in the wind, holding a still smoking gun, and very definitely wearing those boots, was the girl he was seeking. Chloë, the Scarlet Harlot.
He rolled to a stop finally and pulled the goggles off.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck you with a rake! You could have killed me! You could have taken my ear off!!” He shouted.
Chloe snapped the safety back into place on her gun and said:
“Hey Bob. Good to see you too. Took you long enough. The ride has somewhat ruined your hawk though”
She leapt down from her perch, helped him up, dusted him off, and, reaching behind her, handed him a Desperados beer from a cooling unit. She handed him a cigarette from a dusty packet in the pocket of her tool belt and lit her own using a very old silver zippo.
They drank in silence, both of them smoking in the dusk. In spite of being Super Hero and Sidekick, The Scarlet Harlot and Bob Beerbong had always had a relationship of very few actual words. Eventually, Bob spoke:
“Chloë, you have to come back. Bright Helmstone needs you. The Mayor has asked for you. Take the call.”
He reached into his pocket and held out a bright red iphone.
“Do it.”
Looking at him, she realised that something was definitely different this time, so she took the phone and putting it to her ear said:
“Ashley? I'm listening.”
* * * * * * * * * *
In happier times, Jonny T's “Birdcage Rah-Rah Club, Bar and Bakery” was a meeting point for the beautiful, the creative, the strange and the mischievous of Bright Helmstone, who flocked there to see and be seen, excited and happy to even get on the guest-list of such an exclusive and famous night-spot. With Jonny T himself making weekly appearances on his own hallowed stage, it was THE place to be. Somehow, it struck a balance between achingly cool and retro grunge, a paradoxical combination of old-school and futuristic post-apocalyptica. The centre-piece above the main bar was an enormous representation of Cerberus, the three-headed guard dog for Hell.
Now, with the city burning and the streets unsafe, the brave few who hadn't retreated by night to the old Zombie War caverns beneath the city, had gathered there to defend the place they loved so much.
Madame Jo-Jo Garbutt was in charge behind the bar tonight. Madame Jo-Jo had been Bar Mistress for Jonny T since she'd moved to the city. She'd arrived one day three years ago with a suitcase and her tabby cat Lily and now lived in an apartment above the night-spot. She'd also adopted two more cats who'd hung around the kitchen doors for days after the Scarlet Harlot had left the city, until she took them in; According to the name tags on their collars, one, white and fluffy, was Celia, the other black and sleek was called Vince. Lily didn't really approve but tolerated them well enough. Highly skilled as a witch, Jo-Jo seemed to prefer the comfort and controlled chaos of the Bar she tended so well. She was eyeing the boarded up windows and mixing drinks, while little Johny Miller did the rounds with his tray, taking the drinks (on the house, of course) to the people scattered about the tables near the stage. He was a good boy, a little green around the edges but fierce, and oh, could he strut. He got more tips than any of Jonny T's other Table Minions.
She glanced about the room. One particular table caught her eye. The women assembled around it had been here every night since the troubles had started, initially with fire in their eyes, fire to mirror the ones which burned on the outskirts of the city in the old Blackhawk and Lark Bridge estates. Tonight, after so many weeks of fighting, they were quiet, heads bent over their drinks.
Miss Rachel Elizabeth; whiskey-drinking fiery redhead of Irish descent, with a body to die for. She seemed to live here, always snapping photos of the customers and characters who walked through those doors. More recently, she'd been documenting the aftermath of the horrors on the streets during the daylight hours. The marauding Who'D-ii retreated to their camps in the burned out high-rise blocks when the sun came out; whether they were simply resting or genuinely afraid of the daylight was not a question anyone could answer with any authority. Next to her sat Lady Michelle, a fine, handsome woman with a mane of long, dark hair. Rumour had it she was descended from the Original Tribes of Northern America and was part dragon. Madame Jo-Jo didn't know for sure, but she certainly wouldn't want to be around her if she sneezed...
Sat across from them was the mysterious Estherkins, a pretty young girl with little black rimmed glasses perched on her nose and capable of the most infectious laugh. Now, she was a rare thing indeed. One of the last remaining Air Painters, she possessed the ability to make what she painted come off the page and into life. Sadly, this was only possible when her spirits were raised and currently, the only spirit she was interested in was gin. And who could blame her?
The fourth person at the table was Ca'Rys from the ancient lands to the West. Her long brown hair was twisted into a long, thick plait and long ropes of gold hung from her slender neck. It was widely acknowledged that she was psychic and therefore much courted by the people of Bright Helmstone. However, her power too was blinking at the red line of battery-almost-empty.
They were an unusual group, thought Madame Jo-Jo, but their hearts were brave, loyal and true and if this was the End of Days, who better to fight to the death with than these? She checked the wand concealed in her corset. All those years of training at Hogwarts would yet pay off. Looking up at the large grandfather clock in the corner, she decided it was time for a song. When Jo-Jo was worried or afraid, she found comfort in music and especially singing. She left her post behind the bar and walked over to the stage, climbed the three small steps up and nodded at the young piano player. The people near the stage stopped talking and looked up at her, appreciatively. She waited for the opening bars and then sang:
“When you're talkin' to yourself
And nobody's home
You can fool yourself
You came in this world alone
Alone
So nobody ever told you baby
How it was gonna be
So what'll happen to you baby
Guess we'll have to wait and see...”
The music and the words were suddenly halted as a booming knock came at the door. Once, twice, three tim- *CRASH*
The door came off it's hinges and slammed to the floor. Everyone in the bar leapt to their feet, brandishing the weapons they had by their sides. Silhouetted in the orange glow of the fires, in the now open doorway, stood two figures, one tall and vast, the other small and...buxom.
“Um, sorry about that. I didn't mean to knock so hard you see”...the speaker stepped forward into the light. “I'm Rob. Rob the Mercenary with the Heart of Gold, but you can call me just Rob. This here is my apprentice, Tamsine Olliviere. Anyone fancy a Southern Comfort and Coke?” He held a large flagon in his equally large hand. He smiled at everyone; some cautiously lowered their weapons, moved forward towards him and started to pick up the door.
“Let me” said Madame Jo-Jo, who had it all fixed with a flick of her wand. “Lets all have another drink and then I'll do another song or two, lighten the mood.”
“Oooh, ta,” said the new arrival. “I've heard this is the place where the Resistance is starting, and we're here to lend a hand”
Tamsine Olliviere, the Buxom Apprentice nodded and lit a cigarette, moving off to the side.
“That's about right” said Rachel, coming forward to shake his hand. “Take a seat. We're guarding the club and effectively the heart of the city. But I won't lie, it's not going massively well.”
Tamsine reappeared with a big plate of biscuits she'd rustled up from behind the bar and a flagon of wine. Everyone gathered at the table made appreciative noises and got stuck in. “Thanks, Tamsine” said Lady Michelle.
“S'alright,” she replied, “That's what I do”.
* * * * * * * *
The masked Scarlet Harlot and her mohawked sidekick sat opposite the Mayor. Mr Mepham to the side and Princess Stephanie, chugging her Bud, sat on the window seat.
“So, what you're saying is, these Who'D-ii thugs are destroying our city and your Guard is powerless to stop them? Impossible. I saw those dragons wipe out the Chavscum uprising of '83 in two days. Flat.” said Chloë
“This time it is different,” replied the Mayor, “This time they are seeking the precious Haitchdee Teevee and Eye Pads, which seem to be their main sources of power. They seem unstoppable.”
“And please, Miss Harlot,” added the Princess, “think of the kittens. Won't you please, think of the kittens?”
Chloë crossed her legs and steepled her fingers as she sat deep in thought. The other four sat waiting expectantly. Minutes passed. Five, then ten. The Princess finished her beer and called for another. Chloë rose and walked over to window, gazing out at her beloved city below. Finally, the Harlot turned and spoke.
“Right. I'm going to need a baseball bat, a massive amplifier, as many boxes of cat biscuits as you can muster, and cake. A lot of cake. Put out a call for Dastardly Jason to come back and I need Pipski by my side. We'll also have to bring in the Illustrious Nom. This calls for all citizens of Bright Helmstone to pull together. It'll be sundown soon. Let's make this happen”
* * * * * * * * *
As little as an hour later, everything was arranged.
The whole group were to rendez-vous at Jonny T's and launch the counter-attack from there. As soon as they arrived, a cheer went up from the fearless group inside. The numbers of Resistance fighters had increased as whispers that the Scarlet Harlot was back and about to kick some ass had spread through the tunnels and alleyways. Jo-Jo came running towards her to give her school friend a huge hug, and Vince and Celia rubbed around her legs, purring loudly. As Chloë looked around, she recognised her old friends Kimmeh, a professional footballer with a killer shot and Fayrie, everybody's favourite Fairy Godmother who was flitting around the place giving people words of moral support and encouragement. Even Dastardly Jason and the equally wicked Sascha were there, nodding a begrudging acknowledgement to her and Bob. She simply smiled in return and Sascha swirled away in her long black cloak, her newest and most handsome sidekick hurrying after her. Well, thought Chloë, she obviously still doesn't like me. Never-mind. Maybe one day she'll forgive me for foiling her attempt to take over the world...
Jonny T came bustling over in his finest red sequinned dress and embraced her, kissing her on both cheeks. “Darling!” he exclaimed, “You're BACK!”
Chloë laughed and nodded. “Still looking as fabulous as always, I see...” Jonny T gave a mock-pout and replied “Well darling, if I'm dying today, I should die as I have lived – with flair and a damned fine pair of heels on!” He blew her a kiss and tottered off to give more orders.
There were several new faces as well. One in particular caught her eye: a willowy, pixie-faced girl who seemed to be wielding a sword almost as big as she was. Bob appeared at her side and noticed her looking across at the pretty blonde girl.
“That's Phoenix. She's new around here. Looks small and innocent doesn't she? She's wicked strong though. And she can fly.”
At these words, two large silvery feathered wings unfolded from Phoenix's back and she took off to join Fayrie who was hovering above the main doorway, looking out anxiously...
In the fading light, enormous numbers of Who'D-ii had gathered at the far end of the square surrounding the club and were fighting amongst themselves over who had the best shoes. They snarled and shouted, hurling obscenities in the direction of Jonny T's, like feral beasts. Chloë and Bob moved towards the doorway and watched cautiously.
“There must be thousands of them out there,” stated Bob. “Do you think we can defeat them? This is our last chance. The city won't survive much longer...” Chloë turned to him and replied “Yes. I truly believe we can. We have something they don't: Something worth fighting for. And you have your part to play in all this, Bob” He nodded, switching on his torch and skated off round the corner of the club, disappearing into a side-street, brandishing her bat.
Behind her, in the kitchens of Jonny T's, the Illustrious Nom was creating the most incredible cakes known to all life forms, cakes which would make you so happy you'd forget your own name. Cakes which tasted so good that you would never find joy in any other food again. Vince was running all over the kitchen surfaces, meowing excitedly, knocking bags of flour over much to the annoyance of Nom. The eager helpers carried the cakes out on trays, piling them up around them, stuffing them into bags. Estherkins, having eaten just a few crumbs of one of the chocolate muffins, was busy painting up a storm (not a literal one, in her case), catapults and slingshots popping into existence beside her. Her eyes were shining with a joyful determination, a smudge of paint on her nose. Dastardly Jason and his Urchins were loading up with the weapons and cakes; Pipski had her Guard ready and waiting to provide cover and fight fire with fire if need be, everyone was poised for the fight. Bob came skidding back into the club, presented Chloë with her baseball bat and announced that the amp and the system was all set up.
And this, my friends, is how the Battle of Bright Helmstone was won.
Chloë stepped out onto the street with Vince and Celia flanking her and she meowed, louder and longer than any human; her voice echoed in the square and the nearby streets, and slowly, as the final sound died away, thousands of cats started pouring into sight to form a huge, purring, mewling mass around her. She threw the cat biscuits out to them and commanded
“Cats of Bright Helmstone! Your City is threatened! Do your Duty! Protect us!”.
She looked over her shoulder at the group behind her and said with a wink: “I'd always wanted to say that!”
It was time.
She turned to face the assembled group behind her.
“My fellow citizens of Bright Helmstone! I stand before you tonight as the Scarlet Harlot, but this is not a time for Super Heroes; this is the time for all people to stand united against the common enemy, to rise up and to fight back! Too long have we all hidden in the shadows, too long have you been at the mercy of the Who’d-ii horde! This changes tonight! Together we fought the zombies and the Chavscum and we can do it again! We stand for something, we will not fall for anything! Tonight, we are ALL HEROES!”
The crowd roared. Chloë smiled and turned on her heels.
The Scarlet Harlot lead the charge, brandishing her bat, an army of cats around her, her friends in her wake. Out of the speakers which Bob had rigged up all around came blasting the unmistakable voice of Chester Bennington, lead vocalist of Linkin Park. The Who'D-ii howled and some clamped their hands over their ears. Evidently, Nu-Metal was indeed one of their weaknesses, as Chloë had suspected. The first wave of cakes went soaring through the air, whacked by the Harlot's bat, punted beautifully by Kimmeh, thrown in delicate, curving arches by Ca'Rys and launched by everyone else on the ground with Estherkins' magical catapults. From the air, Phoenix and Fayrie pelted the oncoming enemy with muffins and cupcakes and Madame Jo-Jo was blasting them onwards with joyfully shouted spells! The Urchins at Jason's command ran ahead and began cramming the cakes into the mouths of the more stupid Who'D-iis who had actually come forward in the rain of baked confectionery. Rob the Mercenary had picked Ca'Rys up and was helping her get more height with her throws, lobbing them at the bastards with his free arm. All cake-hell was breaking lose. The Dragon Guard circled above, swooping occasionally to catch a random Who'D-ii and chew him up good.
As the cakes went into their mouths, as they licked the icing from their fingers, the black-clad enemy fell under their spell and started to sit down where they were; the minute they hit the ground with vacant, rapturous smiles on their faces, the cats swarmed over them and (using their opposable thumbs) began tying them up with string they'd produced from nowhere. But the battle was far from won.
Some, the braver of the horde made it as far as the front line of defence and launched themselves at the Resistance fighters they found there. Johny Miller screamed as one grabbed his hair and tried to steal his trainers; he beat him off with a rolling pin. Rachel was fighting three Who-D'ii at once and was doing well until a further two joined the melee and she fell to her knees. Kimmeh fought her way through to her and whacked them all over the head with a large toasting fork. The Mayor himself, sleeves rolled up and perfect hair ruffled, was fighting back to back with the Fire Chief, both of them wooping with triumph when a Who'D-ii fell. The Scarlet Harlot was cutting a swathe through the enemy lines, pouncing catlike from one to the next, bludgeoning them with her trusty bat. Behind her, all around her, her friends fought valiantly. Bob was taking two or more out at a time with his long-board and Jonny T was strangling them with his feather boa. Slowly, the citizens of Bright Helmstone made a dent in the enemy numbers. But it wasn't over.
Under the stars, they fought the enemy, with passion and unrelenting courage. The Scarlet Harlot kept driving them on, shouting words of encouragement, tending to the wounded with her medical kit, fighting tens of Who'D-ii at a time. The enemy began to retreat from the battlefield which the square had become. They wouldn't get far though.
As the dawn became more than a thought and the sky took on a lighter shade of blue, the citizens of Bright Helmstone had emerged from the safety of the caverns to fight. The whole city was there, blocking the exits at every turn. “Bright Helmstone FOREVER!!” they shouted as one. The Who'D-ii panicked and screamed and cursed, but they would not win this time.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, the cakes ran out but the Who'D-ii were vanquished. A huge, heartfelt cheer went up from the brave Resistance fighters and the city as a whole, echoing loud and long.
Everyone was happy, everyone got the boy or the girl and everyone lived happily ever after.
The sun rose over a city in ruins, but a city with a heart, still beating, that would live on forever.
PS – The Scarlet Harlot stayed in the city of Bright Helmstone thereafter. She was very happy to be the Super Hero again and come home in the Cat-mobile whilst Phoenix was in the kitchen busy whisking up a lovely pie for dinner in a sort of All American Housewife outfit. She'd say hello to all 54 cats before removing her rubber mask to come in and give her winged companion a big snog ;)
