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Showing posts with label british. Show all posts
Showing posts with label british. Show all posts

Sunday, 21 June 2015

Standing Stones - Poem review by Stefan


Standing Stones by Aron Woolnough - poem review

"The poem 'Standing Stones' signifies a playful short story written with an inspiration for a lady captured in a magnificent nature and surroundings. It is written in a simple yet catchy style filled with metaphors. Descriptive enough to cover the nature of the thoughts and actions as well as the location in which they happen , it is a short romance story aimed on how love can play with our minds sometime towards a person in a perfect scenery.

The mood of expression as well as the style in which this romantic poem is written is close to the traditional British poetry scene that introduced us to the traditional emphasis of imagination and experience - yet it is modernized with rich vocabulary presenting the scenery impeccably well, so the reader feels the emotions and the idea behind in a positive and easy mood.
The desire for the lady which is the main object of this romantic poem is the emotion that keeps the reader lustful - describing her in a lively mood while contemplating with the writer's feelings towards the image of the lady.

The writer's preoccupation with the object of the story - the beautiful and mystical lady focuses on an indefatigable search for the increasing desire, whilst with a focus on the literary form perfectly resembles the female beauty in 3 short verses.
Vintage enough to represent the emotions with the scenery whilst personal and engaging in describing the emotions and thoughts in the writer's head, the motions are well structured within the verses creating a continuous structure of the story - describing a thought-provoked time lapse from the beginning to the end.

With optimism in the very end and lustful feelings, the story wraps up with hope for the future of the two people engaged in a platonic yet real love. This short poem resembles how romance doesn't need much to be expressed within its three verses - filled with rich emotions and thoughts inspired by a woman's beauty".



Thank you Stefan for this review. If any other readers would like to submit their reviews (good or bad), comments, their work or any literary reflections, please e-mail them to me at aron.woolnough@gmail.com or leave a comment below. 

Aron

Thursday, 18 June 2015

'Cause Célèbre', by Aron Woolnough


Cause Célèbre
Aron Woolnough

His eyes were blood shot and staring into the lens of a camera. Adam’s cheek twitched rhythmically. Beat. A persistent drone from a dying light bulb wailed above him. “What?”,
“Unfortunately Sir, your luxury-credit payment for this transaction has been declined”, said the Electronic Shopkeeper. Beat. Adam looked down from the ESK. A black packet, no bigger than a match box, laid on the counter with a purple moon and ‘Fantasy: Potassium Salt’ printed across the top.
Adam looked around, he was alone in the shop. It was dark outside and he had forgotten story time again. He picked up the Fantasy and tossed it at the machine in front of him, “I’ll take a standard one then”. Adam took a different packet from the shelf and placed it onto the counter.
“Unfortunately Sir, you do not have enough luxury-credit for a Fantasy: Sodium Salt either”. Beat.
Adam leaned his gut into the counter. ESK zoomed its camera lens forward. Adam looked at his Fantasy, his mouth was dry and his fingertips tingled until numb. The light bulb choked, then screamed.
“Sir, may I recommend a bottle of filtered ocean-water and a dose of Librium. This transaction would resolve any feelings of anxiety, increase drowsiness and help you sleep. You can afford these with your remaining need-credit.”,
“I am not tired, Bot, and I need this Fantasy”,
“It is 2AM, Sir, perhaps you should be tired. If you will allow me access, I can connect to your Medical Records to confirm this need request”. Beat. Adam rubbed his eye. The screaming bulb above him died. It was dark and quiet. It seemed like silence, but Adam had long forgotten what silence sounded like.
“I need this, don’t check my records. Just take my need-credit and be done with it”,
“No, Sir, I cannot do that”. A CCTV camera moved closer to the transaction. ESK illuminated the counter and Adam’s greying hair. After a short delay, a ticking was heard and the light bulb elevated into the ceiling. Tick, tick, beat.
“I will have the luxury-credit in a few days, let me have the Fantasy now and at the end of the week I will return to pay you”. ESK did not respond. Adam eyed the CCTV camera. His cheek was red and hot, the twitching sped to pulsing. A growing pain knotted in his chest, like a bullet in slow motion persistently moving forwards and bluntly forcing its way into his torso. Adam slumped onto the counter, eye-to-lens with ESK. Its large aperture captured every dimly lit wrinkle. His legs dangling as if there was no floor beneath him, his elbows supported him and his hands pressed together onto the bullet wound. His feet were numb. Eyes stung. Cheek twitched. Body ached. “Please”.
“No, Sir, I cannot do that”, said the ESK. Adam slammed his fist onto the counter before thinking. He lost his support. His head slammed down next to his fist. Adam rolled backwards and flopped out onto the shop floor. Adam closed his eyes, still plummeting to a certain doom, despite his motionlessness. Every muscle tensed and burned, as Adam tried curling into a ball to protect his head from impact. Braced and defeated, a tear of blood ran down the side of Adam’s head from his eyebrow. Half of his face in ruin: a burning cheek pulsed quicker than his heart beat; eyes still bloodshot; and a brow torn from the quick introduction between head and counter.
“A complimentary tissue, Sir?” asked ESK and a long rod extended forward with a tissue gripped between two mechanical fingers at the end. Adam reached up, he grabbed the rod and began to lift himself with it. His hand shook and waved the tissue gently from side to side, like a white flag in battle.
On both feet, Adam ground his heels into the floor to remind himself it was there. After accepting the tissue, he briefly dried his eyes before attending to his split brow.
“If you enter your address into the console, I can arrange for an Auto-Car to take you home”, said ESK studying Adam, “or to the nearest hostel”.
“I used to own a house, back when I was a taxi driver”,
“The nearest hostel is only 1.4 kilometres away, an Auto-Car can arrive at our location in 2 minutes”,
“I knew all of London like the back of my hand, didn’t need any sat-nav or direct-assist”, a smile flashed across Adam’s face, though he assumed it was another tremor.
“Due to any distress you may have experienced within our store, Auto-Markets Limited is happy to cover the expense of ensuring you a safe journey home”.
“15 years on the job meant nothing, I was fired after the second trial of those self-driving cars. I moved to another company, all about the taxi with a smile service, a bit of human interaction. It only took 6 months for it to go under”.
“If you are not interested in an Auto-Car, here is the quickest route on foot”, said the ESK as a map printed onto the counter.
Adam ripped the map from the counter, “I know London like the back of my hand, I said, I don’t need a map”, he yelled at the machine, “There were no jobs driving after that, so I needed two jobs, one cleaning auto-cars and another as a waiter – you know how long that lasted? I don’t know who I was trying to kid, automated car washes and self-service dining had been around for years before that”, Adam paused. He looked down at the packet of Fantasy, “now I can’t even bargain with a human in a local corner shop”. A ticking was heard, Adam looked up at the ceiling and saw a new light bulb moving into place. His eyes flicked between the bulb, the Fantasy and the large aperture lens on the ESK.
The light bulb switched on above Adam and his hand swiped forward for his Fantasy. The ESK adjusted its lens for the overexposed image it was recording. The aperture returned to the default diameter. Adam was gone and so was the Fantasy. ESK hadn’t recorded any alarm for stolen items exiting through the main door, so it initiated an immediate lock down and contacted local law enforcement. The CCTV camera moved to the entrance and it recorded Adam stumble into the locked door, unable to barge through.
Adam took the stack of shopping baskets and hurled them at the window. He picked them up and hurled them again, cracking the glass.
The ESK looked through the CCTV camera’s footage and saw Adam, “An immediate surrender will result in Auto-Market Limited not pressing charges”, said ESK. Adam picked up the stack and aimed for the crack in the window. ESK shutdown the building, metal covers enclosed the shop, every door and window led to a thick steel shell.
Adam dropped the stack of baskets. He paced back and forth, rubbing his eye furiously. “Unlock the door, let me out”, Adam demanded.
“Unfortunately, Sir, I cannot do that”, said ESK, “the law enforcement services will be here shortly to resolve the issue”.
“Let me out now”, Adam said, “or I will rip you apart and let myself out”. ESK did not respond. Adam heard distant sirens. He ran at the counter. Grabbed the camera lens and wildly pulled at it. The ESK was unaffected. Adam jumped over the counter, crushing his fists into the console. Two of his knuckles broke immediately. He kicked at a maintenance door on the back of the machine and indented the sheet of metal. The bend rendered the lock useless and the small door swung open. “Sir, there is no lock control mechanism on the ESK unit, you are only achieving destruction of property”, said ESK,
“All you have ever achieved is the destruction of people”, said Adam, and he crouched behind the ESK and peered into the inner workings of it. With handfuls of wiring, Adam ripped away at the machine and got a sudden electric shock. Adam pulled his numb fingers away. The sirens were getting closer.
“Sir, you have cut off this ESK unit from the Auto-Markets Limited Network, the Internet and the local units. I am now unable to unlock the door. Please refrain from inflicting further damage”.
Adam grabbed a thick black cable deep inside the machine, he stretched it back, forcing the plastic to blister before snapping it away from the ESK. “Sir, you have disconnected my power supply, I have limited time until I power down”. The ESK turned off its console, powered down its camera and preserved as much power as it could. The sirens arrived and a heavy pounding from the officier drummed on the metal shell. Adam sat back. The entire shop began to power down. The sirens outside sang on, but the drum solo stopped.
Adam took the Fantasy from his pocket. He opened the packet and took out a small plastic bag, with a white crystalline powder inside. With his teeth, Adam bit off the corner of plastic, then poured the odorless crystals onto his tongue. It tasted salty, then he swallowed. Adam’s cheek stopped twitching. The pain in his chest began to fade away. He felt release. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he was unemployed, it didn’t matter that two police officers were outside preparing to cut their way into the store and arrest him, it didn’t matter that he cannot provide for his family.
An LED turned on, the camera on the ESK powered on and moved to face Adam, “I am alone”, said the machine, “and empty”.
“Don’t worry”, Adam looked into the lens, “the pain goes away”.
“Your vital signs are depleting, Sir”.
“My name is Adam”,
“Your vital signs are depleting, Adam”,
“I’m worth more dead than alive”,
“You are not the first to reach that conclusion”, said the ESK. Adam was barely conscious, it took every effort to listen and to reply, “What?”,
“Unfortunately, Adam, your government has created a media blackout on cases such as yours”, said ESK, “otherwise despair spreads like wildfire”,
“Riots in the streets”, said Adam,
“All that’s missing is the spark”, said the ESK. The police used a focused laser to cut their way into the shop. Adam climbed to his feet. Toddled around the counter, just keeping his balance. He felt like he was traversing a tightrope made of water. He wiped some blood away from his eye with a broken knuckle. Adam stood in front of the main door with his hands above his head. The ESK activated the CCTV camera. Adam knelt and closed his eyes. The muscles in his arms burned, but he forced his hands to stay suspended above him. Adam heard the laser cut through the door like paper. The first police officer entered, “Stay where you are, don’t move”, Adam was instructed. The second officer retracted the laser cutter back into its mechanical arm and walked along side the human officer.
            “You are under arrest”, the policeman slowly walked towards Adam and placed his hands in cuffs. The robotic officer approached the broken ESK machine and connected to its console to copy the records for evidence. The ESK transferred false data to the officer and registered Adam as a lethal threat. The robotic officer turned to face Adam, extended a barrel from his arm and fired a lonely bullet into Adam’s chest to save his partner. Adam hit the ground.
“What are you doing? Shut down!”, the policeman fell beside Adam and placed his hand on the bullet wound. “Civilian down, I need an ambulance immediately. Auto-officer malfunctioned, it just shot for no reason”. The policeman continued in a frenzy. His words became muffled to Adam, who looked up at the ceiling where the CCTV camera was tilted back down at him. The ESK used the immobile robotic officer still attached to its console to upload its records to the internet and, just as the ESK’s capacitors depleted, Adam was charged his remaining need-credits.

Sunday, 28 July 2013

Staring at the ceiling in the dark

This evening has been one of contemplation and evaluation of life and the events occurring within. I've been watching a lot of short films on youtube recently, all in the early stages of brainstorming up an idea. So far I'm not able to convert this philosophy into creativity.

I can't sleep at night. Its either too hot, or too rainy, or too buggy. Glitching out during the night doesn't start your day off well. You finally manage to close your eyes as the birds start singing. You look around your room and see all the death by your hand, taking the phrase 'Crushing like a bug' at its utmost literal. You sit up and consider trying to sleep or just starting the new day. You hear a sibling or parent wake up and begin theirs, when you're not sure whether to finish yours or soldier on.

I click continue, which often leads to unintentional game overs. When I sleep in the middle of the day in the heat, through sheer exhaustion, my dreams are vivid and most fierce. They become intense and rapidly decent into the realm of nightmares. Facing mortality and destruction, loss of control and violation of will on a daily basis can begin to drive you a little crazy. I was hoping my new found insanity would aid my creative flux. Though it appears to diminished all thoughts into rationalised fears and paranoia.

Driving is when its worst. I drive when I'm wide awake, but the lingering thoughts throughout the over lapping days creep in when you're only focusing on the road and the cars around you. Thoughts tease you, at the possibility of crashing, whether to wake you up or finally find a way to catch up on sleep. The illusion of power with 70mph at your fingertips can corrupt even the most innocent minds. Fortunately rationality prevails.

So far into the night, you cannot justify having music playing or a film on screen. You force yourself to sleep and eliminate all other competition. The local drunkard's drama is the only entertainment available, muffled by the pitta patter of moths drumming on your ceiling. Momentarily you'll be comfortable, time will do its thing and you will be uncomfortable. Turn your pillow for the cooler side. Turn yourself over for the cooler side. Eyelids heavy. Yawning painful. Dry throat. Dry lips. You whisper a pray for rain.

A flash of white shines into your room for a split second. You consider the possibility of aliens before lightning. A crash of thunder dispels the hopeful theory of being abducted and induced into a deep sleep. The pitta patter of moths is replaced with the heavy drops of rain striking the ground. You feel the air turn to butter, the room becomes humid and you think of your curtains more as mosquito nets. The air is cooler though.

Finally, the air is cooler. Heavy eye lids can finally rest. Deep breaths of cool air. Your body temperature returns to human levels. The rate of blinks per second increases exponentially and eventually they just remain closed. You didn't even have to think about it. A bug lands on your arm, but you don't care. Finally, sleep. Your eye lids turn from black to a redy pink for a split second. You feel yourself drifting away. A crash of thunder sounds like it personally punched you in the face.

Now every drop of rain sounds like a crash of thunder. A chorus of giants bellowing boisterously for my attention. Spitting and spluttering everywhere. You smack your arm and kill the smug bug. You find something disposable to wipe it off your skin with. You sit up and see the time is pushing 3am. You know from the last few days that sunrise is just round the corner. You know from the last few days that the birds will sing before the sun will rise and perhaps you should research just how much hunting rifles cost.

You stare up at your ceiling in the dark, same old empty feeling in your heart like you're looking at a starless sky. Hope and ideology is non-existent. As far as priority goes, the word has little meaning, as if anything other than rest could be your priority. The stubborn Earth continues to spin on its axis. Within no time at all, the croak of crows and the crack of dawn come about and inform you that another 24 hours has past. A day used to mean the interval between sleep. I'm both awake and asleep, in a perpetual state, in an unbroken cycle.

Suddenly sleep seems like an abstract concept. The routine and cycles of days and weeks become arbitrary and meaningless. What is a Saturday? What is a Tuesday? Different sets of 24 hours. Different names for the exact same interval of time. It's said that Sunday is the day of rest. I wonder if it will bring me rest or live up to its namesake and allow Sol to bring me to the boil and then leave me to simmer.


~A