Asking for a friend…

Asking for a friend…

Letter addressed to the Wisborg branch of Herr Sargmacher & Sons, Fine German Coffin Manufacturers, January, 1838.

Dear Herr Sargmacher,

I am writing on behalf of a friend to ask if you might, by perchance, be able to supply a specialist coffin?

Length-wise you will be looking to accommodate a cadavar of approximately 6 feet 4 inches (1.92 m) tall, and with sufficient elbow room to allow for exceptionally long arms.

The lining must be of your finest red velvet, with the casing constructed of your sturdiest wood, and with a lid which may be opened and closed with minimal effort.

It is desirable that the coffin can stand upright as well as be laid flat.

As I say, asking for a friend,

Yours sincerely,

Count Orlok,

Transylvania.

Asking for a friend… written by Ford Waight for Six Sentence Stories: a weekly writers’ challenge hosted by Denise at Girlie on the Edge blog. This week’s cue word is BRANCH.

Digital art by Ford with images from the 1922 film Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror (German: Nosferatu – Eine Symphonie des Grauens) directed by FW Murnau and produced by Prana Film.

TVTA & Atomic Mage Editor, Ford Waight. There’s a wasp? Where?

just say no to Dot

Six Sentence Stories is a weekly writers’ challenge hosted by Denise at Girlie on the Edge. This week’s prompt word is: BAND

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Six Sentence Stories: How The Book Cartwheeled

I made an artwork and wrote a short story in solidarity with Ukraine, which I posted over on my other site The Atomic Mage… please check it out, thanks!

The Atomic Mage

Six Sentence Storiesis a weekly writers’ challenge hosted by Denise atGirlie on the Edgeblog. This week’s cue word is: BOOK

Image: Solidarity With Ukraine, by Ford


How The Book Cartwheeled

Imagine a child – some carefree girl, cartwheeling across meadows in perfect liberty, her hair the colour of the yellow sun, her eyes pale blue as the wintry sky… this image is what The Book thought to crush as it traversed the besieged land in pursuit of glory only a madman author might dare to draft.

The Book, mean-spirited and war-hungry, cartwheeled on, the sharp corners of its covers ripping up earth and flowers, its pages fluttering like the skirts and petticoats of that carefree girl we mentioned earlier, and of the likes The Book dreamed to crush.

The Book cartwheeled into towns and cities, firing off a multitude of bookmarks marking mistruths and misconceptions as…

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Flushed

I’m linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge Blog where she hosts Six Sentence Stories and everyone is invited to write a story or poem constructed of six sentences based on a prompt word.

This week’s prompt word is Service


Flushed 

This DIY job is not a service but a replacement of vital parts, because the toilet cistern no longer flushes and its innards have fallen apart.

Luckily I remember some skills from when I was a 16 year-old apprentice plumbing and drainage engineer, back in Peaky Blinders land, ay, can still hear my gaffer say: “Water will always find its lowest level.”

Words of truth, but in this case the water has nowhere else to go – trapped, just sitting there idly in its ceramic fish tank waiting for replacement parts.

So it’s off with the tank lid, hands plunged into cold and calcified water, deep into the guts of this watery grave of broken plastic parts never meant to last or endure the hard water of our town’s supply.

Parts unscrewed, loosened, taken apart, brightly-coloured plastic contraptions of simple yet remarkable ingenuity pulled out like sunken hulks hoisted from the sea bed, then replaced with a brand new system all shiny and seaworthy for its future days in a 6 litre tank.

Job done – I marvel at my capability, thinking I have won; yet, water always does what it wants in the end and can easily make fools of our controlling ways; while some may believe the mark of civilisation lies in our art, our music, our architecture, our distribution of wealth – the true mark is simply how we try to manage the precious gift of water.


Editor’s note: The above is a true story – the flush has been threatening to go kaput for a while, so I ordered the spare part in anticipation. Also, I really was a plumbing and drainage apprentice based in Peaky Blinders land, Small Heath, Birmingham, by order! Props for good mate fellow WP blogster BK at Be Kitschig for telling me that if my adventures didn’t make into poem form I could always write a ‘flush fiction’ piece 🤣


Poem: by Ford.

Image #1: The Sleeze Brothers. Cloak and Dagger. Marvel. 1989. US.

Image #2: View-Master, 20,000 leagues under the sea. 1954.

To Bring You My Love – a Project #2 extract for Six Sentence Stories

DNA-DNE-DNA-DNE

DNA-DNE-DNA-DNE


I’m linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge Blog where she hosts Six Sentence Stories and everyone is invited to write a story or poem constructed of six sentences based on a prompt word.

This week’s cue word is Journey


To Bring You My Love

The night train watchman bids her a safe journey behind his mask,

And sails away along the carriage in search of fish the bigger to fry.

And she – she winds back her thoughts to a lady and a lord –

DNA domina, DNE domine,

DNA-DNE-DNA-DNE…

The repetition makes the same sound as does her train

Clattering along rails under English skies.

A metal crate on wheels and track, parting mountains and rivers

To take her fast to her childhood love and a solemn pact.

Quickly now hurry, DNA-DNE-DNA-DNE, before my boy takes

His final breath, before he…

DNA-DNE-DNA-DNE.

***


“My Dear, which train shall I take to bring you my love? For the love of poets is vast and unbound, and many a reflection may be seen in scripts from their souls. Cryptic. A puzzle. A treasure map to the heart. Meet me there in words yet said. Match my love with time yet spent. Reciprocate the loving sentiment with your own true words of poetic beauty.”


Words: by Ford, extract from The Remains of She, the upcoming collaboration between Spira and Ford.

Art images: Spira and Ford. Train images: Marklin, Hornby, Lima. Stafford castle photos unknown.

March 10. 2021.

Six Sentence Story: Press Gang for a Bull

Press Gang for a Bull. Drawing by Ford Waight. February 2021.


I’m linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge Blog, where she hosts Six Sentence Stories, and everyone is invited to write a story or poem constructed of six sentences based on a cue word given. This week’s cue word is Rodeo


Press Gang for a Bull

The rodeo clown chased me through town, his oversize clothes flapping in the wind, his shrieking laughter echoing about the deserted streets.

What a fool I was to get so drunk while on shore leave, to abandon my crew mates and walk alone in a strange town in search of adventure; yet, Lord, how could I have imagined to be so cursed as to cross that rodeo clown.

Finally he cornered me in a dark alley, and I bunched my fists to smite that crooked smile from his painted lips… but the last thing I remember was him clubbing my head with an iron bar.

Next thing I knew, I’m waking up at the rodeo, can feel syringes pulling out from my arm, and that clown telling me “Fella, all ya gotta do from now on is throw them skinny cowboys in the air and put on a show – who knows, maybe one day we’ll make ya champion.”

And as he led me out into the arena, I caught my reflection in the mirror of a Ford pickup truck, and, Lord, I was a bull – eighteen-hundred pounds of muscle and hide on four legs ready to buck, and that sonofabitch clown still telling me “Yes sir, you’re our prize Brahma now, and will go by the name of Lone Sailor.”

These days I’m treated like a star, and I put on a real good show for the folks who pay their dollars to come watch me throw cowboys in the air; though, Lord, I must confess, when I see that clown distracting me from making good a gore, I hunger for my old sailor fists to smite that crooked smile from his painted lips.

***


Words and drawing by Ford Waight.


Editor’s note

My story Press gang for a Bull concerns just one of the many events featured at a typical American style professional rodeo – namely bull riding, which has been called “the most dangerous eight seconds in sports.”

In Press gang for a Bull I wanted to explore the idea of a sailor transformed into a prize rodeo bull by the will of a magical clown. I was also interested in turning on its head the idea of someone in naval service being ‘press ganged’ into an alternative service. To press gang is to take men into a military or naval force by compulsion, with or without notice, and was a practice used by European navies between the 17th and 19th centuries as a means of crewing warships.

1780 caricature of a press gang. Scanned from Vaisseau de Ligne, Time Life, 1979.

In this instance, my unfortunate sailor is press ganged into ‘becoming a bull’ and is renamed the ‘Lone Sailor’. He must now endure the rest of his days as a revered creature to the crowds, the judges, and the cowboys who try to ride him at the rodeo.

The rodeo clown

I based the clown of my story on the original rodeo clowns who back in the day were crowd entertainers who wore makeup and oversize clothing. As bull riding became more dangerous with the introduction of Brahma bulls in the early 20th century, the need for someone to act as distraction for a bull attacking a fallen rider fell to the rodeo clown. In the late 20th century, the term bullfighter began to replace the name rodeo clown, and in 2003 bullfighters in the Professional Bull Riders (PBR) organization traded their traditional rodeo clown makeup and outfits for sport gear with corporate sponsor logos.

The job of the modern day bullfighter involves bravery and strategic team working to place themselves in the path of a dangerous animal to protect the rodeo rider. The valour of famous modern day bullfighters like Frank Newsom, Shorty Gorham and Jesse Byrne was something for me to behold while I was studying video clips when making research for my story.

My drawing

I made it in pencils based on a photo of the bull rider Antonio Aguilars Charros riding a Brahma bull in Mexico circa 1975, although my story is set earlier than this.

Here are two digital renders of my original, as I wanted to see some colour  and texture ‘popping’ in the scene.

Press Gang for a Bull. Digital render in colour by Ford Waight. February 2021. Version 1.


Press Gang for a Bull. Digital render in colour by Ford Waight. February 2021. Version 2.

Thanks for bucking with us 🙂

Six Sentence Stories: Eject! Eject! Eject!

I’m linking up with Denise at Girlie On The Edge Blog, where she hosts Six Sentence Stories, and everyone is invited to write a story or poem constructed of six sentences based on a prompt word given.

This week’s prompt word is Kaleidoscope


Eject! Eject! Eject!

(a DC Comics Watchmen fan fiction Six Sentence Story)

President of the United States of America Jane Fonda is currently holding a press conference on French TV, and I will translate: “Citizens of the Republic, our Thermosphere Interception and Mass Engagement programme is now installed at several locations throughout your great land, and you may have full confidence that any further (squid) attacks upon your nation at the hands of the evil Adrian Veidt will be swiftly dealt with by the brave men and women Collider pilots at your service.”

“But the survival rate of your pilots… these so-called Colliders, is only 50 percent,” said a journalist, “and those who do survive the escape pod ejection risk multiple injuries.”

“Indeed,” said another journalist, “with this knowledge, how do the brave Collider’s cope?”

“Quite simply, by being brave,” said President Fonda, “and being armed not only with the most sophisticated thermosphere attack weapons ever developed, but knowledge; yes, knowledge, that they might die to protect others, and avenge the three million souls murdered by Veidt in 1985.”

Meanwhile, on Mars, or perhaps not, Doctor Manhattan observes the daily spectacle of Collider pilots ejecting over earth, as their interceptor ships explode head-on against Veidt’s squid cruisers; and as usual, there is not much he can do but watch these distant space fireworks with a blank stare, and sometimes a rock skimmed petulantly across the surface of a Martian lake.

While somewhere else, Adrian Veidt has quite literally lost his head, and he must use mind-control to replace his squid cruisers as fast as they are destroyed by Colliders, while his angry speech booms across the somewhere else and shakes his servants to their knees: “Look at those fools! Mere bees pitifully protecting a doomed nest against the might of murder hornets, ah, prevail they might – yet only for precious minutes on the clock face of time, for I have great pesticides to sweep and perish them on that blue disc of Earth they call their home, yes, I, Ozymandias, king of kings: look on my illusions, ye Mighty, and despair!”


Eject! Eject! Eject! written by Ford Waight

All images from watchmen.fandom.com and are property of DC Comics; HBO; Warner Bros. Pictures.



Editor’s note:

My story Eject! Eject! Eject! is a fan fiction Six Sentence Story based on the 1986/87 critically acclaimed DC Comics graphic novel Watchmen by Alan Moore, Dave Gibbons and John Higgins; and the also acclaimed 2019 HBO limited TV series Watchmen created by Damon Lindelof.

Eject! Eject! Eject! makes a play on the Six Sentence Stories prompt word kaleidoscope with an imaginary force of TIME (Thermosphere Interception and Mass Engagement) ships piloted by Colliders to counter frequent squid attacks believed to be deployed by the world’s smartest man super-genius Adrian Veidt aka ex-Watchman member Ozymandias. In my tale, Jane Fonda is the current President of the USA, and presides over the TIME counter attacks with full knowledge of the fifty percent survival rate among its Collider pilots.

If you haven’t yet read the Watchmen graphic novel (recognised in TimeList of the 100 Best Novels as one of the best English language novels published since 1923) then what are you waiting for! Likewise, the HBO limited TV series Watchmen is outstanding viewing and was nominated for eleven Emmy awards. As well, the 2009 Zack Snyder film adaptation of the novel is a must-see.

Dear vintage mates, who watches the Watchmen?

PS. There is no irony lost on me that one of the major themes of Watchmen is masks, as I use my ‘enforced week off work’ to rewatch epsiodes of the HBO series, while at the same time writing this post, when wearing a mask myself during a period of positive infection for me in this – year 2021 of our dear Covid-19.

Ford.