Wednesday 18 July 2007

Right I'm off to Wiltshire for a week

I'll have to finish my pitch when I come back and you'll have to manage without me folks. I suggest keeping busy watching the Timelash DVD or the DVD of 'Children of the Stones' - its all about Avebury where I'm going. See you later!

16 comments:

Youth of Australia said...

There you go again, mistaking us for people who give a damn...

Here's hoping you mysteriously never return from Wiltshire with all its carnivorous alien death worms, satanic worshippers, Merlin-impersonators and bad Avengers characters causing chaos...

Bernie Fishnotes said...

Oi! I'm from Wiltshire, and I've never seen an alien Death Worm, worshipped Satan, impersonated Merlin or caused chaos while wearing a bowler hat.

I have had a ghost try to kill me and my friends, but never any of sparacus's plotlines.

Youth of Australia said...

Well, Spara should stop badmouthing Wiltshire, then, shouldn't he? I mean, Midsummer Murders isn't going to make anyone want to live in Midsummer, is it?

OK, Bernie, now I'm stuck here, I'll bite - WHAT ghost?

Jared "No Nickname" Hansen said...

His mention of Timelash makes me think of those adds going around - "Are you in the mood to rent Norbit?"

Hmm, well, not if castration with blunt implement is one of the alternatives...

Youth of Australia said...

Can you castrate a fish?

And why do I immediately think of that scene in Family Guy where the cow puts on a leather mask for Peter to brand him...?

PS - Stangeness has arrived on the ChathamSux blog

Bernie Fishnotes said...

Well, my friends and myself were planning a ghost hunt in our school's reception building, a former Georgian manor house which was reputed to be haunted by the ghost of a maid who set her self on fire (and this was said by teachers, so it wasn't one of those kid things where every school has a ghost).

Anyway, we had to change the date of the hunt due to the death of a student (totally unrelated to us, but we felt it would be in bad taste to go looking for ghosts after such an occurence), and the very night we were supposed to be in the house, there was a fire, which gutted the room we were supposed to be sleeping in.

I'm sure there is a rational explanation, but it still creeps me out.

Youth of Australia said...

Wow.

You know, I think I might have encountered a ghost just the other day.

I was out for a walk (a long walk) and spent a couple of hours walking along Cooke's River which is near where I live. Mainly for exercise. It's a very lonely place down there, with few houses and only the odd powerline to provide any noise beyond the strange windy noises in the trees.

Well, there I was, minding my own business, just trying to work out a YOA script where the main characters wander along such a river trying to scare the crap out of each other with urban legends (including the infamous Green LightbulbTM horror tale), when I went under a low bridge and into the next county.

I spotted, far, far ahead, a figure on the walkway ahead of me. A short man in dark blue clothes, smoking a cigarette, old with very short grey hair. He seemed to be walking in my direction, then stopped, and turned and walked away at a brisk jog.

Since I was out there specifically for exercise, I decided to follow him and keep his pace at the same time wondering why he'd turned and legged it at the sight of me (especially as I was so far away I doubt he could recognize me).

Because of my damn asthma, I can move incredibly fast but not for extended periods, so all I could possibly do was keep him in range. He didn't seem to be moving very fast, and even with the lead he had, but I couldn't keep up with him. I considered breaking into a run, but he seemed spooked enough.

The odd thing was, although I was keeping a steady, brisk pace, the other guy wasn't. He was stopping every so often, and examining the railings that divided the walkway from the river (themselves blocked by mangrove plants).

Eventually, he moved around a sharp corner. About six seconds later I reached where he'd been... gone. Ahead the path was dead straight, and no obvious places he could have hidden inside.

It stumped me quite a bit, until I noticed that just in front of me, a segment of railings had been literally ripped away, meaning you could jump off the walkway and wade into the mirror as long as you were dumb enough to do that sort of thing and didn't care about the state of your clothes.

Certainly, the bloke didn't look like the sort that would run off into the river at low tide at the sight of me, and the mud beside the walkway was not disturbed at all. I decided I'd chalk this down to a anecdote in the YOA script and think nothing of it.

I planned to head to to end of the walkway and then go home, cause I'd walked at least seven kilometres - three of them following this guy.

As I headed up to where the path joined civilization (roads), I passed under another bridge that trains travelled over. I looked across to the bridge on the other side of the river...

and there the guy was. Standing in the mud, water lapping at his shoes. He was staring blankly ahead, a dead cigarette in his hand, like he'd been nailed to the spot. He didn't move at all.

Of course, I reacted to this like I do all supernatural phenomenon... I pretended to be Tom Baker, waggled my fingers and drawled "Hello there!"

He didn't seem to hear me, though the accustics over that bridge were painfully effective.

He didn't react to a whistle and another wave, so I wandered past the bridge, muttering darkly that he'd been a fascinating source of conversation and I was only sorry we couldn't continue this cheerful little chat.

That was when I heard him scream. Well, shout maybe, because at that moment, a train went over the bridge as trains are wont to do, and disturbed all the pigeons living underneath.

I moved out into daylight and looked back for the guy.

Nothing. No sign of him at all.

Deciding to cut back on the LSD teabags, I headed for the next bridge across the river to investigate further. By the time I'd done so, I'd passed ludicrously large amounts of friendly cockatoos and even friendlier pedigree cats, and put the incident out of my mind. I just wanted to get home for the simple reason my feet were hurting and there was noway else to get home.

I headed back along the river, annoyed because on this side I couldn't keep to the edge of the water but navigate round construction sites and burned out tennis courts.

I ended up stuck in this park that ended next to the bridge with the railway line. Then I noticed that the fence had been torn away so it was quite easy to simply jump down and continue under the bridge.

Well, thought I, the council hasn't repaired it and there's no shipping on the river, it's at low tide, I should be all right.

I jumped down into the mud (a disgusting sensation) and looked to see if there was some way to get back onto dry land not the way I came. It was then I remembered, this was where my mysterious fugitive had been standing.

There were no footprints in the mud. No one had been down there for ages. It was then I noticed that, right where the guy had been standing, was a cross.

Short, it came to knee hieght and had faded and rotted on the side facing me (downriver). It was just crude enough for me to think nothing of it. I moved through the mud, and looked back at the cross.

That was when I noticed the flowers had been tied to it. And they'd gone brown and shriveled up. It was a grave. An unmarked grave and I swear I did not see it the first time I walked past, despite the clear fact it had been there a while.

Just then, something shot at me out of the darkness - just a cat, which ran past me to the other side of the bridge and up through a similar hole torn in the fence and onto dry land - a short cut probably invisible to everyone except those who'd actually been under the bridge and found it for themselves.

Of course, I was more worried about the cat - I own eight of the bastards and know a cat moving in such a way has been scared out of its wits. And since I own eight of the bastards, I smell sufficiently catlike for any other cat to give me a second look, not run away screaming (and it was, BTW).

My first thought was that it was hurt and moved as fast as I could to find it, and another unearthly moan of wind went through the rafters above my head.

"You should have stuck to your own path" says this voice behind me. I can only describe it as the voice of the Face of Boe (though that's looking back at it now).

I wish I'd done something witty like say "Is that you, Satan? Do you want me to kill again?" or done my own evil Dr Claw voice and said "I DO WHAT I PLEASE, MORTAL!"

I turned around. There was no one around. In fact, there was no sign I hadn't imagined it. So I got up onto the land, having a Chathamesque "My boots are ruined" moment, before looking back the way I'd came.

Someone was standing on the other side of the bridge, just next to the hole in the gate that lead to the park. As I craned for a good look that someone leapt nimbly up onto land and out of view.

I considered the state of my feet, then turned and headed back home, shouting the lyrics to "Slice of Heaven" very loudly.

Ghost? Wierd hobo? Utter bullshit?

YOU decide!

Cameron Mason said...

I think you've been hitting the tequila...

Cameron

Youth of Australia said...

Serious, Cam! I was as sober as Captain Jack!

Jared "No Nickname" Hansen said...

Wow. I'm missing out on seriously insane supernatural phenomenon by just going to the gym...

Really, though, that story does sound freaky as all hell.

Cameron Mason said...

Serious, Cam! I was as sober as Captain Jack!

Before or after Rose sprinkled him with pixie dust?

Cameron

Cameron Mason said...

Wow. I'm missing out on seriously insane supernatural phenomenon by just going to the gym...

The gym???

Are you insane???

The gym killed Douglas Adams.

Cameron

Youth of Australia said...

Before or after Rose sprinkled him with pixie dust?

Captain Jack only drank an alcoholic beverage ONCE on screen, and that was in Captain Jack Harkness, the episode. Rest of the time he drinks water (with just a dash of estrogen).

I can't think of any other sober characters...

Wow. I'm missing out on seriously insane supernatural phenomenon by just going to the gym...
How so? Is this gym in Amytiville?

Really, though, that story does sound freaky as all hell.
Everything happened. Except possibly the voice, which could have been my imagination. Did I mention it was incredibly cold and overcast?

The most terrifying part of all was returning home and getting a job interview. Scared the shit out of me and total ruined the mood, as I was laughing my ass off to Clerks...

Jared "No Nickname" Hansen said...


I can't think of any other sober characters...


Lytton?


How so? Is this gym in Amytiville?


One of my obscure references - you were walking around in Nightmaresville, Sydney, to get exercise, whereas I merely frequent the Nicey Nice Gym in Niagra Park.

The gym's only flaw? No showers. Need to use those of the youth centre in which it is situated. Not usually a problem, until it turns out nobody told you that the ENTIRE BUILDING has been booked for two days by some weird, seemingly all-female Highland festivities and there's lots of costume changing going on. On a plus-side I now know how to 'shower' using a sink in the men's room and a length of towel.

The most terrifying part of all was returning home and getting a job interview.

What... the guy was waiting at your house? WEIRD.

Jared "No Nickname" Hansen said...

The gym???

Are you insane???

The gym killed Douglas Adams.


Assuming it was a profile killing, I've got nothing to worry about. Okay, we are both into sci-fi and write stuff. BUT:

1. Douglas Adams wrote highly original material. Seeing as I was born after him it is impossible for me to vaguely similar write anarchic humour without ripping him off and being highly unoriginal. (cf. Dave Stone and Terry Pratchett)

2. Douglas Adams was such a workhorse he managed to Executive Produce and Co-Write a movie after his own death. My own work is stunningly sporadic. Attack of the Cybermen episode 2 coming... soon?

3. Douglas Adams had a big nose. I, however, am known for having a big gun.

4. Douglas Adams loved Macs. I hate Macs and the people who love them. (With the exception of Doug and Stephen Fry, obviously) This goes along with my irrational hatred for many things, which I'm sure Douglas Adams does not share - especially since he missed the new zenith of Claire Danes' 'acting' career.

In short... please don't kill me, gym.

Youth of Australia said...

Lytton?
Smackdown.

One of my obscure references - you were walking around in Nightmaresville, Sydney, to get exercise, whereas I merely frequent the Nicey Nice Gym in Niagra Park.
Right. I get it. I think.

The gym's only flaw? No showers. Need to use those of the youth centre in which it is situated. Not usually a problem, until it turns out nobody told you that the ENTIRE BUILDING has been booked for two days by some weird, seemingly all-female Highland festivities and there's lots of costume changing going on. On a plus-side I now know how to 'shower' using a sink in the men's room and a length of towel.
One of those, huh?

What... the guy was waiting at your house? WEIRD.
Well, he rang the moment I got home, not during the four hour walking period before, which meant it was dusk when they rang and offered rather than say, lunch?

On the bright side, I finished a totally unrelated YOA script!