My world

My world is not like any other,
My world is full of colour
rainbows and unicorns
the sunlight at dawn
Sweets and cakes
nothing fake
a world for nothing but fun
Sarcasm flies and all is a pun
A wave of technology
Lets not forget the sea
A world of dragons drinking tea
and then of course there's me
A hero, a villain, a fairy and an elf
A writer, a story, a book on the shelf
My world is me and a little strange
My world like me is prone to change.

Magic

In all the world even in offices under bland desks, there is magic. Yes, magic. Real, beautiful magic. There's only one catch, you have to be a child to see it. Only a child can see the inner ship of a cardboard box or the beauty in a street mutt. Only a child sees the adventure of simply being. There are however children who have become too adult to see. Through tragedy or chaos, they have become mini adults. It is a great injustice to steal any child's magic.

Jesse was a child without magic, a child lost to facts and logic. He spent most days curled up with books about planes and ships and animals. He never played and very rarely dreamed. His hopes were horridly realistic and he had no time for imaginary friends. His mother feared for him, because he had once had magic and imagination. She feared robbing him of his childhood.

One day, Jesse was bribed out of his room and into the back garden by his mother. She had decided to take action. He walked about moping and whining about how sticks never taught you anything. Throwing himself to the ground he lay under the apple tree and thought about Newton. At least he thought Newton was the apple guy.

He started getting tired, as children often do when bored, and started falling asleep. He had a weird sense of falling and woke with a start. How weird he thought, he ,must have been dreaming, but he doesn't dream. Dreaming wasn't real and if it's not real then it's not worth doing.

Once again he grew bored and started falling asleep, this time when he felt he was falling he was too fast asleep to wake up. He fell and fell for a very long time till suddenly he was falling sideways, no, not falling, flying. Impossible he thought, how ridiculous, he must be dreaming. Horrid little dreams sneaking up on him like that. Then he was falling again, faster and faster. His heart was beating quickly, his breathing was fast. He was scared.

He stopped falling when he hit the ground, but it bent around him like a trampoline and shot him into the air. This time he was having fun as he fell back down towards the ground, too much fun to worry about reality. He laughed and bounced into the air many times before he decided to try something new. He jump to his left and the ground shot him up. He bounced forwards, bouncing across the world with somersaults and funny poses. He bounced until he banged his nose on an apple. Why would an apple be in his dream he thought.

Then he woke up in the yard under the apple tree, his mother looking down at him with worry. He then noticed that his nose was bleeding and next to him was a big red apple. It must have fallen on him, but his tree had green apples. Where did the red apple come from?

"Mom, where did the apple come from?" Jesse asked.

"Well, i have no idea. I guess Newton got his revenge on you for teasing him the other day." His mother smiled, her eyes creasing. He hadn't seen his mother smile like that in years.

"Maybe I better be more careful who i tease" Jesse tossed the apple away and smiled at his mother.

"Mom, do you believe in magic?"

Local car club (article 3)

The car clubs activities extend to include Karting, but lets just say they take it far more seriously than anybody ever should. Also many member boast a rather large paunch making getting into the karts difficult.

Bland Prix

Pulse racing, sweat pouring, breath catching as he sets off to karting. With glory beckoning, he can not contain his enthusiasm. The mere thought of burning rubber, exhaust fumes and the blur when speeding down the track, entices him to race down the road towards the track. He arrives...

With conditions mimicking the Bahrain grand prix of 2004, in every way save the complete chaos that reigns. He dons his race gear as though preparing for presidential inauguration. He psychs himself up for his qualifying lap. With his starting position firmly established he converses with his fellow team mates.

Distinguished guests are shocked and honoured as the first lady (of SCCN) graces them with her presence, bearing a buffet of delicacies consisting of lemon creams. For appearance sake only, they but stay a moment before some depart to retail therapy and others partake in the tradition of sarcasm.

With visions of being the next Schumacher, the racers head out to the track. Slipping into

Encountering some resistance, they find their seats and mentally prepare for what lies ahead. All teams stand ready to switch in this intense relay. The race begins. Facing blow-outs, ​

​ breakdowns and some severe vehicular abuse, the racers press on. A young racer surges ahead only to plow into a pensioners kart.​ The track is chaos and vehicles are few. Sun, sweat and tears as the racers stagger from cars. No winner is announced and all dreams of glory fade.

The day comes to an end, much has been gained and lost in this strenuous, monstrous, unconventional and over exuberant karting race.

Local car club(article 2)

This article is written about cars in the park an annual gathering for motor car enthusiasts of every way, shape and form.

 

The annual migration of the Lotusapiens

Across Natal another population of motorus vehiclus enthusiasticus has evolved. Lotusapien, more commonly known as lotus driver. With a close relationship to Lotus Vehiclus, most often Lotus 7 Vehiclus. This relationship is often as strong as a Lotusapiens relationship with lotus feminus (his wife). These creatures, pulled by a force deep in the planet, migrate north each winter. Congregating in a rich, gassy environment to graze on pancakes and show their Lotus Vehiclus to other species of motorus vehiclus enthusiasticus.

This migration begins in formation, all lotusapiens enticing lotus vehiclus forward in a steady group. Then suddenly without any apparent reason they break formation and surge forward. Slower more prudent members are left behind as the Lotusapien with the least regard for safety, partnered with the lotus vehiclus least likely to lose a limb, arrives at the planes of PMB and finds a good spot to park. Feeling superior, but looking like a fool, he waits for his herd.

The herd arrives and all Lotus feminus are deposited under the tree (or chosen territory) as the Lotusapiens unpack tables, chairs and the odd cooler box, in a rush best described as controlled chaos. With Lotus feminus settled and chattering about their pride in their Lotusapien, the lotusapiens descend upon any newcomer to the herd. Using every sense, and sometimes a lack there of, the lotusapiens identify, analyse and form a history of the newcomer and his lotus vehiclus.

Then as though a wormhole opened and swallowed them all, the lotusapiens disappear from the grazing area leaving lotus feminus to protect it and lotus vehiclus. The Lotusapiens have rushed off to identify, analyse and form a history of as many motorus vehiclus species as possible.

Eventually returning with treats such as pancakes and biltong, the Lotusapiens find Lotus feminus beginning the preparations of breakfast. The more cautious Lotusapiens leave all treats to immediately help with the preparation of breakfast. The others storm the tables with the aggression of a honey badger to get their share of this meal. Bonding over eggs, rolls and strips of bacon the Lotusapiens discuss their findings from out on the planes.

Once more, all Lotusapiens disappear out onto the planes. Lotus feminus find sheltered, sunny spots to bask as they discuss the migration. It is a story of fear, affection, genius, lunacy, virtue, greed, pride and passion. One which dates back to a time when a man relied on his horse and cared for it as lotusapiens now do, their lotus vehiclus.

Alas their time at the planes is coming to an end. All Lotusapiens return to the grazing area to collect their wares and wives. Having a boot the size of an ice cream tub and possessing the power of a magicians hat, the lotus vehiclus swallows all chairs, tables, blankets, gazebos, left over foods(of which there is very little) and lotus feminus, as the Lotusapiens prepare for their perilous journey back to their nests.

Enticing the Lotus vehiclus to stampede towards the gate with thunderous roars, the Lotusapiens are abruptly forced to a halt and back into formation. Lotus vehiclus then crawl disgracefully past police manicus. Once through the crowds, the Lotus vehiclus take off racing back to their nests.

Along the way a lotus vehiclus breaks downs, a victim to the balance of nature, unable to continue without the support of its herd. With uncanny grace some of the herd gather to get the break down to safety. Protecting it like elephants do their young till all are safely back at their nests. Here the Lotusapiens await the next migration and opportunity to congregate. Whilst the lotus feminus await the opportunity to drink wine and laugh at the rises and falls, of the Lotusapiens perilous journeys into the wold of Motorus Vehiclus.

Presenting a variety of projects and problems to help save Motorus Vehiclus, which are under threat by the modern world, the lotusapiens continue to baffle and astound.

Local car club(article 1)

These are not meant as serious articles, but rather as a humorous view of the members and their behaviours. This first one was written in honour of the ladies that endure a monthly meeting called the "Pitstop".


Whine bags
The ladies table is doing just fine
At the pitstop drinking wine
Humour spikes and smiles all round
Trying not to make a sound.

Get the spoon! Let's stir it up!
Give the MCP his cup.
Lady bull, watch out now guys
Bite your husband? I bet he cries!

Give us breakfast runs and away weekends!
We'll see which wishbone decides to bend

Now some man is speeching about some car
People swarm down to the bar
Still the ladies smile and snicker
That lovely flow of grape filled liquor

Random name drops, no-one knows
Yet the drivel never slows
Facts and stats about some race
Now the ladies lose all grace

Making jokes and, OH! The sarcasm
Deeper! Deeper! Tears the humour chasm
The wine flows faster, eyelids droop
Laughter reigns in this disorderly coop

He stopped speaking! Praise the petrol!
and still a bottle left to kill
NOO! Another stands to speak
Don't men stop to take a leak?

No, the night drags on, it never ends
At least we have our bottled friends
Men are tired, questions are few
Yet another takes the pew

And so it goes, quiet unruly giggles
As the speaker uncomfortably wiggles
The night slows down to a stop
Ladies ready just to drop

Wine bottles like fallen troops
GOODNIGHT! GOODNIGHT! To all the groups
same time next month, meet again
How many bottles will be there? You'll see only then!

Insomnia piece 2

Yeah, I didn't get much sleep.

"In any relationship, there is one factor far more important than communication. It is respect. Any human being deserves a level of respect which allows them to be treated as a human. People forget that even the man who lives on the street has a name, had parents and definitely has feelings. We allow ourselves to be cruel to those around us and yet how are we better than any of them? We are merely humans trying to be human and trying our hardest to make things work in a world that gives us endless crap. We think strength and character can be bought, but in truth it is when we have nothing that we learn our true capabilities. It’s when we fail and learn to try again that our character grows. We are told to throw away your dreams and flow money, survive and support your family no matter what it costs. We are taught to be unhappy, to run ourselves into the ground and for what? We are all lost, all unhappy and we taint the future generations with it. We are our own worst enemies. What money or material can you take to the grave? NONE! That is my point. Memories are all we have to take with us and even then some of them leave us. I like to believe that we remember the fondest of our memories and that we are taken to a place of joy before we pass-on.

They call me stupid, call me useless, irresponsible and weak for following my dreams, but I am the only one strong enough to not follow money. The only one brave enough to pursue my dreams in the hope of finding what I truly love. I will be the difference, I will be an outcast for it, but I don’t care. I will follow my passion and I will be the best."

He looked down at what he had written, knowing it would never be true. His shoulders slumped and his heat ached as he crumpled up the yellow piece of paper and tossed it in the bin. He sighed, composed himself and walked out the room. With the weight of the world he started his chores as his family gossiped and insulted him. Each insult stung worse than the last, but he knew to never show weakness, they would attack if he did. Silently he thought of other worlds and faraway places, hoping one day he could leave, but knowing that his family would stop at nothing to make him fail. His world was heavy, with very few hand holds, such a careful balance. He was always controlled, careful and observant. His family always dragged him under, he always got back up. Perhaps someday he would find a place where people understood him and accepted him, if such people existed. He took a deep breath and focused on the dishes, scrubbing with careful control. His family better not know he’s upset, they tend to find it unforgivable.