I used to be a little boy, so old in my shoes

The boy ran down to the bottom of the garden.  He loved being at his aunties.  More room to run around and explore.  While the grown ups sat inside drinking tea, he was free out here to visit strange new worlds. 

Amongst the apple and plum trees, the boy saw the mist.  The rest of the garden shone in the early afternoon sunlight yet this part was dark.  It represented adventure to him, a place that he had never been before. As he approached he thought that he saw something move within it.  It caused him to pause for a second.  The thrill of discovering a new place almost left him as the possible danger from a shadow in the mist gripped him.

A voice rang out from the mist.

“If you can hear this, then please know that you are important and needed.  You may be on your own but trust me that you are one of many, spread across different time and realities,  Some of you may already know me, some wont be able to see me.  Do not worry, in time all of this will eventually make sense.”

The boy sat  down on the grass under a nearby apple tree and allowed the mist to envelop him.  This was going to be a very good adventure.


There is a place somewhere, sometimes you’ll find me there and if I am alone, I will be sitting on the stairs

There is a park in my Aberdeen.  An old Victorian place that sits just below Union Street and seems a million miles away from the noise and pollution of the traffic.

But this is not my Aberdeen.  In front of me lies a concrete facsimile, raised up to lie at the same level as Union Street.  The odd piece of plastic grass strewn about in a random pattern, tries to make the grey granite less cold. 

It fails, miserably.

However this is not my world, so I venture onto the concrete floor and thats when i can feel it.  The dull thump of the machine below my feet.  This is what is causing the vibrations of this reality to change.  This and several thousand others around this earth I would imagine.  As uncomfortable as it is to stand here, this is exactly where I need to be.

From the DJ at the nightclub I had got directions to a local pound store.  Strangely it was not where I had expected it to be.  This earth was doing things a different way.  Never mind, I knew what I had to do.  In cheap shops you can buy several items of speaker related materials that, with a wee bit of magic, can be amplified far higher than they were ever designed for.  Burns them out quickly but if all goes well, I only need a few minutes.

Placing them in the pattern that my name makes in your mind when heard through the night, I can feel the thump get stronger as if someone has turned it up to 10.

No matter, These will go to 11.

“What exactly do you think you are doing?”  The voice comes from a little man sat on one of the nearby grey benches.  I ignore him.  He will try to stop me soon but I will be ready for him when he does.  The pattern complete, I stand in the dead centre and raise a cheap plastic megaphone to my lips.

“Good Evening Aberdeen, the world will be changing around you, please do not panic.”

The small man gets up off of the bench and wanders over to me, his hands dug deep within the pockets of his sports coat.

“You can’t stop it you know?”

I smile at him and unplug my headphones from the portable music player.  Overwhelming images crash my vision as the real world around me throbs in time to the beat under my feet.  Struggling bend down and plug the music player into one of the speakers. 

“Piff, Paff, Poof” The old magic is always the strongest.

As the music flows through the speakers, an almost invisible dome forms around me and the outside noise stops.  I am in a cocoon of music and I allow myself to relax.  Step one is complete.  Taking out my mobile phone, I dial Agent Kittie.

She answers on the fourth ring.  I say hello a bit more curtly than I should have and then turn the phone towards the ground.


The Saxophone starts and I finally think that this might just work better than I had hoped.


(Burstfiction from the Lairdofdarkness who is wondering if anyone will get that lyric!!)

Need to belong, the roads are scary. Hold me in your arms, I want to be your only possession.

I’m halfway along a dimly lit side street when I realise that Professor Bush was right.

The world around us is made up of objects that are vibrating at ridiculously high speeds.  The right vibrational level directed at something would disrupt the shape of that object.  Applied across a whole reality, then what you see would not necessarily be what is actually there.  He was convinced that music had been hijacked by those who would want to control where we spend our money but what if the ultimate purpose was to change our reality?  The agency was not convinced that it could be done on such a grand scale but this reality seems to disprove that notion.  Nothing here is what it seems.  Everywhere I look, the glamour slips slightly and I see it for what it really is.  Signs proclaiming one thing are actually saying something else.  It is all about control and this reality has fallen to it.

I had procured from the DJ in the club a portable music player and had him fill it with music I liked.  Most of the tracks were from when i was a teenager as they seemed to be the ones that created a happy place for my soul to visit.  Must investigate that further one day..  Slipping on the headphones, I stepped out into the world and was able to resist the pounding silent beat.  It was almost filtered out by the headphones but the residue that did get through was easily dealt with by my training.  That training had saved me when I arrived but over time it was not enough.  I really wanted to just give in and accept the world as it was.  My makeshift solution would enable me to continue for a while yet.

Of course, the revelation about Professor Bush caused me to stop and close my eyes, waiting for the bright and warm white light to envelop me and take me home.  It didn’t.  Apparently I was not in a quantum leap.  This saddened me.

Still ever onward.  George would be in for a mammoth evening of storytelling when I returned.

It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel meh

So where was I?

Oh yes.  I remember now.  It is getting harder to keep my mind clear from the static that this world is broadcasting.  So easy would it be to just give in and join the herd.  The need to belong because the roads are scary, rides high in my conscious.

I do not like this world.  The sooner I can leave it the better.  However I did promise the local agent that I would try and sort this mess out and then take her home.  Her smile of relief gave me the strength to ignore the nagging doubts at the back of my mind.  We could do it together and then be home in time for tea.

Outside this dream of mine had died a quick and painful death.  The world was too far gone to save.  Whatever had set all this mind control up was very thorough and although i searched for the metaphorical end of the sellotape, it eluded my grasp.  I watched as the people wandered about wearing the most ridiculous fashions and beaming a smile that just about hid the fact that their minds were empty.

Just about hid it but not from me.  I am too skilled at this to be fooled by smoke and mirrors.  Magazines were full of people who were revered because they had been on a television show.  Their opinions and clothing was given the status of important political thinkers.  It would have been funny if it had not been happening right in front of my eyes.

The agent saw that I was struggling with the horror of it all and led me to this nightclub.  People who seemed to be immune to the idiot wave had congregated in the one place that allowed them to dull the different drummers outside.  I have to admit I was surprised and a little bit disappointed that they had not chosen Libraries but in this world it was music that gave them power.  I could still work with that if I had arrived earlier, however that option was now gone to me.

So I am sat here trying to work out what I can do to get me and this agent back to the nexus and then home.  The Agency are not contactable on this plane and the internet seems to be working but I cannot be certain that the sites I am connecting to are the same ones that I am familiar with.  Also if I am able to open some kind of astral doorway, can I really leave the people in this club behind?

I am feeling rather hungry at this point.  For some strange reason the clubbers around me are surviving on alcohol and peanuts, yet that would not be enough for me.  Outside i could get whatever I want to eat but I am not sure if I am strong enough to resist the banality call that lies outside.

The packet that was delivered to me contains postcards written by me years ago.  All written to my future self and containing all the wit and wisdom I possessed back then.

I do not remember doing this but my continuity has been reset many times over the years anything is possible.  Hard and soft reboots of my life to make things easier to cope with.  Some memories remain but I chose to forget, or hide, most of them.

These postcards from my younger self seemed so full of hope for the future, full of self belief that things would turn out great for me.  It seems as if they were written by a different person.  In a sense they were.

The DJ is playing some tune I recognise.  My feet begin to tap along to the beat and for three minutes and thirteen seconds all is right with my life.  Everything is possible and when the tune ends and mixes into another, that joy evaporates into the ether.

It does leave me with an idea though and I make my way towards the DJ booth.  We may yet have a chance here.

(Burstfiction conjured out of the air and moulded by the Lairdofdarkness)

Take me to the place where the dreaming never ends

There is a brief pause in the music and the club goes momentarily silent before the space is filled by the voices of the dancers. I poke my head out from my hiding place and scan the area. It seems safe now. So how did I end up in the nightclub from hell? It’s a long story. I’m not strong enough to go into details just now. Suffice to say, we walked through this world and I saw just how messed up their reality was. Hidden messages behind every poster, every billboard. All saying things that would only grind any individuality out of people. This world was lost to the multiverse. Nothing I or the agency could do would be able to restore this back to the orrery of worlds. That’s what my report to the Agency will say as soon as I get back. I was called to here by a force that I have so far been unable to discover. Here I met an agent that had been left stranded. She had not brought me here. Together we hoped to sort this mess out but after a quick tour of the surroundings, I realised that we were too late. The society had abandoned language for slang with a reckless abandon, it was just easier for them. The rise of celebrity culture had taken over almost all of the mainstream media. The government rebranded themselves as the G just to try and remain relevant. The biggest impact they had was that they were known as the Big G now. No-One cared, there was no fight left in the public. The world was over and they just had not realised it yet. The few people who had not been absorbed into the syrupy gloop that society had become, had retreated into clubs away from the world. An almost secondary society was forming but every day their numbers were dwindling as people just gave up fighting to be different and just joined the collective. If I remain here much longer, who is to say that I wont do the same?

I dont think I’m going to let you stay in the film business

So for those who followed me from Posterous, maybe go and make a coffee.  For the new comers, welcome.

The story I have been writing in short bursts is now on this blog, so feel free to go and read it from the beginning (although to be honest you could probably jump in anywhere and not feel completely lost).

Basically I am doing this to keep my writing muscles in shape.  Every year in November I have taken part in NanoWrimo and then I spend the rest of the year recovering.  So this year i thought, why don’t I just write stuff at lunchtimes and post it.  The chances of a story appearing is slim but so far, i am quite impressed with what I have written.  It is all first draft, spelling mistakes and all.  I have no grand overall plan, no ultimate goal and no idea if it will ever reach a conclusion.  However I can promise you that it will always be interesting enough to read and it may inspire you to go and write something yourself, even if it is a reaction as “That Laird guy is rubbish, I could write better than that”. 

The post titles are mostly song lyrics (sometimes changed slightly to fit better) and if you can recognise them without resorting to the internet, well done.  There is no prize other than my respect for your musical knowledge.

So strap yourself in and follow me for the forseeable

Standing in the way of control

I’ve side slipped.

Not deliberatly though, which is more worrying.  I have been called here somehow.

looking around the world looks like the one I have just left.  The same colours and smells but as if they have been passed through a filter.  A ten foot sign above Union Street displays a happy looking family, two adults and a two kids on a day out somewhere I have never heard of.  However I can see behind the glamour and the wording is very straightforward.

Be Pure

Be Vigilant


Something is very wrong here.  I must find out why I have been dragged to this world.  There is a beat that is forming directions anda  map in my subconscious.  There is an agent at work, or someone from their side messing with reality.  Setting off towards the source, I notice a newstand beside the Union terrace bridge.  Rows and rows of magazines with happy sounding names but depressing headlines.  A solitary newspaper sits near the bottom and I can see that the Big G have admitted that the food is poisened but that Juluy from dancybeatband is not concerned.  This piques my curiousity and I stop to read before the vendor chases me away.

“I’m not worried because the Big G know what is going on and they have not stopped eating.”

Thats the extent of the article.  I place the paper back on the rack and move off.  The vendor nods to me as I pass and mumbles something that sounds like he has misfitting teeth.  I smile and continue on.

When I reach the source of the beat, I have passed multiple advertising hoardings all proclaiming happy sights yet just behind the public view, the words of control are bold and clear.  Subconscious manipulation.  I suddenly feel like I am in an eighties movie and someone has handed me sunglasses.

The source is a building sat in the middle of a tenement row.  Money has been spent on the superficial look of it all but the cracks are still visible if you know where to look.  Knocking on the door, I wait as the beat changes to a less thumping one.  the shapes that the sounds make are warmer now, welcoming.  The door is thrown open and I see the agent.  One of ours by the looks of her.  I smile, raise my top hat with my silver topped cane and dont even wait for an invitation inside.  She smiles and closes the door behind me.

“Thank buffy they finally sent someone.  I was beginning to think I had been abandoned here.”  She then moves to the kitchenette near the back of the property and puts the kettle on.  It is adorned with happy quotes and pictures of celebrities I almost recognise but not quite.  I indicate I would like a cup of tea in a china cup and the look of dissapointment on my face when she uses a slightly smaller mug than hers, well lets just say that I almost left there and then.

“Tell me whats happened here?” I say, declining the offer of biscuits that at one angle look fantastically delicious but at another angle, look dry and full of additives.

“I was sent here to combat the enemy, I cannot remember exactly how long ago.  But I failed.”  Her eyes darken as she recalls the events.  “before I realised, they had won.  The world woke up to this,” her right hand gestures all around her, “And no-one seemed to notice.  I speak to people and they tell me that it has always been like this.  The Big G have always been in charge and they know what is best for us.  Eventually I had to stop talking about the change as I was attracting too much attention.”

Nodding I sip the acrid tasting tea.  The water is not at peace.  A small incantation and the taste improves almost a hundredfold.

“So I waited to be recalled by the agency.  I had failed and expected to be chastised.  What I did not expect was being left here. I cant take it anymore.  Everywhere I go, the people dont want to know what is going on.  they accept what the celebrities tell them.  The other week, the magazines started calling them tees because celebrities was too long a word.  You would think that was the best idea in the world the way that the public reacted.  Words keep being shortened, vowels dropped, slang taking over.  It’s like they are destroying language to stop it being used to inform.”

The silence lasted a good few minutes as I digested the situation.  She looked exhausted and the beat was no longer part of the atmosphere. 

“Well young lady, ” I said this as a matter of courtesy, she was at least as old as me, if not older. “We must put a stop to this.”

She looked stunned.

“I thought you were here to take me home?”

Shaking my head caused her to look sad again.

“No my dear.  I was side slipped here by something you did.  The beat led me here for a reason.  I intend to help you put this world back on track again.  However I think you are wrong about the enemy being behind this.  They would just have removed this world from the reality matrix.  Yet this world still exists.  There is someone else behind all of this.”

How little I knew what truth awaited me.