Cast children’s stories exclusively with orphans

Standing outside the rhinoceros enclosure, Billy tried to hide his distress from his friends. It was in just such an enclosure that his parents had died when he was only four years old. He could still see the rhino’s breath hanging in the cold air as they clung to one another in fear. Of course, they had actually died from the effects of the virulent plague they carried whilst the rhino was distracted by the arrival of a pair of unfortunate parachutists – his best friend Suzie’s parents, as it turned out. They had been gored to death by the rhino whilst, in the sky far above, the plane they had jumped from exploded in mid-air, killing the pilot and co-pilot, who were his friend Nate’s mum and dad respectively.

‘You okay, Bill?’ asked Suzie, laying a hand gently on his shoulder.

‘Yeah,’ said Billy. ‘Just... you know.’

‘Yeah,’ said Nate, looking wistfully at the clouds above them. Just then, Naomi came back from the toilet, grinning broadly.

‘My parents should be here to pick us up soon,’ she said cheerily. ‘I love coming to the zoo.’

‘Shut up, Naomi,’ said Billy.

Make your villain genuinely evil

With thanks to my talented wife, who not only had this idea first, but executed it better.

Lord Plunderfall threw his head back and laughed.

‘Bwa ha ha ha! Your attempts to escape only serve to amuse me.’ He waved a hand towards the children and armed guards emerged from the shadows.

‘Why are you doing this?’ said Freddie.

‘Why?’ said Lord Plunderfall. ‘You ask me why? Well, the answer is quite simple. I seek to destroy the entire world because I am pure evil and wish nothing more than the death of all humanity. Bwa ha h...’

‘Really?’ interrupted Bertha. ‘That’s it? Because that seems a bit improbable.’

‘Improbable?’ thundered the dark figure uncertainly.

‘Yes,’ said Freddie. ‘It’s not all that convincing as a motive. I mean, if you destroy the entire world, where will you live?’

‘I...’ Plunderfall hesitated. ‘Never you mind. I am a force of pure malignancy and I shall tear apart the very...’

‘And if you kill everyone in the world,’ said Bertha, ‘where will you get your food from? Are you going to run your own farm? Is having a smallhold part of your masterplan?’

‘I don’t...’ He seemed to be sweating under his metal mask. ‘That is...’ Freddie shrugged.

‘It just doesn’t seem like you’ve thought it through, you know?’

‘Exactly,’ said Bertha. ‘And I’m sure there’s a more practical material you could have made that mask out of. I imagine the metal edges really chafe.’

Refuse to resolve mysteries

As the train shuddered to a halt, I lifted myself from the seat and once again examined my ticket. The printed destination remained smudged beyond legibility.

‘We haven’t gone where we were going, you know,’ said a voice from behind me. I whirled around. No one. As I backed carefully out of the carriage, I felt my shoes pinching at my feet. I looked down.

‘These aren’t my shoes,’ I muttered. As I had slept, someone must have changed them. But who, and to what purpose? Across the toe of each shoe was an inscription in a language I could not read – the same language, I quickly realised, that the menu in the disappearing restaurant had been written in. If only I had known the proprietor’s name. As I approached the train’s door, I caught a shadow of my own reflection in the darkened window. I had an inexplicable bruise above my left eye in the exact shape of the Rorschach blot which had set me off on this journey to begin with. I looked closer. It was hard to tell, but it looked like my eyes were blue instead of brown. Also, upon closer inspection, I was now a woman. I blinked. It took only a fraction of a second, but in the space of that blink, I suddenly understood the nature of memory and realised that I would never die.

I wish I could explain to you, dear reader, where I had found myself and what happened next, but for reasons I am unable to divulge, I must say no more. Farewell, my friends, farewell.

Write yourself out of a corner

(With thanks to my ever-inventive commenters)

The sirens had started blaring as soon as the Chieftain had left the cell. A few moments after that, tendrils of thick, green gas had begun to snake under the door. However, Dash was aware of none of this. As soon as the door had closed behind his captor, he had begun the mental and physical process needed to put himself into the Trance of All-Being, an ancient secret taught to him by his mysterious Space-Zen master on the hidden ice planet of Bhulfhughugt. This trance would free him from the necessity of breathing, instead allowing him to re-metabolise the oxygen within his body for up to an hour.

Next, he formed a vivid mental image of his fifth birthday, a process which generated the unique combination of brainwaves required to activate the bio-integrated quantum communications implant that nestled deep in his hypothalamus. The nanotech circuitry instantaneously sent a burst of coded data tunnelling through non-space to the paired receiving unit, fifty parsecs away. Now he had broadcast his position, help was on its way.

That just left the diamond compound walls and deadly forcefields beyond. Taking a moment to channel the never-adequately-explained power of his Space-Zen abilities, Dash sensed a complex, syncopated rhythm in the electromagnetic fields that permeated the cell. He placed one hand against the wall and breathed for a moment. Then, guided by the fluctuations of unseen forces, he rapped a seemingly random pattern with his fingertips. For a split second, the crystalline structures within the wall aligned perfectly with the pulsing of the forcefield, reflecting and focusing its power in such a way as to not only overload the field generators, but vaporise the wall itself. With a shower of sparks and a crackle of exploding neutrons, the cell was gone.

Dash sprinted down the corridor, deadly neurotoxin gas swirling around him. The door to the ship’s bridge opened as he approached. He combat-rolled through it. At the exact moment that he tumbled into the command centre, thirty heavily-armed Mhal-Evol’Unt warriors turning to face him, an explosion rocked the warship. Through the plumes of smoke and a newly-torn gash in the ship’s hull, Dash saw the familiar figure of Fumblebot, his adorable robot sidekick.

‘Well, gentlemen, this is my ride,’ he said, waving one hand at his alien captors as he hurled himself through the haze of molten metal and into the waiting starfighter. With a whistle of friendly greeting, Fumblebot fired up the engines and they were away.

Write yourself into a corner

The Mhal-Evol’Unt Chieftan flexed its serrated mandibles and activated the translation panel before speaking.

‘Allow me describe now,’ the digitised voice rasped. ‘You trapped are completely.’ It stalked across the cell, its claws scratching against the metal floor like nails on a blackboard. Captain Dash Gallant, renowned hero of the Battle of Tor’Sang, smiled grimly.

‘Is that so?’ he said.

‘Fully correct,’ the translator said. ‘Walls containing you diamond compound are. Also forcefields beyond, instant death causing. Communications impossible. Negotiation impossible. Weapons, ship, equipment destroyed. No knowledge of your presence here has Earth Fleet. Moments away, entire ship with neuropoison gas fills, to which us immune, you vulnerable. Death certainty. To Gallant, Tor’Sang butcher criminal, farewell.’

‘For a cannibal lizard-insect space mutant, you say a hell of a goodbye,’ muttered Dash. The translator made a barking sound that might have been a laugh before the Chieftan turned and left the cell.

Dash examined his surroundings. The thing was right – escape would be impossible. Even if, by some miracle, he managed to get out of the cell, there would be nowhere to go that wouldn’t soon be flooded with deadly nerve gas. Beyond the warship, which had no escape pods, there was only the emptiness of fifty parsecs of space in every direction. His luck had finally run out, he realised. This was the end.

Rely on unsolicited submissions

(This comic version of a previous post was provided by Pippin Barr and I thought it was too good not to share.)

Be topical

Pete arrived home to find his wife watching the television.

‘Any news yet?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘The negotiations have finished and there’s a coalition government.’

‘So, the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats finally did a deal, did they?’ He sat down on the sofa beside her. ‘That’s predictable news.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m just pleased it’s all over and there’s no risk of Gordon Brown being Prime Minister.’

’Yes,’ he said, switching off the TV. ‘I’m glad that someone’s in charge, even if it is David Cameron and, to a lesser extent, Nick Clegg. What this country needs right now is consensus leadership. Now, what about the World Cup draw? Who do you think are the favourites to win?’

‘Probably Brazil.’

‘Did you say Brazil?’

‘No, just Brazil.’

Shamelessly plug your work

Dear readers,

I co-write a short film which is in the running for a National Film Board of Canada & Cannes Short Film Corner award. You can watch it here. I tell you this not only because I think you might enjoy seeing me try to write something that isn’t deliberately bad, but because I want you to vote for it by clicking ‘Like’ and I have absolutely no shame.

All the best,

Joel