I know I've posted some of this before, but it was a while ago, so I figure people will have lost the flow... and I've made a few minor changes. This will be the last section I'll post here because I know there's a lot of traffic and I don't want to clog up people's mail boxes. If anyone wants to read the rest as I do it then they can e-mail me personally. If people want me to continue posting then just say so and I will. If, on the flip side, people specifically want me to stop then e-mail me saying that too... I won't be offended and it'll serve to counteract anyone who says they want it posted. I'll put a star by the new bit... Judy and the Dream of Horses Introduction "Write a song about your dream of horses Call it Judy and the Dream of Horses", That line must have been playing just as she fell asleep, or when the timer on her stereo kicked in and switched it off, either way it wouldn't stop looping. She didn't really mind, she liked that line, and not just because of the vanity that came with hearing your own name. There was something in that line about hope and about finding value in the wrong places. I suppose you wouldn't understand unless you'd heard it all, or at least the relevant bits. The part that nearly explained it went something like: "Judy got a book at school Went under the covers with a torch Fell asleep till it was morning Dreamt about a girl who stole a horse Judy never felt so good except when she was sleeping" But you'd really need to hear the song. Judy decided she'd take the advice, although it couldn't be a song, they'd already written the song so that would be silly. Judy was going to write a story, after all, you didn't get a motivation like this every day and it might be the push she needed to finish something she'd started. You couldn't live on scrapbook ideas and poems these days, no matter how good you were. Judy sat down at the desk behind her bed. She started slowly, but began to pick up speed the more she wrote, and the more she liked it: "'Judy and the Dream of Horses' I hadn't slept properly in a month. Chapter 1 I hadn't slept properly in a month. You know that they say if you hate someone too much everything gets all twisted? Well, the same thing can happen with love, only that won't go away just because you decide it should. There's no way you can just leave it alone either, especially when the other person loves you back just as much, or thinks they do. I guess you wouldn't really understand unless you knew someone who made you so nervous that you couldn't speak to them for fear of having them despise you. You'd always be afraid of giving away something of your character and having them realise, instantly, that you are in no way their equal, or even their second best. You have to understand that, for all my efforts not to be, I'm pretty much flawed. I try to care about things, I try to put other people first, but it never feels quite right, it always feels like I'm doing it for myself. Sometimes I manage it, last week I actually got really upset when some girls I know were talking about going to war being a duty, but that's just the once. Usually I just sit at home listening to music and working out how to get back at someone who's upset me, or going out and looking for the best way to attract everyone's attention. I've tried to be like him, to actually care more about other people than I do about myself. It doesn't work, and every time he touches me I can feel that he knows I'm not like him. Now, I didn't always understand he was like that, when I first met him I had no idea at all. As far as I can remember it was January, though it could just as easily have been February, and I was sitting in the front room reading a book and drinking Ribina through a straw. He had come to see my dad about the computer and I had no idea who he was. He fixed the problem in a couple of minutes and sat down on the chair next to me to have a cup of tea. I winked at him, I always winked at boys when they first came into the house, it was my way of introducing some drama to the proceedings. He shuffled the first time, and smiled just enough to avoid offending me. I waited until my father came into the room and winked again, this time he pretended it hadn't happened. I went back to my book. I soon found that it was impossible to read over the discussions taking place between my father and my new toy. I noticed he was looking at me and looked back sharply, intending to embarrass him. He held my gaze for a second and then returned his eyes to my father. A little confused by this reaction I searched for something else to occupy my attention. I began to blow gently on my Ribina, manoeuvring the waves across the cup. I continued this until the tea was finished and the boy left. *When my father turned to me he looked, first to me, then to the boy and smiled. He waited for a couple of seconds, gauging my reaction, then said slowly and almost disquietingly, "He's a nice boy isn't he? You like him?" The last part sounded so much like a statement that I was unsure how to react. After yet another awkward pause, I replied "Yes". My father chuckled to himself as he left the room, apparently requiring a further cup of tea. As my father did not return for quite some time, and his comments had aroused my interest in the boy, I decided to look for him in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table with his cup resting in front of him, looking at the door. He seemed as though he were expecting me and smiled. I put my Ribina down on the table and sat drinking it for a little while. I raised my eyes to him and said, "That boy seems nice". My father nearly chuckled and replied, "Yes, he does" and went back to his coffee. I couldn't leave it at that, though my father had made it quite clear in his silence that he had no particular wish to discuss him any further. or so I thought, so I asked; "Does he go to Uni. round here?" "He does" "Studying Computer Science?" "No, he's doing an Art course, but he uses computers a lot for work" At that point, I sat in triumph for a couple of seconds, thinking I had pushed my father into giving a reasonable answer. "You seem awfully interested in this boy, considering that this is the first time you've ever seen him" He smiled. "Well, I like to know about people, why shouldn't I" Still smiling, my father replied, "No reason at all" and sat back looking smug. Feeling more than a little silly, I went straight to bed, deliberately neglecting to wish my father good night. This was an act of petulance, and I was well aware of that fact, but it made me feel better, so I decided not to care. "We make computers... but we don't know how to operate computers" - 17 year old Manila factory worker The Happy Reaper +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+