A short story called "9"....

The rest of this will precede when I finish it :) Thanks again to the English weather system for bringing a nice depressing edge to yet another grey day.....! I wonder if we could tow our country south for the summer, drag us a couple of miles south and steal the Spanish sun..?

A lifetime of drugs and shock treatment and all I get is this nice little test-tube of a room. One square windowless petri dish for me and my thoughts, which apparently are not suitable for the ones on the ‘outside’, or in other words, the normal people. Strange, isn’t it, how life comes with its own little unspoken social rules and graces, don’t say that, you’ll get in trouble, don’t do this, the men in white coats will come and take you away. A few little words and its electrodes on your temples and a hundred doses of ‘it’s for your own good’ and ‘just a little something to help you sleep’. Bullshit. If you aren’t crazy when you go in, you’ll be crazy when you come out.

It’s 1986, and I’d just finished university, Kings College of London, if you’ll believe that. I am, after all and by constant definition, an hallucinatory psychotic, so I will forgive you for taking a liberal pinch of salt with my words. In every fairy tale there’s always a girl, or a woman who is the catalyst. In this case it was Anna Ferris, like the wheel. Anna was from the Queen Elizabeth College, which merged with King’s the year before. She was doing biology and like my father, I was doing law. A fine aspiration they all said, couldn’t go wrong with law, prepare yourself for a fine life ahead of you. Unknown to me I had some marvellous and inventive way of ruining it all hidden far up my sleeve.

It was Anna who called the men in white coats, my constant babbling about hot water and pointy tails was a little too much for her in the end, and all it took was a single phone call while I was standing oblivious in the shower.

It seems distinctly odd to me now that I could have just kept my mouth shut, that a simple inconclusive shake of the head would have sufficed to keep the greedy doctors off my back, to keep the mouths from whispering and the fingers from pointing. But something inside of me couldn’t keep quiet, couldn’t for the life of me ignore what I had seen that night in the garden.

Forgive me, I tend to drift off on rather long tangents, a life time of ECT can do that to any man. Like I said it was 1986, the summer of, and there were two words on everybody’s lips: graduation, and party. Anna had volunteered her house, a fine mansion near South Kensington which her parents had dimwittedly left in her hands while they went skiing in Chamonix for the summer. Twenty-three years ago and I can still recall every detail. Some may have changed over the years but nevertheless every detail is there, identified, catalogued and stored. Repeating yourself to countless doctors will do that to you. Anna looked stunning, I remember that, dressed up and dancing to West End Girls and Papa Don’t Preach. If anyone should be locked up in here with me it should be Madonna.

It was about nine when the party moved into the garden, the sun was settling down for the night and everyone took to dancing on the grass once the speakers were moved to the windows. Anna and I went to the shed to discuss a few things, mainly sparkling rose wine and a few lines of coke. I can still taste her perfume on my tongue, the bitter tangy taste of the drugs with the flowers of her hair and the wine. Intoxicating.

This all probably seems very ordinary to you, sat there writing away at your notes, but here’s where it gets interesting....

And that's where I'll leave it for now..... ;)

Ben

(C) Copyright Ben Galley 2009

Good Morning....

...I've been thinking about getting a bonsai tree for a while now, and I think today is the day! peaceful, calming, don't have to walk it, and it's small, so in my mind this all equates to EASY PET. And if you'd like to discuss the nature of bonsai trees and their value as actual pets, then I'm sure someone at Homebase or B&Q would love to help.

I think I might get a green one.....

Meanwhile today is a day of prose and possible Indian food to help the mind write. A little update in the world of Ben:

1) The debut book, "The Written" is finally displaying signs of coming to an absolutely deafening climax, I reckon a good four chapters left and the first draft will be ready for the scrutinising eyes of a select few! It's going to be fun to read through the book as a whole, something I haven't done with one of my drafts for years! Its been quite a few years since I wrote my first attempt at a novel ever, the "The Kanandapur Trilogy", which you never know, I might dive into and rewrite one day...

2) The new house is finally moved into! The last of the clothes and posters were put away and blutacked up, respectively, and the room is actually looking like home now (all with the exception of my bonsai tree that is...)

3) A few short stories, a series of them in fact, could be hitting the blog soon if I get some spare time. They're based on a handful of ideas taken from a bigger story idea that could be on the near horizon, but I can't think about that until "The Written" is finished and tucked away on a shelf! But all my ramblings and tall tales will be up here from time to time anyway, so it's not like I never give you anything is it? I gave you fish too... but just don't feed them too much.

4) And I'm incredibly hungry, as usual, and as such need to go and satiate my rumbling stomach, find some yoghurt or something, maybe soup but that's a little weird at 9.41am....

Enjoy the day, and don't forget if you want more ramblings I'm on Twitter and Facebook!

Much love

Ben

More glorious more....

Here's a little something, back to Chapter 8 for more thrilling adventures. Hopefully what I'll be doing is releasing a bit from each chapter in the run up to the book's release, see if we can get a little more teasing in there... Anyway, lazy day filled with meetings, coffee, maybe trying to shower, finally unpack my clothes and writing, lots of glorious writing!

Read on citizens....

He was manhandled up steps and through corridors, along bridges and across bustling thoroughfares filled with gawking siren citizens. Pain from a hundred cuts and bruises blurred with his fever as he was hauled onto a wide bridge that arched over a massive cave carpeted by rolling fields. The dark rock walls rose upwards and culminated in a huge round skylight. Daylight surged through the opening high above Farden’s head and he could see that snow drifted gently through the hole. As the party crossed the long road he managed to glimpse looks at the farms and buildings below him. Countless people milled below them like ants through the lanes and roads, curving their way through the furrowed fields.

He was dumped unceremoniously at the top of a flight of stairs a good ten minutes later. Cold wind messed with his hair and he tried to push his head up to see, but a guard yanked him backwards, and the refreshing mountain air was taken away. Farden was dragged again, this time somewhere that swung and wallowed. There was creaking and he moved upwards. The mage tried to reserve his strength for whatever was coming, so he kept his eyes shut and concentrated on staying conscious.

After a while he was hauled across what felt like a cold shiny floor and left in a foetal position. All was silent. Behind him a large door was slammed and the sound of boots ceased. Light shimmered behind Farden’s eyelids, and he waited.

‘Can you stand?’ A massive booming voice queried.

Farden lay there, still with eyes closed. Feeling his fingers stretch out beneath him he pushed himself up shakily, every limb wailing in protest. He cursed under his breath and looked for the first time at his surroundings.

There had not been many times in his life that Farden had felt such awe and shock, speechless at his surroundings. The humbled mage felt small as he gazed upwards at a massive domed roof that seemed to tower effortlessly hundreds of feet above him. Thin shafts of light poked through the tough granite rock like holes pierced in a grey blanket and a huge skylight punctured the far side of the ceiling, a massive doorway to the snowy skies outside. All around the hall Farden saw at least a thousand ledges carved into the rock, huge sconces hollowed from the stone running up and along the walls like countless little honeycombed nests. The candlelight of hundreds of lamps flickered all around him, and dragons, scores of dragons, filling the lower ledges of the gigantic hall, squatting and perching on strewn hay, surrounded by little candles and pitchers of water. Farden noticed, with a somewhat unexpected dismay, that only half the nests in the cave were occupied, dark without their candles and visitors. He wondered what this hall would look like before the war.

The huge lizards shuffled and snuffled from everywhere, and the sound of their dragon-riders whispering to each other was deafening. The mage’s eyes were now fixed on what he saw before him.

There, laying on a huge wooden bed of autumn leaves spotlighted by a lone shaft of sunlight...

Haha, not revealing that secret just yet...

Join the Twitter!

(c) Copyright Ben Galley 2009

Chapter 14 Sneakish

What a fine day it is today, a bit of rain and looking forward to an even finer evening playing two gigs! Busy, but managed to get some time to write the next pat of the book "The Written"! Here's a quick sneak preview.... and also check out the Twitter, just search for BenGalley.

Farden turned to face his foes, planting his feet wide and feeling his hands shake with magick. Their stealthy approach ruined, the attackers shouted and bellowed, noisily crashing through the forest towards him. Their shouts and cries had woken the abbey from its peaceful slumbers and a handful of guards tumbled out of the main door still struggling with their armour and wiping tiredness from their eyes. The moon and stars bathed the abbey grounds in a pale glow, but it wasn’t enough to fight by, so Farden slammed his wrists together and a piercing white light burned the shadows away from the edges of the forest. The trees shook with movement, and the sound of men and metal clattering through the undergrowth grew even louder.

‘Stay together!’ Farden shouted to the confused and bewildered soldiers. They rushed to his side and readied their weapons, forming a little line halfway across the lawn. Arrows hissed exploded from the leaves and thudded into the grass inches from the men’s feet but they held firm, their courage bolstered by the powerful mage standing with them pulsing with magick.

Farden stretched out his hands by his legs and a sudden wind flattened the grass around the group. Dead leaves scurried around their feet and cloaks clapped and fluttered, crackling like whips.

‘Hold on!’ Farden bellowed to the others while slowly moving his hands forward inch by inch. At that moment two hooded figures sprang from the shadows between the trees and ran towards screaming at the men. The mage’s hands shook with energy as he seemed to push against an invisible wall. The wind howled wolfishly. The figures were knocked flat and their swords tumbled from their gloved hands. The intruders grabbed the grass to keep themselves from being torn away but it was useless. Just as two more men emerged from the darkness their friends were ripped from the earth and flew backwards into their friends. Armour crashed amidst crack branches and the broken tangle of men and swords tumbled back into the forest.

Farden strained and slowly wound the spell down, but a sudden flash of light in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

‘Watch out!’ A shout rang out from his right and a spitting bolt of fire tore out of the darkness towards them. Farden spun and threw himself flat to the ground as the fireball exploded against the chest of the man behind him. He crumpled to the ground with a gurgling choke and flames licked at his face and neck. The poor man frantically patted at his scorched chest and the others ran to quench the fire. Farden took a stand and threw two of his own roaring fireballs back in the same direction. He crouched to watch the fire burst against a tree where dark figure lurked at the edges of the forest...

Hope you like, let me know!

ben_galley@hotmail.com

(C) Copyright Ben Galley 2009

Cold Coffee

A good evening to all! Here's a little thing I wrote today from the comfort of my bed in my freezing new room. Think of it as another experiment, maybe an exercise on thoughts......

Bold, size 32, seemed a good place to start but now it looks too, well, bold. And big.

Scrap that, I can always start again.

That’s what I was told anyway, seems a little different now.

Don’t try tell me any different, I told you I’m not listening.

Waitress says they’re closing

Got no place to go says Dylan.

Can’t help but tease us can you, you rhyming bastard.

Italic?

No too Roman, times are new and all that.

Okay, 26, not too invasive

Underline, underlying, there’s no difference except in the problems.

She said there was but I didn’t believe her.

Two suitcases was all she needed apparently

Figure that one out

44, lifetime of thick worries and expensive shoes and all she needs is two suitcases.

One of them was mine.

Let’s not get distracted here this isn’t about her, or you, it’s me you selfish prick.

I’m the one people should be listening to

I'm the only one left

The one can see the other side of all these stories

Maybe it should be bold.

Coffee’s cold

Eggs are untouched, comatose yellow eyes watching me think.

Shit this is hard.

I have no idea what I’m doing here now.

Thanks for all the good times Mary, thanks a lot

And without both of you none of this could have happened, so thanks again.

Gabe said nothing was impossible but look

Here we are

I suppose I use the term “we” loosely, the waitress obviously doesn’t give a fuck.

They all said I lied

They all saw her and said it was a joke.

I was a liar for a time

Now look at us

Now he’s gone and what did we have left?

Nothing except eachother, and apparently that wasn’t enough, immaculate bullshit.

Space bar is sticky, must be all the times I’ve thought about hitting it

Finally given up.

Never thought it would end up like this

I think the bridge might help me along

Can’t even remember why I started this anyway, seeing as you’re already listening

Ever there and ever wrong, intangible and misleading like a council of the blind

And chosen is the same as cursed in my book.

People say I’m all pent up and bitter

People don’t know shit.

Night to all,

Ben

(C) Copyright Ben Galley 2009

Slice-tastic

Hello people,

Just the beginning of an idea I had while on the plane to Philadelphia, thought I'd slap it up on the ole blog! Enjoy....

“Two business jets crouched on the asphalt, quiet and unassuming. Squatting in the uncomfortable space between them was a black limo, windows darkened and chauffeur standing shivering in the rain clutching an umbrella as if it were his last remaining possession in a post apocalyptic world. He knew better than to try and peer through the smoky glass, to attempt to look at the shadows inside, so he watched the silent white jets and the splashing rain and gripped the ivory handle of the umbrella, wondering when he would be allowed back inside his vehicle.

Inside the limo, yellow cigar smoke hung thick in the air like the trapped fumes of a factory chimney, vapid and lazy, languishing amongst the hazy strip lighting and the 1964 Brut Pinot Noir chilling in the neat foldaway ice buckets. A smoke ring drifted out of the darkness towards the front of the limousine, and the dark figure there chuckled from a hidden face. The other two men smiled politely, tapping fingers quietly on knees and thighs to pass the time through the silence...”

Peace

Ben