My collection of short stories, Sting in the tail and other stories, will be free to download on Amazon from 2-6 September. For further details please visit http://www.amazon.com/Sting-tail-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00DFK6R54.
“Hello” he said. Of course I don’t answer. Perhaps you will think me rude as a greeting should illicit a response. But look at things from my perspective. There I am relaxing in my bed, minding my own business and he breezes in and says “hello”! What you still think that I’m lacking in social graces do you? Well how would you like to be disturbed at a little after 6 am by a cheery fool saying “hello?” I thought not, you wouldn’t be thrilled either so you can, I think understand why I totally blanked my friend’s attempt to engage me in conversation.
Not content with disturbing my beauty sleep he will humiliate me later today by expecting me to wear a harness. Not just in private in our home. No that would be bad enough, he expects me to wear it in public. Surely there is a law against such things and, if there isn’t then I’d urge you to lobby your MPs to bring one in urgently! Does anyone know whether making a guide dog wear a harness breeches my human rights?”
Writing criticism is a terribly, terribly hard thing to deal with. There are lots of rules. Never start a piece of writing with a cliché. Never end a sentence with a preposition. Avoid gratuitous adverbs. My first sentence just broke most of them. But while rules abound for the corralling, branding, and slaughtering of bad writing, shouldn’t there be more about what NOT to say to the fragile neophyte writer?
Here is a Top Ten List of some of the worst writing responses that I or someone I know has received (for the ones I may have doled out, mea culpa, and I say that knowing I may do time in Dante’s purgatorio for any poeticides in the second degree that I have inadvertently committed):
1. The Dis and Dismiss. A novelist friend of mine, whose 11 novels as last listed on Wikipedia have received over four…
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“Exams are important don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise. People will try telling you that they don’t matter in the great scheme of things
“There is more to life than exams Lisa. It isn’t the end of the world if you don’t obtain the grades to get into university” mum told me.
This is all bollocks. I’ve no intention of spending my life flipping burgers in some crummy burger bar. Do you know they have the cheek to call these places restaurants?! Problem is, strictly between you and I, you won’t let it go any further will you? Promise, cross your heart and hope to die? Well as you only have my first name and it would be impossible to trace me I’ll let you into a little secret. The truth is that I am not academically gifted. Don’t get me wrong I try. No one tries harder than me. I’ve spent weekends huddled over my books cramming for my exams, “Lisa no mates that’s me” but it goes in one ear and comes out the other. I just can’t remember things, head like a sieve thats me!
Well here I am now in my room at uni. You should have seen my mum’s face when I got the grades. There she stood her mouth gaping open like a stranded fish. Quite comical really. So did all my hard work pay off? Well it wasn’t that difficult for an 18-year-old bomb shell like me to seduce the head master and get my hands on the exam papers prior to the examination. Perhaps academic qualifications aren’t everything after all”.
Marcus Philipps MP shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was hot in the BBC studio, he could feel the perspiration running down his neck. At only 34 he was tipped as the next Home Secretary. Marcus possessed all the attributes required by a politician in the media age to reach the heights of political power. His boyish good looks and winning smile made him a hit with the electorate and, in particular the ladies. Coming from a working class background (his mother worked as a dinner lady while Marcus’s father was employed as a caretaker in the same school) it was impossible for opponents to accuse him of being out of touch with the electorate. His children attended the local comprehensive and he could often be seen in the company of his photogenic wife, Jenny travelling on public transport. Dig as they might the tabloids had failed to unearth any skeletons in Marcus’s cupboard.
“Thank you for joining us to talk about your private members bill to make paying for sex a criminal offence in Britain. Is this proposal really necessary? Its already a criminal offence for a prostitute or client to solicit in a public place. The law criminalises paying for the services of a person who has been forced into prostitution irrespective of whether the purchaser is aware that the prostitute has been coerced. Shouldn’t the government concentrate on enforcing existing legislation rather than adding yet another law to the statute book?”
Marcus leaned forward a look of outrage on his face.
“It simply isn’t acceptable in the 21st century for men to buy women and children. Slavery was abolished in the 19th century and yet it still persists in 21st century Britain. My bill would impose a fine or imprisonment on anyone paying for the sexual services of another. We must put a stop to the buying and selling of human beings”.
“But, in the words of the song doesn’t it “take two to tango? Is it really any concern of the state if two consenting adults choose to enter into a financial arrangement for the purchase of sexual services provided that the service takes place in private and not in a public place?”
“No one chooses to become a prostitute. Those engaged in sex work do so out of desperation, to pay for their drug habit. Many of the prostitutes working in our cities entered prostitution at the age of 14. Obviously 14-year-olds can’t consent to prostituting themselves. The men (and a few women) who use prostitutes are perpetuating the misery which goes with the sex industry. They are responsible in part for fueling the drug trade and the other criminality which inevitably accompanies prostitution.
All the evidence from Sweden, the first country to prohibit paying for sexual services, indicates that the introduction of the law has seen a dramatic decline in the presence of street based prostitution. This is because clients know that they risk arrest which has lead to a substancial decrease in those paying for sex”.
“Surely adult men and women who voluntarily prostitute themselves have some responsibility for their own actions? Is it right to penalise the customer while leaving the sex worker free to continue to operate?”
“It is the prostitute who is being exploited by selfish individuals who’s only concern is their own sexual gratification. Prostitutes are, in the overwhelming majority of cases victims of circumstance who possess only minimal control over their own lives. My bill will help to put a stop to modern slavery”.
“Isn’t that a bit dramatic? What about the ladies who work as professional escorts and who can earn thousands of pounds in a month?”
“That is a red herring. Those who work as escorts are a tiny percentage of prostituted men and women. I wouldn’t want my 13-year-old daughter to enter prostitution and I’m sure that the vast majority of viewers will agree with me that any legislation which can protect our young people must be supported”.
“We are out of time I am afraid. Marcus Philipps many thanks for coming into the studio”.
“Thank you for inviting me”.
—
The girls shivered in unison as a cold blast of wintery air blew down the alley. Bare arms many of them scarred as a result of frequent injection of heroin where wrapped around their bodies in a vain attempt to keep warm. In the depths of winter their flimsy attire (short skirts and low cut tops) indicated to anyone other than the most obtuse observer that they where ladies of the night.
The man eyed each girl intently as he sauntered past. That familiar frisson of excitement coursed through his veins. He loved his wife but married life was tedious. Indeed his whole existence ran along deeply rutted tracks which would in time take him to the pinnacle of his profession. With a prostitute he could do things which his wife would never entertain. Above all the man was able to escape from the glare of publicity and, for a brief moment let go and be himself.
The girl stood apart from the rest. Unlike most of the ladies her bare arms where smooth and unblemished. She was obviously new to the game.
“How much?” he asked.
“What do you want?”
“A full personal”.
“Sex is £50”.
Reaching into his pocket the man extracted the money and handed it to the girl. Flash bulbs popped.
“Marcus would you care to tell our readers how you square paying for sex with your proposals to criminalise those who pay for sexual services?” The young reporter asked.
An interesting piece on the murder of disabled people which took place under the Third Reich’s Action T-4 programme http://www.nizkor.org/ftp.cgi/people/r/rogow.sally/hitlers-unwanted-children
My collection of short stories, An Act of mercy and other stories, is free in the Kindle store until Monday 26 August. For details of the promotion together with information on my other books please visit my Amazon author’s page http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0. For my latest online short story please visit http://newauthoronline.com/2013/08/23/the-paedophile/.
The girl appeared to be totally relaxed as she lounged back in the straight backed wooden chair. Absently she twirled a strand of her long blonde hair around the little finger of her right hand. The girl’s right foot tapped on the chair leg in time with the beat of the pop tune which she hummed quietly to herself. Inspector Ruth Jones was puzzled. In her lenghthy career in London’s Metropolitan Police she had come across many victims of paedophilia. Ruth had witnessed varied reactions but the behaviour of this 14-year-old girl was bizarre in the extreme. Looking into the girl’s face Ruth perceived only tranquillity. Louisa Jenkins appeared totally at ease with herself. Ruth wondered what the psychologist would make of the girl.
“Louisa I’m Inspector Ruth Jenkins but you can call me Ruth and this is Sergeant Mary O’connor but just call her Mary. Would you like a drink or something to eat?”
“No thanks, I don’t need anything”.
“Louisa do you know why you are here?”
“No” Louisa said with a beautiful smile.
Louisa’s smile unnerved the two policewomen. They exchanged covert glances. Something was very wrong here.
“Louisa I need to ask you some questions about Michael Johnson, the man we found you with”.
“Why?”
“We want to understand about your relationship with Michael. Can you tell us about that?”
Louisa looked perplexed.
“What do you mean? I don’t understand”.
The Inspector spoke very gently
“Louisa when we broke into Michael’s house we found the two of you in bed together. Michael is 50 and you are only 14-years-old. It isn’t allowed for adults to have sex with children. You are a little girl and we want to protect you from harm. Can you tell us how you came to know Michael and how long you have known him for?”
“Always. I have always been his”.
The girl’s words sent a shiver down the spines of the two police women.
“What do you mean Louisa?”
“I have only ever known Michael. He is my love, my world”.
The Inspector tried a change of tack.
“When did you first meet Michael?”
“I told you, I have always known him”.
“Do you mean that you can’t remember when you first met him?”
“I am Michael’s. I have always been his Louisa”.
“What do you mean Louisa?”
“I am Michael’s girlfriend. His only love it has always been so. It is unalterable”.
“Louisa where did you live before you met Michael?”
“I have always been his. He is my only love” Louisa repeated patiently.
The Inspector’s head was spinning. Desperately she tried another line of enquiry.
“Can you tell me about your parents Louisa?”
“My parents?”
“Yes, where do they live? What are their names?”
“Michael is my everything. He is my dad, my lover, my reason for existing”.
Ruth opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted in her intention by a knock on the door.
“Come in”.
Constable Maureen Sykes entered.
“Sorry to interrupt but there is a Professor Mills asking for you” she said addressing Ruth.
“Maureen I told you that I was, under no circumstances to be disturbed” Ruth said her face clouding over.
“I’m very sorry but he was very insistent. He said that it is regarding the current case” the constable said glancing in the direction of Louisa.
The Inspector sighed.
“Louisa I need to leave the room for a few minutes. Mary will look after you”.
“Where is he?” Ruth said as she closed the door of the interview room behind her.
“I put him in your office Mam” Maureen replied.
Ruth strode into her office. An elderly white haired man, a pair of reading glasses precariously balanced on his nose rose stretching out his hand.
“I’m sorry to disturb you but there has been a terrible misunderstanding. I understand that you have one of my patients, Michael and his therapist with you?”
“Pardon!”.
“I lead the Paedophile Management Unit. We are responsible for managing child sex offenders when they are released back into the community”.
“I know what the unit does and quite frankly Professor you are doing a lousy job. Michael was found in bed with a 14-year-old girl earlier today. We where alerted by a tip off from a concerned neighbour and when we broke down the door there he was, not a care in the world in bed with the kid”.
The Professor put his head into his hands.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen. We deliberately chose the property due to it being so isolated and some nosy neighbour wrecks the experiment!”
“Are you saying that you deliberately placed a 14-year-old girl in the company of a known paedophile? If so you should be arrested! Christ I’ve never heard anything like it in all my born days!”
“Let me explain. This must go no further, you understand?”
“I’ll be the judge of that” Ruth said.
“Look Inspector this work has the backing of the Home Secretary. The clearances go right to the very top”.
“Go on Ruth said.
“The problem with paedophilia is that most (if not all) offenders have a compulsion to reoffend when they are released into the community. Drugs and monitoring are of limited success”.
“I know all this” Ruth said impatiently.
The Professor continued seemingly unperturbed by Ruth’s interruption.
“Do you know anything about the science of robotics Inspector?”
“What the hell is this Professor? I don’t have the time to play silly buggers!”
“Have you heard of the Turing Test?”
“Yes the idea that if a machine could fool a human being into believing that they are communicating with a person rather than a computer then artificial intelligence would have been achieved, but what has this got to do with the matter in hand?”
“Well for some time now I have had the idea of producing an artificial child so that paedophiles can indulge their behaviour without endangering the community and, in particular children. Louisa is the prototype of a machine which will, I hope revolutionise the management of paedophiles in the community”.
Ruth stood gaping at the Professor with her mouth open. Surely it wasn’t possible. However the robotic answers of Louisa coupled with her apparent lack of trauma served to convince her of the veracity of the professor’s words.
“Surely the science isn’t advanced enough to produce child substitutes convincing enough to satisfy the average pervert?”
“Tell me how does Louisa come across?”
“Now I know the facts she comes across as what she is, a robot. Her answers where somewhat wooden”.
“Yes indeed. However Louisa is only a prototype. As the science develops we will produce ever more convincing child substitutes. It’s brilliant. It prevents harm to real children and from the perspective of the Treasury it saves money. As you know keeping offenders locked up is very expensive while a robot lasts for years and once they go into mass production the cost of manufacturing will decrease dramatically”.
“But what if some paedophiles want the real thing? What if they get bored with the substitute?”
“I hope that won’t happen but who knows” the professor said shrugging his shoulders. “Now can I have Michael and Louisa back please?”
Oh that I might, in the softness of night, steal a kiss from your lips. Oh that my hands might go awandering in your unexplored land. Your mysteries remain hidden, forever forbidden to those such as I, who yearn to walk at your side. Oh to lie in your arms and forget life’s harms. Beauty or duty?I do forget myself.
My collection of short stories, An act of mercy and other stories, is available free in the Amazon Kindle store for the next 5 days. The tales range from stories of blackmail to satanic visitations. To download An act of mercy free please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS or http://www.amazon.com/act-mercy-other-stories-ebook/dp/B00EHS74CS
