Pages

Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Story. Show all posts

Monday 19 February 2024

SHORT STORY: The Natural Order of Things


This tale can be found in Jared Woods' most recent publication, Licking the Bottom of the Love Jar. It is a collection of short love stories which are as magical as they are upsetting. You should totally get it! Available on Amazon paperback and Kindle!

Nobody noticed Jordan sneak out of the warren on the first night. Such a triumph fed into an arrogance that begets sloppiness. His second time was clumsier, and faint noises disturbed the slumber of his little sister, Cashew. She held no secrets the following daylight, whispering her witness to Kale, who, in turn, notified the elders.

The rabbits were sceptical. Jordan was never one for dishonesty, while Cashew had a reputation for dreaming the wildest of visions. But when Jordan crept from his bed on the third night and bounced out the hatch, the fake snores of the seniors ceased as they sat up, dismayed by the truth of the tale. Their anxious murmurs spoke over each other, amplifying in volumes until they roused many newborns, crying in the dark from confusion.

It was decided that Daddy Walter and his eldest son, Basil, would track Jordan through the forest to reveal the meaning of his strange behaviour. Granny Ginger said she had a bad feeling about this, but she had a bad feeling about everything. So, with great caution, father and firstborn left the protection of their home to venture out into the nocturnal reflection of Clayfield Woodlands.

Rabbits know rabbit tracks, and they pursued Jordan's shallow prints pushed into the soft dirt. Owls interrupted the silence as beetles scattered aside, the black world seemingly aware of these unusual midnight hoppers. Daddy Walter kept up a speedy start-stop motion, sprinting beneath the moonlight into the shadows faster than most eyes could detect. Basil matched the pace, but he was skittish, ears darting in erratic directions, unsure where his focus would be the smartest to fall. Luckily, the trail did not lead them far away, the two rabbits hopping up Eden Hill, slipping behind some bushes and then trying their best to make sense of the horror before them.

There was Jordan, perched on the top of the hill, gazing upwards at the constellations. But he was not alone. His excited speech and laughter were shared by a snake many times Jordan's size as they both pointed out star patterns and agreed on their significance. Walter and Basil were frozen stiff with their ears flat against their bodies, unequipped to register this scene of unimaginable converse. But when the snake's tail gently slid around Jordan's shoulders, Basil's fight mode initiated, and he bounded forward, baring as much of his incisors as his gums would allow while growling in a surprisingly deep tone. The snake's head whipped back to note this incoming attack and then zipped away into the bushes, the shimmer of its moonlit scales gone in an instant.

Basil embraced Jordan, thankful to the ancestors for his safety. Jordan awkwardly reciprocated the hug, feigning appreciation, but when his eyes met his father's, he understood he had been caught. The three returned to the warren and rested without a word.

Between sunrise and breakfast, Basil was already exaggerating his heroic story as one for the Book of Legends, and the children crowded him with lights in their pupils. Daddy Walter used this opportunity to call Jordan aside and quietly scolded him for his foolishness. Without saying as much, Daddy Walter made it clear that snakes and rabbits were not to mingle under any circumstances, as snakes were their deathly enemies, and other such relationships would disrupt the natural order of things. Jordan took the words well and thanked his father for the wisdom. The two hugged, and Daddy Walter was satisfied to write the episode off as teenaged curiosity, a characteristic he himself was known for at that age.

Three nights came and went without incident, and routine sleep was enjoyed by everyone. However, on the fourth, Jordan carefully rolled from his patch and inched his paws to the exit. It may have been a clean getaway too, but in his excitement, he brushed a stone from the wall, softly pattering to the floor. Jordan froze to gauge any stirring, then moved onward when the chorus of breathing did not waver. But like before, Cashew's dreams betrayed Jordan, and this time, she went straight to wake the adults to report what had happened.

Upon Eden Hill, Jordan and Crowley, the snake, held one another, expressing their emotions through tight squeezes, confessing how much they had missed these starlight moments over the previous days. They reminisced humorously about their first chance meeting, when Jordan was foraging for gazanias and had accidentally slipped down Crowley's burrow, facing fangs, certain he was a goner. Instead, Crowley was sympathetic, and he helped Jordan out to freedom. The unlikely friendship quickly evolved into a romantic connection, a love they both yearned for, yet a love neither family would understand. The recent exposure had threatened the affinity they were only beginning to explore, and they agreed to be extra vigilant with their future endeavours. But this concurrence had just as soon proved futile, as Daddy Walter loudly interrupted the exchange, sending Crowley darting out of sight again while Jordan trembled with guilt.

When Daddy Walter's teeth dragged Jordan into the warren by his ear, the whole household was awake and pacing. Daddy Walter was enraged, announcing that their son was engaging in interspecies relationships with a snake, of all creatures. A tirade of fury was discharged upon Jordan from the male rabbits while his mother cried tears of unprecedented sorrow. Jordan was overwhelmed at first, but the ceaseless offence boiled into a frenzy of his own, and he shouted that he was in love with Crowley, "love is love!", and they were destined to be together. Reactions varied from condescending laughter to declarations of nausea until Daddy Walter sent Jordan to bed to await his discipline in the morrow. Only the newborns slept that night.

The minute daylight broke, Daddy Walter took Jordan to the Head Bear, retelling the sinful story with disgust. Head Bear nodded slowly, occasionally looking towards Jordan, whose gaze drooped low from the weight of shame. After brief contemplation, Head Bear agreed that this was an outrageous crime against Clayfield Woodlands and would require additional council attention. He called an emergency meeting the following afternoon, and many animals turned up, having caught the gossip from the wind, wanting to affirm such an abomination firsthand. Both Jordan and Crowley were in attendance, and they shared distressed glances. Crowley's scales displayed fresh streaks of injury where his parents had let him know their standpoint.

The council heard the tale, and each member took their turn to express disbelief in a relationship so disgraceful and repulsive. Suggestions for a punishment ranged from beatings to exile, but Clements Jackal spoke with compassion, asking the council to consider the adolescent ages while underhandedly implying that parental neglect may be a factor. Jackal suggested a form of experimental conversion therapy, where a suitable variation of virtuous education could realign these children to societal norms. Certain representatives felt this was too lenient, but Head Bear appreciated the hopeful tenderness of the idea, and he outlined a program.

Jordan and Crowley were assigned to opposite sides of the forest to undergo their respective treatments. These lessons mainly comprised of senior members from their species who emphasised traditional values and folklore myths, teaching these misguided youths about the importance of continuing bloodlines. Jordan yielded to the disciplines rather quickly. Crowley was more stubborn, but as the months rolled by, the regular reports were positive, and the frantic chitchat died down until the woodland had largely forgotten the matter. Progress became so promising that Jordan was allowed weekend visitations back at the warren, and the relief from his absence overpowered the scandal, so much so that even Daddy Walter was happy to ignore the past and welcome his son home.

That was until the fateful evening when a curious fawn overheard some birds chirping that they'd glimpsed the infamous interspecies duo snuggling in a cave by Stellar River. The fawn snooped to the region, stunned to verify the rumour. She darted away to deliver the word despite the couple's cries for confidentiality. Jordan and Crowley knew there was no lawful way around this, and they made a break to escape the forest forever, only to be caught by a command of racoons sent to retrieve the sinners. A trial was called immediately, and the whole of Clayfield Woodlands dropped their business to attend. Even the nighttime critters were woken by the clamour and forced their groggy bodies to the gathering. The fury of the council was blind to any sympathies, and Head Bear was quick to accept a new ruling: the first Clayfield death sentence in over two centuries.

Public response was mixed. Some were enthusiastic about a verdict they deemed overdue since the initial hearing, but an underground opposition also grew in urgent volume. It came to light when a tortoise and beaver protested the judgement by publicly kissing in front of the sacred Five-Finger Tree. These two were imprisoned, but their stunt triggered a mass reaction, where creatures of all kinds marched through the shrubbery, chanting that it was an individual's right to love whichever species one chooses, for "love is love", and it was nobody's business. Acts of defiance were becoming increasingly courageous, with widespread displays of interspecies affection and even an incident of a weasel spending a night in a woodpecker's nest, helping to warm her newly laid eggs.

Endless council meetings took place, desperately seeking a way to cease this immoral hysteria, but each suggestion was rejected as either too extreme or impracticable, while every session was inevitably interrupted by loud demonstrations, calling for acceptance where "love is love is love is love". The most significant disruption came when Clements Jackal declared her resignation from the council and was soon seen on the other side, fighting for the freedom of all relationships.

What appeared as an irresolvable conflict ultimately ended with the worst of tragedies. Distracted by the strife, everyone ignored the warnings from neighbouring woodlands and were not equipped when the human machines tore through their homes. Trees that once kept families safe were demolished in a swoop, soil upturned into inhabitable sludge. Creatures scattered to the outskirts of the forest. Many risked their luck and relocated to yonder lands. But even more were killed. Both the iconic kissing protesters, the tortoise and beaver, were killed. Clements Jackal was killed. Jordan was killed.

During the final days of the Clayfield Woodland massacre, Daddy Walter located a shelter within a cave by Stellar River. Having long lost his family, he was appreciative to find Head Bear's familiar face hiding here too. At first, their shared trauma prevented any conversation, but as the sun fell away and the monstrous machinery hushed their violent upheaval for the day, Head Bear found some words.

"You know, it pains me to admit this," he said. "But it was not until the plunder of our forest that I realised every creature—you, me, the birds, the snake, the boy—every creature was part of the same singular entity. Even in our differences, our unity made us the forest."

Daddy Walter slowly nodded in agreement. "I understand. We were so absorbed by our customs that we became our own enemy. We forgot that we were Clayfield as one. And now everything is gone."

The two sat listening to the water gushing by, punctuated by several birds and insects calling out for help, the night quieter than it had ever been. Finally, Head Bear laid back, exhausted and drifting to sleep, offering one conclusive mumble.

"I suppose those crazy kids were right in the end. Love is love. And love is always better than hate."

Daddy Walter swallowed the dry lump of loss in his throat as the warning of a tear stung his eye. He echoed the sentiment.

"Love is always better than hate."


This tale can be found in Jared Woods' most recent publication, Licking the Bottom of the Love Jar. It is a collection of short love stories which are as magical as they are upsetting. You should totally get it! Available on Amazon paperback and Kindle!

Thursday 26 September 2013

An Ode To Divorce


An Ode To Divorce
I just remembered this story this one time.

In high school (especially near the end), it wasn’t unusual for one of our scheduled lessons to be substituted for some life career inspirational speech type thing. I got the value, I really did. People at our age either had a solid direction of where they wanted to go or were in dire need of one, and if nothing else, it was generally a great distraction from the otherwise dull world of geography or getting our fingernails dirty in ceramic clay.

The particular speaker on this day was hired for some sort of a memory-secret he had developed, explaining how we could unlock our inner genius in ways which would benefit our futures or something else to that effect. I can picture myself now, as I leaned back the best I could on our only relatively comfortable seating area in the main hall. It was a raised plan, so each row of seats were elevated a foot higher than the one in front of them, and no doubt some kids legs were limiting my chance of a decent back rest, but I don’t really remember. What I can assume, however, is that I had very little interest in what was being said and naturally escaped into my happy world where I was king and the sheep were revolting.

“And by the way,” the man announced in the distance. “Don’t blame your parents if they get divorced the moment you leave school, as they were most likely staying together for your sake, waiting for the best opportunity to least affect your studies.”

This line woke me up from my daily vision. It seemed like a strange thing to say, out of place and unrelated to anything this man had said before. Perhaps this was something the speaker was going through right now, and he was talking about it out loud in order to justify his own actions in front of an audience. Some divorce in his personal life granting him the insight to rightfully dub himself an authority on the subject.

Even more peculiar still, my parents had recently sat me down to announce their own termination of marriage, which is probably why the line had echoed so much louder than whatever the fuck else this man had been teaching. Granted, my parents didn’t have the decency to wait for me to finish high school before making the split, but I guess when you’re fed up with a person, you’re fed up with a person. They’d been together for 25 years or something anyway, which is a decent run by today’s standards. Well done, mom and dad.

The abrupt ode to divorce had inconveniently woken me up from my fantasies, and so I looked around to reevaluate my surroundings. Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary—some of our overachievers were over listening; the cooler kids looked bored and mumbled to each other; girls and boys passed little folded up notes between themselves—your typical uniformed high school scene. That was, except for Jimmy.

Jimmy was one of my bestest friends, a true mate, I knew him super well. But right now, he looked different. He had scored a fortunate seat a few below me, the ever favourable wall position, where one was allocated the luxury of being right at the end of the seating plan, able to turn sideways and lean their back against the wall. Except he looked anything but comfortable.

His face was distorted, frozen in an almost angry position, wrinkles folding in all the aggressive places. His lips curled tightly into a colourless line and his eyes looked swollen and puffy. The dude seemed like he was in pain, arms crossed in that bad body language type of way, posture all wrong, his whole demeanour suggesting he was about to cry or perhaps punch someone in the teeth.

It was then I put two and two together, and realised Jimmy was feeling what I felt in that very moment. I had been over to his house many many times, and knew both of his parents well. To any outsider, they seemed happy, almost your typical white picket fence two dogs one cat moviesque kinda family. But right here, I could tell this wasn’t the case. Who knew what happened behind closed doors anyway. His parents put on a smiley face when visitors were around, but Jimmy was fighting the same demons I was. The demons of confusion and rejection. The idea that the world you had grown comfortable in and secured yourself to, was about to be gutted and turned inside out.

I felt shameful as I related his pain to my life. How had I been so ignorant as to not pick up on this before? My mate, Jimmy, suffering in front of my own very eyes, experiencing the divorce battle which I thought I fought alone. And in that moment, I felt connected to him on a different level, and decided I needed to confide in and comfort the guy. I needed to go against my masculine training and open up to my buddy, and then perhaps neither of us had to face this struggle alone. That’s what friends are for, after all.

When the bell rang, I waited to catch him alone and then approached with care. His eyes still betrayed some deeper feelings, his expression still hinted at some agony, and so I compassionately placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, man. You alright?” I began.
“Yeah, I’m cool.” he sighed.
“I mean, like, is everything alright though? At home and stuff? Between your mom and dad, are they cool?”
“Huh?” he looked at me curiously. “Yeah, why?”
“I dunno. You just seemed really upset in that talk, is all.”
He laughed.
“Ah no, man. I’m just really stoned. That speech was fucking boring!”

Then we both laughed. I guess it was.



And now, here’s Jared Woods with the news:


JUICE NOTHING

Everything, All Of The Time: The History Of The Universe; The Meaning Of Life; The Future Of The Human Race; And All The Stuff In-Between
It was over a year ago that I was drunk on the tube and had an epiphany that went like this: OMG, I am super smart. The reason being that, over my lifetime, I have thought about a lot of deep stuff and stuff, and developed (what I figure is) a different but complex belief in the world and the Universe and everything else that exists, always. But the shame was that I’d never told anyone my conclusions, and yet I had this perfect blog platform where I could reveal my genius to the world. I quickly took out my notepad and scribbled down some key-notes, before falling asleep and missing my stop. Perhaps not that smart after all.
However, I felt it was a decent enough idea to pursue, except that as each month came and went, the thought of even trying to tackle the right words to reveal my perception on EVERYTHING put me right off, and I’d fall back into more silly music blabber or some other fruitless egotistical garbage. But something happened in my head last month, and I was just like, fukkit, whatever, I’m not doing anything else, let’s just get this one done.
So I did, and while I could never expect anyone to read what is essentially my own Bible, quite a few people did read it in the end, and I got a ton of unexpected positive feedback. Well, until I posted it to Reddit and they tore my anus out like a tube of mince, but hits are hits, so I’ll take what I can get.
The point is, if you have an hour or so to spare, please read it. It’s definitely the cleverestest thing I have ever written by quite a long shot, and maybe one day you’ll join my church, I dunno.

The Best 50 Bands I've Seen Live
Just released, and this is another one I have been planning to write since forever. Originally my plan (around 2008) was to write a blog detailing every single band I’ve ever seen, but as time went on, that feat turned into something impossible, because I see quite a lot of bands. So I decided to exclusively focus on the top 50, and nearly released the thing much earlier on in the year. That was until I realised I was going to Reading Festival last month, and figured it would be best to wait for that just in case some good ones cropped up there. Good thing I did too, as fucking eight bands from that festival passed the audition, so that was nice.
Anyways, I hope you read it, because YOU WILL NEVER HEAR FROM ME AGAIN. rofljk, but something similar:

Some of you may remember (lol) in the May News I told you guys I would be using my Get Out Of Jail Free Card the following month, but this never happened. So let me say this again, this time with feeling: I am using it now. There will be no article released in October. There are countless reasons for this, but none of which revolve around neglecting Juice Nothing whatsoever. A little further than tradition, I am contemplating launching four fucking pieces over November/December, and so make no false assumption that writing will be on a break. I’m speeding up. But it does mean you won’t read anything here for a while, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending whose side you’re on.


JUICE NOTHING v3.0

The new Juice Nothing design is going to take a long time, I make no light of that, and so until there is some actual news on the subject (which will be way into next year), I am going to drop it off of these regular updates all together. However, all you need to know is that it’s looking cool and I am having loads of fun with it, but as far priorities go, it is at the bottom of the foodchain. Life bro, wow.


THE FUNPOWDER PLOT

A Poet's Proposal
Member Freewheelin’ Troubadour has dominated the FPP year so far, and for good reason. Our newest video is something completely different, where a select few of us were let in on a little secret: our boy was going to propose to his lady-friend Sarah. So under the guise of one of his poetry gigs, we set up cameras and filmed the whole thing go down. It was beautifully romantic, the dude has a way with words, and above all else, it was so fucking cool to shoot something and have it out the door within a week and a bit. More of this is what we all want, except no one else wants to get married.

Related: Since before Funpowder Plot, there have been discussions of a very special type of video being shot, all my idea of course. I have actually spoken about it so many times over these news items without giving anything away, but it finally looks like everyone is on board. We even set a date, but due to some weird stuff happening like people having birthdays (selfish!) and me moving house, it simply hasn’t aligned properly yet. But we have never been so close to taking the plunge, I can smell the fear on all of us, and I pray that by the next time I update this news shit, this video will be out and viral. But I guess we can never know how these things pan out.


COMING DOWN HAPPY

Not much to report except that the third song off The Black EP is staring down the finish line, and as it stands (perhaps slightly prematurely), I consider it the best thing I’ve ever done. The music is probably about 90% composed; the lyrics are around 80% written; and the drawings are maybe like 30% done? It ain’t easy, but I am aiming for an end of October release, probably Halloween. I’m real eggs :D

The sad thing about this project is that it looks like I am going to miss my main 2013 goal. I wanted to get The Black EP done by the end of the year, but I have slowly fallen behind with each song through no fault of my own, and now it’s looking fairly impossible. I am sure the last song will see the light of day around January 2014 at latest, and then even radder stuff will happen, but I will confirm all of this at a later stage. Anyways, sorry I guess.


THE GOAT’S NEST/THIS IS YOUR BRAIN ON DRUGS

I have a saying that goes “I always keep my promises because I never make promises” but all of that turned out to be a lie. Last news item, I promised that my debut novella would see an end of year launch. However, I now know that this won’t be happening if I do it the way I want to do it, and I am going to do it the way I want to do it, so there you go. A big factor towards all of this is that I sent the first draft to a bunch people to get some feedback, and I received a lot of constructive yet disheartening opinions in return. Serves me right. Due to this, there will be one final rewrite, and only then can I begin the very difficult process of getting this thing out there in a way I hope everyone thinks is cool. But I swear, if there is one Juice Thing to get excited about next year, this would be it. Even if it’s just me who gets excited. I am excited, actually.


Anyways, class dismissed.
Jared