Thursday, 15 November 2012

Happy Birthday Kallie

I'm sorry that this is a day late. But I hope you had a really wonderful birthday. As you probably know by now, Lizzy had a wonderful idea to make a video of different bloggers singing you happy birthday but it didn't work out as we were all singing at different speeds. Here are the videos that Pyro and I made.
I also wrote you a story. Hope you like it.

The Ethereal Holiday Consultant


“HELP! SOMEBODY FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS OTHERWORDLY HELP ME!”
Kallista Pendragon sat bolt up in her chair, woken from her slumber by a terrified plea. The sound appeared to be coming from a corner near the ceiling. She gazed up intently at the small glowing rift, where a ghostly hand wiggled its fingers feebly.
Kallista stared at the hand whilst the disembodied voice continued to cry out for help.
“Excuse me!” The voice fell silent. “How exactly am I supposed to help you?”
“If you could just give me a hand and pull me through that would be lovely.”
Kallista clambered on top of the chair and reached out her hand, which passed right through the spectral limb.
“No, no, not an actual hand. A figurative one. You know, pull with your mind.”
Kallista screwed up her face and thought about pulling someone through a crowd. Next she visualised that hand tied to a tractor, pulling someone out of a bog. Then she imagined the TARDIS towing the Earth through the time vortex with some Time-Lord matter-extrapolator beam. One that went vworp and sent out rings of blue light.
With a sickening squelching sound, a small balding portly man came tumbling out of the rift, where he hovered unsettled in front of the surprised girl.
“Are you OK?” she asked.
“I’ll be perfectly fine.” He raised a ghostly hand to his face and whispered “To be honest, I don’t actually know my way around the inter-dimensional network in this country. Took a wrong turning at the wraithway in Detroit and found myself stuck in purgatory. You only just pulled me through the portal in time. The traffic is absolutely dreadful there. Could have been stuck in a jam for years! I’m a tourist really. From England once.”
“Really? Can you do an English accent?” Kallista enquired interested. “Only you don’t sound English.”
“Alright guvnor? Be needing a splotch of tea for elevenses!”
“Where are you really from?”
“Sweden” he muttered sadly. But I always wanted to see England, you know?”
“So why are you here? Who are you?”
The small man cleared his throat and uttered grandly, “I am the substitute Ghost of Christmas Past!”
“Substitute?”
“Yes, I got dragged in as a replacement for the actual Ghost of Christmas Past. He’s off sick. Something terrible I reckon. His ectoplasm looked something awful!”
“Christmas?”
“Indeed.”
“But it’s August...”
“I know. Don’t ask me why, some decision from the high ups. Something about August not having any major holidays and discrimination against under-represented months.”
“So go on then” Kallista encouraged him.
“Oh, yes, the vision!”
“Do you have a television? I’m only a substitute, haven’t quite managed projecting images into thin air yet.”
Kallista pointed to the door. “We’ve one downstairs.”
The substitute or Trevor as he liked to be known, floated along behind her.
Trevor screwed up his eyes and pointed at the TV. Nothing happened. He frowned and then realised that he hadn’t turned it on. Kallista quickly pressed a button on the remote and stared at the image that appeared on the screen.
She appeared to be staring at the inside of the local grocers. A little girl was searching through the apples, testing them for any softness. She gathered a few into a bag and then moved on to potatoes. Kallista stared intently, trying to get a glimpse of the little girl’s face. Suddenly the girl looked around as if someone was looking at her but no one was there.
“Mrs. Dodds!” exclaimed Kallista. “She’s my neighbour. But she’s really old.”
“Indeed we are viewing the past. But… well… I appear to have shown you the wrong past” Trevor mumbled embarrassed. They continued to watch as the young Mrs. Dodds walked up to the counter, laden with produce. She paid and left, the sound of the bell tinkling above her head.
“Umm… that was really interesting.” Kallista tried to sound enthusiastic. “Well done for trying.”
Trevor burst into tears and wailed. “I’m useless” before disappearing with a small pop.

To be continued.


Sunday, 11 November 2012

Better Living With Collins and Collins

So hopefully this video will make sense. If you are a nerdfighter then you probably know about the Lizzie Bennett Diaries. If you watch the Lizzie Bennett diares you will know in her latest Q & A video that she linked to the website of Collins and Collins which contains a Better Living video with Maria Lu. Go watch that video before watching this one. The following video is my audition entry.




I hope you enjoy :)


Odrer and Cohas

Please let me know if this poem makes no sense whatsoever, I may have made some typos that ruin the effect. It should still be readable despite the rearrangment. If not then I'll post it in a more readable fashion. I hope you enjoy it anyway.


Odrer and Cohas

Sngarte tihng to avecihe
To mkae you bleveie
How we atcaluly pcreevie
The uvinsere
Oredr and caohs are far mroe itrnexmeid
Dpinripg dwon
We can mkae ssnee of choas
Qtiue eliasy
Bilevneig it to be oerdr
Yet trhee is a ssene of snihmoetg odd
Not qutie the way taht it shloud be
But the way taht it cluod be, wolud be
Is
We mkae our oerdr out of the lltite tghnis
The “how” and the “why” and the “who”
The eneecsss and scpeis and siptris
Ahtlguoh as lnog as the bnnniigeg and end saty the smae
The btrih and the detah
The redeaimnr is all yuros
To lvie as you psleae
To angrare as you wlil
And poelpe can sltil usantrednd you
Lvoe you
Eevn if you do seem a bit odd
Uuqine
Sicaepl
Liinvg lfie yuor own way
We d’not look at the leertts
But the wrods
We d’not look at the dedes
But the wlhoe
And terhe is no seerct mgassee
Heddin in the tangels
Jsut an innochreet mlbmue
A haumn vcioe
The oredr is nssnnoee
And the cohas maeks ssene
If you oepn yuor eeys
And yuor mnid
And awylas look for mnianeg
In an iennffidret wolrd