Travel: London, England

This travel was arranged as part of my National Diploma Graphic Design course at Newcastle College.

Barbican Art Gallery
Royal National Hotel, WC1H 0DG
Covent Garden
Navajo Joes
Cambridge Theatre (Jerry Springer the Opera)
Tate Modern
The Design Museum
The British Museum

Travel: Betws Y Coed, Wales

The Snowdonia hiking trip in Betws Y Coed was organised through Staffordshire Furniture Mine where I was working at the time. I went with Graham, Tommy, Jez, Ian, Alan and Roy. I think we did the Cwm Idwal, and Coedydd Aber trails based on these leaflets being appended to the itinery.

We stayed in the bunkhouse at Bryn Tirion Farm, nestled beneath Dolwyddelan Castle.

We set off on our hiking trip from the Pont-y-Pair Bridge in Betws Y Coed:

We headed up the Afon Llugwy to the Miners Bridge:

We went to Aber Falls:

Ate lunch by what appears to be Llyn Elsi:

I believe this was near the Idwal Slabs:

Ended up at a marker showing we'd reached the summit:

Unwound at Conwy before heading home:

Dear Webby

'Sup Webby,

Well I ain't gonna front son, u the best m8 I've ever had and you know this! I've told you enough times! Lol! But to be honest with you I'm pretty damn offended by the fact you feel you can sum up our 5yr friendship in 1/2 a page! That's fucked up! Just like your handwriting - lol!

Thinking about it, no matter how much you wrote, some of your scrawl would have been undecipherable! Lol! Nah, homie I'm messin'! Everyone has ripped in you enough 'bout your writing over the years, in the same way they've ripped into you 'bout your Rockports - what the fuck have you actually done to the soles? They're more slanted than Miss Harley's barely visible eyebrows, when her eye's poppin' out her head, her shoulders are higher than her neck and the Quasimodo bitch is screaming and cursing, whilst looking like she's lickin' piss off a thistle on one side of her mouth and chewing a wasp soaked in lemon juice on the other! Lol! Anyways you already know my verdict on your rocky's - it's neither here nor there - just another step along our friendship. Shiiit it's what's on the inside that counts - good job for you innit cause you one ugly ass motherfucker! Lol! Good job you the cleverest bastard I know, else you'd genuinely be screwed in life - no good looks to get you through, no charm to get you through - without your IQ you'd be ranked with Gaz John - shiiit! Lol! I am one good motherfucking comedian! Lol! In fact I'm just brilliant full stop - modesty is the only quality I lack. If you got it, flaunt it! That's why I'm considering becoming a stripper (well I am black - what can I say?) Lol! But God damn the lord knows I ain't got 18"'s! Lol! (Probs cause I am the lord so I should know!) Lol! (Remember in English when Quasimodo Harley's supply was calling' me God cause I told her that's what I preferred being called?! Lol!). Do you agree? Cause if you do then I really am God - cause I've come to accept now that you are always right (sorry for doubting you before!) - we all know Nelly ain't got a higher IQ than you although he is rough - you're the hardest tackler I know in footy! Lol! And you've shared loads of your knowledge with us, cause lets be honest, me and you never shut the fuck up - cause we don't get jaw ache - unlike someone I've heard about! Enough about that for now though lol!

Miss McIntyre and Miss Silby were the 2 main teachers who'd tell us shut up. Remember when Miss Silby used to call us Mouth 1 and Mouth 2? Lol! I don't mind Miss Silby though cause she was the best teacher I've ever had (and fit too with her see-in shirt ha!) - but like so many others she left us. Let's try and recollect what teachers have left or dropped our set; Miss Silby, Mr Logan, Miss Ozard, Miss Kidd-Smithers, Mr Averill, Miss Bloore, Mr Howes (why doesn't he just retire again?), Miss Thenot, Miss Tazibit, Miss Heath, Miss Harley (fucking illness to get out of teaching us!), and no doubt there are others I've forgot! Fucking insanity or what? And also I've had 4 different form tutors in 5 years! Ever thought it was just me scaring them away? Lol!

Anyways, I'm gonna go through everything chronologically from here on it (well the order I remember it happening anyway) though I may stray off a bit at times!

First off while we're on the subject of teachers, let's take a minute to remember French back when we had Miss Bailey. Remember when her bra was falling off and she said it's because she's got nothing to fill it with? Lol! That's mental but funny innit! Lol! And remember when I wrote "bin" on the wall with an arrow pointing down to where we used to stash all our wrappers off our munchies! Lol! And I don't know if you'll remember this but remember when Raisa came in that lil skirt and I lifted it up? Lol! Whilst I'm talking about Raisa and teachers, it seems appropriate to mention Miss Bloore! On that day she was giving me shit and I just flipped and swore at her, that was the day I walked home and went with Raisa. Remember when we protested against her but Sankey made us go in? He's a right knob isn't he!? But nothing to do with Miss Bloore is funnier than when Bostock was storming out the room and she was tryna block the doorway and Bostock yanked the door open knockin' Miss Bloore backwards and she landed sitting in the bin nearly in tears! Now that's a fuckin pisser! HAHAHA!

Remember when I used to let Frosty punch me in the stomach - I am quite fucking insane when you think about it aren't I? Though Frosty's punch had nothing on Po's - he nearly killed some people! Like making Trev hurl up, and Frosty nearly die. I stayed standing! Lol! It was about that time when I hit Gaz on his big egg shaped, bald patch ridden head with your Scooby ruler and left that big strip down the middle of his head, and he said he couldn't hear properly! If I remember right it was Mr Sankey who interfered then as well! He cost me for it, and Gaz was crying running off down the main drive! We've proper ripped in Gaz bear times. Like especially when he shit himself in music, and Miss Bailey said she felt sorry for him cause he was dusting across the car park and she said she'd bet that it was runnin' down his legs! Lol! And don't get me started about his suicide attempts! Suffocating himself with a bag with a hole in it, and trying to hang himself by jumping off the top bunk with his light cord wrapped around his throat and hitting the floor! He really needs therapy cause he has got some issues ain't he!? Lol! I don't need to be a psychologist to notice that!

Whilst I'm rippin' into people let's take a second to remember all the funny things that have happened to people! Picture the scene... CJ is running along playing hockey happily, Steve appears in possession of the puck (well I think it was actually a ball) then BAM it smacks CJ in the mouth and chips his tooth snapping it in 1/2!!! Lol! Or when Keiron Beardmore was outside the History rooms looking like a fat queer (what's new) and Dobo slammed him into the window and it just cracked all over it - that was fucked lol! Or when we were all diggin' him on the basketball yard and I stamped on his ribs and bust 'em! Lol! Now that's funny! Or when he "Stone Cold Stunnered" Bostock and got twatted in the face! Or when he got his Final Fantasy VIII nicked - oh wait, he still has! Or when he got his American Pie 2 video nicked - oh wait, he still has! Cause I've got it at home! Like he actually leant it to me! You're the only other person who's lent me stuff like Manhunt, Final Fantasy X, Resident Evil, Final Fantasy VII, Barry Trotter book, Gameboy game, MGS2 (though it was shit!)! And probs plenty more stuff! And Mouldy's lent me Final Fantasy IX before, and he's given me Super Mario 64! He's sound most of the time! Even if he is yellow like a Simpson! And if he lies about going out with Steph Hand - she still denies it last time I heard! If only he could see her deny it - maybe that would shut him up! Oh wait, he can't see can he? After all he is 8% blind ain't he? Cause normally when you get hit in the cheekbone it blinds you doesn't it? Now when Kuda twatted a shuttlecock in my eye for real from point blank range and my pupil dilated till it was barely visible - that should have blinded me by rights! Yet it didn't! It just fucking knackered! Lol! Like when Mr Varney twatted that yellow indoor casey into my face and I was like KO'd - not that's a pisser! P.E. was always funny when we had Varney, wasn't it? Like having a pummelling from golf-ball sized hailstones whilst in shorts and t-shirts, whilst he stands in his big coat, his woolly hat and scarf, and says defiantly: "Well I had to do these kind of exercises when I was training for the marines" - I was thinking probably the same as everyone else - Shiiit we ain't training for the Marines! We're doing our school P.E. lesson!! Lol! And finally we come to the fattest motherfucker (other than Miss Pearson) - Paul Handley - what a stupid, ugly, fat, spotty, queer, dick-riding, cheeky bastard! He deserved to get socked and butted by Dobo - and deserved a bigger beating than I did give him - alright, so I made him cry - but I should have made him bleed! How could you think I'd bottle it? It's me! Lol!

Anyway, back to what I was saying. Chronological order...

Let's go way back to one of the first memories I have (other than fancying Emma Woodcock after Chasewater - after I'd called her a "stupid, bosted, bog-eyed camel") and that's France. Now France was good in itself, yet it started one of the most fucked up parts of my life! Steph! Lol! Remember when we kept turning out the lights and attacking Des Mayer and Ben Davies to the extent they left and went into Phyllis and Simon Brownsword (Simple Simon)! Ha! And me and you were hallucinating when we were looking outside and were convinced we could see things moving in the shadows! Brett Lovatt and Andrew Walters tried sneak that vodka (Vodka? Vot Vodka?!) onto the coach and got clocked! And Angela Shawharvey tore that 2x4 off the bed and tried beat me with it because I called her a goff! And I shut myself in the toilet/bathroom with my suitcase and refused to come out! You went lean against the wall and fell in the alcove! Lol! She was fucking insane for real! Lol! And Mr Averill suddenly became EVIL... them Hayward lads were winding him up, then he just screamed at them: "YOU DON'T KNOW ME! YOU DON'T WANT TO KNOW ME! I'M EVIL!" Lol! And they wrote EVIL 666 on his door in toothpaste! And well, the most fucked up period of my life began... yep, I'm referring to Steph Hand. Me and you both fancied her and me and you both argued over her claiming we both saw her first! Soz if I made you feel bad by going with her, but I was infatuated with her! (All 5 times I went out with her!) The entirety of the trip I spent with or thinking about Steph!!! Then that night you told me if I woke up in the morning and couldn't move, it'd be because I was paralysed because you were gonna attack me out of jealousy with a 2x4. Then the next morning I was paralysed, and since that day I've been in this godforsaken wheelchair! Jokes. No, instead I woke up, got outta bed rubbing my eyes half asleep - went out the room, closed the door behind me not realising some toothpaste was on the door handle courtesy of the Hayward lads, continued to rub my eyes in tiredness. Someone said to me: "Are you wearing white mascara?" I was like, no? Rubbed my eyes and in the process got toothpaste in my eye - god damn that fucking hurt! I thought I was going blind like when Mark Ferneo stamped on my head after I socked him in the jaw! All I could see was blood! I thought you had put toothpaste in my eye cause of Steph! Soz about that, you my boy, I know you wouldn't stoop that low!

All I can say is that I'm glad you weren't subjected to the farce I was over Steph! At a few times I thought it was love but what the fuck?! I was wrong! Wasn't I just - cause I really love Beki Copeland! God damn, she's so damn fine and has the greatest personality of every girl I know! I should have taken your advice when you said I would be stupid to not go out with her - now I just feel like the biggest fool on Earth! She means the world to me now and I spilt my heart to her. She knows everything there is to know about me (save a few minor details) and I know her like the back of my hand. You know how much I like her (after all you did see me crying like a bitch the other day when she told me she had been accepted to go live in Australia). If she goes, I'm gonna be lost and I've told her so many times! Anyway, thanks for being there for me the other day - I know it's hard to know what to say, but just having you there offering your support was more helpful than any words you could have said. Nelly has no idea how stupid I think he is for leavin' Bex cause she is amazing (not that Bex Crane ain't but if I had the choice I'd choose Beki Copeland any day now). Thanks for being there for me through that - that shows what a great friend you are. If she leaves though - it'll be a wounder!

I remember when I used to fancy Sophie Coster too after Ilam. Remember Ilam? It was way back in about Y8/Y9. We had Rob Lowe in our dorm and he showed you how he could do that thing with his stomach! Lol! That is freaky ain't it! Lol! I got kicked outta a fair few lessons like when that Yankee dyke fucking spanner from Holden Lane "claimed" I was mocking him when I was telling Sophie she had a nice arse - and I was forced to sit in the freezing cold and by the time I was allowed back inside, I had numb balls! Lol! I remember Miss Bowdler and Mr Boulton being dickheads believing that Yank and I got bollocked for it! Now that's fucking snidey! But funny!

Remember the Faraday Lecture when we were sitting on the coach ready to go and someone (I think it was Gary Rogers) threw a brick through the window and hit one of the Endon pupils in the face and they were bleeding? Lol! HAHAHAHA! Now that's funny! And when, if you can remember it that well, whilst we were there we zipped your hood up your face and held it there - what sort of hoody has a zip up the face anyway!? That's just retarded! Lol!

Then there's that time I stood in for you at Basketball cause you weren't in (I think you were on holiday) and I played like 1/2 a game, slipped and acquired a 'crush break bone fracture' on my right wrist! I had to go and have my bone repositioned under general anaesthetic at the Adult Day Care Centre! Lol! And remember that time I broke my wrist fallin' out the tree and you wrote in my book to inform Miss Lockett to excuse my handwriting but I could've wrote it more legible with my broken wrist! Lol! Honestly though, it probably hurt just as much when I elbowed that gym window through - I didn't even break my arm that time, but God it fuckin knackered! My elbow was pissing of blood! Lol! Someone was trying talk to the girls inside the gym, and I said they couldn't hear so I said: "If you want them hear you - you'll have to break the window" and they said: "How'd you do that then?" and me unintentionally (I didn't actually mean to make contact) imitated elbowing the window - hit it and smashed it - God you should've seen everyone's faces! Ha! What a picture! That's just made me remember when Mr Sankey opened that door and twatted Chris Brown in his head with it! He had like an epileptic style fit on the corridor floor! Convulsing and all - I was pissing myself! Never did like the dick-spaz anyway! What a gooft, ugly nob cheese!! Lol!

Remember the street party down yours when Rob had that big sphere out? That was a pisser! We were celebrating the start of the World Cup 2002 and it was also a jubilee or something weren't it for the Queen? Anyway, I can't remember! England played Sweden that's all I know and that it was June the 2nd! Adam nearly killed me in the sphere cause we went down in it and at the bottom he was suspended above me in the harness and he was moaning saying it was crushing his genitals so he started undoing his harness and I moved just in time before he landed where I would've been if I hadn't moved at all! That sphere weighs a fuckin' tonne! I could hardly feel my arms the next day! But it was a fucking good day - it was pure class.

Unlike that time at Keel Uni on the Go For It project where I was removed for sexual harassment and got suspended! What a crock of shit! All I said (in jest) was what's your mobile number and "are you seeing Lee?" (that ginger haired person) and Debbie Harris took offense and was worried! I'm not that intimidating am I?! What did she think I was gonna do?! Lol! We had a good time at Keele before though didn't we, when I was in room D12 and you were in room D13. It was the time we went Staffs Uni 1 day, then Keele Uni the day after. Nelly kept helping himself to all the big boxes of food and stashed it in the fridge on our floor in the dorms! It was proper good! And we had that party where Nelly went with Beki Copeland! Lucky fucker! But then he had a "dilemma" (get it? Nelly n Kelly?) over who to go with; Beki Copeland or my bro's ex Tasha Whitehead! No contest really - Tasha any day! Nah, just messing - we all know (well I do) that Beki Copeland is way nicer than Tasha Whitehead! That night we all crashed in Dobo's room - there was me, you, Nelly, Dobo and Crichton! We were talking to that girl from Endon (I think) and we were passing the phone around pretending we were the same person!! She actually believe us (for a while at least!) What a dumb fuck - bet she had blonde hair!!! And then we went out at 6:55am while Dobo was still asleep and he thought we all ditched him - really we were all crashed out in our own rooms! Lol!

The there's the prom at Alsager Golf Course where we all looked grown up in tuxedos and all! And the one where everyone got to dance with Becky Hall and then cause of it Shamo jumped Frosty whilst Frosty was having a piss! He tried be the big man but got annihilated and humiliated when Frosty beat him senseless and dented Miss Foxes car with Shamo's head! The funniest part was that Frosty hadn't even danced with Becky Hall - Shamo was "trying" to settle and old vendetta - poorly!! All his mates just watched him getting twatted!!

I don't know where this fits in but I think I should've really mentioned it a while back. The Matrix Reloaded! Ha! We went for a laugh and me, you and Frosty at least, all had one. Crichton probably didn't when Frosty told that guy that he was only 12 years old and they weren't gonna let him in! That's fucking comedy for you! Lol! And how can I not mention when they all moved away from us just cause we were having a laugh?! What do you go to the cinema with your friends for if you don't plan on having a laugh!? Frosty put on my mirror shades and they all did that infamous "look at Frosty, shake their heads, and stare intently at the screen" motion! They'll never live it down will they! Remember laugh at them!

Oh yeah, and I nearly forgot to re-mention "you know what" (you knew it was gonna cum sooner or later! (I bet that's what she was thinking too!)) Lol! I hear she was a proper minger! How could you, eh?! I wasn't there so I can't really relate to it, but 30 mins? God damn boy! She couldn't have been that bad cause Jewish came! And then you went with her?! No way! Anyways, enough said about that I feel!

I can't believe you didn't come the leaving party the day after cause it was awesome! Steve was bladdered and pulled his button off his trousers (which then threatened to fall down every time he moved), Crichton moved Emma "whore" Woodcock's chair and she fell on the floor, then I walked from school to Norton (about 2 miles) on me todd at 1/2 11 at night! Now that was a good night lol! I was fucked the next day though! And so seemed everyone else! Like Crichton came in school and lkeft Nelly and Steve crashed out in his house! Insanity!!! Lol!

Anyway I'm all out of things to say now and I should think so after all I can barely feel my arm, so I'm gonna round this up. Thanks for being my best mate all these years. We've had some proper bo times, I tell thee. And I know you could be anything you want cause you really are amazingly clever. Don't waste that potential cause if you get rich, you could give me some cash. It was save me having to pimp Emma Woodcock for my money flow! Lol!

No, you really will sail through these exams piss easy, just hope I do too. All them years copying and learning from you should pay off! If not, damn I'm fucked! You could be summat big (NASA awaits you). Good luck in all you do and I know we're going different colleges but I'll still come your house (you could come mine but you'd get lynched by my "army" of rugrats!). Like I say if I ever need make a CD, I'll come up your house and do it for free! Lol!

You're the best mate I've ever had, so you better stay in touch. Just remember to keep your chin up, stand tall, and stay loyal. They're my policies, and they work alright for me. Cya round in the not so distant future (probs 2mora for another exam - lol!) and if you do disappear inside Area 51 or summat and I never see you again - just remember me as the good looking, sarcastic, funny one from school (lol).

In a bits, G.

An Inspector Calls

"Imagine that you are directing the play "An Inspector Calls" and have to explain to the actress who is playing Sheila how you think her part should be played. Write the guidance you give her."

Dear Mrs. Leighton,

     I am writing to congratulate you on your exceptional performance at last months auditions. You did a great job of impressing our firm and I am delighted to offer you a major role in our production of "An Inspector Calls". We feel that based on the abilities you displayed to our panel you would be best suited for the role of Sheila Birling.

The production is set in the Spring of 1912 and follows the interrogation of a family in response to the suicide of a young girl. An inspector arrives at the Birling's residence interrupting the celebrations of an engagement with information regarding the suicide of an "Eva Smith", and proceeds to produce evidence linking each family member to the girls recent past, documenting how their actions may have contributed to her suicidal mentality. We hope that this production will help to convey the idea that everyone should look after one another regardless of gender, race, culture, religion and class and build up personal awareness of the direct affect actions have on the immediate community.

Now, Sheila Birling is the daughter of a wealthy factory owner, Arthur Birling who has high social status within the local community. She is in her early twenties and rather pretty, and is very pleased with her life at present especially about her recent engagement to Gerald. She is partially responsible for Eva being fired from her employment at Milwards, a local shop. The Birling family are highly respected and valued customers and this provides all the leverage Sheila requires to have Eva fired for no justifiable reason, except for the fact that she was in a particularly bad temper on the day in question.

Sheila reveals several different sides to her character at different points in the play. Several quotes within the script present these conflicting views and characteristics. For instance she presents her guilty conscience regarding Eva's suicide when she says: "I behaved badly. I know I did. I'm ashamed of it." It shows she does have emotions and a heart, and that she cares.

"But these girls aren't cheap labour- they're people", Sheila presents her views on girls being treated as possessions in this quote. She uses this quote following Inspector Goole's suggestions that Eva's class of citizen were good and easy targets for cheap labour. In this quote she also presents her objective nature and shows she isn't afraid or intimidated by the inspectors imposing presence.

When the Inspector questions her regarding to her involvement with Eva, she is very open and responsive, unlike the other members of the family who are too busy trying to cover their tracks. She is exceptionally helpful and enthusiastic in aiding the enquiry, which also causes her to expose her concern and guilt. 

After hearing that her fiancé Gerald had an affair with Eva not long ago, she calls off the engagement and returns the ring to him. She is disgusted with him as he'd told her he was on a business trip at the time. She is also appalled by her mothers callousness toward Eva. She is appalled by the fact that her mother shows no hint of concern or guilt in regard to Eva's suicide, even after discovering that Eva was pregnant and had been fired from two respectable jobs.

Sheila also realises before her mother, her brother Eric's involvement with Eva. She realises when Eric leaves the premises and the inspector becomes significantly insistent that Eric's presence is essential to the investigation.

When she realises her mother is digging Eric a huge hole to get out of, she becomes really upset and hysterical.

Her mother begins to place the entire blame on the father of Eva's baby, who though she doesn't realise at the time is her son, and Sheila's brother Eric. As her mother says "if as she (Eva) said, he (Eric) didn't belong to her class and was some drunken young idler then that's all the more reason why he shouldn't escape. He should be made an example of. If the girls death is due to anybody, then it's due to him."

Sheila is also really concerned about the events leading up to Eva's suicide. She becomes really persistent and displays a general interest.

Sheila also becomes aware of the Inspectors unexplainable knowledge. She realises he knows all the facts in brief and is looking for answers to fill the spaces. As she says to Gerald "Why- you fool- he knows. Of course he knows. And I hate to think how much he knows that we don't know yet."

Also Sheila is the one who learns from the experience more than the rest of the family, as she highlights the fact that the moral remains the same despite the Inspector and the case being superficial. Every little thing you do can directly affect others in ways you can't even fathom.

Now as the actress you will be required to take the stage directions into consideration when you deliver certain lines, in respect of emphasise on particular words/ sentences. By doing this you should aim to acquire the audiences trust and sympathy resulting in them valuing your opinions and points more. Try to bear this in mind when analysing the script, so you can recognise dialogue and situations where such dramatic emphasise may be necessary.

Toward the end of the production you also begin to promote certain socialist ideals of Priestly's. Remember that regardless of your opinions of these ideals, you should aim to promote them to the best of your acting ability. 

Finally I would like to highlight the key points you will be required to consider in response to this role:

• You will be required to convey the feelings and emotions experienced and portrayed by Sheila using the standard of ability you displayed at the auditions.

• You will need to use body language, facial expression and tone of voice in order to simulate the reactions of Sheila, paying close attention to the personality and perceptions of the character. 

• You will need to adopt a positive attitude to present Priestly's socialist ideals. Remember, we are paying you for your acting skills and not for your views and opinions.

Finally, you will be required to follow a strict dress code in response to the era in which the play is set and also in response to Sheila's taste. We shall provide a selection of suitable attire from which you will be required to select your dress wear.

We hope to hear from you soon.

Yours Faithfully

Ben Scott

Of Mice and Men

"Hopes and Dreams help people to survive, even if they can never become real. How true is this for the characters in 'Of Mice And Men?'"

The novel is set at the time of the economic depression following the Wall Street Crash of 1929. The novel revolves around two mismatched people who defy the odds by staying united through many hardships in which most friendships would've crumbled. 

The novel appears to be based around the life of John Ernst Steinbeck (the author). He worked on a ranch in his life and also lived in the Salinas valley, California, the setting of the story. This particular novel was published in 1937 and was chosen by the Book Of The Month Club. Within the same year he rewrote the story, this time adapting it for a performance at Broadway, New York. It collected the Drama Critics Circle Award for 1937.

Also within the novel it appears he expresses his personal feelings about incidents as he has Lennie kill a puppy. At first view this may seem to be merely emphasising just how little he realises his own strength, though it is also possible there is a much more apparent motive, such as the fact that the family puppy had shredded his original Of Mice And Men manuscript, which had taken two months to write, reducing it to confetti.

Lennie and George are used to convey the idea that regardless of how much thought is devoted to a plan, the probability of perfect execution are slim and none.

The Dream within the story was a means for Lennie and George to escape from the harsh reality they were living. It provided them with the motivation they needed to progress and escape their pointless existence, to make something of their lives. Earning money on a ranch, squandering it away on nothings and then returning to a ranch to repeat the process evades my perception of logic. Existence as such does not qualify as living in my eyes. “We’re gonna have a little house and a couple of acres an a cow and some pigs...”, “big vegetable patch, and a rabbit-hutch and chickens.” Goals of this nature gave their life meaning and aspirations.

The Dream consists of George and Lennie owning their own land, with their own farm. They would have their own animals such as rabbits and alfalfa patches and suchlike. Then they wouldn’t have to work like slaves day in day out for a minimal wage. It offered them freedom- a promising prospect when in comparison to practically ‘slavery‘.

Other workers also became consumed by the Dream too. Candy in particular became excessively enthusiastic about it. He saw it as a way to avoid retirement and instead of residing alone he could then live with Lennie and George, helping them to run the ranch. Evidently he became dependant on the Dream as his fear and desperation were prevalent in lines such as “you an’ me can go there an’ live nice, can’t we; George? Can’t we?”.

Crooks also, although he attempts to conceal his attraction, is significantly interested to the whole idea. He opens up to Lennie about it, but then instantly withdraws when Candy interrupts. “Ever’body wants a little piece of lan’”.

George and Lennie’s Dream is based on the belief that if you work hard and make personal sacrifices you will achieve success. They believed that if they worked hard everyday, come rain and wind, and saved all their wages, that one day in the future their dream could become a reality. The American Dream is the idea that hard work results in success.

Other characters within the story have dreams too. Curley’s wife dreams of becoming famous as an actress, however when it came down to it she just didn’t have the necessary qualities. Because of this she resorts to blatant flirtatious behaviour in order to feel noticed and needed. This is a sharp contrast.

Deep within her heart she truly believes she had what it takes to become an actress, though this is solely due to her gullibility and naivety. At an earlier point in her life a sleazy man had employed underhand tactics in his bid to lure her to bed and told her “You a natural”. Curley’s wife had taken this to heart and truly believed that she was a natural, however she surrendered her dream when she settled down with Curley.

Other men, according to Crooks dreamt of owning their own ranches too. Deep insight into his mentality was provided when he said “Every damn one of ‘em’s got a little piece of land in his head... none of them ever get it though...” Such opinions suggest that Crooks is very negative and judges people based on their appearance and morals. It implied that Crooks had already made his judgement on the likelihood of Lennie and George’s Dream succeeding. As with all the others they would never make it. It was doomed to always remain a dream.

I suppose from the outset there is always that hope that they make it, though following the Weed incident doubt begins to emerge from the shadows. You can’t help but empathise with them, feel the pain and anxiety they feel. The doubt only escalates following the death of the puppy, and even more dramatically following the death of Curley’s wife. From the second Lennie accidentally kills the puppy there is a sour taste of certainty that the dream will fail- the death of Curley’s wife only confirms this suspicion.

Steinbeck hints in the title “Of Mice And Men” that the dream is destined to remain entirely unachievable. The title “Of Mice And Men” was employed to replace the original title of “Something That Happened”. A Robert Burns’ poem is responsible for the title change, due to the line, “the best laid schemes o’ mice and men gang aft a-gley”, meaning that even the most thought-out plans often go astray. Unfortunately this is often due to uncontrollable external factors, in this case Lennie’s mental disability. By titling the book “Of Mice And Men” he is making a direct link between the moral of the story and the relevant line in the Robert Burns’ poem.

If you were to take a moment to reflect on your life you would realise it is built on a foundation of dreams. In school you dream of independence and supporting your own well being. As a youth you dream of purchasing a new house, or a car, what you want to do with your life and perhaps even your ideal partner. When you reach the later stages of life you dream of seeing your offspring grow strong and healthy and find their own way along life’s path. I believe that if you have no dreams and just drift through life with no hope or aspirations then you are as good as dead. With nothing to look forward to there is nothing to live for.

So based on that principle I suppose that yes I do believe that hopes and dreams are important in helping people to survive. However, whether or not they come true often depends on your attitude and dedication to them and what they consist of. Deep down in my soul I believe that the ends always justify the means, and that if you put in 110% anything is achievable. 

Short Story: Blood Lust

Introduction

A secret laboratory located deep below Stoke-on-Trent is performing illegal tests on human subjects in an attempt to develop super-drugs capable of enhancing human’s physical and mental limits. It is a complete black-operation unit and is completely deniable by all Government and Government associated agencies world-wide and in case of accidents or emergencies all connections can be broken allowing the Government to keep a flawless untarnished record.

One particular drug in development will be used to clear the bloodstream of all deficiencies such as clots or damage due to smoking. However it has not been tested on a human subject yet and has only been proven to work theoretically via top scientists using the latest equipment and all their combined knowledge.

However for reasons unforeseen by the scientists working there, the subject sustains mental trauma from the drug and enters a zombie like state reverting to only recognising basic survival instincts such as;

·         Eat or die.

·         Drink or die.

·         Breathe or die.

Located around the facility are switches which when triggered quarantine the designated area to limit damage and leakages. One of these is activated upon realisation that the drug has not had the desired effect, and a whole sector of the facility is locked down trapping all staff inside with the subject. It is down to them to neutralise the threat with a combination of tranquilising drugs and the latest in a long line of coma-inducing weaponry. However the strength and sheer willpower of the subject is underestimated and its only a matter of time before the subjects rage is unleashed upon the staff responsible for causing its current state.

In a revenge fuelled attack, it leaps from the operating table breaking out the metal links pinning it down, and sinks its gleaming ivory white canines into a scientists jugular vein, sucking all the blood from his body in a matter of seconds. In its traumatic state it disappears into a ventilation duct and exits the room leaving behind a group of terrified scientists and a lifeless corpse of a once respected nuclear physician. Fearing for their lives the scientists’ seal themselves inside an observation room overlooking the sector, and yet they can’t see the subject anywhere…

Now panic-stricken they find themselves trying to understand what has resulted in the subject’s abnormal strength and improved rapid thinking capabilities. What is there in the serum that could cause such devastatingly powerful effects within the human’s system? What combination of existing drugs can produce such a highly volatile temper? Only one thing is for sure – either they work out what can counter it, or at least contain its power, or in Laymans Terms, they can and will die.

The sound of footsteps silent to the untrained ear echo through the hollow pipes of the complex network of ventilation tunnels. The sound of blood soaked feet squelching rapidly, building up immense pace in a frenzied slalom through the maze like environment of the ventilation ducts. Every now and then the Subject would emerge from a shaft before scurrying quickly and dodging into the next. With growing anxiety, all the staff could do was wait with an overwhelming sense of inevitability for the Subject to appear in a state of pure rage, to come for them and finish them off. It was obvious from the word go that its force was really something to be reckoned with. The lifeless corpse was a constant reminder of that. How could you compete with the colossal strength and brute force, suppressed within the depths of the soul when it’s eventually released? It seems everywhere you go, people are telling you that “you won’t ever know what you’re capable of until you let yourself believe that you’re more than you think you are”. Well now, there within the confinement of the observation room, it was obvious what was locked away in the Subject’s soul – a combination of blood lust and uncontrollable anger.

It was the time to experience God’s wrath. It was the time known as Armageddon. The coming of the apocalyptic nightmare in the form of mans most feared enemy. Man himself. Was this merely God’s way of imposing the power he possessed onto the human race, or was it a warning to be heeded by the survivors? For any one left in the aftermath of the Subject’s wake to know that you should never tamper with God’s judgment. People get ill for a reason. If someone were to contract cancer, it would be because that’s how God intended it to be. Who are we to rectify God’s punishment? Who are we to undermine him? I’ll tell you shall I? We’re the top of the food chain, and soon with the growing technology and intelligence we’ll be right up there with God.

Emerging from the shaft Gareth could see what needed to be done. He was ravenous. He hadn’t eaten for 3 days, and if he left it much longer he would die from starvation. Yes, so he may have acquired immense physical strength and may have received greater mental capacity and a new way of thinking, but nevertheless he still needed to keep up his energy or else lo and behold, he would cease to live.

Sensing the fear emitting from the observation room he circled in on his prey. He could see the way their eyes lolled in their heads and the way they lay caressing their stomachs that they were suffering from physical exhaustion. Yet due to his presence, they feared sleeping. But sleep can never be cured. Even an insomniac needs to sleep sometime. Like an infection the wave of nausea and exhaustion swept between all the staff, too the extent that they lay lifeless like their good friend, the nuclear physician. And this, when they were at their weakest, is when Gareth decided to strike.

He recognised that in their current state they were vulnerable. Easy pickings you might say. Seizing the opportunity, he reached, tore a door from its brand new hinges without appearing to struggle and charged the strengthened glass and hammered down heavily into it. The glass, usually very strong and withstanding, shuddered violently and a crack appeared in the corner. Again Gareth hammered hard into the glass with the door spreading cracks through it like ripples on a disturbed lake. And with a final blow shattered the glass into a million fragments which proceeded to shower onto the hysteria infected staff like an increasingly painful waterfall. Gareth knew it, as did the staff.

He was in.

Chapter 1: Infiltration

I sat uncomfortably as the Boss paraded up and down in front of me.

“As I am sure you’re aware, we received disturbing transmissions from the LEDF earlier this week. After continued attempts to contact the sender of these messages, I regret to inform you that we failed on every attempt. It appears that we fall at every hurdle unless someone is willing to stick their neck out for the corporation. Well now as we stand, we are asking you to be that person. We are asking you to go inside LEDF and collect some information for us. We realise this proposal is something that will require some consideration; however we don’t have any time to be pussyfooting about, excuse the expression. Straight up, will you go in?”

“Well…” I pondered on this for a second. “Well I suppose it could be possible if you were…” I hesitated.

“Yes?” he inquired impatiently.

“Well if you were to offer me something in return, a little something like a paycheque, I may be persuaded to consider it.”

“Dependant on how you do, I feel that shouldn’t be out of the question.”

“On that note, then yes, I’m your man.

Now as I slipped into the uniform I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I’d been blinded by the prospect of cold hard cash and in a moment of greed I’d opted for something I shouldn’t of. But that is how the human mind works. The human can always be bought as long as the right price is offered.

Slipping a glock into the holster below my arm and placing my protective head garment on I was ready. Only I wasn’t sure what for.

I stood beside the elevator shaft at the bottom of the Potteries Shopping Centre. The usually bustling market stalls were closed, the customers no doubt sleeping soundly in their beds. After all it was gone 2 in the morning on October the 1^st 2003. Steps descended deep below the elevators usual resting place. It was an ingenious place to stash the exit. A place no-one would think to look – right beneath their noses. There it stayed, a dirty little secret.

I took out my glocks from their holsters beneath my arm and around my left ankle and checked the clips. They were both full, 16 in each and also there was one in each chamber – just in case I was to need them quickly. I threw another 12 loaded clips into my rucksack along with the 4 boxes of 24 shotgun shells. I secured the safety’s and returned the glocks to their holsters. I checked the contents of my rucksack; lighter, a canister of gas, a block of C4, my trusty lightweight machete, a pair of night-vision goggles, my security clearance card and my first aid kit. I had everything I needed in that. Anaesthetics, morphine injections, bandages and even some needle and thread. Taking up my 12-gauge pump-action single barrel shotgun and rucksack, I approached the lift shaft. I was ready to go in. I glanced back at the sea of hopeful anxious faces, breathed deeply and stepped into the stairwell.

The journey down was scary – hell I won’t even try to deny it. I was imagining all the various possibilities for the calls not being answered. Maybe the phone was broke? Maybe the operator had had an accident? Or maybe something extraordinary was going on.

I stepped off the old mechanical platform onto a dusty rocky ledge. The lift shaft continued down further, but that led down to other sectors of the facility that were responding as normal. It wasn’t quite what I’d imagined considering it was a multi-million-pound complex. There was a small rusting, sturdy looking iron door and a small security panel mounted on the wall beside it.

I strolled over and dropped my rucksack to the floor so I could hold my security clearance card. I reached down into one of the various pockets and lifted out the small plastic card. Shotgun ready for anything, I ran the card through the console. The door grinded open somewhat reluctantly and I lifted my gun up to head height ready for anything that came hurtling toward me. Only nothing did.

Stepping forward cautiously, I was in.

Chapter 2: Manual Exploration

The carnage was indescribable. Within a few minutes of being in the sector I could see that. Hundreds of thousands of pounds worth of equipment littered the floor like an expensive carpet. The ventilation shafts covers were missing and there was the unmistakeable stench of decomposing flesh. With the smell of death on the air, I progressed side-stepping between the various pieces of equipment, shotgun in hand. Another thing I’d noticed was the security cameras were all damaged. They had had their lens’ smashed and the side panels removed, contents sabotaged.

Following the strong overpowering smell, I darted down the corridors, shotgun poised, as observant as a starved hawk searching for its next meal in the surrounding environment. The only sound I could hear besides the thundering of my rapidly beating heart was my echoing footsteps reverberating down the deserted corridors.

The stench was growing increasingly stronger. Up ahead I could see a shattered door frame, another door was discarded not far away. I strafed back against the wall; shotgun loaded cautiously toward the room. Already I could hear groans of wounded staff and could see a deep crimson mist spraying like a fountain in torrents from the pile of maggot infested corpses. I took another step, shotgun ready for anything.

Bloody handprints were smeared up the walls, and trails of blood vanished into ventilation ducts. Covering my nose and mouth with my sleeve, I ventured through the smashed door, glass crunching beneath my feet. It was like a massacre. Twin puncture marks riddled all the bodies necks, tracheas exposed, blood seeping from scratch marks across faces. I could feel the sticky blood beneath my feet as I patrolled the room looking for any sign of life.

To my left, a choking word was uttered in foreign tongue. I turned and looked over. A victim lay writhing, face contorted with confusion and pain, blood oozing from several deep gashes lacing his exposed chest. Again, a word was mumbled amidst frantic gasps for much needed oxygen. Blood was now gushing from a devastating neck wound, and his eyes rolled like marbles back into his skull whilst sprays of froth erupted from his half open mouth. He was dying. He knew it just as well as I did. A few more moments and he would be too weak for his lungs to inflate.

He stuttered as blood continued to flow from his disfigured neck, yet still he made every attempt to get out his last words. Reaching up as if slow motion and clawing at my lapel, he spat amidst a combination of blood and froth. “Leave now!” Following these last words, he recoiled, collapsing in an exhausted state, back to his previous pose. There he drew his final breath and closed his eyes, waiting to die.

I sat stunned for a moment, in shock at the blood-spattered walls and at all the innocent fatalities. I could see no more survivors. What could cause such a catastrophic scene? I didn’t know. Who did? But it was down to me to find out, so following the only lead I had, I disappeared after the trail of blood into the ventilation ducts clutching my shotgun and rucksack. And yeah – I wanted one hell of a paycheque for this!

I scurried, doubled over like an old man with a dodgy lower back, down the winding tunnels pursuing the source of the blood. I was confident the source would be what was responsible for the brutal merciless deaths of the staff in the other room. Maybe it had been wounded and was weak, or maybe it was coated in the victim’s blood. Either way, I could follow it with relative ease.

Now up ahead, the blood river disappeared through a duct into a dimly lit corridor below. I dropped down and slipped on my night vision goggles to help me see. There to my left stood the source of the blood. It didn’t seem overly muscular or even vaguely powerful, more like an apprentice. It winced as if salt was being massaged all over its gaping wounds, which spewed litres of blood like swimming pools all over the floor. It slumped against a glass door breathing heavily and eyeballing me with its narrow blood consumed eyes. I raised my shotgun and pointed at it. I wasn’t taking any risks after seeing what it was capable of. It stood there as if frozen and I continued to aim my gun right at its face. We both waited, like cowboys in a duel. Who’d make the first move?

Suddenly I saw something stir behind him. Despite the dim lighting and the awkward angle, the light was reflecting off the door at, I could make out the shape of something. It glided toward the door and in a sudden swift motion, smashed its hand straight through the glass. I stumbled backwards in a moment of panic and prepared to fire at the thing. Its blood covered hand slammed straight through the back of the man’s neck, shattering his spinal column on impact and clenched its fist in a vice like grip around the mans windpipe. Suffocating and bleeding horrifically, the man went limp in the things hand. Then in a clean motion, the thing wrenched the man backwards through the door sending glass shards in all directions. I froze. The man must have been a survivor unless there was more than one of these possessed things wreaking pandemonium upon the facility.

Concentrating hard I could see the Subject on the other side of the door munching the man like a cheeseburger, ripping him to shreds and swallowing lumps whole. I felt really nauseous. My stomach churned and I could feel it convulsing. But I had a job to do. I needed to stop this charade.

Chapter 3: Attempted Neutralisation

I raised my shotgun and aimed directly at the Subjects large, oversized head. Steadying my nerves, I advanced towards the door. I wasn’t going to give it a chance to get me! I stared down at it, shovelling the victims’ limbs whole into its cavernous mouth.

“FREEZE!” I yelled at the top of my shaky voice.

It paused its banquet to raise its head slowly and stare me straight in the eyes vacantly. I’d never been so afraid, but I maintained my composure and continued to aim at its head. In a sudden movement it leapt from my line of vision and bounded down the corridor, disguised by the dancing shadows. I didn’t even get chance to pull the trigger before it vanished around the corner. Now I was screwed – I didn’t know where it had gone, and it didn’t even leave a trail.

I looked down at what was left of the survivor – his torso and half his head floating in a vast blood red lake. The wave of nausea overcame me again and turning I fell to my knees heaving and vomited all over the floor. I could smell the rapidly decaying body behind me and not wanting to, I decided to see if I could find any clues anywhere else. Climbing to my feet, I picked up my rucksack and gradually made my way back to the ventilation shaft.

Pulling my weight back along it seemed to take longer than eternity. There in the small claustrophobic tunnel I lay stomach aching. Finally, after a lot of crawling I emerged back into the room I’d found all the bodies. The bloody handprints were still smeared up the walls, the door was still shattered, and… wait a minute. The bodies had all gone! Not one was there! Where’d they all gone? It would take a lot to move them if they were dead. Dead bodies weigh as good as twice their normal weight! How could they have possibly gone? At first, I assumed I must’ve made a wrong turn in the ventilation, but this was definitely the same room because my unmistakeable footprints were still in the pools of blood all over the floor! Now this added a whole new dimension to the mystery – this was a whole different kettle of fish.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere I felt a whole lot of body weight collide with me and I was sent sprawling across the floor. In my struggle to not get too knocked about I let go of the shotgun and rucksack and stretched my arms to prevent me hitting into the wall so heavily. I turned to see a mutilated corpse lunge toward me, jaws spread, saliva dripping, but my shotgun was out of reach and I was winded from impact into the wall. I was pretty defenceless. With frenzied abandon the mutant swiped a fist at me. I challenged it by raising my arm and then kicking it in the face. It recoiled, stumbling backwards stunned. In a moment of sheer rage, angered that it tried to sucker punch me, I flipped onto my feet and jabbed it in its jaw with startling precision. It tumbled backward over, clutching at its damaged bloodstained face. Still I didn’t accept it was staying down. I ran and baseball slid over to where my shotgun had come to rest. I clutched it and pivoted round on one knee ready to empty the chamber, only to find there was no one else in the room with me again. I quickly grabbed my rucksack and slumped down in a corner in a state of confusion. Who was that? Where did they come from? And more to the point, why were they attacking me? All I knew was that whoever it was might know something about what the hell was going on down here.

I clambered to my feet for which felt like the thousandth time and jogged into the corridor poised for combat. I don’t know what I was ready for but whatever it was, it wasn’t this. I glanced right to where the exit was to see a group of twenty or so disfigured zombie-like people stumbling toward me, arms outstretched and blood and pus oozing from various wounds. Amidst he crowd, one of them stood out like a green hat with an orange veil. His neck was shredded to expose his trachea beneath, deep gashes laced his chest, and froth poured from his mouth as if he were sucking on an aspirin. He was the victim from earlier; the one who’d told me to leave and there he stood before me, alive and functioning. I stepped back and fired a shot into the onslaught of zombies. One recoiled as blood showered like a mist from his wound. He collapsed in a bloody heap on the corridor floor and the rest walked over him like a cheap rug.

I fired again, this time aiming head height. I watched as one of the zombies faces exploded in a mixture of crimson blood and white skull fragments – just like strawberries and cream. The exit wound was on full display as the other zombies pushed past him, sending him spinning in a pirouette motion. I didn’t hesitate and I fired again sending another zombie spinning on his feet, blood spraying everywhere in a fountain. And again, another gunshot and another re-fatality, as the undead died again. Still they continued to progress toward me, stumbling over slain friends in complete denial of the fact I had a gun in my hand. I walked backward, steadily unloading my 12-gauge into the oncoming threat. As soon as I fired, another zombie would fall, enveloped in an immense blanket of rose. The amount of zombies decreased almost as quick as my ammunition, and before long I found myself rooting in my rucksack for another box of shells. Sliding them in nearly as quickly as I fired them back out. As the zombies continued to taste white-hot lead I found myself out of shotgun shells, looking down at the last 3 shells then glancing up I saw 6 zombies launching toward me.

Dropping my rucksack and shotgun, I rolled forward and took out both my glocks from their holsters.

“Eat this!” I yelled emptying both clips into the awaiting zombies. Simultaneously they all collapsed together into a mass of blood and guts. I turned, sweat dripping from my forehead and re-holstered my glocks. Blood coated all the walls like paint. What could I do? That big mutilation patrolling the corridors sort of prevented me strolling around at my leisure.

But where was it anyway? A large shadow emerged from round the corner letting me know that. I pivoted slowly on one foot to see the large manifestation blocking the end of the corridor. I dropped my rucksack and took out my glocks again. Knocking off the safety’s I proceeded to pump slug after slug into the huge heaving mass regardless of the fact it seemed to have no effect whatsoever.

Then with a sudden angered movement, it surged toward me, arms outstretched, saliva spilling from its hungry mouth whilst groaning horrifically. In a moment of hysteria I tumbled backwards landing painfully but guns aimed ready. As it continued to head towards me I began firing again. Blood spilt from its wounds like water from taps. It surrounded the entire floor around the creature and seizing the opportunity as it recoiled, I ducked back into the ventilation shaft as quick as humanly possible.

Chapter 4: Showdown

I could hear the sound of the monstrosity pursuing me through the complex network of ventilation shafts. I had only one problem other than the fact that I was being hounded by a big hulking brute impervious to pain, and that was that I was now completely lost. Not only would I need some serious help getting out, but I also had left my rucksack containing all my vital equipment back at the slaughterfest. Now alone in a claustrophobic tunnel without anything but my glocks, I was a sitting duck to the massively powerful organism. I listened intently as it padded heavily down the shafts towards me. I couldn’t stay here, or else I was dead for sure. Crawling flat on my stomach I emerged into a long narrow room full of various technical equipment, such as console and monitors. And there amidst all my troubles, I had a brainwave. If I tripped the electricity circuit for all the lights, then the vertebrate wouldn’t stand a chance of seeing me. Due to my night-vision goggles I would acquire the upper hand, as he wouldn’t be able to see me in the darkness.

Stumbling about suffering from physical exhaustion I scoured the switches high and low, till I found the beauty. There was the switch for the lights. I flipped it and the whole facility was engulfed in a mass blanket of suffocating darkness. I slipped on my night-vision goggles and they intensified all minor fragments of light exerted from all the tiny cracks in the ceiling. Silence. Not a sound could be heard save my thundering heartbeat and my heavy breathing. I tiptoed over to the shaft and got on my knees. Could I hear a thing at all? No. Nothing. Now this was a double-edged dagger. Okay, so it illustrated the fact that it wasn’t getting any closer, but on the negative hand I didn’t have a clue where it was. I army crawled into the pipes and cornered slowly. There up ahead was a heaving bulk. It was the Subject.

Now I was a bit stuck because that was the only way out of the room without opening a locked door to which I didn’t have the clearance card – it was in my rucksack back in the other room. I had no choice other than to try and get past him. Limbering up, I took my glocks from their holsters and prepared to shoot and crawl past as the Subject recoiled in shock.

I began sliding on my stomach towards him whilst firing round after round into the Subject’s head. Just as I had presumed it began spasming in complete surprise. Quickly I crawled alongside him and headed back toward the corridor.

Suddenly the subject turned around and grabbed my foot in an astoundingly strong grip. I kicked out instinctively but to no avail as even when I kicked him hard, clean in his face he maintained his grip. I struggled against his power and dragged both mine and his bodyweights along the shafts. Finally I emerged into the corridor, with the Subject still in tow. I spun around and shot him in his hands, spraying zombie blood all over the place which lingered in the air like an infectious disease. As it released its grip to clamp its wound I steadily rose upright and broke into a sprint toward the exit. Cartwheeling I grabbed my rucksack and continued to run toward the door. A piercing scream let me know that the Subject wasn’t going to let me leave easily, and turning I saw it charging toward me enraged. I could tell from its momentum that within seconds it would be upon me, so I pivoted to face it.

In a split second I realised I shouldn’t have. With one swipe of its massively powerful arms it sent me spiralling through the air like a dart, ending up with me colliding into the wall like a rag-doll. I landed in a heap on the floor and sliding to a halt the Subject prepared to attack again. I hauled myself to my feet and grabbed my clearance card from the bag, ditching it straight after. How could it see me so well in the dim light? Charging at me again, I attempted to duck only to be punched upside my head. I tumbled sideways, blood pouring from a deep gash on my temple.

My ribs ached and I could feel the blood dripping down my cheek. Once again I clambered to my feet being sure not to drop the card. I knew if I stayed down then I would be lunch. All I needed to do was get through the door, then I’d be safe – assuming the Subject didn’t get out too. So breathing deeply I prepared to make a run for the door. Big mistake. The Subject must’ve clocked my plan because as I tried to dash past it, it clothes-lined me sending me backflipping through the air landing in a position a contortionist would be proud of. Nursing my wounds and counting my losses, I limped over to the door, sliding my card through the console. I felt the Subject collide with me, sending me to the floor, a sharp pain on the inside of my elbow. I knew what had happened before I even looked. My humorous was sticking out through the skin on the inside of my elbow, blood flowing out like a river, meandering through the crevices on my clothes. I turned to see the door still grinding open, the Subject waiting like an impatient child, ready to burst out into the real world. I had to stop that happening at all costs.

Steadily I lifted my weight with one arm and put all my weight into pushing the Subject from the doorway. I arched back and headbutted the Subject in the side of his head. Blood oozed from a gaping wound, trickling down its face. Stumbling sideways I forced it aside and dived through the doorway. I clambered onto my knee and with my last bit of strength ran the swipe card through the console. The door began closing slowly. I fell back and watched the glorious sight as the door closed, sealing the Subject within.

I was really battered and bruised. I had a least three broken ribs, a deep gash on my temple, a torn muscle in my left leg, and my right arm was severely damaged. There in shock from everything that had happened, and exhausted, I fell unconscious.

Chapter 5: Over?

I don’t know how long I’d been there for, but the first thing I saw as I regained consciousness was a large high rise cavernous ceiling. Looking to my left I could see the complex’s sector door still closed. I breathed a huge sigh of relief, and felt a sharp pain in my side, reminding me of my broken ribs.

I rolled over and dragged my wounded body over to the mechanical lift. I could feel my ribs shifting position painfully; they were definitely cracked. I hauled myself onto the lift and pressed the button to go up. A familiar whirring sound kicked in and the lift began to slowly rise.

As I emerged from the elevator shaft, a loud cheer erupted. Then they saw the state I was in. As quickly as they’d started, the crowd died down. I had lost a lot of blood and if I didn’t get medical attention soon I’d die. The boss jogged over and got down on his knees beside me.

“What the hell went on down there? You were gone for a long time – we were worried something was wrong, and this confirms it!”

I explained everything. The way the facility had been demolished, the way the staff had become possessed, and the way the Subject had become so powerful. Just as I imagined they would, the LEDF authorised having the sector shutdown indefinitely.

Before long the essential materials were brought to block the sector doors off. Teams of soldiers hurried through onto the lift carrying various tools and building materials. We and sat and waited for them to return and tell us the sector was closed down; as you’d probably guessed, that didn’t happen.

Instead they appeared and informed us that when they’d got down there, the entrance to the sector which was concealed over in Hanley Museum and Art Gallery had been blown open using a block of C4, and that there were no-one inside the facility – including dead bodies.

This obviously meant the Subject had used my block of C4 to escape and either it had eaten all the staff or they too were wandering the streets of Stoke-on-Trent. As ever the next pandemic was just around the corner, and this threatened to wipe out the whole population of England, if not the world all depending on if the mutilated zombies had got transport abroad…