Dec 31st

Chapter II: The Other (just the start)

By The Clockwise Man II

This is the start of my second chapter of Lilith. 

Chapter II: The Other

 The wise old man pottered around the circular room, doing various tasks ranging from brewing a pot of tea to lighting the long finger-like candles that perched in the ancient brick work around the room. Lilith sat, watching his every move. He was after all a stranger to her; just because a man is kind to you it doesn’t mean that his intentions are innocent.  But she had no where else to go and know one else to trust. So, for now at least, the weird, bearded man was her ally.

 As he lit the last candle Lilith realised that he was lighting it with his finger tip. He simply touched the wicks tip and it was alight. She watched him with shocked curiosity. Without turning the old man answered her unasked question.

 “You are not the only one to possess magic you know Lilith?” he turned, looking at her now from above his delicate spectacles. Lilith’s silence prompted him to continue.

 “Yes I know of your magical abilities. You see, that is one of my talents; I can’t hear thoughts. I cannot read minds thought; that is impossible; even for the most powerful sorcerers.” The man slowly made his way to sit in a chair adjacent to Lilith’s.

 “For instance, you want to know who I am.” Lilith flinched with shock.

 “I know this because you thought it. Now your wondering if your safe here with me.” Lilith confirmed his accuracy with another flinch.

 “Forgive me I must introduce myself. I am Ithreal, Ithreal Normm.”  Ithreal nodded in greeting.

 “I am...” Lilith started but was interrupted by Ithreal.

 “You are Lilith Danme.” Ithreal smiled slightly, proud of his ability.

Lilith shivered. She didn’t like Ithreal or his ‘gift’. She just wanted to get away, but she knew that if she were to leave she would stand no chance alone. She needed this strange man.

 Ithreal began to talk again “But my gift is quite common, most sorcerers are able to perform thought reading within two years of discovering their magical abilities. But your gift... your gift is special. Not many can transform their whole body in a moment. It requires decades of training, perhaps even centuries! How long have you been aware of you magic?” Ithreal’s eyes pierced Lilith’s thoughts searching for an answer. But she spoke the answer before she though it.

 “One week” she said sheepishly. Ithreal breathed in heavily.

 Silence. At least five minutes past before Ithreal spoke and when he did it wasn’t of the usual length an confidence.

 “Extraordinary!” He whispered “Absolutely extraordinary!” He rose, baffled, and walked towards the singular window in the circular room. He peered out at the woodland as he thought.

 “I have only ever known of a handful of sorcerers who have the ability to transform their bodies... and only one who could transform into a raven...” he paused “but it can’t be!” Lilith was growing curious.

 “What can’t be? Who was the other person who could become a Raven?” She probed, standing up to show her curiosity. She hadn’t even considered that anyone besides herself could have her gift, and now Ithreal tells her there is another! Ithreal waved the questions away with his hand.

 “It is of no importance to you... yet? Once you need to know I shall tell you!” He paused looking through the window again.

 “It is late, you should get some rest, you have had a long day.” He indicated a staircase that curled around the room “Upstairs you will find a bed, and change of clothing. Use them as you wish, but I deeply suggest you get some rest, we have a long way to travel tomorrow.” With that he walked out of the room, leaving Lilith to make her way upstairs. Sleep seemed like such a beautiful prospect after the horrid day she had had. She climbed the staircase, still not trusting the old man but too tired to care.

Dec 31st

Beefcake, Pin-Ups and Assorted Trouser I Have Fancied

I’m not (as some people imagine) obsessed by just one bloke. In fact I fancy quite a few. Some of these blokes are dead, some long-dead, some alive but past it (fancy-wise) a few can still hack it and one is actually on the Cloud. I’ve got a pretty catholic taste in men, so long as they are pretty and have a good body. And long hair, preferably, but that’s not an absolute. They can have short hair if they’re drop-dead gorgeous. I’ve never laid eyes any of these men in the flesh (except the ones I’ve seen passing and Peter Warwick and Nick) and have not slept with any of them, except in imagination. I’ve seen them on TV, in old movies and old TV series, in museums and art galleries, in old footage of rock concerts, and that handful in real life. You don’t see that many good-looking men in real life, so when you spot one, you remember it. Here they are then – Those Whom My Soul Loveth. No special order, just as they came to mind. Prince Rupert (unfinished portrait by Wm Dobson), James Graham, Marquis of Montrose (portrait by Wm Dobson), John Graham of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee (miniature by unknown artist), Sir William Compton (portrait by Wm Dobson), Philip, Lord Wharton (not the early Van Dyck with the gold cloak but the later one where he has longer hair and red satin gear … although I’m not 100% sure of that), William Dobson (early self-portrait), The ‘Unknown Youth’ in a portrait by Botticelli, That Greek bronze of the god Posiden aiming a spear, Robert Donat, Edward Brayshaw, Alfred Lynch, Brian Cox (not that scientist with the buck teeth off TV, but the Scottish actor who was once yummy but is now, alas, a lard tub), Peter O’Toole (in his Lawrence days), Peter Warwick who I met at Birmingham college of art and wore very tight jeans and reminded me of Prince Rupert, Trevor Eve (in The Dolls’ House as Torvill with a beard), Sean Bean, Paul McGann, Bill Ward, Cairan Hinds, Tom Ward, A bloke I saw walking by Birmingham town hall, A bloke I saw in the parlour of Shakespeare’s birthplace, A bloke I saw in the theatre museum by the old Shakespeare Memorial Theatre A one time manager of the Swan Theatre, Worcester, Neil Oliver off ‘Coast’, Michael Wood when he did a series on Anglo Saxons and had long hair dyed blond, An Italian bloke I met in Rome but who was too short to take seriously, That NFL quarter-back who had a beard. He had an Irish name but I can’t remember what team he was with, only that they had green and white uniforms – it was in the early 90s, That tennis player who looked like Romeo out of Romeo & Juliet but had the unfortunate name of Derek something or other, Nick, who married my friend Lynn, and looked gorgeous when he was asleep … and not bad when he was awake either, Roger Daltry (full metal hair mode), Robert Plant ditto, The blond bloke out of Status Quo when he was young Rory Gallagher who reminded me of Prince Rupert, Bob Marley, That black copper in The Bill with the wonderful voice, Aaron Eckhart , George Chakiris, Jenson Button, Antony off the Cloud, Josh Holloway. I’m not including Mr BP although he is gorgeous, he doesn’t qualify for the list as I’ve slept with him. I think that’s all the blokes I’ve ever fancied, but if I remember any more, I’ll add them. This is a purely person list, btw, and a lot of women might find it a very strange one. Since it has been compiled by Beep, then I guess it is par for the course.
Dec 31st

Requiescat in Pace, Dear Tod


Alas, poor Tod!  I knew him, Clouders: a fellow
of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath m
ade merry with me a thousand times; and now, how
abhorred in my imagination he is! my gorge rims at
it. Here lodged the brain that begat the trifles that amused me I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your parodies? your jokes? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the Cloud on a roar? Not one now, to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen?  Now get you to young Fallon’s chamber, and tell him,
let him paint an inch thick, let him type away all night, to this favour he must come; make him laugh at that.

Dec 31st

My third Posting

By The Clockwise Man II
This is the third time Ive posted this but I'm re-posting it because I wanna enter it for  a competition. I wanna know if you thik its still any good and how I could improve it....?

Foolish Suicide

She sat there, alone in the room. Not caring about the ringing phone, but wanting the person on the other end to somehow stop her.

Am I really gunna do this?

Her head hurt. So many thoughts, so little time left to decide. If only someone could stop her.

Surly I’m not going to do this!

She looked across the room at the rope resting upon an old stool.

This is it.

She stood up; the phone still ringing.

Just do it. Get it over with

She was confused and alone; a lethal combination.

No one would care. Especially mum and dad.... and Mike.

She grabbed the rope with both hands; stretching it to test its strength.

If I’m gunna do this I’d better do it properly.

She put one foot on the stool. But she couldn’t move; she couldn’t complete this hellish task. Her eyes now full of tears she stepped down.

Don’t be stupid. You can’t do this.

But as she turned around to answer the persistent phone she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror. She looked again; staring at her reflection. Still holding the rope, she turned back to the stool.

Do it. Just do it.

She put one foot on the stool.

Yes thats right. You can do this.

She put her second foot onto the stool and tied the rope to the fan on the roof.

You can do this.

As she tied the rope into a noose, she started to cry.

Don’t be a fool. Just do it! DO IT!


A few minutes later her body was hanging from the ceiling. Limp and cold. She could not have any more second thoughts.

Finally the answer machine of the phone read its message to the caller; she had been meaning to get it fixed.

“...leave your message after the tone.” 


A pause.

 “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It was just a joke; your bum could never look big in anything. Not that its too small... I mea...”

The man sighs.

“I love you Michelle. I love you more than you could ever imagine. In fact I was going to ask you something today. I was going to wait till I saw you again, but if it could save our relationship then I’ll try now. Michelle I want to... I love yo... Could you...”

Another sigh.

 “I want to marry you Michelle. There I said it..... Please call back. I really do love you. You know that... right?” 
Dec 30th

Simply the best

By AlanP

This year Santa delegated to my teenage daughter the task of providing me with a most amusing volume. This is a collection of letters to but not published in the Daily Telegraph called “Am I Alone in Thinking…?”.  Amongst the reasons for reading this newspaper, which I do occasionally rather than assiduously, sits the letters pages. One might think that the letters that were not published are inferior to those that were. I am pleased to report that this is not the case. Rather I suspect the contrary as they come almost universally from the “ordinary person” rather than, for example archbishops or (self) important politicians.

As I contemplate the musings therein I am drawn to conclude that all life is indeed out there and that it is in fact a wonderful thing. The book is a relatively slim volume containing a condensation of the observational wit that makes Britain great; not published in the pages of the Telegraph on the advice of their lawyers or simply for reasons of political correctness, available space, or something else. I am bound to acknowledge that the contributions are not all from this sceptred isle and whilst many of those from other lands do credit to the wit, humour and erudition of their nation a few, and here I am thinking of a particular gentleman from Texas, do not.

I will mention in paraphrase two that sit on the plateau of excellence that this collection achieves:

There is a genteel man who finds it intensely humiliating to be asked at airport check in if he packed his own bag because it forces him to admit that he no longer has a manservant to do it for him, and my favourite so far (although I have not yet finished) is from someone (male) gratefully thanking them for their front page picture of Kate Winslet in a plunging neckline, remarking that the article concerning her being up for two Golden Globes was most apposite.

Utterly wonderful. Rush out and buy one.
Dec 29th

Chapter 2 of The Necromantic Onyx

By Has'san
Pre-emptive Curbing Procedure

“I never trusted you magicians___” astonished a person might become seeing this simple man getting cross, for it was a sheer rarity. However, it might not be new to people witnessing Mr. Trinsic quarrelling to the magicians over innumerable issues whereas, that day wrangle was about the twins.
“Their mother trusted us and she was a major part of us. She entrusted you the responsibility of twins’ upbringing because she believed that you would do your duty the same way as she would have done,” the purple-robed, with a significant glowing belt on his waist, magician was adopting a calmer tone, as he thought it to be the only solution to the problem.
The fact that Mr. Trinsic was standing alongside a magician made him uneasy. For the first time he wished he would have known magic not for easing the life but to fight away these magicians.
The heat rising within him subsided with what the tall, a bit old, slim and purple-robed magician had just said. The extravagance in the magician’s expressions was constantly giving Mr. Trinsic a hard time to decide whether to trust him or not.
Maybe he was right, perhaps he should give up, thought Mr. Trinsic. This was too early to surrender, he realized, the magician needed to be interrogated further. Thereafter, the magician was led somewhere by the twins’ uncle.
The magician looked like a morally strong figure, determined not to lose, possibly this was the reason he was sent to Mr. Trinsic.
The magician’s had long hair, which were congested on a size of head as equal as his, and were falling smoothly to his back. Few white hair were visible, rest were black. He had a fair complexion and eyes were his main features. They could be deceiving at one moment and inducing at another.
He walked gracefully and with authority symbolizing his rank in the magical administration. Or was it the way every magician walked? The answer to Mr. Trinsic was absolutely, 'YES'!
Mr. Trinsic led his guest to a well-decorated room which looked like the room for visitors, guessed the magician in his imagination. They surrendered themselves to two unoccupied wooden chairs. The wood used to design those chairs was not as valuable as the magicians’ but was nothing less than a valuable for non-magicians (who were not, mostly, well-off financially).
“Now begin from the start, what have you got to say to me?” The twins’ uncle asked in a worried voice.
“Starting from the day of the birth rituals and since now we magicians have been noticing the leakage of magical powers from the twins, meaning that they possess a great deal of magic. Such leakages can result in unwanted events like fire, explosions and etc…the twins are an exceptional case, I mean no child of there age previously have been reported or sensed to have such strong magical powers,” the magician panted realizing that he was speaking very fast, but was pleased to have won over Mr. Trinsic’s attention.
“Here arise several questions belonging to one major question – how do I know what you are saying is true? … I mean, how do I know that you’ve sensed immense magic leaking out of my twins, how can you curb their powers when their case is exceptional and lastly how do I know which unwanted events are you talking about when there took place none???” His mouth curled upwards into a rueful smile.
“Okay, we consider everything chronologically,” the magicians’ expressions clearly expressed frustration; sometimes it was very annoying to explain every bit to the non-magicians. “We, magicians, can sense the location where magic is used unless ordinary amount is used. Since they do not have control over their powers, a lot gets out which we can sense easily. Then it is true that their case is exceptional but that does not mean that our forefathers never interpreted the possibility hence there are ways to curb it. And lastly are you sure that you didn’t notice any odd things taking place, lately?”
It had been a week since their birth and so far Mr. Trinsic could not remember anything unusual happening in the house or perhaps if there had happened he might not have been able to deduce the reasons. Thus, he kept scratching his beardless chin and searched for an answer, “No … I guess there happened …yeah … there was one thing. While I wasn’t at home, my wife noticed a table burning into fire, as she returned from the kitchen where the twins were lying. But that’s not what my kids did, did they?” He was now wearing a horrified look whereas the magician seemed satisfied as if his question had been answered.
“Do not worry Mr. Trinsic, nothing will happen to them. And so far what I can tell, there had occurred two incidents since the day they born …those need to be stopped for it might …” the magician lowered his gaze making his host more distressed.
“WH-what, for it might, what???”
“Might … kill them,” he kept staring at the floor but what he was missing was the look on Mr. Trinsic’s face. As he glanced upwards he found the twins’ guardian gasping with horror.
“Can you fix this up, please?” His stare did not waver and he remained gazing in the magician’s eyes wondering how further he could go into them.
“Yes, we can,” there was hope on Mr. Trinsic’s face now and his mood brighten up a bit, “but it might cause the twins pain, however we will be as much careful as we can.”
The hope did not vanish from his face neither was the revelation of twins’ suffering felt disturbing to him, “Tell me more, what’s that procedure?”
“To curb an adult’s power is as easy as plucking a flower from the open green belt but if it’s the new-born we are talking about then that flower lies in the restricted area or rather inaccessible, making it difficult to pluck. Since they are just kids who do not know anything nor of their powers, we will have to reach to their store of magic. This can be painful because we are actually the intruders in their minds. But there is a problem – the procedure is temporary. As soon as the twins become of their powers such incidents can commence again. Moreover the damages caused by their emotional powers, combined with their magic, would be a lot more sever than they are now. At that time, we will guide them to access their powers on their own and carry on as it is normally done.”
There was a brief moment of silence. Mr. Trinsic was lost in a thought, or perhaps thoughts.
“So when do we start? I want the twins in as much comfort as they can. And if it turns out to be in vain you’ll wish you had never been born, do we have an agreement?”
Swallowing every word of the non-magician carefully, he inclined his head firmly and said, “I’ll be back in the evening prepared in order to make the procedure the least painful I can.”
The twins’ uncle nodded. The magician strode past the room and departed without being offered the farewell-greetings by Mr. Trinsic, whose face now rested on his hands, a clear indication of his fretful thoughts.
Being the same anxious, as he was before, he reclined on the sofa and submitted himself into an uneasy and unintentional sleep. He did not know but immediately after he had slept, his wife visited him as she heard her husband’s snores. She was perplexed to see her husband sleeping like this. She did not wake him up instead she allowed him to sleep before he would wake up himself. Later, that evening, the knock on the door woke Mr. Trinsic up, who got up at the very first knock. His wife felt perturbed to see him in such condition. Therefore, she went to see open the door and saw a purple-robed and a bit old magician standing on her doorstep. This did not surprise her as he had already visited them earlier, after the noon.
His smile did not mean anything to Miss. Kimburly at all, who shrugged and went inside.
The Magician was let inside and when he found Mr. Trinsic in such conditions, he himself grew worried and soothed him with assuring words, “Do not worry Mr. Trinsic, nothing will happen.” Mr. Trinsic twitched his lips and said, “Easy for you to say, huh?”
It was now appropriate for him to adopt quiescence and to prove practically what he was capable of rather than keep convincing on Mr. Trinsic who proved to be the apposite guardian of the twins.
“Would you please, now, take me to your niece and nephew or are you bringing them here?” The Magician asked. Mr. Trinsic stood up and ordered his visitor to follow him. He led him to the most specious room of the house where on a bed lay two innocent children, unaware what was going to happen to them, shortly afterwards.
Having glimpsed at them, it brought a smile on the magician’s face, a smile that represented some kind of affection.
The purple-robed magician, then, approached the adorable twins. Reaching over to them, he found them sleeping peacefully. Both, Mr. Trinsic and his wife, were watching every move of the magician, carefully. The old man placed a hand on Derrik’s and Dorothy’s forehead, but at the same time, something happened. The chair which was placed nearby, lifted above the ground and collided with the wall, breaking it into two equal halves. The twins’ aunt shivered and uncle grew agitated, “What is this, you filthy magician?” The magician however remained resolute because he knew why it had happened.
“The twins are sensitive and I placed a hand on their forehead deliberately. In order to see how they react and the intensity of their reaction. They realized that my touch was unfamiliar making them scared or surprised, I don’t know exactly. And as I told you they release magic on almost every emotion, they feel.
“This will not happen again because the next time I will place a hand on their forehead, it will be familiar to them.” Mr. Trinsic reluctantly nodded, realizing that there he had no other choice.
The magician said touched their foreheads, and as he had said, nothing happened this time. He drew in a deep breath and just before he closed his eyes he glared at Mr. Trinsic and Mrs. Trinsic who were scrutinizing his face thoughtfully.
The magician touched their foreheads a second time, and as he had said, nothing happened this time. He drew in a deep breath and just before he closed his eyes he glanced at Mr. Trinsic and Mrs. Trinsic who were scrultinizing his face thoughtfully. This made him uncomfortable to be stared at while he was working on something that he had never done before. He was afraid that he might lose his concentration while this process was going on and he knew the consequence of doing so. He could risk no chance of any error. “Come what may. I will at least die trying,” thought the magician.
Therefore, with eyes closed he moved his hands, on their foreheads, barely,, way of not distracting them from their sleep.
He now approached the inside of the twins’ minds through his own mind. He waited and waited until he felt his own presence within three minds. Where he stood, appeared tp ne a long road. It was glistening at the beginning and cast his shadow on the road beyong which all was dark. The illuminated side, resembled his own mind and he had nothing to do with his own right now.
Hence, he kept prowling around for the right place to go at. As he moved forward it turned gloomier and gloomier until there came a spot where nothing could be seen but felt. And he felt that there was a diversion on the road, new probably one leading to either of the twins’ mind.
He first opted for the road going to the right. Walking in the dark, he was unaware of the steps he was taking. However, after ambling carefully a little more steps, his foot collided with something wooden and he felt hope flooding in him. That was what he had been looking for, the door leading to any of the twins’ mind, particularly, he was uncertain which one until he had entered inside. He turned the handle and stepped inside a dimly lit room.
The room was dimly lit because the light represented the life of a person. Since, the twins were only a week old a little bit of what they had seen so far made for less illumination. That was the reason, the road that led to the their mind made it impossible to see the end.
Source of illumination was not evident but it kept flickering, on every step of the magician, like the candlelight open to heavy wind. This meant that every step of the magician was reacted to by the wind and this symbolized sensitive mind, a mind that can only be belonging to a girl thus the magician was certain now that he intruded in Dorothy’s mind.
He, then, wandered about the room in search of something but all he could found were two other doors. Even then, it satisfied him, may be this was what he had been looking for.
He approached the first door then, and turned the handle. A light breeze started coming through the door which actually represented the memories of Dorothy which she had gathered in a week. Had this been the door of an olderly person it would have been a strong wind rather than a light breeze.
A average person possessed two doors in their mind. For a non-magician, who lacked magical powers, there used to be two doors, one for his memories which he wanted to share with others and other door of secrets, which could not be opened until the other, wanted to. Whereas, the magicians possessed one more door which led to their magical powers or their store of magic.
In Dorothy’s case, since she did not have enough sense what to be kept opened and what be kept secret, she only had two doors, one to her memories and other which would lead to her store of magic.
The magician had already noticed the door of memories, so he moved on to the next one which was his destination in real. As he reached towards the door, he noticed dazzling light protruding from under the door. He willed the door to be opened and kept turning its handle, but it would not open. It annoyed him as he could not come to the solution. He kept thinking whether what was preventing him and realized that the only way to pass beyong the door was to pen the door magically.
He drew out some magic and willed the door to be opened which unlocked ferociously and bumped onto the wall beside, forcing the magician to leap backwards. But he could not stay there long because her powers were leaking now in great quantities which could cause destruction. Thus, using his all this might, he entered, inside the room and shielded his eyes from the glistening light of Dorothy’s magic which blinded him in colour-blind. The brightness of light suggested how immense the magical capabilities of Dorothy were.
He now had to act fast because the longer he stayed there the more the pain it would cause, Dorothy for he was uninvited in that room. Without wasting anymore time, he drew out some magic and created a large box with an entrance to it. He gestured his hands outward and then directed them towards the entrance to the box. On his directions the powers, which symbolized Dorothy’s magic, started seeping inside the box, designed by the magician.
Gradually, few minutes later, Dorothy’s magic had found a new store to live in but it stayed there with reluctance. The magician closed the entrance as all magical powers had been stored in the box. However, her magic was in a huge quantity that is started to shake inside as it needed more space to be stored in. Realizing what this shaking meant, the magician enlarged the size so that the magical powers could stop threatening the miniature size of the box. As he did so, the the convulsion reduced to tis minimum and when it became satisfactory for the magician, he decided to leave immediately. So, her powers were now stored where they were accessible yet without leakage.
The magician then left the Dorothy’s mind and followed the dark road towards Derrik’s. Similarly, no source of illumination made it inevitable for him to have a collision against the door that led to Derrik’s mind.
Just like Dorothy’s one, the room representing Derrik’s mind was small and faintly lit. The only difference the magician felt here was that the light was not flickering, an indination of a determined personality who was not bothered by an invasion of his mind.
The magician repeated the same process; magically opening the store of magic, a room which glistened greatly but lesser than Dorothy’s. Meaning thereby that, though, he had far too much magic in him for a child of his age but lesser than his sister’s. However, the magician was determined that strong personality of Derrik’s would bring both twins to an equal standards after sometime.
Derrik’s magical powers fitted in the box that was created for Dorothy’s, before enlargement, despite of the ocassional rumblings it caused.
Successfully accomplishing what he had contrived to do, he strode towards the way back. He was delighted on his perfection that he had been able to complete the pre-emptive curbing without even causing the twins’ a slightest of pain. His reason fro certainity was the fact that he experienced no unusual activity in either of the two minds.
Retracing his footsteps, he followed the gloomy road back to his mind and ultimately outside the internal word where Mr. Trinsic stood wailing about the resent bruise he had received, probably from the the changes in twins’ emotions. Fortunately, this was the only damage caused in all this procedure, which was one of the biggest achievements of the magician.
As he opened his eyes and lifted his hand from the foreheads of Dorothy and Derrik, Mr. Trinsic leapt forward and inquired the purple-robed man, “Are…… are they all right now? Will this happen again?” The dispvation in his voice could be heard.
The old man replied as secretly as he could and looked at both the guardians, one at a time, “They are perfectly well now,” both of his audiences breathed a sigh of relief, the magician continued, “And I’m sure this will not happen again, at the least sooner.” The guardians looked relieved. Mr. Trinsic, however, seemed to have another query, “What if it does happen again…. I don’t mean that we don’t trust you but what if…. How can we contact you?..... What is your name?”
The magician looked away and soberly replied, “I feel honoured to earn your trust Mr. Trinsic but be assured you will not have to contact me again.”
“Even then, you never told us what you should be called, you name?” Mrs. Kimburly spoke now.
“The eyebrows of the old magician rose and he hesitantly replied, “I am ….to be honest…….Yarlan”
Dec 29th

My Published Poem

By Has'san
This is the poem i wrote three years back, submitted to the local magazine, called Young World, 2 months ago and it  got published a month ago. The poem is titled FRIENDSHIP

Verse 1

What's friendship to me?
What's it worth you?
It's like an open window,
And a wide view.

Verse 2

It's a gleam of stars,
The brightness of the sun,
Spreading over the hearts,
Unpleasant to none.

Verse 3

It is a large oasis,
In the desert of death,
A blessing in disguise,
Giving me breath.

Verse 4

It is a glowing fire-fly,
In a world of darkness,
Illuminating the way,
Ridding me of weariness.

Verse 5

It is an unbreakable bond,
Full of fun but without sorrow,
Which helps the world run smoothly,
Or else I will not borrow.
Dec 28th

The Clockwise Memoirs - Volume I,II&III;

By The Clockwise Man II
 Its got to be nine or ten months since I joined this brilliant website, thats a long time!! Theres been so many ups... and a few downs but overall the Cloud has done noting but make my life amazing!
 And I'm sure some of the oldest cloud members will have notice that I have changed very much so in the past year.

I:  It all started at some point at the beginning of this year; a shy nearly-fifteen year old boy sneaked onto the cloud. He went by the name of The Clockwise Man; a mysterious name? He thought so too ;)
 He wrote a blog explaining his insicurities and lack of confidence and started to gain friends. Among the first were Chanty (the very first Clouder who greated him), Vin (a fabulously funny man who no longer graces us with his presance), Marion (the funny mysterious 'big sister': who he swore looked like Angelina Jolie), Tony (The wise Owl), Barb and Mockingbird(forever friendly faces), oh and Ant (you know that vain guy with kids ;) ).
 He quickly grew used to Cloud life and built up a 'Cloud Family'. But he insicurities were still there lingering, waiting for him to log off.
 He eventually had a little break down and left the cloud.

II: And that was when Clockwise Man II was born. But this was not the same boy as before. He came back more confident than before and kept getting more and more confident for the rest of his time on the cloud. A shy reclusive boy had turned into a funny confident young guy (If he may say so himself). 
 Nower Days you can find him talking to his old friends: Marion, Chanty, Edwina and Ant and his great new ones: Joey, Has'san and Project Alice

III: Ok so im back in first person now ;). I like to think that the cloud has changed me and made me a better person not only online but in every day life. I want to thank you all for being absolutly amazing people and for putting up with me for all this time :)

Thanks for everything guys x

Matt Robertson aka. Clockwise 
Dec 28th

IM STAYING!!!!!!!!!

By The Clockwise Man II

Thanks for all your support (all of you) its really helped in these last crappy days.

Clockwise :P
Dec 27th

Sherlock Holmes, ex-boyfriends and little black dresses...

By Joey
It sounds like a joke really, what do Sherlock Holmes, ex-boyfriends and little black dresses have in common? Joey always has one of them on her at all times.


You'd get it if you knew me better, honest, it's funny.

Today is the eve my seventeenth birthday. Unfortunately for me because my birthday is right after Christmas I've speant every single one in my nana and grandad's house in the back end of beyond in Wexford.

But the twenty-seventh of December is whole other matter. That's when I get to celebrate my birth my way before being forced into the awkward embraces of aunts who hate my family and purposely get me one present for Crimbo and Bday which will have a Yuletide theme of course despite the fact this makes it unusable in a week of recieving it for another eleven months.

Today I got up late and drank tea in bed while typing. After a lengthy debate with my mother about the expansion of the music technology industry I got dress in a little dress given to me by an ex-boyfriend for my birthday on Christmas eve.

The same ex-boyfriend met us in town for the first day of the sales where I got yet another black dress this time with some purple and green bits then we went to see the Sherlock Holmes film.

I loved it. From the return of Watson to the ex-army young doctor of wit from the books from the fat dope on the BBC. Holme's cocaine adiction was replaced with an untidyness that was not from the books but gelled well with the character. The fights (though numerous) were amusing and the dialogue snapped and sparked with the intellegence that rang from every page of Conan's iconic novels and short stories.

But what's the punch line? Really, why is it that a genius detective is needed, or the consitant return to past mistakes or the somber evening attire at all times of day??

Well if I told you then there wouldn't be any mystery!