A Little Story That I Wrote A Long Time Ago

Posted on 04/12/2011

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Okay, so a few weeks ago I appeared on Highway To Mars. It’s an excellent podcast discussing different facets of science fiction. Anyway, I mentioned in passing to Odile and Stefan that I had written a story many years ago at night school as part of a writing exercise. Odile has read it and amazingly enough, I’ve had a few requests, so I thought I’d post it here.

We had forty minutes to write a story, the only condition was that it had to be about a journey. This is what I came up with. This is the original draft and I had to retrieve it from an old programmable typewriter. There is much wrong with it and it has many inconsistencies. I’ve tweaked it over the last seventeen years, but I prefer this original, error ridden version

THOUGHT PROCESS: DIARY OF THE MIND
By Liam. P. O’Connell

February 17th 1943

The bright yellow stars that have been so plentiful in the street have all gone. We are the only ones left. Papa says we must go away, so that we don’t disappear too. I will be sad to leave my home, it is all I have known, especially in the last months. I think it will be good to go, I haven’t been able to play with my friends for ages. Their parents won’t let them. They say I am unclean.

I don’t understand.

February 21st 1943

Papa woke us up early this morning, while it was still dark. He said that we had to leave now and that we could only take a set of clothes that we could wear, no toys.
Before we went, there was a noise outside, and then a banging on the door.
Some strange looking men in grey, who had these funny shaped metal sticks burst in. They started shouting at Mama and Papa and they were pushing them. Papa started to shout as well, at the grey men, in their language. I could not understand. One of the grey men, who was wearing a different hat to the others, stepped close to Papa. He had a smaller metal stick to the others. He pointed it at Papa, and there was a noise, like a crack, and this red spot appeared on Papas forehead. Mama started screaming and she got a red spot too.
The grey men took us outside and put us in a truck. Older sister was crying and said that we were going on a holiday, and Mama and Papa would follow us soon.

I don’t understand.

February 26th 1943

There are a lot of people in this carriage of the train we have been on for days now. Too many people older sister says. She says we are going east. I don’t know what east means. Everybody smells, even me.

I don’t understand

February 27th 1943

The train just stopped. The doors slam open. The lights are too bright. It is night. There are more grey men and men in funny striped uniforms and hats. They yell at us. Sister says they want us to get of the train. About 11 people just lay on the floor and don’t move. Sister says not to look. There are lots and lots of people. Grey men and striped men and even men in black, and people like us.
There is a grey man pushing people in different directions. Men in one direction, women in another, children and old people and sick in another. I don’t see sister anymore. She went with the women.

I don’t understand.

February 28th 1943

We were supposed to have our shower last night, but an old lady, like Grandmother, told me that the striped men said they were full and we had to wait. We are going to our shower now. I am glad. I am embarrassed, because there were no toilets in the train and I messed myself. Grey men and striped men have us all in a line, walking. There is a band just out in front of the showers. This is fun ! Now in we go.
We take of our clothes because the grandmother lady says we must. She said to put them in a neat pile so the striped men can give them back to us later. She said the striped men said this. There are too many people in this shower room. Someone is screaming. Now more people are screaming.

I don’t understand.

The End

So, there you have it. A very short story I wrote in my early twenties. It probably will be considered deathly dull by most, it certainly has a pretentious title, but it is what it is. Please be kind.

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