Thursday, 26 April 2012

The Cartographer



I had just started lecturing in Cartography at the Oxford University in the UK. This was my area of expertise as I enjoyed exploring and thought that this would be the right field to go into. In my youth, I regularly travelled the countryside of Europe. One day, as I was teaching my Monday morning class, the Dean of Cartography entered the lecture theatre and asked my class if he could borrow me for a while. I followed the Dean to his office and I asked what this was about. I thought it was a bit of a mystery as to why I was here. The Dean answered in a rather proper tone, saying, “You have been requested by the government to make a map of Africa’s west cost. You can take an assistant if you like, possibly one of your students. I’m sorry but you will have to let me know by this afternoon who your assistant is going to be.” I thanked the Dean and walked silently back to my class, where I taught until the end of their session.
I stopped one of my students before they left. He was one of my top students who was a rather ordinary fellow yet had an aptitude for the art of Cartography. I explained what the Dean had told me and said to my student, “This would be a trip of a lifetime and I would like it if you were able to come with me.” He responded excitedly with, “Yes! I would love to come with you. Thank you very much.”
That afternoon I gathered my compass, pen and writing parchment and packed up my trunk before collecting my student for the African adventure. We met our government associates at the train station and away we went to the next port. Our ship was a large three sail ship with a well travelled crew onboard. When we boarded I couldn’t help thinking it was going to be a fairly long time away from Europe.
I had already started to map the top of the west side of the continent, when the captain informed us that we may need to pick up some supplies in a few hours time. I was interested in what the continent had to offer and to explore it would be an interesting phenomenon. My student seemed to agree saying, “this should be exciting shouldn’t it sir.’’ We were 10 days into our journey when we had to disembark the ship to pick up the supplies.
The first officer said, “You may want to explore as we have to spend some time in the port.” So my student and I searched the various stalls of the market place which were near where we stopped at the port. My assistant, the student, picked up some souvenirs as he had never been south of the UK before. 
The student got a bit adventurous and started to walk into the jungle on his own. I decided to follow him so that nothing untoward happened. A few miles in we came up to a deep, fast flowing river. My assistant asked me, “Why don’t we travel across the river on one of these vines?” I responded with, “Since you probably won’t let this go, I will swing across first.” I was terrified but I was going to act brave. I had successfully done this once before, but in a slightly safer environment. So I grabbed the vine with both hands and started to push off from the bank. I was midway over the river when the vine snapped and I fell into the rushing water. I was strong enough to swim but never the less it was quite powerful and it carried me away. I grabbed onto a large stone that was cemented into the earth under the rapids. I could see my students worry in his eye as he thrust out a sturdy looking branch for me to grab. I knew that I would live. I wasn’t going to die.

By Robert Walmsley-Evans

Thursday, 19 April 2012

The Portal in the Table - Creative Writing Short Story

The Portal in a table


One remarkable day, something quite different happened to me. I was eating my usual bowl of weet-bix when I received a phone call. Seeing as it was early, I thought to myself, ‘why would I be getting a phone call at this time?’ The man on the other end said he was a detective, “Is this the home of Mrs Rettop?’’ he said. I answered with a tentative response, “Yes, what would you like?” The detective said, “You’re in a spot of bother Madam. This is not something we will discuss over the phone; I will meet you at the station in forty-five minutes.” With a sense of nervousness I did not respond, putting the receiver down. 

I thought I could have done something but I didn’t quite know, so I walked up stairs to pack a bag just in case. I saw on a dressing table in my room, a strange light that seemed to issue from one point. I was a little bit scared yet curious as to what it was and why it was there. I examined it a bit closer and I felt dizzy for a moment. The light seemed to draw me into it, causing me to twist and spin inside the table. The light pulled me back out into the same place in the room as I was before. Time seemed to twist around me and I could see back through time for a moment. It was surprising to me that I saw myself asleep in my bed, so I decided to go down stairs to check if everything was okay. I had a theory that maybe I could go to the station to see what I had done. 

As I was leaving, I saw my hallway clock and it showed that it was six in the morning. I checked to see if I was visible and audible so I went into the street to determine if I was. Apparently not, as no one seemed to notice or care. The station was only a couple of blocks away so it took no time at all to find the detective. He was hard at work looking through various cases. A new recruit entered the detective’s office and said, “I wonder if you might like to check out this case as it’s quite unique.” As the detective opened the file, I read over his shoulder. The report stated a woman by the name of Jane Rettop robbed a convenience store at six o’clock yesterday morning. I remembered that was several years ago and wondered why it was only brought up now. A light suddenly appeared and instantly I was sucked back through, returning to my body so there was only one of me again. The telephone rang again, and it was the detective saying, “I’m sorry Madam, we were mistaken.” I responded with, “that’s amazing,” and before he had the chance to say anything else I hung up the phone. I went down stairs to eat the rest of my breakfast and I looked at the clock realising I needed to rush off for work. I accidently dropped my bowl on the floor in the process of moving towards the door. I have never been on time.

By,
Robert Walmsley-Evans

P.S Feel free to make any suggestions.