Based on “The Emporer’s New Clothes”
I woke late in my flat above the shops in the High Street. Me and my mates used pot, magic mushrooms and acid daily. That night was no exception. I felt fantastic, supreme and euphoric. I fell into a deep sleep.
Two days later I woke amongst the needles, stains on floor and tables, coffee cups furred up with fungus, discarded rubbish, and yellowing newspapers. Clothes lay in a heap smelling like burnt rope. Found the sachet of white powder. Got a razor blade. Snorted the lines. It seared my nasal passages, and felt good. I did not eat. I got the maximum hit. I was alert, laid back, and cool. I picked up a book , and read one book within another, scary man, but brilliant. Everything was connected. I saw the universe and all creation. The ground fell away. I snorted more dope. I heard my name on the TV. I looked away, and turned on the radio and the voice said:

‘Use more dope . Go out and show the world. You are supreme’.
In the street I saw them looking up at me, waving and waiting for me. I drew down the blinds, blocking them out. Their voices called to me. Nothing could hurt me. On TV I saw my dead mother pleading with me, eyes shining like black pearls. Scared, I huffed more dope.
Now filled with joy I run downstairs leaping the last flight. I took my bike, and cycled down the high street. I picked up speed, lifted the front wheels and cycled upright, as high as a kite. People watched and shouted at me. They waved. It was great. The voice said :
‘Go on you can do it’.
I cycled to the middle of the road and did three point turns, again and again. The voice said:
‘You are supreme. Go on miss that car coming towards you’.
I cycled at speed towards the cars and just swerved at the last moment. I did it again and again. Urged on, I felt more powerful. The voice pounded in my head:
‘Go on more , more’.
I cycled over to the wrong side of the road and rode at speed towards the oncoming traffic.


In silence; they waited. An hour passed.
They had cut the roof and doors off, and a father and child were lifted gently from the wreckage.
Later, in intensive care, they wept and prayed for the child’s life.
I lay in a strange white room at the hospital, head in my hands, shaking, sweating and in the wilderness. Pain seared my body. Craving merged with fear. I searched my stinking clothes for a shot. A deafening buzzing pounded my head. Images fused and collided. Terrifying scenes lit up the walls.
I saw a smashed child.
I closed my eyes, and clamped my hands over my ears.
I searched for anything to fill this desert. End this hell.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Sleeping Beauty
On her sixteenth birthday Annie’s father died. She had not known her mother, and had no relatives. Sad and alone she took to the road with just a knapsack, and a picture of herself with her father, which revealed a beautiful young girl with blue eyes and blond hair, just like her father.
She travelled South, hitched a lift, and arrived in London. She trudged the streets day and night looking for work until eventually tired and exhausted, with no money left, she slept that night in a shop doorway.
She searched the streets for shelter day after day until one day she met an old man sleeping rough. He looked mild and harmless. His name was Len .
They walked that night to his patch under the arches at Waterloo. Cardboard shacks lined the path. It was sheltered and dry. In the distance a line of concrete buildings and walkways, scarred by graffiti, were silhouetted against the sky. The banks of the Thames were dark and soulless. Struts of the old iron railway bridge were just visible above the black waters of the river, and at the foot of the stairs, an old woman, Beattie, sat in the rain, wrapped in a damp blanket, hoping to cadge a few pence from the last audience returning home from the South Bank.
Len brewed tea he’d purchased with a bag of pennies given to him by a local shopkeeper. They dunked biscuits in the hot liquid, good for Len as he had no teeth and survived on liquid anyway. She slept well that night, under the arches. Time passed and Len’s patch was now Annie’s home. She felt safe with Len, the old timer, as he’d spent most of his life on the road and now knew no other way.
On this particular night, two years had passed, and Annie had become weak and ill. A young man returning home, had noticed a girl lying on a pile of old newspapers, wrapped in an outsize overcoat, wearing ankle boots tied with string, her head swaddled in a long wool scarf, wisps of blond hair plastered to her forehead. He tapped her on the shoulder.
‘I’ll get a hot drink, you look so cold.’
He returned a few minutes later and she took the steaming mug, cradled it in her hands for warmth, and drank the hot liquid. She felt the warmth oozing through her body, and felt sick and dizzy She fell back into a semi-conscious sleep.
Opening her eyes the next morning, Annie sat up and the world spun around her, and she collapsed back gasping for breath. As her head hit the pillow she noticed a note pinned to it. She peered at it blindly, but slowly read :
‘Come and see us here.’ Mark.
With little strength left, Annie gathered her paltry belongings, and made her way towards the address, where she collapsed at the door and was taken in.
Two days later she awoke dazed from her long sleep to see a beam of sunlight lighting her bed. The room was bright and clean. She smelt the crisp cotton sheets, and breathed the warm air. She recognised the unfamiliar smells of toast and coffee wafting from the kitchens. Mark tapped at the door and asked how she was. He brought her breakfast, which she managed to eat. She revived a little. She noticed a partition behind which was a gleaming white bath, and fresh smelling soap.
Gingerly, she bathed and washed her hair, and wrapped herself in the soft towels. She turned, and was startled by her reflection in a large mirror. She saw young girl looking back at her, pale and thin, with wide blue eyes, and blond hair, and heard a voice saying:
“Remember me”.

Marie Lewis