Sublime

By Scott Bailey ⓒ 2016

“Have we reached full coverage?”

“Not quite yet but we will very soon, the momentum has built and it will hit critical mass in a few days. It needs no further intervention on my part.”

“We have all the channels covered?”

“Everything! From the popular to the obscure. From hard copy books to online articles. From political diatribes to twitter. From old newspapers to blogs and click-bait articles.”

“And we have hooked everyone in – no matter their passion, no matter their inclinations?”

“We have everything – we have erotica, geological patterns in the earth’s crust, astronomy, astrology. We have Game of Thrones and Star Trek. We have novels from established authors and fan fiction. Hell, we have fan fiction erotica stories about the Star Wars characters crash landing in Narnia! There’s no angle we haven’t covered.

His boss laughed.

“Ok, Ok. I get the idea.”

He paused

“And the subliminal messages?”

“So subtle not one has been detected.”

“They are taking effect?”

“They have done their job. The population is yours to command – or will be in a few more days. I would say probably enough to make no difference already.”

“Good. And no one else knows?”

“Just me and you.”

His boss smiled. A warm smile – full of sunshine and hope that he rarely graced on anyone. It made him feel pride in a job well done.

“Good,” his boss repeated, “now, just step through this door.”

In response to the daily prompt Critical

#DailyPrompt #iamwriting

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The Man in the Meadow

By Scott Bailey 2017

She had brought it on a whim at a garage sale. The woman who sold it had practically thrown it at her when she enquired, took only 50p. With bloodshot eyes, she spat the tale.

“She must have brought it for him! I have never seen before.”

She, it turned out, was some mysterious floozy who had apparently stolen her husband. He had disappeared one night leaving everything behind. His wife had found the picture hanging in his study. She assumed it was from her.

Now it hung in Suzanne’s hall. As she looked at it in greater detail it did not seem a likely love gift.

It was a simple landscape.  A green field of swaying grass and in the distance a lonely figure. A man she thought but there was no telling why.

A simple image but compelling. The nuances of the colour were subtle and life like. She could almost feel the grass swaying. She wondered where the man was walking to. He seemed to be disappearing into the horizon.

A simple picture that had drawn her eye from the moment she saw it.

And so it continued to. As she went about her daily business she kept passing by and stopping to appreciate her new find.

In fact, she realised that she was finding the least excuse to pass that way more and more often. She laughed at herself. What a silly obsession!

But she did not stop.

Finally, she went to bed.

She could not sleep. The picture played on her mind. There was something about it. Something she was not seeing. There must be some subliminal symbol or hidden message that was trying to call out to her.

She tried to ignore it and get to sleep.

She could not.

There was something about the picture!

Something wrong.

She got out of bed. Went back down to the hall and stared at it.

It was mesmerising. The brush strokes were so fantastically real.  Had she stumbled on some forgotten or lost masterpiece? The grass almost seemed to be moving, rippling like water in the wind.

No! It was moving! And the figure, the man. He was closer! Holding out his hand in invitation….


He had not noticed the picture in the catalogue. But now, here in the auction room, it drew him. The fact that it was from the house clearance of a mysteriously missing woman somehow added to his desire for it. It seemed to have no worth. It was described simply as “Man and Woman in Grassy Meadow”. Artist unknown.

He had to have it!

He would pay dearly for it!

 

In response to the daily prompt Nuance

 

#DailyPrompt

My dark dystopian vision is starting to look like a brighter alternative!

Humanity reduced to a bottom line.


Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.

Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.

Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.

One one level this is a story about how different people react the ever growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.

At another level it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.

Read an excerpt here.

Available as

Kindle

or hardback

from Amazon

or CreateSpace

Now also available at Smashwords, IBooks, Barnes and Noble, Kobo and many other reputable outlets.

A Spring of Dreams – Sparrow

(Sparrow)

By Scott Bailey © 2013

Sparrow, sparrow in my way.
Briefly tell your tale today.
Tell me if my love is dead.
Do I waste the tears I shed?

Briefly now I’ll tell my tale.
Pray your courage does not fail.
You do not waste the tears you shed.
Alas I say, your love is dead.

A sharp, cold sword did spill her blood.
She tried to stem an angry flood.
But peace that day she could not win.
So fearful war will begin.

Thank you bird for being true.
Nothing’s left for me to do.
To take up arms and pursue strife.
Slay the spoilers of my life.

I bid you sir, think awhile.
Turn from this dark path so vile.
Listen to my humble song.
Step not where your lover’s gone.

Just a simple bird am I
But far above this land I fly.
And see its beauty spread below.
See ahead, where you might go.

Lay down your sword with forgiving heart.
Do not tear your land apart.
Still your rage and vengeance cease.
Follow rather a path of peace.

Humble bird I hear your song.
But my love is dead and gone.
So I raise my sword today.
And will make those killers pay.

The enemies that broke my heart.
And now have torn the land apart.
Upon their heads is all this blood.
For I must release the flood.

Then sir, I shall shed a tear.
For the future I do not fear.
Yet for now I swiftly go.
To make way for the crow.

 

www.scottandrewbailey.uk

 

A Ghost Scene – Thirteen Tales

A Ghost Scene

This is a play with a difference. Shakespeare’s ghost scene, the dead Dane, will never seem the same again to this band of oddball actors drawn together by their passion.

Featured Image -- 7657

Thirteen Tales of Ghosts

By Scott Bailey

A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Other are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.

Ideal for sitting around a campfire and late at night under the covers. Or maybe not if the stories themselves are any guide.

Check it out at Amazon and Smashwords and other online e-book retailers.

A paperback version is now available for those who prefer the feel of the paper while huddling by the fire – on your own – in the dark – with that noise behind you……

www.scottandrewbailey.uk