Magic Coffee Story

This was meant to be a story about a man who has a magical adventure with a coffee cup that gives him whatever drink he desires, depending on what he presses down on the top of the plastic take away cup lid. This story, however, is nothing like that. Enjoy anyway.....

He fumbled around his pockets for his wallet, he was wearing a new jacket and was unfamiliar with the whereabouts of the pockets, more specifically the whereabouts of his wallet. The cosy little cafe was deserted and quiet except for the gentle, agitated tapping of the waitresses’ fingers against the cash register. “Just a moment” he reassured her “it’s here somewhere” eventually he thought to try his back jean pocket, and was somewhat embarrassed that he hadn’t looked there first.
“Two dollars fifty” the waitress reminded him expecting his memory of all things to be pitiable, but he placed the correct sum of money on the counter before she had finished speaking. She begrudgingly set to work constructing the caramel flavoured hot chocolate topped with marshmallows and cream, which he had previously ordered.
“Thank you” he said with great sincerity, trying to make his smile as suggestive as possible. The waitress seemed oblivious to his emotions (or else she simply didn’t care) and continued to read her murder mystery novel to pass the time while waiting for the next costumer she knew wouldn’t be coming. After six years of coming to the same cafe, he had never gone as far as leaving a suggestive smile and was rather pumped with adrenaline as he took a seat in his usual corner. He had been preparing for the all revealing smile for some time now, and wasn’t sure what to think of her indifferent response.

Once seated, he took another glance in her direction, she must have felt the lingering stare because she looked up from her novel after a few minutes “what’s that you’re reading?” he asked her spontaneously. He was astounded at himself and it took him several moments to release the words had left his mouth. Why, after years of planning a smile, had he suddenly asked a personal question? His heart accelerated to beyond what should be healthy, and he wondered if she could hear it.
“Just something I picked up from the library” she replied casually, and continued reading to avoid talking further. She goes to library! he thought with intense excitement. He had no real reason for being excited, but he was undoubtedly over the moon.
“It’s funny you should say that” he said not thinking twice, or even once “because I went to the library the other day, and got a book as well!” he immediately realised how foolish his comment was and closed his eyes in anguished embarrassment. She looked up at him briefly and as their eyes met he wished he could bottle the moment and revisit the connection at a later date. It didn’t last long and she had a why-does-my-only-costumer-have-to-be-so-strange look on her face, but he placed it high on his list of heaven like moments all the same.

His usual cautious self kicked back in and he averted his gaze, leaving her to read. Read the book she always read. The book she picked up from the library. The same library he goes to. Maybe one day he’ll bump into her there.... maybe they’ll talk again there.... perhaps things would be better in a different context... he went on to imagine the pretty waitress falling to her knees by his feet, in the murder mystery isle of the library, declaring her love and begging him to go out with her. His daydreams never involved him making the first move. He couldn’t even imagine doing such a thing.

He looked down to his coffee cup. He wondered for the five hundredth time why she always gives him a take away cup. Surely she must know by now that he always stays in the cafe to finish his coffee? Why not give him one of the deep blue mugs that hang above the coffee machine? She hates me, he thought fiddling with the plastic lid, she gives me a take away cup because she wishes I wouldn’t hang around. She hates me. Deciding that his thoughts were unmistakably the truth, he stood up, pulled out the gun he kept in his inner jacket pocket, and shot her square in the head.

Snow White

Today is a bad day. Today is the day I realised that life isn’t at all like a movie. In reality exciting things are rather rare and adventures even rarer. This morning it was raining and the umbrella I bought to replace my disintegrating old one, was locked away at school. I had no choice but to use my former, less caring, ‘umbrella.’ It looks identical to my new one, so I tend to call it the ‘evil twin’..... actually, I don’t, I just made that up then. I think the world must have a personal grudge against me, why else would it rain on the one day I didn’t have a whole umbrella. So, I was walking from the train station to school with the protection of half an umbrella above my head. I mean quite literally ‘half’ an umbrella, as it stays moderately stiff and umbrella-ish on one side and the other side simply droops down and dangles pointlessly from the stiff half. Well, not pointlessly, the dead half’s purpose is to tip the water collected from the solid half and drain it onto me and my bag (my little non-waterproof bag, which was a substitute for the normal bag I left at school along with the ‘good twin.’)
So I’m walking down the street, drench in rain, people are pointing and whispering at my mutated ‘umbrella’, I’ve ruined my non-existent reputation and I’m freezing cold because my blazer is also in my locker at school. Then it happened. The dead half of the umbrella swung down and hit me in the face. It didn’t hurt. But I cried. It was the strangest moment of my life. It took me a while to figure out why I was crying, but I came to this conclusion: this moment in my life was like the opening to a film, where they introduce the protagonist as having a bad day or possibly just as being an unlucky person in general, this film will involve the main character going on an adventure of some kind, falling in love, accomplishing things she never dreamed she could, finding out she’s magic and will finish with her walking down the same street on a sunny day with a big smile on her face. That won’t happen to me.
This somehow reminded me of fairytales (specifically, Disney princess fairytales) and so I thought I would share with you a more realistic ending to the Snow White film. The setting and time period remain the same:

Snow White was lying unconscious on a bed covered in rose petals. She had been in this state for quite a while now and the dwarfs were all very worried that she may never wake up again. They feared her to be dead. But, alas! Who should come galloping to her rescue but Prince Charming! He flung himself swiftly off his gallant steed and strode passionately to Snow White’s side. Upon kissing Snow White, she fluttered open her eyelids and sat up, her strength was miraculously back to normal.
“Are you alright?” asked the prince “do you need some water or something? I could dash back to the palace and get you some medicine?”
“You fool!” she hissed through closed teeth “you’re supposed to just sweep me off my feet and ride off with me into the sunset, so we can live happily ever after!”
“Oh. OK. Sorry. So do you want me to do that now then?” he asked, simply trying to give her what she wanted.
“No. You’ve ruined the moment now. Idiot. It’s supposed to be a spontaneous act of love. You’ve just stuffed the whole thing up by discussing it” she was now disgusted at his lack of spontaneity and could think of no way he could fix the situation.
“Spontaneous love? Do you love me?” Price Charming was astonished at the thought.
“You daft, dim witted moron” she replied calmly “only true loves kiss could have woken me up. We obviously love each other”
“I don’t even know you” argued the prince delicately “could we not get more acquainted first?” this last sentence enraged Snow White and she stood up from her coffin of a bed.
“This is just stupid. I’m going back inside. I’m sure the dwarfs will appreciate me more than you do” but she didn’t move.
“Alright. Well, I’ll see you around then..... er.... what was your name?”
“Snow White” she replied, almost in tears. He got back on his horse before she went on to say “we could try again” and then “I could pretend to be dying again and you could come and whisk me off to your kingdom in the hills”
“Look... I’ve actually got a lot of prince things to deal with at the moment. You know, ordering people to be beheaded, that kind of thing. I don’t really have time for all this” his horse was slowly trotting away with him.
“I can still come with you! You can do your prince stuff and I’ll do my princess stuff! We’ll both be busy but we can still be together. This is true love Prince Charming”
“Princess stuff?”
“Singing to birds. Knitting. Waiting for my prince to come.... oh, well that will have already happened. But I can do the other princess things”
“Fine. Whatever. Get on. I’m in a bit of a hurry” little did he know that this was the wrong thing to say
“Do you love me?” Snow White asked, realising that he may not
“I don’t know you!”
“But you kissed me!?”
“You were dying! I couldn’t just let you die!”
“You’ve messed everything up” Snow White concluded “if you aren’t capable of romantically sweeping me off my feet, then I’m just going back inside”
“Good!” he bellowed and galloped off into the distance. Snow White sat down and cried.

Murder Mystery

The gate outside slammed heavily against the brick fence, the wind bustled amongst the moonlit leaves like an empty switched on blender and a delicate black cat arched her back before hastily tiptoeing away. So, now that we’ve set the scene for a place entirely devoid of the actual story, I feel it’s time we began..... Becky sat on a sopping wet towel, her moist legs enjoying the rays of warm sun that were beating down against her already tanned skin. A boy and what appeared to be his girlfriend were busy building a sand castle, laughing tipsily every time the waves washed their work away. Not far from the couple a little boy splashed his friends, one of which got salty water in their eye and raced ashore to report this to his all caring mother, who was reading a book under the shade of an umbrella rather close to Becky. A middle aged man jogged along the picturesque shoreline, looking happier than a squirrel with several hundred acorns in its possession. His large Border-collie dog bounded beside him looking, just when it were thought impossible, even more happy than the man. An odd looking women, dressed in black from head to toe, stood about three metres away from the water, staring blankly out to sea.
Becky heard a sudden shuffling come from the bushes behind her, and automatically spun around to see what it was, her sunglasses flying off in the process. The sun momentarily blinded her and by the time her eyes had adjusted, whatever she had heard, was gone. A bellowing scream came from the water, echoing across the beach and possibly right round to Sweden as well. Becky instantly stood up and squinted down towards the sea, she rushed down to the water as quickly as she could, so did the mother.
As Becky got nearer, she could see that the young women was standing knee deep in water, her boyfriend lying head down in the shallow water. Her hands were dripping with diluted blood, which Becky was surprised to find smelt of rusty iron. The sea around the boy was gradually becoming more and more dense with red, he was obviously still bleeding and bleeding a lot. The women had not stopped screaming. She howled continuously as if a giant penguin with razor blades for teeth was chasing her. Then she stopped. The noise ringed around Becky’s head even after the bellowing had seized. The women collapsed feebly onto the water.
The running man was shock frozen, several meters away from the dead couple. Yes, the dead COUPLE, meaning both halves of the couple were dead. Deceased. The two of them. The man and his girlfriend. Yes, the girlfriend as well. His dog barked furiously, tugging at his lead, trying to get a closer sniff of the action. The mother had gathered up the little boys and they stood together in a cluster, she failed to shield all of their eyes at once. The gothic women began to approach the ever growing pool of blood, she checked their pulses and turned to Becky “they’re dead” she whispered, and casually strolled off. Once the jogger realized that something ought to be done, he pulled out his phone, called the police and ambulance and that was the end of that.

Now it’s up to you! Solve the murder and you shall win the Luna Mooney Detective Prize. Good luck!
Hint: every little thing in this post can help you unravel the mystery of the deaths.