Tooth brush Magpie Tales#20

Lying there heart thumping.

Light blazing in her eyes.

Hands over her,

Needle gleaming.

Pain pain!

Grinding and pulling,

Hands gloved and huge.

In her mouth

Pulling hard... tooth out.

Rinsing, spitting

Blood, red blood.

The folly of not,

Not using that brush.

The Knife #19 Magpie Tales

Two men have been found guilty of taking part in a random attack on two students, in which one was killed.


Peter Daniels died from a stab wound to the heart, his friend Alec Timms was taken to The Universal Hospital with serious head injuries. Matata Onokah, 19, from Barking and Terry Lowe , 25, from Ilford, were convicted of wounding with intent. The other youth who was 16 at the time of the attack admitted to murder.

Both the victims had been out celebrating Mr Daniel's 20th birthday on 16th January 2010 at Solo’s, a bar in Covent Garden, London. The young men left the bar at 0220 BST to wait to get a lift from Mr Timm's sister, when they were attacked by the three men. Mr Timms, from Chigwell, Essex, was punched in the face and head and was stabbed.

Mr Daniels, from Buckhurst Hill, Essex, had his jaw broken and was stabbed in the heart - he never regained consciousness.

The knife was retrieved at the scene of the crime and was described by the police as a 6 inch knife that was the sort that folded into its wooden handle. It has been traced back to a secondhand dealer with a stall in Brick Lane, who specialised in French items.

Even after a three-week trial, it was not clear why they were attacked, said Det Ch Insp Tony White.

Mr Timms a medical student at Durham University, described the attack as a '70-second frenzy'.

‘At the time of the attack, Pete and I were just standing there, chatting and laughing remembering our holiday and talking about his 20th birthday celebrations,’ he said.

‘We had just enjoyed a night out in Covent Garden with our friends and were waiting for a lift home from my sister when we were attacked. Seconds later Pete was dead. I still can't believe it.’

Lowe and Onokah, both labourers, were cleared of murder, but convicted of wounding with intent and causing grievous bodily harm.

A 17-year-old youth from Stratford, who was 16 at the time of the attack so cannot be named, has already pleaded guilty to murder and grievous bodily harm with intent.

All three are due to be sentenced on 23 June 2010.

The death of Peter Daniels is the 5th knife attack already recorded in 2010 in London.

(Reported by E. Lisse for The Evening Echo)

Magpie Tale#18 A Coronation Mug

It all had to be straight.

The desk, the laptop, paper and the office chair. She straightened the two baskets on the desk, the one basket with new paper and the other one ready for the typed story. She straightened the pot of pencils, in the coronation mug and the memories came flooding back. The mug had come from her Aunt’s china cabinet after she had died. It had stood in that cabinet for as long as she could remember, along with a George V plate, and a George V cup and saucer, the Elizabeth II coronation mug and a mug commemorating Charles and Diana’s wedding. Given the choice of which she had wanted, she had chosen that mug, because it reminded her of Edward VIII. It was her pencil pot and as she looked at it, she smiled. Such a romantic story of love when he gave up the throne for Wallace; she thought it would inspire her to write her romances that were her income. What would he have thought she wondered, if he knew that his short-lived life as King had been reduced to pencils in his commemorative mug? She shrugged and looked again at the blank screen, it was no good, her publisher had phoned and phoned for the next three chapters, and writers block had set in, not one single idea came to her. She moved the mug with the pencils; it wasn’t quite in the right spot. Everything had to be straight otherwise she couldn’t concentrate and the ideas wouldn’t come. She moved the corner of one of the baskets, it had to be straight, she looked at the mug again, and turned it so she could see the crest fully, was it in the right spot? Her fingers hovered over the keys and still her mind was blank. She fidgeted in the chair, was her laptop straight to the edge of the desk surface, perhaps she should sharpen all the pencils again? What was wrong, everything was straight but the ideas just wouldn’t come.

Magpie Tales #17 Stone Face

The stone face screaming stood in there,


Greenery all around.

Tall ferns couldn’t soften the raw look.

Small white flowers at the base smiled, but not she.

Did she die like that?

Is that why she is cast in stone?

Horrible, horrible stare.

A pair of Shoes. Magpie#16

Elise glanced in the charity shop window as she hurried along in the rain. There in the middle of a display of china was a pretty little blue jug, something she had been looking for to join her other blue china on her shelf in her kitchen. It was perfect and only a couple of pounds. She could just about afford that, now that she didn’t have a job money was tight. A bell rang as she pushed the door open and the woman behind the counter looked up from what she was doing and smiled at Elise.’ Can I help you,? She asked.

Elise pointed to the jug, ‘Could I look at the little jug please?’ She asked as she stood her umbrella in a tub near the door. The woman put the jug on the counter so Elise could examine it. The shop had a large box just in front of the counter filled with oddments and Elise had to lean across it to get near to the jug.

‘I am so sorry,’ said the woman, ‘I was just stock taking when you arrived and I moved this box so I could go through its contents, we have such a lot of stuff brought in, some days we just pop into boxes till we have a quiet moment to go through them all.’
Elise glanced down at the box’s contents; on the top tied together with string were a pair of black suede shoes. They looked vaguely familiar and she picked them up and looked at them more closely. Were they, could they be her Mother’s? Her sister had said she had got rid of a lot of stuff after her Mother’s death and Elise hadn’t bothered to ask where or what. The whole thing was too much to take after the funeral. Later she had wished she had taken something for herself..... to have, to hold , something that Mum had really liked, and she had loved those shoes. They were her favourite and she always had said that when she wore them she thought she was like a queen. They made her feel regal.

When Richard had arrived home from work tired and ready to eat, he was pleased that the smell of a casserole greeted his nostrils as he entered their kitchen. ‘Hello Love,’ he said,’ Something smells very nice.’

Elise smiled, ‘I have been slaving away all day cooking just for you.’

Richard smiled back and kissed her, it was their joke that Elise and cooking just didn’t go together, but a casserole was just one of the things she could do and while there was this rainy wintery weather, a casserole was their evening meal every evening. He sat down at the table while Elise brought the casserole to it.
Looking at the shelves behind her he noticed something strange on the shelf. ‘Is that a pair of shoes on the shelf?’ he asked.

Elise, her face lit with smiles, answered, ‘ No its a pretty blue jug, I saw it in a charity shop in the High Street and had to buy it. Its got quite a story , so come on eat up and I ‘ll tell you all about it.’

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Magpie Tales#15

The charm bracelet lay broken beside the pool of blood. ‘Strange the murderer didn’t take it, ‘ said Rizzlo, ‘Looks as though it could be worth a bit.’ He looked down at the face now drained of blood and the open eyes that stared up into the sky. Mitch shivered as she leaned over to look at the bracelet.

‘Another young girl killed before she had lived.’ She thought. The early morning noises from the city street was all around them, but the girl lying in her own blood heard nothing.

‘Get the morgue van here double quick before the heat of sun gets to her, at 30°C she is going to smell.’ He said into his phone and then to Mitch, ‘bag that bracelet so the ME can examine it.’

In the clear bag, Mitch looked at the bracelet, the little silver fishes shone and shaking them they jangled. Was the bracelet a present ? A Twenty First birthday present? A Congrats for passing your Exams? A Driving Test? An Anniversary? What tales could they tell.? And they, with their shiny, beady little eyes..... had they seen the perpetrator, the murderer, would they reveal who had done it?
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The Blue Willow Plate. Magpie Tales#14

The plate had always been on my grand mother’s dresser alongside some pretty flower patterned ones as long as I could remember. As I saved blue coloured china bits I would have loved to have that plate and thought it would look rather nice on the shelf in my room.

I always looked at it first when I visited her and sat at the side of the kitchen table so that I could look at it while we drank tea and chatted. She couldn’t remember where she got it from, somebody gave it to me when I was first married she once said. I asked her about the story behind the design and she had laughingly said.. ‘Oh you don’t want to know that, it is too sad and we are having a lovely chat. I want to know all about your new boyfriend. Happy talk not old stories.’
But I wanted to know and so I looked it up the internet at home, I thought it was a lovely story and that the star crossed lovers were forever together now as doves. ‘That’s why,’ I thought 'Cross stitched Wedding Samplers often have doves.'

When I called in to see Gran the following week, the plate was gone, it was no longer on the dresser. My grandmother was busily making the tea and getting out her cake tin. ‘Where’s the plate Gran?’ I asked hesitantly.
‘Oh that old plate I have put it away, I kept thinking about past times and the plate made me feel sad, I can’t be thinking sad things, not when I have my lovely granddaughter here with me to cheer me up.’ And she smiled as she spoke. But behind that smile I could see that Gran was near to tears.
‘I love that plate,’ I said, ‘especially now I know the story of Koong-se and Chang, is that the story that is making you feel sad?’ I asked.
That story is nothing compared to the truth and real life,’ she answered. And by the way she was putting out our cups and saucers and how her face was set in that stubborn way, I knew there was no point in asking anything further about it. Once I was back home I settled down to my college work. But I worried about Gran, she wasn’t herself that afternoon and I had never seen her like that before.
Gran died later that year and it was my mother and I who had to clear her house, as it had to be sold. It seems I was to receive some of the money from the sale. ‘Good old Gran,’ I thought, but really I would rather have had the plate. Mum and I went to Gran’s house a couple of days after the funeral and we started the sad task of sorting through Gran’s things. Everything was very tidy and almost as though she would walk into the kitchen at any moment to offer us tea and cake, in fact there was a fruit cake wrapped in grease proof paper in the tin. And packed ready to go to the Home where Granddad was, were his clean clothes for the following week. He had already been there for two years with Alzheimer's, Gran used to visit him every Sunday but he didn’t know who she was, so he wouldn’t miss her, not like I would.

Mum’s eyes were very wet and I had tears too. ‘Shall we have some tea first?’ said Mum, ‘I brought fresh milk with us.’ We sat at the kitchen table just like I used to with Gran. I looked up at the dresser where the plate used to be, another now in its place.
‘Do you know what happened to her Willow pattern plate Mum? I asked. ‘I would have loved to have had it.’
'I expect it will be around here somewhere,' she answered. We gradually packed up all the small things that Mum thought we’d like and the rest was packed for a charity shop. The furniture was being collected for a Charity that helped people out of work. ‘My dad won’t need any of this’ Mum said. ‘ So it might as well go to where it could be of use.' The plate was nowhere to be found. I found some old cards and letters in a shoe box and Mum said to bring them home so we could look at them.
And we did, there were cards and post cards, letters and news paper cuttings that Gran had saved over the years, for her own reasons no doubt. One was about a soldier killed in the war, he was from our village, 'I expect Gran knew him,’ I said as they would have been about the same age. At the very bottom of the box in a paper envelope was a folded age spotted piece of fabric and as I unfolded it I could see two doves cross stitched in blue thread, under the doves were two names, one was my Gran’s and the other was the name of the soldier in the newspaper cutting. Then I knew why my Gran was sad that day and what the plate meant to her. Real life was just as sad as stories, I thought and like Gran said... sadder. I showed the stitching to Mum and she sighed.’ ‘Do you think he might have been her first love, her childhood sweet heart?’ I asked,
‘Possibly, Mum never spoke a lot about her life when she was young and before she met my father.’ She said.
We both looked at tiny piece of sewing again and our tears fell as we hugged each other. It was much better than the plate, it was stitched by my Gran and it was beautiful.

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