Note For The Ghost In The Machine

This story started from my own childhood memories. When I was small my brother-in-law used to make up stories of how things worked. The one that stuck in my mind was how clouds were made by factories and that was what the steam coming out of towers were. The rest of the story just followed from that.

I am thinking of rewriting the story at some point as a short scene for the stage. I think it would work quite well as the whole thing can be set in the bedroom and a very intimate scene between the two people can be explored. If I ever write it I'll put it on here.

The Ghost In The Machine

Andrew turned the lock and allowed the front to gently swing inwards. He stood there looking though the doorway into the dark hall, the sunlight illuminating dust particles disturbed by the unexpected breeze blowing into the house, and was overcome.

From behind, Andrew felt a hand touch his side and from his left ear came a voice,
“Are we going in?”
“Sure Helen. No point coming all this way and standing on the doorstep.”

Helen’s hand gently nudged Andrew into the hall. She could tell he was nervous and wondered why. This was Andrew’s childhood home after all, the place he talked of with the fondest memories. Maybe it was the length of time he’d been away that filled him with trepidation, maybe it was the circumstances of his return, or maybe it was something else; something deeper.

The house was quiet but it wasn’t only this that unnerved Andrew. The place was no longer comfortable, it was filled with emptiness and feeling of loss. It was as if the building knew its owners had gone forever and was in mourning for the dead.
Helen too felt coldness in the air and she needed to cut through the atmosphere. Looking down the hall a photograph hanging on one wall caught her eye
“Hey, is that you and your parents?” she asked
“Yes.” Andrew touched the frame, “I was eight years old and we were on holiday in Blackpool. You can see the Tower in the background.”
“Weather looks nice. You told me it always rained in England.”
“Maybe that was an exaggeration. We did have the odd nice day.” Andrew turned to face Helen, “Did I tell you what my dad said about the weather?”
“No, what?” Actually Helen had heard this story several times however she wanted Andrew to tell it again, to encourage him to focus on his childhood.
“My dad used to say that clouds were made in factories and sunny days were caused when the factories shut down for the day. I believed him totally for about six months.”

Andrew stroked the picture frame then lowered his hand. Helen placed his hand in hers and said,
“Your dad was just trying to make sure you had some magic in your life. All kids need that. Promise to do the same with our children?”
“I’ll see what I can do. Ready to start?”
“If you are. “ Helen went back to the door and picked up one of the large cardboard boxes they had left outside. Andrew did the same.

For the next few hours they toured Andrew’s childhood home. Carefully wrapping his parents’ possessions, cataloguing things as they found them. Moving from the living room, to the dining room, to the kitchen, to the spare room. As they journeyed Andrew relived his past, telling stories, bringing each room to life again.

Eventually it came time to enter his parents’ bedroom. Once inside Andrew sat on the edge of the bed. The energy that has sustained him suddenly drained away. Helen entered the room, sat next to him, and placed her arm around his shoulder.
“Feeling drained?” she asked
“A little. It’s just odd being here. I guess I see this as my parents’ secret room. The one place in the house I needed permission to come into.” Andrew sighed, “I should have visited more often you know.”
“Everyone says that.” Helen patted Andrew’s shoulder, “We all think our parents will live forever. I’m sure they knew how you felt about them. It wasn’t necessary to keep reminding them.”
“You’re right. It’s been a tough couple of weeks and maybe it’s all been a bit much for me. I’m glad you’ve been here though. I couldn’t have got through this if you’d been half way around the world.”
“Let’s start with that wardrobe shall we?”

Helen stood and opened the wardrobe door. Several jackets, male and female, hung inside and at the bottom was a wooden crate. Helen pointed at it,
“Any idea what this is?”
“I think,” Andrew stood, “`I think it’s where I used to keep my toys as a kid. Let’s have a closer look.”
Andrew dragged the box from the wardrobe onto the carpet and opened it up. Inside were various items from his childhood kept by his mum and dad. Their attempt to hold onto precious memories. Andrew looked inside and pulled out a spinning top.
“See this?” he held the top out with his hand, “My dad told me this worked because inside were two very small mice. When it spun they ran round really really fast and the reason it toppled over was because they got dizzy”
“I see it even has pictures of mice on the side.” Helen bent down on her knees and looked into the box herself
“Oh yes. You know I don’t think I ever noticed that before.”
Something in the trunk caught Helen’s eye and she pulled out a small wooden box.
“What’s this?” she asked as she passed it onto Andrew.
“It’s my old music box. You wind it up and when you open it it plays a tune. When I was little I used to play it when falling asleep. I found it stopped me getting scared of the dark.”
“And what was your dad’s story of how it worked?”
“Oh it had a ghost in it. The ghost was somebody who’d been naughty as a boy and his punishment was to play the music whenever the box was opened. It was the standard punishment for not doing what you were told my dad said.”
“Shall we see if it still works?”

Helen took the box back from Andrew and began winding it up. Once it was fully wound she opened it up and the two of them sat on the floor as its music played.


Several years later Andrew was sitting with his daughter on his lap. In his hand he held the music box.
“See this box?”
His daughter nodded.
“Well this is a magic box. Inside is a ghost and when the box is opened the ghost plays a tune to make you snile.”
His daughter tried to hold the box in her small hands.
“Who’s the ghost daddy?”
“It’s the ghost of your granddad, who you never knew, and he’s playing because as long as the music plays then you’ll know that, even though he and your gran can’t be with you, they both love you very much and are looking after you from heaven.”

Notes for 'The Uphill Struggle'

Firstly I'd like to say the title is awful but I can't think of another one.

In any group people take on certain roles and I just wanted to write about three characters and the roles they take. David is the protagonist because he hasn't been happy with his role, Mark has the potential to take on another role within the group but is more concerned with group harmony than his position and Peter just likes being in the group.

If anyone can think of a better title then please let me know.

The Uphill Struggle

David’s knowledge of the ancient Greek myths could not be described as encyclopaedic however he had a nagging feeling that the way he and the others were trying to push this car up the hill was the modern day equivalent of a story he’d heard as a child. Something involving rocks and eternal suffering.

Shaking himself back to the present David placed his hands firmly on the car boot and checked first left then right to ensure Pete and Mark had both adopted the same stance.
“On the count of three.” said David as he tensed his arms, “One. Two. Three!”

For the next two minutes the silent, damp, night air was filled with grunts, groans, and straining noises as they attempted to move the car upwards towards the top of the hill.
“Hold it, hold It.” Mark panted for breath, “How far have we got?’
“About … about … five yards. “ replied Peter, breathing heavily himself.
“This is stupid.” Mark stood upright and looked at his red hands, “Why don’t we just drive the car to the top of hill?”
“Because people will hear the engine.” David also took his hands off the car.
“What people? There is nobody else here. Besides no engine could be louder than Peter swearing when the car rolled backwards over his foot.”

David knew Mark was right. They could just drive to the hilltop but given the enormity of what they were planning to do he felt penance was called for and pushing the car seemed the correct price to pay.
“Look,” David stared at Mark, “We all agreed to do it this way - it’s part of the plan - so this is the way we will do it.”
Mark considered replying but decided against it. Instead he bent down and placed his hands on the car again.
“Okay,” he said, “have it your way.”

As the three of them continued the long, slow, struggle Peter wondered if what they were doing was the right thing. It had seemed a good idea. A way of getting themselves out of serious trouble. Now though it seemed to Peter it must just cause even more problems for them.

Officially Bob was the leader of their gang however David was the one who always came up with the ideas. In fact before Bob came along David had been their unofficial leader but Bob was a fighter and in groups like theirs the fighter always won out.
From the car boot came noise. Instinctively the three of them moved their hands off the boot as if an electric current had passed through it then stood frozen.
“Should we open it” Peter’s eyes were fixed on the lock.
“No,” David also stared at the lock, “it’s just inertia moving things around in there. Don’t think about it.”
“C’mon,” said Mark, “It not too for to go now. Another ten minutes should see us at the top.”

As the struggle continued Mark realised he was smiling. The three of them working together as a team reminded him how things used to be. Bob had been a destructive influence on them. Always finding ways to split them and torment them. Divide and conquer had been Bob’s plan from the start.

At last they reached the top of the hill. As the lane curled left in front of them a piece of protective barrier had buckled; the result of a lorry coming off the road and nearly toppling into the valley below.

It had been this near accident that had given David the idea. It wasn’t really much of an plan but compared to the ones Mark, Peter, or Bob came up with it was a work of genius. Peter never had ideas, Mark had ideas but it was always easy to convince him they lacked something and would be unworkable. As for Bob, he had lots of ideas but they all concerned mugging ladies or breaking into houses. That was why David had decided things needed to change for their group.
“Right lads,” David pointed at the buckled barrier, “all we need to now is push the car over the barrier. It will roll itself into the valley and everything will be back to how we want it to be.”

This speech gave fresh enthusiasm to them all and they pressed on with renewed vigour. Soon the car was balancing on the barrier. The task was almost done. For Peter the completion of the nights work meant he could go home and rest, for Mark it meant an end to the in-fighting amongst friends, for David it was a chance to do something good for a change.
Bob, trapped in the boot of the car , was unable to appreciate the importance of the moment.

The three of then looked at each other then took up their positions and prepared. One final push and their task would be over.