The Broken Pocket Watch – Chapter Eleven

Posted on July 14, 2017 by ashleymanningwriter

I can’t believe it, I’m actually going to meet my Uncle. Finally. I simply don’t remember any other family. My Dad has always been there. I have flashes of who my Mum is, but everyone else is just a mystery. I wouldn’t recognise any of my family, even if I was in a room just full of them. And now, slowly and surely they’re appearing.

Randell walks me down street after street, winding around the labyrinth of the city. It feels like the buildings are moving around us, twisting and turning, bending into new shapes. We’re moving down dark alleys, the whole city feels alive down here. There is a murmur of chatter, just sitting on top the breeze, moving around us, people sitting in doorways, relaxing. People smoking out of window. The chatter is carried from all of them. For the first time I don’t feel safe here. Everyone seems to be staring at me, and if I move my gaze around the sea of eyes I start to feel dizzy, as if just the looks are piercing my skin. I try to just stick to looking at Randell, who has moved in front of me. He stopped speaking the second we walked into the alleys, and quickened his pace. I begin to question whether it was wise to trust someone who I barely know. Someone who claims to have a connection to someone else I don’t even know. A couple of people stagger passed me, and I skip to keep up with Randell. I don’t like it here. This is worse than the village. The air is sharp, as if even that could slice you to shreds, steal anything you own, and then throw you to the side. Discarded.

Not one piece of the wave of rabble is aimed at us, even though the eyes are. I don’t think Randell is anymore welcome here than me, but that might be because he’s bought a newcomer to the area. They don’t trust me. The air is stale with booze, something I recognise from when Troblyn stumbled into the shop one night when both me and my Dad were asleep. Both awoken by the crashing of someone throwing themselves into the clocks. He thought it was his house. I tried to help my Dad carry him outside and towards his house, next door, but I couldn’t do much. The smell that clung to his clothes and breath. That’s the one thing I remember. And here it is again. But this time, just buying a lock for the door won’t do much to help.

We move down into another alley, the buildings growing taller with each turn we make, and now I feel as if I can barely see the sky if I look up. It can barely be in the afternoon, but the sun is nowhere to be seen down here. It’s just shadows. The sun blocked from ever entering the this man-made pit. We walk down one alley that has a dead-end. This is it. This is where I die.

But Randell moves up some stairs and opens a door to one of the towers. I follow quickly, wanting to escape the eyes from windows. I instantly feel better inside. The light is welcoming, and the entranceway is empty. In front of us, is a metal door, and stairs on the left hand side. The room is pretty bare apart from that. Randell walks over and presses a button near the door. I wait, noticing the peeling wallpaper, and spray paint over the walls. Just random symbols, and pictures. Nothing really stands out. The floorboards are discoloured, where some of them have been replaced.

“What is this?” I ask.

“The poor area of the City. It’s not that much better than the villages, to be honest. This is what happens if you lose your job, or can’t work. You move here, and live of scraps and no one thinks about you. At least you have a warmth.”

“I don’t like it here. I feel like I’m going to be attacked.”

“I know the feeling. They’re just feeling you out, seeing how you react. I’m sure they wouldn’t attack you, it doesn’t look like you’re hiding a small fortune under those rags. Someone else, they might just beat and rob though. So you should be careful.”

“What about you though? You aren’t wearing the same rags as me, you look better dressed than anyone from around here. And what are we doing? Can’t we move yet?”

“This is a lift, it will take us up the building when it arrives down here. And they don’t attack me, because they know me. They see your uncle as some kind of messiah, and he has blessed my visits here. They understand that even though he works for one of the biggest and fake magazines in the City, that at the same time, he’s the only one who wants to help. That he puts most of his money into starting the charity, his own leaflet thing, it won’t just help the village, it will help these people as well. They see him as a voice of hope. And here we are, the lift has arrived. After you, please.”

I walk inside the little metal box, not wanting to. I want to run, back to the village and back to the safety of my Dad. I just wanted to find my uncle, my family, not this. No one even knows where I am. I don’t have the watch. I don’t like it. That’s all I can say about it. I don’t like it.

Randell follows me in and presses something on the wall, I stand in the corner and watch as the doors close. My eyes drift down and stare at the bubbles in the metal floor. Layers and years of dirt shoved into every crack, and crevice in the box. The lift. I can’t control my breathing. I shove my hands in my pockets, wanting them to stop shaking. It takes everything to just breath in and out, and not lose complete control. I’m going to fall over. I can feel it. My legs can’t keep me up much longer. Is this thing moving? I’m going to be sick. This is how it works? I should have just taken the stairs. I know where I am with them.

“Don’t worry,” Randell starts. “It’s a little weird the first time, but it’s safe. I won’t make you do it again, if you want to walk to the fifty-sixth floor, then that’s completely up to you. I would rather just wait in here though. You will get used to it.”

I don’t answer, but bring out a hand to steady myself against the railing jutting out of the wall. Something about it is slimy, but it helps. And before I can count to ten the doors open again, I stumble out before Randell and nearly fall through the window opposite the box. A long hallway stretches out to the left and right, turning at each end, going behind the lift. But right in front of me is a window, and through it I can see through more towers, but that’s not what I focus on. I make the massive mistake of looking down, and I can’t see the floor. At least there is sunlight coming through. The shining rays shimmering down from above. Randell walks down the hallway, without a word. I stare at the view for a few seconds more, and then follow him. As much as I just want to stand here, and stare at the height, I don’t think it’s going to achieve much. I can’t believe how high I am, after such a short journey in the box, we’re up here, closer to the sun than I thought possible. I’ve walked so far today. I can almost feel the blisters forming on my feet. The sweat between my toes shifting with every step. I’m not even half way through yet. I change to a quick jog to catch up with Randell, and then resume walking at his speed.

“It’s the second door after the turning. That’s where Maz lives. Has done for as long as I’ve known him. I’m sure he will be glad to meet you, after all this time.”

“I don’t know anything about him, I only heard about him the other day. Dad showed me some of the photos he took of my family, well our family. Some of the only pictures of my Mum. I just want to know more about her. And I can see how much it hurts my Dad to talk about, so this seemed like a good idea.”

“Are you not sure now?”

“I don’t know. I had this image in my head, walking into the City, finding him, getting a drink in a cafe and talking about our family, his achievements since moving to the City, stuff like that. It just isn’t what I was expecting. This is just. New. Different.”

“His achievements? That’s what people will call them in a few years. He is on the cusp of organising one of the first events in the City hall. He’s going to invite everyone he knows to it. Near enough every big name in the City. Once the guest list goes around, everyone will want to be there. It happens all the time. But this one will be different, once they are there he will spring this all on them. The poverty of those outside the villages, and he will force their hand. It might seem unjust at first, but as more people hear about it, the wheel will start to turn by itself. Poverty will be a thing of the past. He just had to build his persona, make the world know him. His connections have connections now. That’s his plan. Years in the making, and so close to paying off.”

“Don’t people know about the villages?”

“Of course they do, but they don’t feel the need to do anything. This will change their mind.”

I don’t say anything to contradict him. I see enough people enter the shop in the Village, and no one cares. I would rather live there than in this part of the City anyway. We reach the door, and everything stops. I watch in slow motion as Randell raps his knuckles on the door, three times. Nothing, and then “come in” echoes from within.

Randell opens the door and walks in, for a moment I want to follow, but I can’t. I have to go back. To the village. Back to Dad. That’s where I want to be. Not in some kind nightmare. My feet take over and walk inside the room. The man inside, is older than I expected, with a receding hair line, and tired eyes. He looks at me, but doesn’t notice me. He’s working on something. Somehow he looks older than my Dad even though he’s got to be around the same age. His whole body sighs and he places the piece of paper down on the table.

“Hello? Do I know you?” he asks, straight to me.

I don’t know whether to let Randell answer, or speak for myself. I’m not usually in this position.

“Um, hello? I’m Nymia. I’m your Niece. Your my Mum’s, Maria’s, brother.”

“Am I? Really? That would make you. My God, how is he? How is he? Jik? How is he.”

“He’s good. He told me about you, and I wanted to meet you.”

“I can’t believe it. This is such a surprise. I can’t believe you’re actually here. I’m so sorry that we have to meet like this.”

All of a sudden he becomes so lively, gesturing for me to sit down while also running around grabbing glasses and filling them with water. I sit down, and he hands me a glass of water, the outside wet, where he was rushing around. I switch hands and wipe the wet one on my top. I take a sip, and my thirst floods me. It takes every restraint not to gulp down the whole glass in one. I don’t want to be seen as some kind of desperate child, not in front of family I haven’t met before.

“I can’t believe how old you are,” Maz starts. “I mean, the last time I saw you, you were in a crib, and all these years have just zoomed by. Has it really been that long since we lost Maria? I can’t believe it. Time really does just fly by. I kept on meaning to come out to your village and catch up with your Dad, get to know you. But things happen. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Dad, he said the same thing. Life just gets in the way. I understand. I just wanted to get to know people. I want to find out about my Mum and her family. Find out where she’s from. I just know that my Dad could only tell me so much. And it hurts him talking about her. I want to hear from someone else. Then I found you.”

I take another restrained sip.

“She was a wonderful woman, and a lovely sister. You kind of look like her, when she was your age. I miss her.”

“Thanks. I can’t really remember her.”

t r “That must be hard, but at least you know she loved you. At least that’s something. A lot of people don’t even get that.”

“I know.”

“So how did you find me?”

“My Dad told me that you moved to the City to become a photographer, to show the poverty in the villages. So I came to the city without a plan, and luckily ran into Randell, and he took me straight to you.”

“Really, you just ran into him? Just like that? Must be fate.”

“I suppose it is.”

“I moved here years ago, to this flat. I spent a few years working for anyone who would take me, until I got a steady job. And now I’m in charge of PRF. Poverty Relief Fund. To get money to the villages and poorer areas of the city. I’m actually organising my first fund-raiser later in the year. Maybe you and your Dad could make it.”

Hearing him talk about it, made it seem so real. Unlike Randell who has a weird obsession with my Uncle. He made it sound so much more sane and normal.

“Maybe, I’m sure he would like that. He spoke highly of you.”

“I can’t believe you’re here. I’m sorry I keep on saying that, but it’s true. Jikwin’s child, my niece, just turning up out of nowhere. I honestly can’t believe it. I knew him, before he met your Mum. Years and years ago, I went to his village as part of a university project, taking pictures of small businesses, and I met him there. And then all of a sudden he was delivering clocks in the City for his Dad and I bumped into him, took him to the cafe your Mum worked at, family discount, and then he met her. Didn’t realise at first that she was my Sister. Kind of funny when you think about it. Almost love at first sight. They were such a beautiful couple. Hard to believe how long it’s been.”

“He’s told me bits, and he showed me the cafe.” I stop myself short, knowing I don’t want to reveal the stopwatch to him. I don’t know if Dad told him, but somehow I doubt it.

We spend the next hour or so talking about my Mum. How he visits his home village a couple of times a year, and would love to take me there one day. How his charity is doing. How he hopes to make enough money to bring his family in the City. I don’t tell him that I think that’s a bad idea. The area he lives in still scares me, even this high above it. Before long I notice the time. He offers to walk me to the City limits, which I take, knowing I probably couldn’t find it by myself.

“Please, don’t hesitate to come back again. I would love to get to know you. It seems so weird knowing there is family so close, that I don’t really know.”

Tell me about it.

“I’ll try and come back again soon, but with school and the shop. It might not be for a while. You could always come to the Village. I’m sure Dad would like to see you again.”

“Probably,” he laughs. “It would be good to catch up.

I say my goodbyes and start my trek back home.

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Thoughts After A Day With Final Fantasy XII

Posted on July 12, 2017 by ashleymanningwriter

Cementing the idea that this generation of games is all about remakes and remasters comes a remaster of Final Fantasy XII only a few weeks after the Crash Bandicoot and Wipeout remakes. There’s a comfort playing games I’ve played before, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who feels it, or they wouldn’t bother with remasters at all. Looking over the PS4 games that I own, there are a ton of remasters, more than there should be. How many times do I need to own Resident Evil 4? Too many times to admit. But some remasters are special. Final Fantasy XII The Zodiac Age is special.

It’s been about 10 years since I last walked in Ivalice, the setting of Final Fantasy XII as well as the Final Fantasy Tactics games and the often overlooked Vagrant Story. It’s good to be back. This time we get not just Final Fantasy XII but a new an updated version, based on the Japan only International Edition of the original.

We get a more focused job system. Instead of the open licence board from the original, you have to choose jobs for each character, forcing you to think about the party you’re creating as these jobs can’t be changed. While I liked the original, this is reason enough to come back. It makes the characters feel like they have more purpose. You need to choose the healer, the tank and the damage dealer.

Another very welcome addition is the fast forward button. Speeding up gameplay by either x 2 or x 4 makes grinding and walking the long distances, simple and less painstakingly boring. The truth is that 10 years ago when I was playing every night for way too long after school, I had the time to play Final Fantasy. I don’t have the same liberties now, I have work, other games, trying to maintain what I like to call a social life.

I do feel a little sick with the screen shaking. It makes me dizzy for some reason. But I’ve still been using it, all the time since I accidentally pressed L1. It feels too slow without it on. I love RPGs and it seems like this is the best way to play Final Fantasy XII.

I’ve only played around 5 hours so far, only starting it this morning. It’s great to play this masterpiece again. I don’t use that word lightly. The battle system in this game, is superb. Setting gambits and walking around and seeing monsters, no more random battles, was mind-blowing back then, and it feels just as great now. It may not be my favourite game in the series, X by the way, but I still love it. Playing it today took me back to when I was still in Secondary School. I remember talking to friends about this, discussing how far through it we were, how we got past certain areas. I miss those days. Simple times with no worries.

The game looks stunning as well. Obviously, as it’s a remaster, nowhere near as beautiful as Final Fantasy XV which is a piece of art to look at. But there’s something about walking around in a Final Fantasy game which is so engrossing, the world looks amazing, the vast sprawling desert, the bustling towns, and of course the characters. They all look really good, as good as they felt on the original.

It may be because I’m older, but the game feels easier. I haven’t died yet, while I remember dying quite a bit in the early parts of the game. I’m still as stupid with potions, saving them for the last possible second, working out if I can kill another enemy before I use one. I don’t know why I do this. But even still, I haven’t died. Maybe at 23 the gambit system makes more sense to me. I hope that’s what it is, because I remember some parts of this game being challenging and I hope they still are when I get there.

Final Fantasy XII is still a wonderful game set in a beautiful world full of character and captivating music. The soundtrack to this game is one of my favourites from the series, along with 6, and you have the option of the original or a re-orchestrated version, which is a nice touch. I love this game, and have done since the first time I played it. A worry with revisiting anything is that I won’t like it as much, or I won’t get it in the same way. Things age, but Final Fantasy XII hasn’t. This game is brilliant. I’ve only been playing it today, but I know this is going to take up so much of my time over the next few weeks. I’m already more immersed than I was with XV. If you haven’t played this game before, then there has never been a better time. It takes the original and adds to it.

Thanks for reading,

Ashley

If you like my ramblings and want to support me, then check out my Patreon page. You’ll get access to stories I write earlier as well as exclusive chapters not available on here. Thanks for having a look, I appreciate it 🙂

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Concerning Spider Man and Crash Bandicoot

Posted on July 11, 2017 by ashleymanningwriter

I was looking forward to Spider-Man Homecoming. Tom Holland proved he was a good Spider-Man in Civil War, but now it’s his turn to take centre stage. He is a brilliant Spider-Man and Peter Parker. I wasn’t comparing him to either of the recent actors while watching the film, which I always think shows a strong performance.

The Vulture is one of my favourite villains from the early Stan Lee and Steve Ditko comics. Michael Keaton did a great job bringing him to the big screen. He was a well made character, whose motive feels justified. His suit looked cool and there were some entertaining fight scenes. What more can you ask for in a comic book film?

I enjoyed the film, although it did feel like it dragged on a little. My biggest problem, which might not be a problem at all as I may be wrong, is the timeline in the film. It securely establishes that Homecoming takes place 8 years after Avenger Assemble (As it’s called in the UK) and a couple of months after Civil War. Avengers was set in 2012, which means that Homecoming and Civil War are set in 2020. The next Avengers film, Infinity War, according to Kevin Feige is supposed to be set 4 years after Guardians of the Galaxy 2 (which was set in 2014), so 2018. It’s not really a problem, and it won’t ruin any part of the series for anyone. But it bugged me as I figured it out while the opening scenes were playing.

It’s a decent film, either way. I recommend it. One of the better comic book films I’ve seen this year. No where near as good as Baby Driver, which was simply stunning. I recommend that above all else. Brilliant cast, acting, directing and most importantly music. Best film of the year, and proving that Edgar Wright can’t go wrong.

The rest of my week has been spent either at work, writing or reliving my childhood with the remakes of Crash Bandicoot. I’m having a love/hate relationship with the trilogy. On one hand it’s been so long since I’ve been able to play a “new” Crash game, 9 years. So it’s good to see he’s back. On the other hand, not everything is better. At the moment I’ve got 100% on the first game, and a decent way into the 2nd. The controls don’t feel right, some of the jumps feel off. I keep on slipping off things I wouldn’t have in the original, which I only played 6 months ago. I don’t think all of the graphical improvements work. The level Slippery Climb, it doesn’t look like you’re climbing a menacing tower of doom and dread. It looks like a playmobil castle, which is simply stupid.

While I have some minor issues with the game, I still love playing it. It’s good to see Crash back, the 9 years were worth the wait. Getting the platinum trophy on the first one was so challenging (I hate those time trials) and yet so rewarding. I hope getting the 2nd and 3rd while prove to be as exciting. It’s worth the money for a nice remake.

Thanks for reading,

Ashley

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The Broken Pocket Watch – Chapter Ten

Posted on July 10, 2017 by ashleymanningwriter

I try and take on board what Mrs Edina said about the scholarship. But that doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for the weekend. I’m going back to the city to try and find my Uncle, Mazwell. He sounds like someone I want to know, and maybe he will take me to his home village, without me needing to ask my Dad anymore questions. I take notes, answer questions, try and forget about the pocket watch sitting next to my bed. As hard as that is. Somehow the week does dawdle to an end. And I’m free to finally have a day to myself.

I walk downstairs, knowing my Dad will already be running the shop.

“Good morning, Ny. Bit early for you on a Saturday.”

“Oh I wanted to go for a walk. Thought I would go and read somewhere else today.”

“Really? Okay, just don’t be too late coming back. I’m making dinner today.”

“Thanks, I won’t be, promise.”

I leave the shop, waving as I shut the door, and head of towards the wall. It’s a clear day, with a stale air hovering around me. I can already make out the wall between the houses in front of me. Lingering there in front of me, calling to me. The usual stale smell of the village follows me as I walk through it’s maze like patterns. Dodging around houses, nodding at other passer-bys, keeping my eyes on the wall at all time.

Soon enough the stench, the mud, and the village itself is behind me and I’m standing in the small no man’s land between the village and the Eastern City. As usual there is a guard standing just outside the gate. Standing there today and forever. They even have a night shift. I suppose they want to stop any attackers, but where is our wall. Surely someone could attack a village. He spots me walking towards him, but doesn’t falter from his spot.

“Good morning,” I state.

“Morning, Miss.”

“I need to get into the City.”

“What’s your business there, Miss?”

“I want to see some family. A photographer for a magazine.”

“I’m just going to do a quick search, stretch your arms out.”

We didn’t have to do this before, but I suppose that’s my Dad’s influence. I follow his orders and he quickly pats me down. He then opens the gate and lets me through, and I’m about to start the long walk to the city.

It seems to be quicker this time. Soon enough I reach the actual buildings, and realise I have no idea what magazine Maz works for, or where I would find him at all. The City is a big place and I can’t just knock door to door. And hope that photographers are well known and Maz is in the well known bunch.

Stupid stupid girl, I shout at myself. Silently, or course, I don’t want to bring too much attention to me.

I start by aiming towards the Shopping District. At least there I can find a magazine, maybe I will be lucky and there is only one magazine, or better yet, the magazine will just be called Maz, and an address will be printed right there on the front cover. I’ve only ever looked at magazines that people have left in the shop, and somehow didn’t think to have a look at any of them this morning before I left to even get a name of the magazine Maz works for. I was so focused on my Dad not finding out, that I didn’t actually think of how I was going to get there.

The streets are bright, and colourful. The clean pavement underneath is near perfection. No leaves, or litter spoiling the perfect level cleanness. Just perfection in every direction. I’m pretty sure just living on the streets here would be nicer than most houses in the village. But I know that isn’t how it works. They will just eject you from the City and back to one of the villages.

The City all looks the same, and yet every street looks fresh new to me. I have no idea where I’m going. Just rambling, aiming for the cafe and hoping to find a shop near there that sells magazines. If I can just get a short look at a few before anyone notices, maybe I will just find his name somewhere. He wanted to expose the poverty of the villages to the City, so something like that is where I should start looking. I just don’t have any money, so I can’t do much. I have to be quick, or people will think I’m stealing. I’m probably gaining attention right now, for just what I’m wearing. Dull, boring cheap cloths, that looks like they’re about to fall apart. They loosely fit me, and that’s about all I care about. They’re not going to fall apart on me quite yet.

I turn a corner, expecting just another random street, but this time I actually recognise something. It’s not the cafe, but I’m close, I quicken my pace, knowing shops are going to be just around the corner.

The first shop that looks like it sells magazines, I just jump straight in and head for the racks. They’re full of them. Showing pictures of exotic landscapes, or people wearing impractical clothing. Nothing that looks anything close to what Maz would work with. Everything here just seems to be about how brilliant life here is. The Top Ten Things That makes the Eastern City Great, Top Ways You Could Improve your Love Life, How to Make the Most out of Visiting the Other Cities. It’s all pointless. Waste of time just looking at them. Even the one with the article, Everything You Need to Know about Life Outside the City, just seems to be glorifying the farm work people do. Pictures of sunsets and happy working faces. It’s all fake, all of it.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” A voice from behind me.

I turn to see a well dressed man, in a buttoned down shirt tucked into black trousers. Even a belt. His sleeves rolled up to above his elbows. Short, brushed hair. Not just bunched and tied up like me. He didn’t look completely judgemental, just curious.

“I’m looking for a magazine. I’m not sure which one. My Uncle. He’s a photographer. For one of them. I know he works in the City. Mazwell.”

“Hmm, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I haven’t heard of anyone of that name. And I’m not too familiar with photographers, I’m afraid. Sorry. Is there anything else I can you with?”

“No, thanks.”

I know that’s my queue to leave. I turn on my heals and head towards the door. What now? Just try that in as many shops as possible in a day, and either strike it lucky or go home. Sounds about the best plan I’ve got. I turn to head down the street, hoping to spot another shop.

“Hey.”

I turn to see someone jogging out of the shop behind me. He’s just as well dressed as the shop keeper. Black trousers, but a blue t-shirt. It looks comfortable. I wish they knew how lucky they are to wear stuff like that. I constantly feel like I’m being looked down on, even in the village.

“Hey,” he says again, even though I haven’t moved. “Did you say you were looking for Mazwell? The photographer?” I nod. “I know him. Well of him. He works for Opaque. The fashion magazine.”

“Really? Thanks. Where is their building?”

“I have no idea. I just wanted to help.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Come on, I’ll help you find the building.”

“Thanks. I’m Nymia, but people call me Ny.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Randell.”

He stretches out an arm to shake mine, I follow suit.

“So which way?” I ask.

“I’ll just go and buy one of the magazines, that will have an address.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“I was going to get one eventually anyway, I get them every month. What’s the difference between today and tomorrow?”

I don’t say anything, and he runs back into the store. Should I follow him? And show my face inside there again? No. I’ll stay here. But why is he helping me? Just because? That makes no sense. Everyone has an agenda of some kind. That is just how the world works. Everyone wants something for something.

He comes back out, with a magazine in his hand, he flicks it open in silence and flicks through a couple of pages.

“Here. The address, it’s for the submissions and enquiries. So it’s where we’ll find him.”

He hands me the magazine. It’s nothing like what I was expecting. Pictures of heavily made up women and men posing in stupid positions. It almost makes me feel sick looking at the pictures. Disgusted, after what he set out to achieve, this is the result. I only knew what make up was because of the vile customers who came into the shop. From the City and looking down on us, pathetic. I now understand why Dad wouldn’t want to live in here. No matter how in demand he was, everything here is just fake. Completely blind to anything else going on, completely ignorant to what’s going on just outside their doors, but that’s okay because this dimwitted woman wears sunglasses and pouts like a spoiled child.

“You okay?” Randell asks.

“Yeah, just not what I was expecting. I was told he came here to show the horrors from the villages.”

“It’s not always that simple. Once you get here, that’s it. You have to fight to cling on. No one wants outsiders here. They’re happy, and hearing about the outside world will just tear that away from them.”

“They can’t just ignore us though. How can they?”

“Because that’s the way they want it. Believe me, I know. I’ve tried telling people, tried making it more well known. But that hasn’t done anything. I try to be a good person, but there isn’t much I can really do. If I give all of my money to villages? It might help a little, but no where near as much as I’d like. And then I can’t help at all. I’ve been trying to set up a charity, to send funds to the villages. Kind of like the scholarship, but not just to bring a couple to the City, and then leave them lost. No, I want something set up to actually help people. If everyone in the City gave just a quarter of their income to it, then everyone outside of the village will have a better life. It’s just that simple.”

“Really? Is that all it will take? Surely if we just told them, then it will all be better. People wouldn’t need to compete for the scholarship, just to survive a decent life. Maybe we could all be happy.”

“That sounds about right, you sound just like Mazwell.”

“You know him?”

“Yes, of course. He’s one of the main fighters for the cause. I’m trying to help him start the charity. I heard you, and wanted to make sure you were who you claim to be. But you sound just like him, he must be your uncle. I can take you straight to him, I’m sure he would love to see you. He doesn’t mention his family often, and I’m sure he misses you.”

“But, what about the pictures? This magazine?”

“That’s what he does to make money, it’s a quick job here, a quick job there. Just to survive, and then every other waking moment he’s trying to do something to spark change.”

To be continued…

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Do the Best Albums Always Come Out in Years Ending in 7?

Posted on July 4, 2017 by ashleymanningwriter

I have a theory about music and years ending in 7. There is something special about it, something that brings out the best in artists. There are way too many albums to mention them all, but I’m going to talk about one of those years in particular, 2007, the only one I remember living through. But as I’ve researched other music that has connected with me, I’ve noticed something. So many great albums came out in years ending with 7. This year seems like a good year to talk about it.

It’s been 50 years since The Beatles’ Sgt Pepper’s and Magical Mystery Tour. 40 years since David Bowie’s Low and Heroes. 30 years since U2’s Joshua Tree. 20 years since Radiohead’s Ok Computer. 10 years since, well maybe nothing that compares critically to the seminal albums that came in the decades before. But 2007 still had a hell of a lot of good music. As much as I love all of the albums mentioned, I was alive in 2007 and was aware, mainly through school friends, about some of the music coming out.

I wasn’t into music in 2007, I was aware of some things but not much. Music is important to me now, and I listen to it all the time. But at that point only 2 bands had really made me take notice. Green Day with their 2004 album American Idiot and My Chemical Romance’s 2006 album, The Black Parade. Apart from that I didn’t care. 2009 was where music started to click for me. Around the time I was revising for my GCSEs I bought my first mp3 player from Tesco. I’ve always put albums on to devices rather than just songs, and one of the first albums I put on the cheap little thing was from 2007.

Linkin Park’s Minutes to Midnight. Still my favourite album from the band. While I love their earlier albums. Hybrid Theory will always be in my top 3 debut albums of all time, it’s Minutes to Midnight where I think they reached their peak. (On a side note, it’s 2017 where they reached their low with their dreadful One More Light. It’s so bad. I have listened to it the whole way through. It’s bad.) There are so many good songs. Bleed it Out, Valentine’s Day, Shadow of the Day, Leave Out All the Rest, Hands held high and of course What I’ve done. It’s the best the band has ever done, and probably ever will.

A quick side story, which is why I remember buying the mp3 player. Minutes to Midnight was one of the first albums I put on it. Because of What I’ve Done being on the Transformers soundtrack. I used to fall asleep listening to it, with science GCSE bitsize revision clips put in between songs. I bought the mp3 album to listen to anime soundtracks and ended up listening to the differences between polymers and monomers with snippets of nu metal.

Foo Fighters released Echoes, Silence, Patience and Grace, which contains The Pretender and my personal favourite song of theirs, Long Road to Ruin. A really strong album that set the bar high for any of their follow ups. It’s this album that made me listen to the band. I liked The Pretender and thought I would like other songs from the album, which I was right about. Their new album is my most anticipated album of this year. Run, the first single, just feels so good. So much energy. If it’s any indication of the whole album then it will be this years pick for adding 2017 to the list of 7s.

Fall Out Boy released Infinity on High, which in my opinion is a really strong album. I remember hearing This Ain’t a Scene, it’s An Arms race and something clicking inside. It’s such a good song with so much energy. It’s one of the few songs that I liked before I started getting into music. That’s why I bought this album, from a charity shop in Wellingborough, and why I still listen to it now. It’s not my favourite from the band though, that honour goes to Save Rock and Roll.

Paramore released Riot! in 2007, which is a really important album to me. I didn’t have a cd player or a laptop when I bought that. I listened to it on my PS3 while reading. That would have been in 2009. Paramore was one of the first few bands I got into, and it was through this album. So many good tracks. Not just the big hit Misery Business but the whole album is simply a really strong album. While the pop-punk genre isn’t for everyone, for me it’s perfect. Energetic guitars with a fast beat. It’s something I listen to quite often when I’m waking up and getting breakfast and getting ready for the

I know I’ve only spoken about 4 albums from 2007, but they are my favourite from the year. Maybe if I had more varied taste I would have done a top 7 from 2007, but I really only listen to rock music. As wide and non-specific that genre umbrella is. Earlier when writing 2467 I was listening to Nine Inch Nail’s The Downward Spiral. Later when I started writing this I was listening to Eric Clapton’s I Still do and am currently listening to Pollinator by Blondie. I don’t like genres, as much as I like categorising things.

Maybe I will look at the other years ending with 7, because I really believe there is something special about that number. Not just the cliché of it being lucky, but something that brings forward great music. I suppose any year can be seen that way, it’s just something I noticed and thought I could write about it. Let me know if you want me to write about any of the other 7 years. I love so many albums from the last 5 decades of 7 years. And many other years. Let me know. I want to write about music, it’s a massive inspiration to me while writing.

Thanks for reading,

Ashley

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