Waking on Feather Island

7/30/2019 Waking on Feather Island

1/27

WAKING ON

FEATHER ISLAND

By

Stewart Norvill


2/27

WAKING ON FEATHER

ISLAND

By

Stewart Norvill


3/27

Waking On Feather Island

First published in Great Britain in 2013

Printed privately in Lincolnshire

Copyright Stewart Norvill 2013

The right of The Author to be identified as the author of this work has been

asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act of

1988

All rights reserved

The author would like to thank his cat, as well as his course mates, tutors and

family.


4/27

Dear reader... what is this place?


5/27

TRUMPETS

yellow over the hill

thats it

BACK TO CANCUN

the boy because thats what he is

struggling under a wide sombrero

glass splashing down from shelves

as he flies the old gift shop

hitting the fly-humming streets again

now battles the hot wind

on a long straight road

the heavy world of trees either side

honking trucks shedding feathers

as he pains to return to utero

struggling under a wide sombrero


6/27

GOATS HAPPEN

Kaldi, a grey-bearded Ethiopian goatherd, was sat by a log fire on a long, dusty

stretch of field between two rocky hills in the fading light, his goats peacefullysleeping all about him. It had been a tiring year.

His herd had discovered a bush of red berries on a hill. The berries had

made them dance the most beautifully frightening dances in that pale morning

sunlight. Excitedly, he had taken the berries to a holy man who cast them onto a

fire, like any good holy man should. But when the holy man had gone Kaldi had

returned to the burnt remainders of the berries, which had smelled so

enchanting in the fire, and stirred them into a few drops of water he had with

him. He called it coffee.

Having spent the year spreading his coffeeamong astounded villagers and

tribesmen, the now famous Kaldi felt restful. He was an old man and had, for

some time, felt as though occasionally somebody was tugging gently at the back

of his cloak or his shoulder. It was happening again now. He ignored it.

He lifted a small cup of thick, fresh coffee up to his dust beaten lips. He

heard a shuffling from the other side of the fire. He squinted through the light.

One of his goats had stood up and cocked its head, staring at Kaldis cup.

Maaaaaaaaaa

I think were about to serve Gandalf, she whispered to Esm who was working

the counter with her and Ben that morning. It was about nine, the sun was up

and shining and the Manhattan Starfucks on the corner of 8 th Avenue and West

39thStreet was heaving again.

Gandalfwas an aged gentleman wearing a grey, floor length, cloak and

causing quite a scene. The crowd inside the shop were parting to let him

through. New York crowds dont usually part unless you wave a nuclear missile

at them. She stretched to see over them.

He had a goat.


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No no no no no! she said and quickly ran out from behind the counter to

confront the man, knocking over a tower of paper take-out cups in her haste. He

had a long grey beard and deeply weather-worn face.

Hello, sir, she said, smiling broadly. Have you visited our Tarsucks

before?

No, maybe you are mistaking me for another ancient Ethiopian

goatherd, he replied in a thick accent.

No, we dont get many of them in store... thankfully, she added peering

round him at the goat who glared back.

The crowd watched her and Kaldi, like teenagers hungry to see a fight on

the high-school field. Her tongue suddenly stuck like a livewire to the roof of

her mouth.

I know what youre going to say. Its the same as the last five of these

heinous places I tried to get in. I am Kaldi, for heaven sake, he declared loudly,

holding out his arm as though he expected a gasp.

Well, Mr Cowdy, would you kindly take your um...

Henry, he interjected.

Henry? Is that his name? Hello Henry, she said, addressing the goat who

continued to eyeball her menacingly.

Um, could I ask you to take Henry outside for me?

Yes, yes, I will take him outside, he snapped, adding loudly, I am Kaldi,

I have returned, over his shoulder as he made his way back out and tied the

goats leash to a street sign. But soon he was queuing up again, looking

impatient. She subtly exchanged raised eyebrows with Esm.

Hed just made it to the counter when she heard people laughing loudly

and calling out in astonishment at the back of the store. She could hear

stampeding feet on the upper floor, charging to the windows above.

Hey, Mr! one of the other customers called out, directing it at Kaldi. Mr,

your goats tryna eat a man.

Some people laughed. She pushed her way over to the window as Kaldi

ran outside.


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Henry! Henry, stop that. Dont fight with these people, theyre meanies!

he yelled into the street. The goat had a hold of some young Asian mans denim

jacket. The Asian man was hitting the goat over the head with a newspaper.

Kaldi threw himself protectively over the goat and started kicking out at theAsian man. Two police officers intervened. The store went quite as both men

were dragged apart and the goat was arrested. Kaldi threw a sandal at the police

car as it drove off and stormed back into the store.

Only the noise of the machines could be heard as she stepped back

behind the counter and Kaldi once again joined the queue. A vein was showing

on his brown, wrinkled forehead.

This time he reached the front of the queue and ordered their best,

strongest cup.

You could probably do with it, huh? she said. He didnt reply.

When he was handed his cup with the word Cowdy scribbled on the

side, his eyes twitched slightly. But then he closed them and smiled, lifted the

mug to his lips and took a long sip.

And immediately spat it out all over the lady next to him.

What the fuck is this!? he demanded furiously. The lady started to cry.

Its a double expresso, sir, said Ben disbelievingly.

Its disgusting! There is no coffee in this!

He argued and ranted for almost an hour before they managed to shoo

him out of the store, still raging that after everything he couldnt get a good cup

of coffee.

I am Kaldi! he squealed. He swore theyd be sorry.

George, an accountant for an Indonesian coffee processing plant, was sat in his

small office, doing his papers.

George! - Blend to a powder then brew the beans in boiling water -

equivalent of one bean per bathtub - evaporating all the flavour, catch the

flavoured vapour in a tower, cool it to make sludge, dry the liquid left in the vat.

George! - Drop a pinch of sludge in a huge bowl of the dried muck,

package in thousands of sachets labelled by different coffee brands around the


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world. Theres one good way of cutting cost. So it would be equivalent of half a

bean per bathtub from now on.

George! - But now this commotion down the corridor.

Theres a goat in the bwender!What? George followed the shouts.

He found them standing over the giant, slowly turning blender. And there

indeed, head and shoulders sticking out of the beans, was a goat spinning round

and round and round.

Maaaaaaaaaaaaa

Back in Manhattan, the store was still heaving into the early afternoon whensuddenly another fuss broke out. This time there was screaming.

The place was too full to push her way through, so she stood on the

counter, knocking another tower of take-out cups onto the floor. And what she

saw out of the window was an abomination heading towards them. An army of

goats, on their rear legs, dancing in perfect synchronisation with heads cocked

and eyes staring.

They pirouetted in through the front door and people shrieked and cried

as they scrambled clear of these monsters.

They danced through the store like a well-choreographed gang of very

ugly high-school cheerleaders and made their way behind the counter,

surrounding the machines.

She immediately reached for her cell and, still standing on the counter,

she called the NYPD. But, astonishingly, unbelievably, they had no sympathy at

all.

Check the news, lady. Well get to you as soon as we can, but youll appreciate you

aint our number one priority!

She rang off and quickly scrolled through Goggle News.

Goats Take Coffee Processing Factories Worldwide

Dancing Goats Demand Beans

Goats Waltz into Coffee Stores and Take Over

Wall Street Crashes As Coffee Withdrawal Symptoms Set In


10/27

Global Markets Wrecked By Dancing Goat Coffee Hijack

Stirmucks Bust

Dancing Goat Apocalypse the End

Her heart boomed and she felt sick.The traffic outside was coming to a halt with sweet exhaust fumes and

shrill cries creeping through the open door. A taxi was sat on the zebra crossing.

From nowhere a man in a brown suit flew at the cab and started tearing away big

strips of its yellow flesh with a crowbar and hollering I JUST NEED A

FRAPPUCCINO LIGHT!

Just then, Kaldi strolled into the store.

You see what I have done, New Yorkers?Excuse me, sir, she said.

No, you are not excused. All theworlds coffee is mine now! And I will

drink it properly and you will have none!

How on earth do you expect to get away with all this? she demanded.

People will beg for my coffee, he proclaimed, waggling his finger.

She thought fast.

Henry, she said calmly.

Kaldi said nothing.

I can get him back for you if you put an end to this.

He scanned her face suspiciously.

They argued, bickered and haggled for a few minutes before he finally,

reluctantly agreed. And so he clapped his hands and the goats left, dancing away

into the shadows and corners of the streets outside where they seemingly

disappeared.

She fetched her bag from the back room, told a stunned Ben and Esm

that shed be back soon, and headed out into the sun with Kaldi who she thought

seemed sad. His pupils looked massive in the sunlight. His eyes generally

appeared vacant but she noticed a clear film of water emerging. It also struck her

for the first time that his head was constantly, ever so slightly cocked.

Do you ever feel sometimes, he said, like someone is just gently

tugging at you from behind, trying to pull you away somewhere?


11/27

She didnt. She didnt think so anyway. She wasnt sure. Maybe she just

wasnt sure what he meant.

Whilst they waited in silence at the station for some officer or another to

appear, the cop theyd spoken to when they arrived said he was heading roundthe corner to Fartstucks and asked if he could get them a coffee. She looked at

Kaldi. She said theyd pass.


12/27

HALFWAY OVER THE HILL

on the grass this far up

worms through the apple heartIll find shadows of flowers

bring black things in rows

for the place Im building now

bring the chair the cat likes

a piece of eaten burger

from a dilapidated beach cafe

bring the sand

build a football stadium

floodlight bulbs of actual sun

and a crowd of foxes and crows

this is what happens

left to numb my whole body

is wriggling like that apple

until the crowd shrieks as

the stadium collapses

with the stillness of a kiss

with a minute detail on the hill

a touch of pretty arcadia


13/27

HEADPHONE AMBLERS

walk out

into thetraffic

dance there

among the

metal

KILL LOKI

take my face a second time

wear it again for her

and few screams will be wasted

on the black hotel carpet

tonight


14/27

ATMOSTE WEATHER TEST

Up at an old industrial estate in the Wolds, Peter Manning had been working for

a number of years on the ATMOSTE system. On February the 15 th he drovethrough the rusty gates and followed the road to the left, through the dishevelled

and mostly boarded up buildings, just as on any other day. He arrived at his

office, that looked like a small school gymnasium stuffed with wires, and began

setting up for his latest tests.

Peter wasnt some Little England crackpot. ATMOSTE was part funded

by universities and the government and sponsored by two major broadcasting

companies. He liked working up there in the sparse, moody hills because, as he

would put it, that place just keeps handing you a few more minutes to consider how much

happens in every detail.

Indeed he was a creative man. He once told me in a cafe, that the handle

of his coffee cup, if you looked at it closely, was really a colossal whale, tearing

from a wave, probably in pursuit of a small whaling vessel, in the midst of a

white storm in the northern seas. His was a singular mind.

Yet on the 15thof February, his creation turned on him.

Now we all know what ATMOSTE was. Basically it allowed you to go

beyond viewing and listening to what was happening on the television. It would

allow you to taste, to smell and to feel. And what a wonderful idea. Imagine

being able to taste Buffy the Vampire Slayers skin when shes bitten, or The

Lost Boys imaginary food in Hook. Imagine being able to feel the explosions as

the car hits the helicopter in Die Hard 4, or the agony of Martin Sheen in

Apocalypse Now. Imagine being able to smell the grass in The Sound of Music,

or the food in Jamie Olivers kitchen. That was Peters dream.

His test on the 15th of February was to see if it could pick up anything so

exciting from something as simple as a weather report. Of course buyers of

such an expensive piece of technology would want it to have an effect on all of

their viewing, or so it was argued. The equipment was ready for the second local

weather update of the day. And the results were spectacular.


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Pete had jacked up all of the input and output settings and set the volume

to full. When the weather girls hand accidently touched the green screen, he

could feel it all the way up his arm. When she shared a joke with the news

reader he could feel laughter in his tummy. He could feel the control switch inher hand, the warmth of the studio lights, taste her lipstick and smell the

cameraman who hadnt washed - the cause of her occasionally wrinkled nose.

He must have been elated. But then they showed a graphic, a clip from a

white storm, to emphasise a warning about the coming night. And with all that

heavy equipment around him, the wires, the glass, the tools, the chemicals...

well, lets just say, here I am giving this eulogy, ladies and gentlemen.

Now, of course, the ATMOSTE project will continue on in his name with

his two trusted assistants, Judie and Max, taking over for the time being, and...


16/27

HUNTING A SAINT

a carefree mountain

peaks and valleys

a knife in the reindeer

skin

this cannonade of light

refracted in the tears

stuck to me

I could almost hear it

the sunlight crashing

to the ground and

exploding on the snow

CURSE

picking dead frogs out

bloated and grey

from the February pond

little murky secrets

that hid under the ice

until

the thaw


17/27

COMMUNANT AND CORMORIST

I would like to mention a small incident I noticed during my time in Shangri-La.

Its a beautifully diverse part of the world, with so many religions and culturesmeeting and sharing uniquely colourful settlements in almost utopian harmony

amidst a paradise of rice, corn, chilli and tobacco fields, white toothed forest

mountains and emerald cascades of spring water. Yet among all things singular

to this region of China the most peculiar is their method of fishing.

One humid evening on the second week of my stay, I stopped at the stone

steps of a warm, bustling port and watched as the men set out onto the wide river

on their flat, raft-like, lamp lit boats with some rather unusual assistants in the

shape of the giant water birds that we know as cormorants. The birds appeared

to be awaiting signals from the fishermen who would tap their feet and sing, at

which point the birds would dive under the flow and find the fish.

My friend, Li, joined me and we watched the beautiful spectacle of the

birds bringing the large catches up and letting the fishermen take them and put

them in their baskets. She said that for every few big fish they give to the men

they get one smaller fish to eat for themselves. Naturally, I asked why the

cormorants didnt just eat the bigger fish. I must admit to being troubled when

she explained that the fishermen put rings around the birds necks preventing

them from swallowing the bigger prizes. If they try to eat a big fish it gets stuck

and the fishermen choke them to make them spit it up.

Nevertheless, we wandered along to a stall and bought two decorated

parcels of river fish soup for our supper. We ate with smiles that allowed the red

sauce to run between our teeth and down our chins. It made her, with her pale

skin, look like a vampire recently fed. She laughed and said I looked like

Genghis Kahn. Later, she had to head out to the foot of a mountain to meet some

others. And I was left at the steps down to the river, watching the wild town

lights shining back up at me and contemplating just how much of human life in

this part of the world was reflected in the water. It struck me that the birds

should leave the fishermen. But theyd been trained since birth not to do so.


18/27

On my way back to the hotel I rounded the corner of a red and yellow

house, with chilli peppers used as bunting around the eaves, and to my

astonishment a team of cormorants was gathered in the doorway and jabbering to

each other. I stopped to watch for a while. It was almost as though they wereusing recognisable language and after a few minutes I seriously started to

question my hearing. I got my camera out of my pocket.

Oi, tourist, said a nasal voice in plain English.

I looked round. I was alone with the birds, in the brightly lit side street.

Put that damn camera away. Yes you!

I now began to question the contents of my soup. One of the birds was

staring straight at me, and talking.

Well? it said.

In a mind rushing moment of panic I skipped all of the obvious questions,

like the ones about how they could talk, and spluttered something more

ideological. Yes. I posed an ideological question to a cormorant.

Why do you do it? I blurted.

Do what? it replied, turning to the other birds who smirked. If indeed

cormorants can smirk.

The fishing. For the men, I added, wide eyed.

Well, what do you think were doing here? it asked.

The lights buzzed loudly around us and the insects buzzed around the

lights. I blanked.

Conspiring in quiet corners? it prompted. Speaking English in

hushed tones? Telling you to put away your camera? Now, I wouldnt want you

to go away thinking that we aint entirely happy with our lot...

A conspiracy? I said. Of cormorants? A cormorant conspiracy?

I ran for the hotel and ran the tap over my head as soon as I was in my

room. It was probably just a funny turn. It was probably nothing. I told myself

repeatedly that it hadnt happened and fortunately didnt see anything like it

again.

But during my final week I must say I did begin to notice how many

stuffed cormorants were on display about the place, and how many cormorant


19/27

quills were on sale, and did wonder. So much of human life, reflected in the

water.


20/27

iPod GENERATION

will get

fooledagain

and again

and again

etc

THE WAY

somebody said

theres a river here

somewhere

I keep that with me

I might get it

on a t-shirt

wear it on my

chest

and live forever


21/27

OLYMPUS PARKING

Annie and James both slammed their doors. They had found a space at the top

of the multi-storey but they werent in a celebratory mood. They had argued.Again. In fact, she was splitting up with him and they both knew it. Why his

mother had insisted on seeing both of them before Annie had mustered the

courage to finally end it... well that was just a big inconvenience.

Even as theyd entered the county theyd been at it. WELCOME TO

NOTTINGHAMSHIRE!

Yeah, some welcome, shed scoffed.

Meaning?

Like theres actually three speed cameras piled on top of each other

there. Its like hes still here, watching you.

Who? he asked.

The sheriff.

Shut up, Annie, hed said, flatly.

Thenshed put her hand on his lap. His eyes had widened but hed tried

to ignore it. Then she started to coil round him like a python round a sleeping

deer. While he was driving! Hed nearly swerved into the next lane.

Stop it! hed snapped.

Then theyd arrived in the city.

Its literally the ugliest city centre in the world, shed said.

Why did she insist on mocking his birthplace?

No its not, Annie.

Why did he have to take everything so seriously?

James, its so hideous they should apply for special status from the EU.

Ugliest city centre ever. They could at least get a sign post to warn unsuspecting

travellers.

The cars crawled round the buildings like a vast colony of ants around the

crumbled pillars of an ancient and rather mucky temple. Theyd driven for a

while in angry silence before arguing about the location of this cheap, new

multi-storey that his mother had insisted they park at, called Olympus Parking.


22/27

Then they found it, parked and slammed their doors. There were no

stairs so they started strutting down the first ramp when a white-bearded

stranger jumped out from behind a van.

Good morning, you two. Lovely day, he chirped. he was very old, butstood quite straight.

Can we help? asked James.

You sure can, he replied beaming at them.

Um... how? enquired James after an awkward pause.

My name is Zeus, he said.

Silence.

Still he smiled.

Really? asked Annie.

He nodded.

Okay, maybe youre beyond our help, said James.

The stranger turned and fixed his stare on Annie. He waggled his white,

fluffy eyebrows suggestively.

Yeah, were leaving now, said James.

They strode away, but could still hear his incessant smiling behind them.

they walked close together, almost touching.

Down the next ramp, a car with aerials on the roof pulled out of a space

and crawled alongside them. The blackened window rolled down and a younger,

Mediterranean man started talking to Annie.

Hey, what you doing? he asked.

Walking, she replied bluntly, with my... my boyfriend here.

James subtly offered her his hand to hold and she didnt refuse it.

No offence but you sure you wouldnt want to trade him in?

Quite sure.

Even for the king of the gods of mount Olympus?

Oh, I see, she said this is some sort of gimmick. Olympus Parking, very

good. Not today.

They were now down to the third floor.

No, were the real gods of Olympus, he insisted.


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Really? she said and youre in Nottingham, in a multi-storey car park?

Greeks really have hit hard times, added James, smiling a little. she

squeezed his hand.

We have, we have, but you can help, said the man in the car, nodding.

Zeus needs a new lover to kick start rebuilding his empire, see.

Look pal, James began, angrily.

Ah, forget it, I have to make a trip to Argos.

The man rolled his window up and sped off. They were just walking

down the ramp to the second floor when suddenly, at the top of the next

downward ramp, another strange man sprang up. He was wearing a pink morph

suit and holding a bow and arrow.

Oh thank heavens for that, said Annie, its one of the merry men. Robin

Hoods gay army have come to save us.

James snorted.

She stopped and looked at James with a smile but he instantly let go of

her hand and shouted DUCK!

An arrow whistled past her ear as she hit the floor.

I will plant the arrow of Zeuss love in you, the archer called out, as

though it were a fact.

They scrambled behind a car and James motioned that they should climb

through the gap down to the next level. She went first and he was quickly behind

her. Another arrow came flying through the gap after them. They ran down the

ramp to the next level.

But there in front of them was the white-bearded man, now dressed in a

giant swan costume. Wings wide open and stumbling towards her, Zeus was

moaning, come to me.

Oh, for the love of... she started, but in that instance she was struck in

the temple by an arrow. It sounded like a slap and stuck to her head. It was

tipped with a sucker.

OW! she exclaimed.

They turned to run back towards the top floor but their way was blocked,

not just by the archer but by the aerial car as well.


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How the hell? said James, looking bewildered.

Then, out of the brilliant sunlight of the exit, which really did look like

the gates of heaven, a beautiful woman emerged, dressed in a white garment cut

short at the thigh. She was dark, tall and athletic. In a deep, earth shattering voiceshe bellowed, Zeus! how dare you?

The old man winced and looked like he was about to wet his swan

costume. The car and the archer behind the couple were backing off. She

surveyed all of them, visibly seething with rage.

Annie, whispered James, I love you.

I love you too, she replied softly, lets not stay to find out what these

loonies do next.

They ran for it, seizing the opportunity to dash back up the ramps to

Jamess car.

Your mother... she panted as they fled, the arrow still wobbling about on

the side of her face.

You absolutely have to park there, James puffed, mimicking his

mothers voice.

Meanwhile, on the ground floor, the astonishing lady put her hand on

Zeuss chest and kissed his cheek.

That should do it. His motherll be thrilled, she said.

All four gods smiled to each other. Then they heard distant sirens, like

hungry wolves, which reminded them. They ran to the aerial car like hares to a

scrape and they were gone.


25/27

OUT IN THE HEAT

plucky little goats in tuk-tuks

and tents in the garden

are being served

barbeque dinners

and delicious puddings

with calm efficiency

and Banyan Trees

overlook a pool and a smart

yellow and white chess table

FROM THE WATERS

a basket in the reeds

a tiny fist in the sunlight

and swaddling splashed

by the lapping stream

will lead us all

out


26/27


27/27

An assembly of short stories and shorter poems. The author is a

twenty-two year-old MA student at the University of Lincoln. He

once lived in Stockholm where he sometimes visited

Fjrderholmarna. This translates as the Feather Islets. He

currently lives in Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, where he

sometimes sees ducks.

Waking on Feather Island

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Transcript of Waking on Feather Island