"Afterwards there was nothing but silence..."
DÚN LAOGHAIRE-RATHDOWN COUNTY COUNCIL PUBLIC LIBRARY SERVICE
SHORT STORY COMPETITION 2000
The Doomsday Bomb
ROBERT ELLIS
1ST PRIZE (AGES 13-17 CATEGORY)Afterwards there was nothing but silence. The air, what was left of it, hung in the room, stagnant. The floor, once covered in a wonderful carpet, was now buried under a layer of ash. The walls were black with soot, and the doorways gutted by fire. The rooms, once lavishly furnished, now contained no more than a few heaps of charred wood. Beautiful stained-glass windows lay in melted shards by the wall.
But no living thing had been hurt. Even potted plants still stood, albeit in cracked pots, a picture of health. As the terrible cloud had come rushing towards them, there was a blinding flash of light, and the world had turned upside down.
It was what the world had been fearing for weeks now, ever since the first radio message had come in from the alien ships. All it gave was a list of chemical formulas, but that was all it needed to say. The aliens had the multiple stage atom bomb, or m-stage bomb as it was called. The world's scientists had made a small one, once, and set it off on a remote atoll. Every single rock, stone, bit of concrete, had been burnt to a crisp, but every single tree still stood. Scientists went to investigate, just as the bomb's next stage went off, which wiped out every single living thing on the island. Forty-three scientists died, but the bodies were never recovered, since the island disintegrated when the final stage blew. Ever since, there had been a ban on using m-stage bombs.
So they had about a quarter of an hour, now, before the next stage blew. The bomb had landed near the equator, and in three minutes the cloud had spread all over the planet. In half an hour there would be no planet left.
There was only one thing on the world's mind at the moment - retaliation. Why the aliens had done such a thing was unknown, but they wouldn't do it again. Deep under a mountain there was a bunker, containing a missile. The missile had a very special warhead. Though only sketchy details had been released to the population, everyone knew, or thought they knew, that it was a powerful m-stage bomb. It could be launched into space within ten minutes. The launch pad was on automatic release, set to go off if an alien bomb hit. Once in flight, the missile would automatically target the alien ships, and arm the warhead. There was no way to stop it. It was completely independent.
So the last thing the world saw before the deadly cloud swept over them was the missile streaking through the sky. Up it rose, further and further, until it was lost to sight.
As it thundered through space, down below the alien bomb went into the second stage. The deadly mushroom cloud rose up, and spread over the world. In three minutes, every single life form would be annihilated, completely and utterly. Every trace of every civilisation on the world would be wiped out, apart from that missile, shooting through space towards the alien ship.
The world was now quieter than silence itself. Even death had gone, because there was no life to take away. What was once a world of learning, of happiness, of play, of greenery, of light, was now a ball of rock pointlessly orbiting a forgotten sun.
Above the dark clouds there were stars, and amongst the stars was the missile, streaking through the heavens. The alien ship powers up and tries to get away, but the missile is too fast. Slowly it is gaining on the aliens, coming closer and closer, as time ticks away on the two bombs.
One is embedded deep in rock, on the empty planet, ready to explode once and for all, leaving nothing behind. The other is encased in a steel shell, strapped to a rocket, heading towards an alien ship. They're both going to go off together.
The engines on the alien ship give up, and screech to a halt. The missile hits with a sickening crunch.
Boom.
The alien bomb gives a click, and goes off.
Boom.
The two explosions race out across space, waves of radiation rippling out. The speeding particles rush through the vacuum of space until the two shockwaves meet in a cloud of plasma. One comes from a planet that now no longer exists, the second from a starship that is going the same way.
As the deadly nuclear backwash flips through the cosmos, it hits a small vessel, speeding away from the ship. It is an escape pod, containing the ship's officers, that was launched just before the missile impacted. Without proper shields, the radiation rushes straight through it. The engine core fractures under the pressure, and the shuttle explodes in one brief, astronomical fireball. The very same officers that had ordered their crew to fire the m-stage bomb at the planet, had tried to escape the wrath of that planet. They had left their crew behind, and they had failed. Fate does not smile on cowards.
The alien ship was in a bad shape. The missile's warhead had burnt out every deck. Everyone was alive, but many were trapped in their quarters, deserted by their commanders. Everything had short-circuited, hydraulics had been melted, generators burnt, with the result that everything mechanical had malfunctioned. Fists pounded fruitlessly on self-locked doors, while others bashed computer keypads that had crashed.
There was less than fifteen minutes to live on that ship, as all the aliens knew. You could set your watch by an m-stage bomb, if you were stupid enough to set one off. The atomic decay always, always happened in three powerful bursts, separated by a quarter of an hour each.
There was a lot more than silence on the ship. The walls echoed with gunfire, as people attempted to blow down the doors. Footsteps pattered on the deck, as crew members not trapped rushed to get to the shuttle bays, and off the doomed ship.
In the end, only a dozen aliens managed to get into the shuttle bays, only to find that the missile had entered the hull just behind the launching pad. Amongst the twisted, charred metal spars, there lay the bomb itself. With an irony not shared with the aliens, it was probably the only machine working on the whole vessel. The aliens, resigned to their fate, slumped down by the wrecked shuttles, and stared at the slowly ticking time bomb.
As the last few minutes crept by, the rest of the crew gave up pounding doors, and lay down on the floor, waiting for the final explosion to come. Now they were into the final minute, and as old enemies made peace, the whole crew prepared to stare death in the face.
Five... Four... Three... Two... One
Nothing happened.
They had no idea how special this bomb was.
Down in the shuttle bay the aliens cautiously approached the bomb. Climbing over the heap of twisted metal, one of them reached out for the tiny, blackened sphere of destruction, and picked it up. Underneath its charred exterior, there was a click, and a panel slid away. Below there was a tiny computer screen. It flashed green for a second, and then a message scrolled across. It said, quite simply;
'This is your warning. Do it again and this bomb really will go off...'
There was another click, and the bomb squirmed in the alien's hand. It jumped away, and there was a flash of blinding light. Instinctively the aliens ducked, but when they could hear nothing they looked up again. A chilling blue cloud was sweeping over the wrecked ship, and where it passed twisted metal became gleaming chrome once again. It swept out past the ship, and disappeared back into space. As the bewildered aliens stared at newly restored radar screens, they could see a pale circle spreading out through the galaxy. In its centre was the ship, and as it moved ever outwards it passed over an empty patch of space, and stopped. There was a beep, and a dot appeared in the empty sector. It was the recently destroyed planet, homeworld of the dreadful missile, now recreated anew. Though there was no sign of the devastation that had plagued it, in their hearts the reincarnated citizens knew what had really happened.
The last remaining plate of the bomb flashed again, and another message flashed across. Friends, repent your sins, your deeds need no longer be bad... With that the plate disappeared.
Suddenly, the circle vanished and the ship's engines powered up, even though the aliens had never even touched a button. The great vessel swung around, and the ship blasted out of that particular area of space, leaving things behind as if it had never arrived, and returned to Earth, where its crew ended their days in peace.
The only ones who did not survive, in the end, were the officers. All the debris of the escape pod, all trace of their existence was wiped out, leaving no mark from their cruel legacy of destruction. Now the world was so much better - or was it?
My Life
ELLEN O' BRIEN
2ND PRIZE (AGES 13-17 CATEGORY)Afterwards there was nothing but silence. Out of the shadows he would come, this huge grotesque creature that haunted me. Other people's dreams involved robbers and strange men killing them. Mine was no dream but a living nightmare. I lived and slept in fear.
My mother began to weep as the blood oozed from her brittle, hard worn hand. I could not believe my eyes. The monster had attacked her in front of me. When it had done its worst it stormed out of the house.
'Lisa, dinner is ready.'
...Write to you later. Love Lisa.My parents were going through rough times. There was no need to tell anyone because my mother's emotions told the real story. Her eyes were sunken in her head, her hair pulled back severely. Lines were etched on her delicate brow. The vivid crease of skin was just one of the hallmarks of her many wounds. Her left arm had severe bruising and the indentation on her hand had not healed properly, as a result of being cut with glass.
After dinner I cleaned up but left the monster's place. The chair was pulled out and slightly tilted, leaning against the table for support. The monster's knife lay sprawled carelessly on the floor, the dry blood still covering it. The untouched bills lay on the left while the bank sheet, ripped in two, was on the right.
My mother never had time to spare. She worked morning, noon and night and the monster drank all her money away. Every time it drank there was a reign of terror in the house. I would clench my teeth, close my eyes and grip my arms with my hands acting like a shield. I would lie in my bed, immobile, wishing that it would forget about me when it would come in the front door. But, without fail, it continued its routine. It would put its cigarette out on my arm and hard, loud, thumps would be thrown at me, like darts. While my body was being battered my mind was racing away, anxiously seeking that safe secure place where I was free, soaring high above my body, out of reach of the pain and then blessed oblivion...
Thursday, 14 June, 9.00pm.
Dad has not arrived home. Mum is lying awake beside the dimmed fire, gazing at the last few twigs dwindling away like her life. Dad has an effect on people, he can explode like a bomb and wreak havoc but still Mum waits for him anxiously hoping she can cope with him.Friday, 15 June, 1.00am.
He came back, unlatched the gate and opened the front door, raving to himself. He was like an angry fire, when you feed it with sticks it blazes and roars at you. The equivalent of my father's sticks was drink. I could hardly breathe. It felt as though a band of iron was tightening around my chest as he bellowed to me. Hesitantly, I placed one foot in front of the other, every step drawing me closer to him. It was as though he had a rope and was reeling me in.He hit me across the face until I fell to the cold floor. Then he proceeded to kick me. I did not cry, I just lay there numb, watching in astonishment as my mother threw herself at him screaming. Like a lion protecting its cub she scratched, kicked and hit him with all her feeble strength. For an instant the monster was stunned, then it emitted a blood-chilling yell and lunged at her. I stayed huddled in my dark corner as angry, hot, tears streamed down my face. I tried to block out the yelps for help that bounced off the walls like a ping-pong ball, feeling guilty for doing so. Then they faded into nothingness. Before the welcome darkness enveloped me I realised Mum had not known about the monster's treatment of me.
My mother will not get a divorce or a restraining order because she is scared of how he will react, but after tonight I will begin drawing the lines. This is my life.
Aunts and School can be Killers!
EMILY CARSON
1ST PRIZE (AGES 8-12 CATEGORY)Afterwards there was nothing but silence. People just stood waiting for somebody to say something. In fact you could really hear silence laughing, big hearty laugh that showed that silence had won and that there was going to be quiet for a while.
Nobody heard silence laugh, but it was just as well because silence does have a very annoying laugh. Finally it was broken; silence wiped the grin off its face and slunk back into the corner. "Adjourned" said the announcer. Everyone slipped back into whispering about what he had just said and gesturing with their fingers to his back. But as most children know people in high places have eyes in the back of their heads that are buried underneath the gel and the glue for the toupee. "I make no rules, I just deliver them", the announcer said in his usual sour manner. There was more whispering and more gesturing before the announcer could spot them. Most kids believe that the eyes in the back of the head are kitted out with a small pair of x-ray specs. Probably because with amount of glue needed to stick a toupee on a grown-ups head is a lot, and because grown-ups have a tendency to go mad with hair gel when the kids aren't watching.
Anyway so that was that. No more fun ever. That was what he was saying if you cut the speech to its lowest terms. I got that expression from over the years being told to "cut down the fraction down to its lowest terms before I cut you" by various teachers. Some with severe kicks from their pregnant stomachs, and a couple by teachers with a bad dose of smoker's cough that all had a problem with me from the start. Lowest terms are now something imprinted into my brain with a cow brand in the "must remember" section. Along with "feed the cat", "be nice to Auntie Edith" and "you can't feed babies grass".
Everyone was starting to drift home in hope of their parents writing a very angry letter. But deep down they knew it wouldn't work. If you told them that you had to work two hours extra in school you'd think they'd be nice and ask the school not to change the times, but parents today would love you to be doing back breaking labour in school, and have to weed the garden when you come home. Parents are just like that. That's why they spell it Parents because that's what they do pare away at the different, spontaneous you, and leave someone with baggy, bloodshot eyes that dress in a suit and tie every day and go to work in a normal, boring car and have a normal, boring lunch.
I finally decide to go home. Auntie Edith's coming over. I'm trying to remember her three rules. Oh yes that's right "always be polite, always be seen and not heard, always be willing to do jobs". She calls these her three rules of conduct. In English that means: 1. Say absolutely nothing except please and thank you, if you do expect belting. 2. If you breathe too loud expect belting and possibly it would be safer to lock yourself inside a cupboard. 3. Be your auntie's slave for the day. The last one is kind of like one of those holidays. The only difference is that it is no more fun than scrubbing the toilet all afternoon (I have to do that as well). That is basically what a day with Auntie Edith comprises of. Not to mention having to help her up the stairs to the loo when the million cups of tea she drinks comes down on her bladder. Mum and Dad believe that it's character building. But then let me remind you that these people would have me walk around with a spoon on my nose, my eyes covered and have me balancing on a ball at the same time, and say it was character building.
I'm turning the corner. I can see Auntie Edith's car pulled up on the side of the road. The hair on my neck stands on end. That's what Auntie Edith's car can do to you. To be precise that's what Auntie Edith's hunk of junk can do to you. Lots of people would have to see the key in the ignition and the steering wheel before they were sure it was a car. I sit down on the ground and pulled out my homework. That's what the thought of Auntie Edith's car can do to you as well. It always makes me nauseous. My brother got sick in it last time. That doesn't really help the stench either. I always carry a clothes peg in my pocket in case it gets to me. I open up my book, it's called "The life and works of William Shakespeare" as soon as I open it I could hear the yawns of people before me that had to read this book that had also fallen asleep over it. The thought of reading that also made me nauseous. I got up and tried to force myself to walk home. I could see the plants in our garden drooping from the stench of the car. Auntie Edith has a habit of parking in front of people's driveways so that they can't get in or out, which goes to show she knows that nobody likes her.
In the end I finally got inside. Auntie Edith was asleep thank the lord. Mum and Dad thought the extra hours in school were, (wait for it) character building. I could smell Auntie Edith so I took the clothes peg out of my pocket. I wore my nose like that for the rest of the day. It just goes to show that Auntie's and school can be killers. Am I right? I thought so, and that would be a normal day in my house. Probably.
SADHBH MARRON
2ND PRIZE (AGES 8-12 CATEGORY)Afterwards there was nothing but silence. The witch has whispered those two fatal words, "turkey, turkey". Suddenly they had scrawny, clawed feet, beaks and feathers! The witch had turned Megan and Niall into turkeys!
Everyone in West Dennis played tricks on the witch. Megan and Niall had been dared to fill her postbox with water and now they had been transformed. "I only like polite children" said the witch. Now they knew that she had magical powers. Megan scratched herself to make sure that it was not a dream. Yes it was real. What were they supposed to do? They waddled back to their house. Their mum was cooking dinner. She opened the oven then turned around. "Oh", she said, looking surprised. "Niall must have gone to the shops and bought two turkeys but they are alive. Ah well, good thing I was taught how to pluck a turkey on the farm!"
"Uh-Oh" thought the kids. They ran outside and around the garden, back into the house and outside again. By this stage their mum decided to give up. "I'll just go to the shop and get two dead ones", she muttered. "The witch had to turn us into turkeys the day before Christmas" said Niall. "I cluck know cluck" said Megan.
"She only cluck cluck likes polite cluck children. We will cluck have to write cluck her a note to say cluck we are sorry cluck". They had to go upstairs to write on the computer by pecking with their beaks as they could not hold a pen. " We are really sorry and have learned a valuable lesson, yours truly Megan and Niall".
They then went to the witch's house and pecked at the door. The witch opened it. She took the note out of Niall's beak, read it and smiled. She pointed her finger towards the children and they regained their human form in an instant! "Oh, I almost forgot" said the witch, she got a can of coke and gave it to Niall. "I know how thirsty these spells can make a person". Niall took a huge gulp and then did the loudest burp ever! Then the witch whispered "pig, pig" and closed the door on his snout.
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