More Africa

6 Primates Who Don’t Belong at the VMF (But Might be Cool to Have Here Anyway)

The VMF is designed for vervet monkeys, as well as one very adorable pear-addicted samango. However, imagine just for one moment what if it would be like if other monkeys and apes came by to stop by for a visit. What primates would be cool to have around….and what ones would be about as much fun as a red roman in a g-string? Buoyed by the idea, I have poured through my collection of pirated David Attenborough films and eaten at least fourteen “Crazy Monkey” ice-creams (thanks for the tip, Dan) in an attempt to discover who we want to visit the VMF, and which primates are probably left to drink their banana smoothies in peace. My findings are as follows.
1. Rafiki
From: The Lion King
Species: Mandrill
Why I’d like him at the VMF
As the wise shaman of the pride lands, old Rafiki seems like a wonderful chap to have around, especially if you have a son that wants to sing catchy Elton John songs with meerkats and warthogs rather than fulfil his royal duties. Also; he knows kung-fu, meaning that no-one will dare leave an unwashed dish beside the sink again.
Ahh, wait a minute….
The VMF already has one cranky old male monkey. His name is Ghosty, and I can’t see him being willing to give up any of his grooming time. Rafiki might also resent the fact that his face is tattooed on the arm of jammy pool-owner from Stoke.
2. Flying Monkeys
From: The Wizard of Oz
Species: Um…flying?
Why I’d like them at the VMF
As minions for the Wicked Witch of the West it is pretty obvious that the flying monkeys don’t have any problems taking orders, which would certainly come in handy when giving out meds. They also probably know where to find some good farm girls/scarecrows/lions/tin-men/singing midgets in case the VMF should ever require any.
Ahh, wait a minute….
Imagine Grouch. Now imagine about fifty of her, all with wings and funny little hats. Now try not to burst into tears.
3. Curious George
From: The Curious George book series
Species: I looked this up on Wikipedia and even they didn’t know. Try asking Dan.
Why I’d like him at the VMF
The cheeky hero of several children’s books, Curious George is the type of monkey/ape/some-random-hairy-thing that would be loads of fun to have around, and would no doubt fit in great with Tj and all the other youngsters. His love of yellow may also encourage more blonds to visit the VMF.
Ahh, wait a minute….
Curious George also once appeared in a film with Will Ferrel once, which may cause several VMF staff members to try and strangle him out of jealousy. Plus; I don’t own any yellow clothes.
4. Donkey Kong
From: Nintendo video games
Species: Gorilla
Why I’d like him at the VMF
With dozens upon dozens of video games to his credit, it is quite obvious that DK isn’t afraid of a little hard work, especially when it comes to moving barrels or scaring off obnoxious Italian plumbers. The snappy neck-tie that he has taken to wearing in recent years would also add a touch of class to the VMF.
Ahh, wait a minute….
Having Donkey Kong visit would be fun. Having Donkey Kong, Diddy Kong, Dixie Kong, Cranky Kong, Funky Kong, Kiddie Kong and the rest of the 147 members of the Kong family want to drop by….well, that’s just a lot of bananas (though they would probably still make less mess than the German boys).
5. King Kong
From: King Kong (trust me)
Species: RRRRRRRBBG (Really Really Really Really Really Really Really Big Bloody Gorilla)
Why I’d like him at the VMF
Have you ever worked alongside anyone that you’ve wanted to dispose of via sacrificing them to a enormous primate in a blood-thirsty tribal ceremony? God knows I have! (Seriously Alex; don’t touch my toothpaste again). In addition to this, Kong (aka: king of Skull Island, the eighth wonder of the world, Sir Kongsalot) is also great at warding off intruders and unwanted pests (eg: spiders, snakes, tyrannosaurus rex’s).
Ahh, wait a minute….
Would have to go through more food than all the 500+ vervet monkeys combined, which would really suck if you got stuck on a special diets shift. He might also be a bit amorous around any blondes.
6. Dr Zaius
From: Planet of the Apes
Species: Orangutan
Why I’d like him at the VMF
Somewhere in Earth’s future Dr Zaius works as both the Minister of Science and Chief Defender of the Faith. Clearly, this is one ape that isn’t lacking in brains. Such a brilliant scientific mind could certainly be put to some great uses at the VMF, eg: creating new alternative medicines, thoughtfully studying vervet social infrastructures, trying to make the toilets smell nicer etc
Ahh, wait a minute….
Did I mention that he hates humans? Like; really really really hates them? I can be pretty grumpy at six in the morning after a cold shower, but I’m quite sure that I’ve never referred to humanity as “walking pestilence” before. Such an attitude, whilst okay in isolation, probably isn’t going to work out in an environment where you are sharing a confined space with approximately thirty to forty other people, which might make me skip on asking the Doctor around for a visit.
Oh; and he’s a ginger.

Matthew Chard

Winter’s Wrath

The opening from one of my short stories – please let me know if you would like to read more!

Tsai held the weight of the leather pouch in his hand, its few coins slipping between his skeletal fingers.

“Well, are you ready old man?”

Carefully, he put the money away in a pocket of his ragged cloak and looked at the road ahead. It was a cold morning, and the air clung damply to his skin. A shroud of fog hung over everything, hiding all but the next ten steps and making the world seem smaller, as if nothing existed outside of Tsai and his movements.

“Don’t worry yourself about me.”

“Good.” The man behind Tsai shifted upon his horseback, making the beast stamp its hooves against the ground. Tsai didn’t turn back to face him, but he knew that the man’s face would have been as stern as the winter sky, just as it had been for the last two days of the journey. “The village is just a hundred yards ahead through the mist. I will return in two hours with the rest of your fee – providing you have done what has been promised.”

Once again Tsai felt the weight of the coins. They rested against his side now, their cold metal burning through the pouch and grazing his ribs, each touch a buried sin returning to hurt him. After so long, and despite all the effort that he had put into abstaining from this type of life, he was back again. Brittle, broken down, and ready to risk everything for a fool’s portion of silver. He pulled his cloak around himself and began to move away from the man, walking staff dragging his bent body forward.

“You will see, Patrick. It will be done.”

*****

“I know who you are”

Those were the first words Patrick had said when he had found Tsai. They were the words, upon which hearing, that Tsai had assumed himself to soon be dead.

He had been washing himself in the river, pouring handfuls of icy water over his naked body, when the voice had cut through the morning like a blade. When it reached his ears Tsai’s world seemed to stop. The water around him lay perfectly still, and the creaks and groans of the forest shattered into silence. He could not remember the last time he had heard another human speak.  There upon the banks of the shore, though, was a young man sitting astride his horse not twenty feet from Tsai, a look of grim determination steeling his face. Pulling his hanging robes from a nearby branch, Tsai covered himself and stepped tentatively from the water.

“Who are…”

“Dress yourself, old man. There’s a job for you.”

Remembering the condescension in Patrick’s voice, Tsai gripped his walking stick tighter, old knuckles glowing white against the rotting wood. For over twenty years he had remained hidden, living behind the trees and away from the sight of others, allowing the world to move on unaffected as he slowly slid into his decrepitude. Happily forgotten. All that had changed now that someone had found him, though. He could no longer be a passing haze, or like rain that had seeped into the earth. Either he took the job, or Patrick would spread word of his finding, bringing others to come and see his elderly body and test his waning defences. Tsai was a flesh and blood man, and would have to stand and face the world that he had tried so hard to escape from.

“All my sins…”

“Wandering Death” they had called him in his former life. Any village that he entered and placed his curse upon had been ravaged by plague. Fertile, flourishing townships had been transformed into wastelands through the power of his words, their streets strewn with the blinded and diseased carcasses of those he had been commissioned to damn. He had watched ripe flesh whither and rot to the bone. He had stood by as grown men’s eyes clouded over and they cried for his mercy, offering him all he could carry if he would only spare them. This reputation had made him more feared than any king or beast or god in these lands, and with the fear of the people resting in his palms came all the power that one could desire. Such opportunities had not been lost on Tsai. For over a decade he had sold his services to whoever had put the money in his hand, cursing town after town as men sought to buy his allegiance and smite their foes. No job was refused providing that the price was right. He was a weapon for hire and the world around him had been bent to his very will.

But everything was different now. Tsai’s power was broken. Twenty-Two years had passed since he had last held any sort of influence, a generation where he had turned from a master of kings into nought but a regretful old man.  For; unbeknown to the world, the pestilence that Tsai was able to weave and control was not birthed by sorcery. People would look upon his black reputation and lean, sharp face and brand him a wizard, but the truth was much more earthly. He was not magic; just cunning, devious, and most of all, fortunate. In a place known only to him – down a road, across a river, through a forest – there was a cave. Inside that most humble of places Tsai had found the weapon from which his plague had been built. It was a small weed, which climbed up and along the cave walls, its sour green leaves shining dimly in the near-dark. Tsai had never seen anything like it, and upon experimenting with it he came to realize that the plant contained toxic elements, with one or two scattered leaves enough to kill a pond of fish. Seizing the opportunity, Tsai began to use it against people.  In under a year he had defiled over a dozen villages, watching coldly as they inhaled the deadly vapours to which he found himself immune, their skin swelling and spotting with blisters, while their eyes whitened into blindness. With the plant at his disposal Tsai was a colossus, the world around him just a play-thing where everything, and everyone, was expendable.

Then, one day, his cave was no more.

African Animal Action

Angel of Thorns

Please find attached the first few pages of my story Angel of Throns. Let me know if you wish to see more!

It was three-thirty in the morning when the voices started.

Kane looked at himself in the mirror as the bathroom light slowly flickered to life. Angry red lines criss-crossed his eyes, while his cheeks sagged under four days worth of stubble. The pain caused by a lack of sleep gripped at his forehead and he slumped against the sink in front of him, feeling the cold porcelain stun his skin.  He was exhausted. Every muscle across his arms and back ached, and his mind seemed to swim in a soup of fatigue. None of that mattered, though. They were calling for him, and when the voices started crying out his name he had no option but to go to them.

Tomorrow, Kane would be in Myskata. Tomorrow, he would be trying to save those who were broken.

*****

After barely twenty minutes of searching he had found his first one.

They lay at the base of a cliff on the western beach, their body crumpled on the sand into a foetal position. Small waves broke and lapped at the body, tasting its weathered skin before retreating back to the ocean. Carefully, Kane lowered himself down the rocky cliff-face, his lean body shifting lower and lower until he stood over the creature.  By his count it was somewhere around the seventieth creature that he had found on the island, but as he looked down upon it, Kane could only think how similar it looked to all the rest. The same small and hairless humanoid body, covered in the same pale skin and the same ragged garments. The same wide, pale eyes stared up at him, and the same rich blood poured from its wounds. Most importantly of all, though, the same thorn-encrusted vines held their wrists pinned tightly together.

And that’s why Kane was there..

It had been two and a half months since he had first woken in this world, transported in his dreams by forces that he had given up trying to understand. Upon arrival, the first thing he had seen in Myskata was identical to the sight he looked upon now; one of the creatures he called the broken lying in pain with its hands bound by the violet coloured weed. Kneeling down, Kane did exactly as he had done that initial day; he reached out to touch the plant. As soon as his fingers brushed it its vibrant colour began to fade. Within only a few seconds the vines had turned to an ashen grey, and then cracked and crumbled into dust. Letting out a moan of relief, the broken sat up slowly and held its hands in front of its face, examining where the vines had just been. As it did so a flood of colour rushed into its body, the pale complexion becoming a sandy yellow as its health returned. After it had finished looking at its hands, it raised its gaze and looked straight at Kane.

Many emotions had swirled through Kane as he looked into the pale eyes of those who he had saved. The first few times he had been scared, fearing that the broken he had freed would turn on him, like a rabid dog let loose from a cage. As he learned that he had nothing to fear from the broken, however, fear had morphed into curiosity, and he tried to make communication with the creatures in a hope to better understand their plight. Always, though, they had spurned his attempts, clicking away in a language Kane had no hope of understanding before scampering off into the distance. Today, he just stared back at the broken, a numb sense of duty at the forefront of his mind. He had done well; but there was still so much left to do. Turning his back, Kane began his climb back up the cliff, leaving the saved broken to run back to wherever it had came from.

Somewhere on the island, there would be others waiting to be found.

*****

Sitting with his back against a tree, Kane looked up at the blazing Myskata sun. It sat plump and high up in the sky, indicating that the day on the island was somewhere around half-way over. Throughout his travels he had come to learn that that normally only meant another three or four hours of daylight, and that he had little time to rest if he wished to get anything accomplished. Groaning at the thought, he wearily took another swig from his water bottle before returning to his work.

Spread out on the ground in front of Kane was a crude map that he had drawn of the island, with crosses marking the places where he had found the broken. So far today he had added four more. Three of his findings had been alive, but for the last one he had been too late, the body already having grown cold when he had chanced upon it in a shallow ditch. Once upon a time he had made efforts to properly farewell the dead, even going so far as to dig shallow graves and mumble a few words of respect. Now, though, Kane knew that so many more of the creatures lay waiting for his hands of healing, and dared not waste time on such spiritual indulgences. He would simply break their bonds and scamper off in search of the next broken, knowing that there would inevitably be more waiting for him.

Because there was always more. Always.

Kane folded his map and put it into his pocket, then drew out a small notebook from his backpack.  Carefully he flicked through to most important page; the page which contained everything which Kane had learned about Myskata. Slowly and methodically, he began to read over his handwritten facts for what must have been the hundredth time, hoping that somewhere amidst them lay the key to the island’s secrets.

1. I first came to Myskata on the 12^th December. I went to bed in my home but woke up here
2. When I actively think of Myskata I am brought here again. When I return to my normal life I have physically been gone. Myskata is a reality
3. There are creatures here called the broken which are being tied in vines that are poisonous to them. I hear their cries when I leave Myskata. When I touch the vines they break and the broken are freed. If I don’t, the broken die.
4. I have not seen any creatures on Myskata besides myself and the broken. We are alone together.

For a few moments Kane mulled over the points, before closing the book and hiding it back in his bag. It still didn’t make any sense. He had made so many journeys now, yet Myskata seemed determined to remain forever a mystery, never daring to give him even a hint lest he tear back its enigmatic layers.  Even the proper title of the island itself was unrevealed to Kane, with the name “Myskata” just something he had dreamt up himself. There was no true knowledge or understanding; just days of blindly searching, and creatures that for some reason needed him as their saviour. Thinking about that, Kane gave a dry laugh and spat on the grass.

“Saviour”

There were a number of reasons why he kept coming back to Myskata. On one hand, he did want to help the broken, and felt genuine pity at their plight. Each time he heard one of their cries something seemed to tear inside him. At the same time, though, Kane was also painfully aware that one of the key reasons he kept returning was because he had nothing worthwhile back in the real world. His last job had made him redundant half a year ago, leaving him aimless and broke in a depressed economy. Already an introvert, Kane had drifted away from those few people that he knew, spending most days pointlessly floating around his apartment. Sometimes he would not even bother to crawl out of bed. The world had no use for him, and consequently, he found himself turning his back on it, drifting further and further away from any sort of meaningful existence. Then, one night he had fallen asleep and everything had changed.

When Kane’s eyes had closed the last thing they had seen was the cracks in his ceiling. When they opened again, he was sitting in the middle of a Myskata field, face-to face with one of the broken and their enslaving vines. Ever since that day his life had followed a similar pattern. He would be asleep in his apartment, and suddenly he would start hearing the moans of the broken filter into his dreams. Once that begun, Kane would cast aside the banality of his everyday existence and return to Myskata, pushing himself to make some sort of difference. Saving the broken gave him a sense of purpose – something he hadn’t felt back in the real world for so long – and he used that to spur himself into action. There were creatures relying on him, and he could not afford to let them down. Once arriving in Myskata, though, such energy would slowly start to dwindle as he came upon broken after broken without discovering any worthwhile remedy to the problem. No matter how much effort he exerted he never seemed to even make a dent in the number of captives. It was then that words such as “saviour” would start sounding very hollow indeed, and Kane would find himself where he was now: tired, frustrated, and just about ready to crawl back to his miserable earthly existence.

Shielding his eyes, Kane looked back up at the sun once more. There was less than half a day left now. Taking one last sip of his water, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and tried not to think about how heavy it was as he begun jogging towards the far side of the island.