Worcester Kaleidoscope [Part 1]
Updates, and the first part of a new serial
Hello, my friends!
This month the newsletter from me, Damon Lord, contains updates, and the first part of a serial story I’m writing.
I’m incredibly interested by the serial narrative form (probably due to being a huge fan of the works of Armistead Maupin), so much so that I was invited last minute to give a short talk at Script Haven, Worcester on Charles Dickens’s birthday, the 7th of February. I appeared to an appreciative audience alongside Leena Bachelor (former Worcestershire Poet Laureate) and Ade Couper (former Worcestershire Poet Laureate). Ade Couper read from Dickens’s work, while Leena Bachelor read a letter that he had written from the Swan Hotel in Worcester in August 1858. Interestingly, the Swan Hotel just so happens to be the current location of the literary jewel that is the Script Haven bookshop! I gave a short lecture on how Charles Dickens’s mastery of the serial narrative form has influenced literature and media throughout the ages since, particularly visible in today’s soap operas (with added EastEnders style doof-doofs to signify a cliffhanger!). Afterwards, we held a Q&A session about Dickens and his serial structure.
Here’s a selfie picture of the three of us, taken by Leena Bachelor.
At the beginning of this email, I began by saying “Hello, my friends!” I’m wondering what to call you dear followers/subscribers. Some media celebrities such as Lady Gaga call her fans Little Monsters, while I’ve seen the term Tolkiendil to describe a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien. What do I call you lovely subscribers? Damoniacs? Ugh, that’s a horrid word. Well, that’s perhaps a question for another time.
EVENTS NEWS
Script Haven is fast becoming a haven for all things literary in Worcestershire, and this week I will be at Script Haven (104 High St, Worcester WR1 2HW) again, on the 21st of February on International Mother Language Day at 6:30 p.m. Readers will be performing in a variet of languages (alongside a translation into English), sharing the joys of tongues from around the world. I will be reading in both Esperanto and English, the “O reason not the need!” speech from William Shakespeare’s King Lear. More information is available here: https://www.damonlord.com/langs2024. If you’d like to come along, you can book FREE TICKETS here: https://www.wegottickets.com/event/607677. I hope to see you there!
Story time
In this edition of the newsletter, I begin a new tale, Worcester Kaleidoscope. As I mentioned above, I am fascinated by the concept of serial narrative, so I thought I’d try one out for you, dear readers. Each part will be told from the different perspective of a different character. Mirroring Armistead Maupin’s magnum opus Tales of the City, I aim to tell each part in 800 words. We’ll see how long it goes on for as I begin this . Here’s the first part.
Worcester Kaleidoscope
[Part 1]
Noëlle
Tonight’s the night I finally get to meet Dave!
It’s murder waiting for my shift to finish. A last customer comes in the shop; I could scream. I am the only one on the till. Stacey is in the backroom doing the ordering sheet for next week’s stock.
The white-haired customer with an umbrella shuffles over; scan, scan, two jars of aromatic bath salts for her. It must be the quickest till transaction I will ever do.
“That’s nine pounds ninety eight, please.” I bite my lip waiting.
She fumbles around for coins in her old purse, then leaves.
Stacey came out and nodded at me. “Go on, get off two minutes early. I’ll lock up tonight. I know you can’t wait to meet Dave. See you Monday.”
I run. I couldn’t get my usual parking spot this morning, so I’ve got to get to the St Martin’s Gate car park where I left my car. I hate parking there, there’s usually loads of teens in hoodies hanging around vaping. Funny thing is, I used to be one of them with Kevin.
Dave is coming down from Birmingham by train. He sent me a voice message on WhatsApp to say he’s getting a taxi into the centre of Birmingham. He sounded as nervous as me! He stumbled over his words, can’t wait to meet you, that sort of thing. He was babbling apologies; he couldn’t find a florist in Grand Central. He was worried about missing the train, so he couldn’t leave the station to find flowers. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Daft-head! I want to meet him, see if he is as gorgeous in the flesh as he looks on the dating app and on Insta. I wonder what he looks like under that shirt? He said he goes to the gym twice a week.
Dave is so nice; he pays attention to detail; not like Kevin. Dave even asked if I have the dots over the first E in my name: Noëlle. I do. Dave said it makes me special.
The shops are shut. The few other people in the High Street are going home, looking bloody miserable. I must be the only happy one out tonight!
My friends told me to be careful, signing up for online dating. They were partly right. The odd dick pic or two was enough to put me off men for life. And they were odd. I’ve not had much luck with men since I kicked Kevin out two years ago. Kevin was a shit. He wouldn’t get a job to help with the bills. We went to college together and we moved into my Gran’s old former council house that she bought then left me when she died. After we got our A-level results, Kevin stayed home on his PlayStation day and night, practising for e-sports. I let him be and put up with him through the pandemic; we didn’t have a choice. My Mum kept on at me, but I still gave him chances. There was big money in e-sports, he said, but he couldn’t even beat my little brother on Fortnite. He threw the controller away and stormed off up the hill. I found him later in the dark, on the bench in the nature reserve fields, past the cows up the top of Ronkswood Hill Meadows. I knew it was him, because he had that stupid bright blue light vape thing that stank. I hate vapes now.
Then I clicked with Dave on that new dating app. I still needed to try something different. God, I hope Dave doesn’t vape. I haven’t asked him. There are so many vape shops in Worcester these days, and charity shops in some streets.
So many cars tonight on City Walls Road. How the bloody hell am I going to get through that and up Tolladine Road, get myself sorted and be back in time to meet Dave at seven? Stacey at work is a stupid cow; she should have let me go half an hour early, or let me have the whole afternoon off as I’d asked for yesterday. As it is, I’ve not got long to go home, get myself ready and come back into town to meet him at the restaurant. It’ll take ages to get my makeup right. How will going two minutes early change my life?
Red lights everywhere. Waiting for the green man to cross. I will step out, nothing’s moving. I’ll be all right.
Diddle-dee-daa. Dave’s ringtone!
A car engine roars, pouncing forward at Noëlle.
Her eyes are fixed to her phone.
The car strikes her.
She lifts into the air, then slumps down. Blood flows.
The phone lands a few metres away, shatters.
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
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See you next month!
Damon.