Winning Entry - Chapter Three

This week's author was Maureen Crisp. You can download Maureen's FABO bookmark by clicking on the image.

Over to you, Maureen:

One of the hardest jobs I had this week was to pick a winner from the entries in ‘Chapter Three, What you think happens next in the Fabo Story....’

I was laughing so hard at the jokes I had to get up, go away and calm down.... Poor Remy. Poor Dad...he fainted, got wacked on the head, tripped, lost his temper, sleepwalked then drove his car over a fence... and was chased by purple and green aliens.

Everybody clearly worked hard on their writing. It is difficult picking up on another writer’s style and continuing on, which is why I didn’t copy the style of Kyle’s first chapter...all that hard work. However all of you worked hard and I was impressed by how well you managed to keep Giles and Miranda in character...two huge gorillas from space talking in 1920’s slang...that is tricky writing.

We are seeing some amazing writing coming through our inbox. This makes our jobs harder as writers and judges...but don’t mind us whining, secretly we are having a lot of fun. As each chapter goes up or when each entry comes in, there is a lot of talk among the team about what will happen next and that is the way a story should go. Keep that tension up.

Some of the entries have a written very fast feeling about them. We know that writing to a tight deadline is hard. If you can, take some time to read your story out loud. Often you think you wrote the whole sentence down but when you read it back, out loud to yourself, you find that you left half of it in your head. It happens to me all the time.

This weeks winner is Angus from Auckland Normal Intermediate. Angus wins a copy of my book Bones and some other goodies too.

No one guessed it was me...hahahahahahaha. So that might make it easier to guess the mystery writer of Chapter 3....or maybe not....

- Maureen

------------------------ FABO NEWS ------------------------

The FaBo Story project started with a bunch of writers saying wouldn’t it be a great idea to write a story where no one knows what is going to happen next.... Illustrators always want to know what happens next so in exchange for a sneak preview they are volunteering to illustrate the next chapter for us. To keep them under control we are only letting one illustrator at a time do an illustration. So now we have a team of New Zealand’s favourite illustrators gnawing their paintbrushes saying, “When is it my turn?”

Over the weeks you will see the website change and grow, up or sideways...(like Giles and Miranda really.) This is because as the FaBo story is gathering steam in popularity we are finding we need more carriages on the train to hold all the people wanting to jump on board. If you see an access denied message that is because our techy guy is putting up new stuff...we find out when you find out so we are all in the same carriage....so who’s driving the train?

Click here for the winning entry for Chapter Two

Chapter Three

by Angus Smith (Auckland Normal Intermediate)

CHAPTER THREE: EARTHQUAKES AND PURPLE ALIENS

‘What in the name of Michael Jackson’s ghost is going on?’

Remy’s dad exploded like some sort of human volcano, whirling around the kitchen as if he were a spinning top. Strangulated half-words poured out of Dad’s mouth, as Remy looked on in dismay. Giles didn’t particularly help by clapping the poor man on the back and exclaiming, ‘I say, old chap! Top hole, these living quarters you have here, wot wot!’

This proved all too much for Dad, who promptly fainted. Beginning to feel rather overwhelmed himself; Remy hauled his father up from the patchwork of empty detergent bottles and jam jars that littered the lino. Then Miranda decided to lend a hand.

‘Dear, dear, this can’t do.’ Miranda smiled jovially, roughly hauling Dad up. His arm was nearly wrenched from its socket.

‘Careful!’ Remy yelled in dismay, running to catch his dad as Miranda let go of him. ‘Mum! Where’s mum?’

‘You mean the female earthling, wot?’ Giles frowned, rummaging through the kitchen cupboard. ‘The one I ate?’

‘You what?’ Remy stood aghast, barely believing what he was hearing.

‘Collateral damage,’ Miranda shrugged, adjusting the hideous outfit she wore, ‘‘Tis only natural, wot!’

‘What have I ever done to you?’ Remy screamed agitatedly, stamping up and down helplessly.

‘Is this good musical sound?’ Miranda enquired, holding up a Celine Dion album that she’d pinched from the CD rack.

‘No.’ Remy moaned, rushing over to the sink to fetch some cold water.

‘This?’ Robbie Williams.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’

‘This?’ Cher.

Remy, teetering dangerously under the weight of the overflowing jug he was lugging, stumbled back over to where he’d laid his burly father on the couch. He sloshed the cold water over his father’s face. Turning back to Miranda, he commented, ‘What’s up with your musical taste?’

Coughing and spluttering, Remy’s dad came to. He rubbed his eyes. Hauling himself into an awkward position that could barely qualify as sitting up, he scratched his head.

‘Remy, why am I all wet? Get me a towel, please.’

‘How are you feeling, old chap?’ Giles grinned, leaping down from the kitchen counter and shoving a pot of peanut butter under Dad’s nose.

Remy’s father fainted. Again. Brushing aside potato chip crumbs from the stained couch, Remy plonked himself beside his dad.

‘Any chance of me getting my mum back?’ he asked, becoming resigned to the fact that his life as he knew it was over.

‘It takes an hour or two for me to process my meals, wot!’ Giles told him, swinging from the dangerously fraying light bulb cord. ‘So regurgitation could be possible.’

‘Really?’

Snap. Crash. ‘Owie.’

‘You brought it upon yourself, Giles.’ Miranda tut-tutted, as she moved towards the DVD cabinet. ‘That’ll teach you to disrespect this chap’s property, wot. Silence of the Lambs?’

‘Shut up, please shut up!’ Remy groaned, pulling at his hair in rising hysteria.

‘You want me to shut the window, Guv’ nor?’ Giles asked, crawling up from the floor as he rubbed his bruised noggin.

‘No, I want you to go away!’ Remy snarled, leaping to his feet.

‘No need to overreact, old sport!’ Miranda frowned, stumping over on her gorilla hands.

Remy looked to the floor, ashamed of himself. Maybe he was being a bit too touchy. Stepping carefully over his faintaholic father, the overwhelmed boy gazed out the window. The sky was lit up with a pale yellow dawn glow, the orb rising up over the peaks of the Waitakeres. Then the ground began to shake.

Remy stumbled backwards, collapsing onto the couch. Giles crashed into the kitchen window, smashing it into millions of tiny shards. For a moment the startled alien teetered on the sill, before falling forwards into the kitchen sink. Miranda grabbed the doorframe for support, while Dad slid into the bookcase.

‘What’s going on now?’ Remy asked, staggering across to Miranda. He was beginning to feel strangely disconnected from the growing chaos around him.

‘Well, old chap.’ Miranda began haltingly, looking guilty, ‘The problem with space tourism, wot, is that… er…. OTHERS can follow you.’

‘What ‘others’?’ Remy frowned suspiciously, grabbing onto the sofa armrest as the unearthly earthquakes began again.

‘ER…. Other aliens.’ Miranda grimaced regretfully. ‘Other… nastier aliens.’

‘So,’ Remy began, his nerve beginning to reach boiling point, ‘What you’re saying is that evil diabolical aliens have followed you to my planet, which is completely unprepared for hostile alien activity?’

‘Yes?’

‘Oh morte!’ Giles screeched, leaping out of the sink. ‘Miranda, dear, you have got to look at this bloomin’ sight, wot wot!’

Miranda promptly swung herself up onto the windowsill. A few seconds later she jumped back down again, her face a veritable mask of dismay. Scrabbling across the heaving floorboards, Remy yelled over the noise, ‘What is it?’

Wordlessly, Giles seized Remy roughly by the waist and hoisted him up to window-level. Remy gasped at the thoroughly distressing sight that greeted him. The sun was blocked out by a spaceship, gargantuan in bulk. It was shaped like a wicked flame, polished to a sleek blackness. And it was coming closer.

‘Who are they?’ was all Remy could think to say.

‘That’s not important.’ Giles said quickly, tucking Remy under his arm and running for the door.

‘Hey, put me down!’ Remy screeched, wriggling in the vice-like grip. ‘Just stop this craziness, and I want my mum back!’

‘Miranda, get the sleepy human, wot!’ Giles commanded, kicking down the front door with one casual flick of his foot.

Miranda scooped up the still unconscious Dad and slung him over her shoulder. She pounded after her partner, as Giles leapt smoothly over the cracked old fence. By now the spaceship had completely obliterated the sun, casting dark shadows over the streets. People were spilling from their houses, pointing up at the sky and screaming. It was definitely the apocalypse. Amidst the chaos, nobody seemed to notice the two gorillas and their hostages, leaping away from the neighbourhood. Tirelessly springing over fences and hedges, the two goofy aliens were heedless of Remy’s vomiting.

‘Can you slow down?’ Remy moaned, covering his ears. ‘You’re making me sick!’

Remy sighed as he realised that Giles and Miranda were ignoring him. Glancing across at his father, he grumbled, ‘Dad, how can you stay out during all this?’

It was at that moment when Dad, finally, decided to wake up. Wriggling like a trapped worm, he screeched, ‘What on earth? Is this a dream? Remy, help me!’

‘Just be cool, Dad,’ Remy pleaded desperately, ‘We’ll get through this.’

Then a gigantic purple alien with innumerable slimy tentacles dropped out of the air and landed in front of them. Giles skidded abruptly to a stop. Miranda crashed into his back, sending the gorillas and humans tumbling. Sneering, the sinister extraterrestrial being drew a glowing axe from a thong on its back. Leaping speedily to their feet, Giles and Miranda pounded off the way they had come.

‘Wait!’ Remy screamed, staggering upright. ‘You can’t just leave us!’

But already the pair of alien apes were far away. Glancing behind him, Remy saw that the alien was taking slow, purposeful strides towards him. Pulling his father upright, he started running.

‘Of course, we’re now being pursued by an evil monster!’ Dad moaned, panting alongside Remy.

‘If we find Giles and Miranda, they might be able to protect us.’ Remy said hopefully.

But he knew, deep down, that their efforts were useless. He’d never been a runner, and already he was beginning to fall behind his pater. Even though Dad was older and fatter, his longer stride gave him an edge over Remy. His heart pounding in his ribcage, Remy glanced behind him. He saw with dismay that two other, even larger, green troll-like aliens were dropping out of the sky to join the purple one, who was hot on the human’s heels. Desperately, the terrified boy tried to increase his speed.

‘Well, at least these mutants don’t have any long-range weapons.’ Dad huffed, beginning to tire. ‘Now where are those two monkey things?’

Remy sighed. We are doomed, he though wearily. Bang! We’re dead.

Suddenly, the father-son duo spied a very welcome sight ahead of them. It was Giles and Miranda. They stood about two hundred metres before them on the deserted road, clutching several fearsome-looking kitchen implements. Remy’s heart soared, his spirits rising like never before.

Maybe, just maybe, he thought ecstatically. Maybe if I keep up this pace and don’t stop, I’ll reach Giles and Miranda and I’ll be safe! Yes, I’ll be safe!

Then Remy tripped and fell.

THE END