WHY SAMURAI JACK IS THE BEST TV SHOW EVER MADE: THE TOP TEN BEST SAMURAI JACK EPISODES EVER (SEASONS 1-4)

Samurai Jack was a cartoon created by Genndy Tartakovsky (Dexter’s Labortory, The Powerpuff Girls) which originally ran for four seasons in 2001- 2004.

It was then cancelled. However, last year in 2016 came the news that a fifth, final season was being made. You cannot imagine my excitement at this. At the time of writing, the final season is currently airing, with one more final ever episode about to drop this Saturday!

Since I’ve recently finished the third round of revisions on a Young Adult fantasy novel, this piece of writing and post is a bit more light-hearted. It’s about why Samurai Jack is my favourite TV show ever.

Okay, maybe it’s not the best TV show ever made, but I needed a clickbait title, and it’s definitely a contender for the best TV cartoon ever made.

What’s the big deal about Samurai Jack, then?

I was introduced to Samurai Jack as a teenager, I think by my brother and his fervent recommendations, whom as usual I at first ignored (sorry, Simon!). But when I eventually watched the show for myself later, I was spellbound.

I will struggle to communicate how compelling I find Samurai Jack is and how much its symbolism resonates with me.

When I was working as a church outreach worker in primary schools, I once designed a whole series of afterschool clubs based on watching Samurai Jack episodes and discussing possible Christian parallels with them with the kids afterwards. The children who came were en-rapt, and even the naughtiest kids from my most difficult school sat enchanted by the show and were then prepared to discuss possible spiritual connections with it afterwards! Including the non-Christians!

In a similar vein, I once put on a Samurai Jack episode screening night for my friends where we watched a bunch of episodes and then I explained and we discussed possible Biblical links that could be made to aspects of it. Because that’s the sort of weird person that I am… I’ve forced housemates, friends, family members all to endure my obsession with Samurai Jack, but they have all come around to seeing that it is brilliant. And now my wife has to put up with it too, but so has she!

So why exactly is Samurai Jack so good?

Here’s my explanation (similar to what I’ve done with the cult videogame ‘The Way’ in this blog post, which actually has lots of similarities to Samurai Jack too) and then a list of my favourite episodes.

1. THE SYMBOLISM

This is my main point. The basic premise of Samurai Jack is that an evil demonic force called Aku appears in feudal Japan. A samurai prince, of unknown name, is given a magic sword and takes on Aku. The samurai defeats Aku, but just at the crucial moment, Aku opens a portal in time and throws the samurai into the distant future.

When the samurai arrives in the future, he discovers that Aku has taken over the entire world. Some bystanders give him the nickname ‘Jack’, which sticks, and he sets out on a quest somehow to return to the past and undo the future that Aku has created.

This basic premise is probably best explained in the recurrent prologue to every episode of seasons 1-4 in the voice of its lead antagonist (the voice actor for whom sadly passed away):

“Long ago in the distant past, I, Aku, the shape-shifting master of darkness, unleashed an unspeakable evil, but a foolish samurai warrior stepped forth to oppose me. Before the final blow was struck, I tore open a portal in time and flung him into the future, where my evil is law. Now the fool seeks to return to the past and undo the future that is Aku.”

Could you ask for a more Christological metanarrative? Well, probably, yes, but it is still a very strong one. From a Christian perspective, what we have here is essentially a Satan figure (the word ‘Aku’ just means ‘evil’ in Japanese), an everyman Christ-figure / monomythic hero (Jack) and an epic quest involving good vs. evil, self-sacrifice and holding to hope in the face of trial, opposition and despair in an alien land.

That’s a perfect grand guiding concept to tell a story rich in symbolism resonant  of spiritual realities (whether you see them as Jungian archetypal aspects of the collective unconscious or, as I do and I believe you should, metaphysical truths accurately described by the Christian worldview).

But it’s not just in terms of its overall narrative that Samurai Jack is rich in symbolism. Also within this overaching story, the smaller, individual short stories it tells are full of more specific symbolism and powerful themes, as I will endeavour to show when I discuss some individual episodes below.

2. THE ATMOSPHERE

A trademark motif of focusing in on a bird or another wild creature for a long part of the shot, until it eventually flies or scampers away. Unique sound effects used to portray psychological events. An emphasis on the seasons and weather. Long periods of silence. Still landscapes. Did I mention we are talking about a cartoon here? Samurai Jack has all of these things. It builds tension irresistibly throughout almost every episode, creating a highly immersive atmosphere.

3. THE ARTWORK

The drawing and animation in Samurai Jack, although it was still finding its feet in its first season, is beautiful. It employs hand-drawn backgrounds, Japanese-influenced paintbrush stills, and wide shots of nature, and often switches up its art style in a completely non-jarring way between or even within episodes, in keeping with the context and themes. It is a work of art. This is not an exaggeration.

4. THE ACTION

Samurai Jack has amazing, intricately choreographed action sequences. Sometimes for an entire episode there is no or very little dialogue! And we still  find ourselves on the edge of our seats for 20 minutes. When it comes to action sequences, in a sense you can do more in a cartoon than you can in live action, because you are only limited by what you can draw and make look realistic on the page. Samurai Jack demonstrates this many times over.

*

Having gushed enough about it now, here is a list of my favourite Samurai Jack episodes and a brief explanation of some of what I find to be their theological correspondences, as examples. This is my own list and is purely subjective. There are other best episode lists out there, but I have picked my own favourites (although lots of these overlap with what are on the other best episode lists too). I have stuck to Seasons 1-4 because I am most familiar with those, because not everyone will have seen Season 5 yet, and because Season 5 is more of a single continuous story rather than a series of self-contained short stories.

TOP TEN BEST SAMURAI JACK EPISODES (SEASON 1-4)

10. EPISODES I-III: THE BEGINNING

Okay, three episodes for the price of one here, but they all fit together as a continuous story as the ‘Premiere Movie’ which introduces the concept of Samurai Jack, so they are essential viewing for any Jack fan or anyone looking into the series. My particular highlight is the extended montage where Jack, having been sent away to do so by his mother, travels the world as he grows up, training and learning in all the different countries he passes through with a network of different rulers his parents are a part of. This offers a lovely showcase of many of the different historical cultures of the world: India, Arabia, Africa, China, England, Russia, Scandinavia, and more. The picture above shows Jack being handed over from his Middle Eastern mentor to his African caretaker. It was this eclectic traveling sequence, celebrating the different cultures of the world, that won over a number of my skeptical housemates to Samurai Jack when I showed it to them!

9. EPISODE VII: JACK AND THE THREE BLIND ARCHERS

This is the first Samurai Jack episode that is pure poetry: Jack has to fight a group of three blind archers who are incredibly accurate and dangerous because of their magically heightened superhuman hearing. They can also fire off hundreds of arrows a minute as evinced by the opening sequence in which we see them absolutely trash an independent attacking army. In order to overcome them, Jack has to blindfold himself and learn to pay attention to his other senses, Daredevil-style, giving an opportunity for a very impressionistic animation set-piece: Jack focuses in on the sounds and feelings around him until he can concentrate on the sound of just one single shattering snowflake. Then, the climax of this episode happens in almost complete silence! It showcases some important lessons about mindfulness, being present in the moment, and paying attention to our senses. I could talk about how Christianity is compatible with that, but that’s another post (there are books out there — google is your friend).

8. EPISODE XLVIII: JACK VS. AKU

A late episode next, and one where the title encapsulates the whole story of Samurai Jack. However this episode is a bit different, as the demonic Aku, for one fight only, promises not to use any of his shape-shifting powers or tricks, and for all intents and purposes appears to limit himself to the physiology of a human. The results are predictable (since Aku is intrinsically deceptive) but fascinating. As well as being ominous, arresting and slightly disturbing, this episode is also very funny. It contains many weird little set-pieces, like Aku trying to order pizza on the phone at the start of the episode, and plot twists centered around whether Aku is or isn’t using his powers in the fight. It is an example of Samurai Jack self-parodying itself in a highly amusing way.

7. EPISODE XXVI: JACK’S SHOES

This is another comic relief episode. In it, Jack’s wooden Japanese shoes are run over and broken by a group of robot bikers and he has to fight them while trying to find some new footwear. The whole episode is worth it just for the appearance of the character whom I will call Hilarious Referee Guy, the proprietor of ‘Foot-Chalet’, who is utterly sincere, endearing, and ridiculous. The bad guys smash up his shop, and he runs out the door, blowing a referee whistle at top volume until he’s blue in the face, and then yells “Foul! Illegal! Stop!” or similar. I crack up every time he comes on.

6. EPISODE XLIV: THE PRINCESS AND THE BOUNTY HUNTERS

The most gripping Samurai Jack episode, in my opinion. In this one, a group of bounty hunters from different cultures around the world (mirroring the first episode), led by the eponymous princess, devise an elaborate cooperative plot to kill Samurai Jack, each telling their own version of the plan, with a corresponding change in the style of the artwork for each retelling. We’ve got some twin Siamese cats, their plan shown through subtle calligraphic brushstrokes. An aboriginal’s plan shown in the style of cave paintings. An American gentleman’s shown like a grainy old Western. A brutish slavic character’s shown through crude crayon drawings. Amazing. The denoument is the most incredibly choreographed action sequence I’ve seen in any media. I won’t spoil anything, but the bounty hunters all put their plans together into one enormous super-plan, and then lay in wait for the samurai in the snow. There is a looong wait. I mean, Tartakovsky has a good few minutes of silence in there — very bold for a cartoon. And when Jack eventually shows up…well, let’s just say it’s all over much more quickly than you might think. Coolness encapsulated. And it’s all the more cool because you have seen how elaborate the bounty hunters’ plan is beforehand.

5. EPISODE VIII: JACK VS. MAD JACK

OK, this is where in my particular list of episodes the symbolism begins to get really rich. There is symbolism in the other episodes I have mentioned so far, but it is less pronounced and this is where we really start to get into it. In this episode, Jack’s anger, hatred and selfishness become so out of control that they become externalised and personified as ablack-and-red version of himself that materialses, ‘Mad-Jack’, whom he has to fight. Mad Jack is Samurai Jack’s Id, or his repressions, or his sinful fleshy nature, whatever you want to call it. So what we have in this episode is a dramatisation of Romans 7 versus Romans 8: of the battle between the selfish, purely fleshy nature and the Spirit-led, higher self in a human being. In the form of two samurai having a sword-fight. Awesome. This is basically the phenomenological experience of my psyche expressed using the symbological lexicon of my nerdy teenage self. Of course, the resolution is a bit more Eastern than Christian, but the imagery was powerful to my teenage self and it is powerful to me now.

4. EPISODE XX: JACK AND THE MONKS

I love this episode so much I only realised later that it was almost certainly a subconscious influence on the first epic fantasy novel I wrote, How Zantheus Fell into the Sky, which starts with a knight trying to climb an insurmountable mountain (and also involves time-travel, of sorts). In this episode, Jack tries to climb an insurmountable mountain, as inspired by three monks whom he meets who are also trying do the same thing, because they believe “truth” is to be found at the top of it. On the climb, Jack faces many horrendous challenges and reaches one of his lowest points, being crushed and defeated by one of the monsters he has to fight on the mountain and ending up lying in a battered and bloody heap. However, still he perseveres. The ending is also very allegorical and evocative, even in Christian terms (though I had a different ending in my novel!): Jack reaches the top of the mountain, but doesn’t necessarily find the ‘truth’ he is looking for. Instead, he sees another, even bigger, mountain, far off in the distance, perhaps symbolising his ongoing heroic quest. You can just hear the barely grammatically correct lyric by 90s UK tween pop band S Club 7 ringing in your ears: “Climb every mountain higher!”

3. EPISODE XIV: JACK LEARNS TO JUMP GOOD

This episode, the first of season 2, is a fan favourite. When I put in on in front of my naughty after-school club children they were instantly won round to Samurai Jack. Just look at those cute little monkeys. What might be less commonly observed is that this episode is also a perfect visual illustration of Irenaean-type responses to the problem of evil, James 1:12, and so perhaps also Romans 8:28. In other words, of theological material that has to do with the idea that the difficult things in life, while they may be really difficult and horrible, can also sometimes grow us and make us stronger. In the episode, Jack meets a group of monkeys who teach him to jump to miraculous heights. To do this, they train him by strapping a series of rocks and boulders on to his arms, legs and feet (this may be a nod to events in the original Dragonball manga).

At first Jack can do nothing and is completely weighed down by the rocks Then, over a long period of time, he slowly starts to be able to move through the pain, until eventually one day he is able to walk, then run, then jump normally with the rocks strapped to him. When one day they untie the rocks from him, Jack finds to his delight that he is able to jump miraculously high–almost to fly. He elates, and dances around, soaring incredibly far up using his newfound near-flight power. And there we have it: a perfect visual metaphor for the idea that sometimes God can use the painful and difficult things that happen to us to make us stronger and lead us to a better outcome overall.

2. EPISODE XL: JACK VS. THE NINJA

The most stylish and aesthetically impressive Samurai Jack episode. In this one Jack has to fight a robotic shinobi, a ninja or warrior of the night, which can hide itself in shadows and darkness. In the climactic sequence of this episode, the art changes to pure black on white (with the odd hint of red) as Jack uses an opposite technique of hiding himself in the light. Really it has to be watched for justice to be done to it. The religious and mythological symbolism of light vs dark is too obvious and primal to spell out here at length.

=2. BONUS ENTRY: EPISODE XLII: SAMURAI VS. SAMURAI

OK, I accidentally miscounted how many favourite episodes I had listed, so this one can be joint second, with the top one following. In this episode Jack is goaded into a duel by an arrogant, bullying pretender “samurai” who is imitating the institution as part of his own aesthetic choices but has completely missed the point of it. In the process, reluctant to fight properly, Jack teaches the imitator “samurai” about humility, gentleness and discipline. This episode as such contains the immortal line, from Jack to the wannabe Samurai when he is schooling him, “To defeat another you must first defeat yourself.” Compare “whoever loses his life will save it” (Mark 8:35) and “I have died and it is no longer I who live, but Christ in me” (Galatians 2:20).

As a result this episode highlights some of the many connections between the samurai Bushido code and New Testament Christianity. I became so interested in these points of connection as a teenager (initially because of Samurai Jack) that I pursued them further and bought books to research them further, including the samurai manuals “Hagakure” (the Book of Fallen Leaves) and “The Book of Five Rings”. I really think there are strong parallels, and occasionally I have seen others make them as well. Maybe this will get its own blog post or article someday. Just a taster: “Samurai” means “servant”, and fedual Japenese samurai lived lives of total self-sacrifice and were prepared to die for their masters. The key difference is that Christians also believe in resurrection, and seem to advocate a bit more joy in the process of self-sacrifice and surrender! But there are parallels nonetheless.

1. EPISODE XLIII: THE AKU INFECTION

And so to my favourite and in my opinion the best ever episode of Samurai Jack. This one returns to the higher self vs. lower self theme of ‘Jack vs. Mad Jack’ (discussed above) but develops it even further. This time, while Jack is fighting with Aku, the demon is sick and ends up accidentally coughing a bit of himself up (gross I know), which Jack inhales. As a result Jack later becomes slowly infected by Aku, until the demon oppresses him, possesses him and completely takes him over, and he has to fight an interior battle to be rid of the infection. This interior battle is portrayed very impressionistically as a visual battle between the dark and light inside Jack’s mind, interspersed with cuts to Jack in the external world talking to himself while he wrestles internally. So here we have Romans 7 vs Romans 8 played out even more vividily, poignantly and arrestingly. It’s sin + evil vs. spirit + goodness, in the heart, mind and body of one person.

I once had a dream very similar to parts of this episode while I was on a mission trip in Africa, and when I was undergraduate student I once showed it to my best friend in order to try to describe how I felt about a certain issue I was dealing with. And this time, the imagery of the resolution and denouement could actually itself be interpreted in a directly allegorical Christian way. I love it!

*

So there we have it: Why Samurai Jack is the best TV show (cartoon) ever made and my top ten (eleven) favourite episodes!

Now go watch it! Buy it when it comes out on DVD! Use it as a starting point to have evangelistic conversations with your friends! 😉

‘PRINCE, TWINS, DRAGON’ IS NOW AVAILABLE ON AMAZON

Prince, Twins, Dragon is now available to purchase on Amazon! Just click here!

It can be read on your Kindle or on the Kindle App on your phone. £0.99 while (infinite) stocks last. Please help me get it up the charts! I promise not to post about this again for a while!

SHORT STORY: LOCKE AND CELES [FINAL FANTASY VI FANFICTION]

Something else from the archives, from many years ago: some Final Fantasy VI fanfiction! I should probably revise this sometime, but here it is in all its unadulterated, green glory! Read here or at https://www.wattpad.com/411342998-selected-short-stories-locke-and-celes

(picture credit to Dani Oliver, check out his awesome sprite art here!)

Locke and Celes

or

How Locke met Celes

Locke, a self-proclaimed treasure-hunter (though some would call him little more than a thief) crept carefully through the secret passageway he had found.

It was late evening. Locke was a member of the Returners, a rebel group that were looking to counter the progress of the Empire of Vector, which was slowly making its way across the Northern Continent. It had taken him a lot to get here; he had been working hard in this, the town of South Figaro, to stymie the military efforts of the Empire, raising underground support, sabotaging equipment, and so on. Now he was attempting to affect his escape—and a very dangerous one it was too: He was currently in a secret passageway which he had found out about from a local that led out of the mansion the Imperial soldiers had taken over and were using as their base in the town.

Getting here had been hard enough in itself—he had had to clobber a patrolling cadet over the head, steal his clothes, and then blag his way into the mansion. The secret passageway itself was behind the obligatory bookshelf; a hidden route out of town that the wealthy owner of the mansion had built and himself made use of when the Empire invaded, according to Locke’s informant. He had just got inside and was making his way along slowly in the semi-darkness. Thankfully it was lit by a few candles. He decided to take off his cadet uniform and change back into his normal clothes, as it would only slow him down.

As he was finishing getting changed he heard voices—the Empire must have found the passageway too! He had changed too soon. He pressed himself up against a wall and reached for his sword, but then he realised where the voices were coming from. A little way along from where he was stood there was a door. He shuffled over to it and the voices got louder. He could make one out.

“—what happens to traitors!” it said. An angry male voice, undoubtedly belonging to a soldier.             Locke realised there was a small window of open space in the door. He risked a look through, and nearly gasped. Inside was a stunning blonde woman, dressed in white armour and a white cape, chained to the wall by her hands and feet. She was being mocked by two soldiers. He could have sworn he had seen her somewhere before…and then he remembered where—she was one of the Emperor’s three Generals!

This was confirmed by the next thing the guard said. “So the mighty Celes has fallen! This is what happens when you put a woman in charge!” The two soldiers laughed.

The woman shot them a dignified look of defiance and said “I’ve not fallen as far as those who would use their strength to oppress the weak.”

“Quiet!” said the second guard. “Did we give you permission to speak?”

“Don’t you know?” The woman continued undeterred. “Kefka’s planning to poison every last man, woman and child in the kingdom of Doma. That’s an atrocity.”

“Shaddup!” The first guard slapped her around the face. The woman made no noise. In fact her gaze only intensified. Locke thought he saw a flicker in her eyes where she might have noticed him, but if she did she did not show it. Maybe she did not want to alert the guards to his presence.

“Run that mouth while you still can, General,” said the guard. Your execution’s tomorrow. Keep a close watch on her.” He nodded to his comrade.

“Yessir!” said the soldier, standing to attention. The first guard turned, and Locke ducked away from the window just in time not to be seen by him. He held his breath and remained perfectly still as the door opened towards him, stopping inches away from his face, obscuring him. Locke clutched the hilt of his blade at his side.

The door shut, and to his immense relief, the guard went down the corridor in the other direction, away from him. Locke crouched down and followed him, as quietly as he could, at a distance. At the end of the passageway was a door. Locke let the soldier go through it, then waited in silence for a few moments, before going through himself.

The room behind was large, full of clutter, just as poorly lit and, again to his relief, empty. There was a set of stairs in the corner, which, according to his informant, led to another set of passageways and, eventually, the outside world. Locke started to mount them, then stopped. Something held him back.

He looked an old grandfather clock that was stood amongst the mess that filled the room. It was ten o’clock. Locke thought for a moment. Then, he found a small gap between an old armchair and an overturned wardrobe, and lay down on the ground, making sure he was still in view of the grandfather clock.

He waited.

*

Three o’clock in the morning. Locke looked up from his five-hour long semi-slumber, clicked his tongue against the roof his mouth a few times, and then got to his feet. He prized himself on his ability to wake himself up whenever he wanted. It came in useful in his profession.

Thankfully, no-one had come in to the cluttered room so far during the night. He went back out by the door through which he had come in and crept back down the mansion’s secret passageway. He put his face to the door window and smiled. Just as he thought.

The second guard sat slumped on a chair, snoring loudly. The woman was asleep too, her head bowed as she hung chained to the wall. It looked very uncomfortable.

Locke opened the door as quietly as he could manage. He went stiff as metal when it creaked, but nobody woke.

He tip-toed over to the sleeping guard. He took out his sword, and thumped the man on the back of the head with the hilt. The man fell to the floor and sank even further into unconsciousness.

The woman looked up with an intake of breath and opened her eyes.

“And you are…?” was the first thing she said to him.

“I’m Locke.” said Locke. “I’m with the Returners.”

“You’re a Returner…?”

“Yes.”

“I’m…or at least I was…General Celes. Now I’m nothing but a traitor…”

As she was saying this, Locke retrieved the keys from the floored guard’s belt. He walked over to Celes and started to remove her bindings, one by one.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“Well,” said Locke, “we had better get going!”

“You’d take me with you?” said Celes, as Locke finished freeing her. She rubbed her wrists. “No…” She shook her head. “I appreciate it but…even if you got me out, you would never be able to protect me. I’m better off waiting here for the executioner. At least that way I’ll keep my pride.”

“I’ll protect you,” said Locke.

Celes looked at him.

“Trust me! You’ll be fine.” He put a hand on her arm. “Come on, let’s go!”

He turned and made for the door.

Celes paused for a moment, then followed him out.

“Why are you helping me?” she said to Locke.

“Let’s just say you remind me of someone. What’s it matter anyway? I’m helping you because I want to.”

They passed through the cluttered room, up the stairs, and through the next door. Behind it were more corridors, now made of stone, darker and colder. Before long they came to a junction. Locke couldn’t remember the directions he had been given for this part of the escape.

“Left or right?” he said.

“I don’t know!” said Celes. “What sort of rescuer are you?”

“Left,” guessed Locke.

With some hesitation, Celes went after him. They made a few more guesses at the next set of turns, but Locke had no idea where he was going.

Just then a shout rang out. “Jailbreak! Sound the alarm!”

His heart sank. The guard had woken up, or someone else had discovered what had happened. They started running full pelt, taking more turns at random. Some lights appeared ahead of them, and there wasmore shouting.

“Here, take this,” he said to Celes, handing her a dagger. He drew his sword.

And then the soldiers were upon them. Five of them, including the oaf Locke had subdued earlier. He still had the Fireblade that Edgar had given him, and it lit up red with its own fierce light. He blocked the first guard’s blow, then parried another. It was quite easy to hold off the soldiers in the narrow corridor, but he struggled to find an opening to counterattack. Just then he heard a shout from behind him.

“Locke! Get out of the way!”

Surprised, he sprang back and to one side just in time to avoid being hit by a blast of freezing cold air, snow and shards of ice. The blast smashed into the soldiers and threw them back along the corridor, knocking them to the floor, there weapons and bits of their armour frozen solid.

Locke’s mouth dropped open. “How did you…?”

“No time to dawdle!” yelled Celes. “Come on!” she grabbed his hand and started running back down the corridor.

“Hey, who’s rescuing who here?” protested Locke.

“You’re doing great,” said Celes. “The soldiers came from over there, which means we should go this way…”

She took a few more turns, and before they knew it they were climbing a new set of stairs. At the top of these, they came to a trap door in the ceiling. Locke hit it with his scabbard. It opened and they felt the cool of the air outside. Locke clambered up, then helped Celes up too. The trap door shut behind them with a satisfying thud.

They sat down and caught their breath for a moment. They were in the grasslands just outside South Figaro.

After a while, Locke said “Celes, how did you do that thing to those soldiers back there?”

“I’m a Magitek Knight.” said Celes. “I was infused with magicite when I was a child. One of Emperor Gestahl’s lead scientists, Cid, raised me as his own. I was trained as the Emperor’s weapon all my life. As you saw, my own native magic is of the icy variety.”

“Wow, so that was magic,” marveled Locke.

He looked at Celes. The sun was just beginning to dawn, and it illuminated her crystal-cut face and long, blonde hair with a golden aura. She was beautiful.

‘PRINCE, TWINS, DRAGON’ NOW AVAILABLE TO PRE-ORDER ON KINDLE

You can now pre-order ‘Prince, Twins, Dragon’ from Amazon if you want to read it on Kindle, or the Kindle App, for £0.99

YA fantasy mash-up of the odd element of The Hunger Games, various videogame tropes, and Narnia.

It’s also going to literary agents, but the chances there are always very slim, and in this day and age electronic self-publication doesn’t reduce the chances of paper publication. It can even help it.

On with the next project, on with more reading, learning about writing, writing and revising (all in spare time of course)!

SHORT STORY: MARBLES

I’ve started posting some old short stories once a week or so on wattpad. The latest one is a romantic fairytale(!) called ‘Marbles’, written a long time ago… You can read it below or at https://www.wattpad.com/408094531-selected-short-stories-marbles

Marbles

Once upon a time there lived an old Glassblower who had a special hobby of making marbles.

Each day after he had finished his work creating different kinds of glassware to sell in his shop or to fit the orders placed by his customers, he would devote a small amount of time to his marble making. It was his particular way of relaxing after a busy day and he used up all the bits of leftover glass from his glassblowing to make them.

He made marbles of all different kinds and colours; some pale and translucent so you could see through them easily, others bold and opaque so they were difficult to see through. He made bright marbles with dark twists, black marbles with bits of white dotted in them to look like stars, fire marbles that looked like they might burn you if you picked them up, ice marbles that looked like they’d freeze you, rainbow marbles into which he packed in as many different colours as he could manage, and many others besides. He made storm marbles with lightning streaks, turtle shell marbles of green and yellow, pearl marbles that were white all the way through, onion marbles with different layers, bumblebee marbles with black and yellow stripes, mystery marbles with glazed outsides but invisible patterns hidden inside—you name it, he made it.

And what do you think the Glassblower did with all these wonderful marbles that he made? Do you think he sold them for a special price next to all the other glass in his shop? No, he gave them away for free! He gave them to his family and friends as presents, and sometimes even to complete strangers on the street, usually children.

One such boy who received a marble from the Glassblower was Ivan. One day Ivan was just walking along the street to his friend’s house and the old Glassblower marched straight up to him and offered him the marble. It was easy to see why he had singled the boy out, for he was himself carrying his own netted bag of marbles. He was on his way to his friend’s to play with them.

“Hello,” said the Glassbower. “Would you like this marble?”

“No thank you,” said Ivan. “My parents told me never to take things from strangers.”

“Oh,” said the Glassblower, “well in that case, I’ll just leave it over here on the pavement and you can pick it up if you want to, when I go…”

Ivan thought for a moment. “Why are you giving it to me?”

“I’m a Glassblower. I make them for a hobby, and I enjoy giving them to people for free. I saw that you were carrying a bag of marbles, and I thought to myself, ‘Ah, that young man would probably like to receive one of my special marbles as a gift.’ So here I am.”

“Alright then,” said Ivan. He could see no reason to refuse and the old Glassblower didn’t look very dangerous. “Thank you.”

He put out his hand and the Glassblower placed the marble ceremoniously in it. “Take care of that one,” he said, withdrawing his empty hand. “It’s very special indeed.”

Before he could turn to leave Ivan said “Special? Why is it special?”

The Glassblower smiled. “Well, of course, every marble is special. But that one is particularly special, for you.”

“Why?”

“It contains the light of the eyes of someone who is also…particularly special.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ivan.

“Well, you see, everyone’s eyes have their own kind of light. The eyes are the light of the body, and everyone’s eyes are unique. They all have their own special colours and patterns, just like marbles. And no two pairs of eyes are the same. But, it just so happens that sometimes, by sheer luck, or it could be fate, I make a marble that perfectly matches the colours and patterns of somebody’s eyes. And this is just one such marble!”

“Whose eyes does it match?”

“Oh, I have no idea! But they must be very special indeed to have eyes like that. Well, nice to meet you. I had best be off.”                                                                                                                                  And with that the Glassblower turned and left Ivan, who was very confused, standing in the street holding his new marble. He held it up to his eyes and looked at it. Inside it was a sort of pale but bright blue colour, mixed with what looked like crystals, little flecks of snow that seemed to be woven like thread in and out of the blue, which got darker towards the edges of the marble, ending in a deep blue ring. It was beautiful. Ivan wondered who the person who had eyes like that was and what they were like. He vowed there and then that one day he would find them, slipped the marble into his bag, and went on his way.

When his friend Fyodor asked him why all of a sudden he was insisting on picking up every one of his marbles and examining them very closely, and why when they greeted each other he spent a longer time than was comfortable looking him in the eyes, Ivan told him about his strange encounter with the Glassblower.

“What an odd man,” said Fyodor. But he hadn’t really been interested in the story and was more eager to get going with their game of marbles. “Now, come on, let’s play!” He didn’t even ask to see the marble the old man had given to Ivan. So they carried on with their game, now with Ivan paying proper attention.

But the meeting had affected Ivan. He took special care of his crystal-blue marble, and made sure that he never lost it in a game. And this was easy, because he discovered that when he played with it, he always won! It seemed that whenever he used his special marble, he was more accurate and even played more tactically, and his friends started to get annoyed that he was winning all of their marbles from them. He became so fond of his blue and white marble that he even gave it a name, christening it Snowdrop. Ivan was a clever boy, so he made sure he that he didn’t use Snowdrop in every game of marbles he played, so that he would lose some of them. He only used Snowdrop when he really wanted to win a match or if there was another marble that he particularly liked and wanted to win from someone. Luckily, none of his friends cottoned on to his secret weapon.

Another interesting habit that Ivan developed after his meeting with the Glassblower was that when he met someone for the first time he stared them straight in the eyes for just long enough to make out their colours properly, which made for some unsettling first impressions. He also did this at least once with all of the people he already knew, including his family, his friends and his schoolteachers. Some began to think he was himself a bit odd for this, but he didn’t let that bother him.

Can you guess what he was looking for? That’s right, he was looking for the person whose eyes matched his Snowdrop marble. But no matter where he looked, no matter how intently he gazed, he never found them. Nobody’s eyes quite matched that combination of blues with hidden snow crystal threads. After a while he started to wonder if the Glassblower had been telling the truth.

One day he gave up looking altogether, and started looking instead for another item that might prove the Glassblower’s words to be true—a marble that matched the colour of his own eyes, which were green with a red-brown star exploding out of the centre. If the Glassblower had been telling the truth, then somewhere out there was a marble that contained exactly the same colours as his own eyes. But again, though he came close once or twice, no marble that he could find or win amongst all his friends and all the children at school matched the colour of his own eyes, and Ivan decided that the Glassblower must have been misleading him. No marble he could find held the light of his own eyes, and nobody he met had in their eyes the light of Snowdrop.

Eventually, Ivan grew up, and though he lost his habit of searching for marbles, he retained his habit of looking into people’s eyes. He stopped playing marbles as well. Until one day.

One evening in February, he was at a dinner party at a friend’s house. In fact it was being thrown by the grown-up Fyodor. There were a good deal of guests seated around a long, wooden table in the illustrious dining room, and one of them had gotten his attention. This was a woman by the name of Katerina, who was sitting diagonally across for him. She had long blonde hair and was very beautiful, her skin the pale colour of ivory, and with a tall, dignified neck. Ivan found that she fascinated him, for not only was she very beautiful but she spoke with eloquent dignity, and furrowed her brow in between conversation, betraying a wealth of thoughts going on behind it. For most of the meal, Ivan did not talk directly to her, but rather to the group around them, trying to be as entertaining and funny, not to mention as clever and handsome, as he could manage. But towards the end of the meal he plucked up his courage and tried talking directly to Katerina. To his surprise, she was quite open with him, and talked enthusiastically. Somehow in the course of their discussion they got onto the subject of their childhoods and Katerina mentioned how she had loved playing with marbles.

At this Ivan felt his heart miss a beat. “Marbles?” he said. Then something moved him to add “We should have a game!”

“Oh, that would be such fun!” encouraged Katerina.

“Well, let’s do it then!”

Ivan motioned and got Fyodor’s attention, and asked him if he had any marbles anywhere in his house.

“Marbles? Probably, somewhere. But whatever do you want them for, Ivan?”

“Why, to play, of course.”

Fyodor looked a bit suspicious, but excused himself and went to look for his marbles nonetheless. He found them, and handed them to Ivan.

When the meal had finished, Ivan explained what he was doing and went into the drawing room to set up the game of marbles with Katerina. The rest of the guests followed them, amused to watch what was going on.

“Here you go, you should take half,” said Ivan, offering Fyodor’s bag of marbles to Katerina.

“Oh, no thank you,” she said, “I have my own.” She took a small netted bag of them out of a pocket in her dress, and blushed. “Do you think I’m silly?”

“Oh, not at all!” said Ivan, and he meant it. Without anyone seeing, he withdrew Snowdrop from his pocket and slipped her—for he had decided some time ago that Snowdrop was a ‘her’—into his own bag. “What game shall it be, then?”

“Bunny hole,” said Katerina, ever prepared. She took out a short piece of string and arranged it in a small circle in the middle of the drawing room floor. This was the ‘bunny hole’. The object of this game was to flick your marble into the circle, after which you could then fire it at your opponent’s marbles. If you hit an opponent’s marble twice, you then had one chance to ‘run away’ before you could attempt ‘the kill’—the final contact shot which meant you got to keep the other player’s marble. If, however, you hit the other player’s marble before you had been to ‘visit’ the bunny hole, or if you hit one of your own marbles, this was known as a ‘kiss’, and you had to withdraw that marble from play until your next turn.

Ivan and Katerina arranged their marbles around the bunny hole by firing them one at a time towards it. As Katerina fired her last marble, Ivan noticed something about it. It was green, with a red-brown star exploding out of the middle. Could this be the marble he had searched for years as a child, the marble that contained the light of his own eyes? There was only one way to find out. He needed to take a closer look at it. He determined that he must win that marble.

“We’re playing for keeps, right?” he said.

“Of course,” said Katerina.

“Then let’s begin.”

Katerina had the marble that had landed closest to the bunny hole, which just happened to be the very marble that Ivan had noticed, so she withdrew it and began her turn. She shot it with expert skill straight back into the bunny hole and then began her attack on Ivan’s marbles. To his dismay, she set about systematically assassinating most of his marbles with it. The onlookers clapped.

“I never lose with this marble,” said Katerina. “I call it Fireflower.”

Ivan was dumbfounded. Soon Katerina was down to one of his marbles. She was extremely talented. It looked like she was going to win the match in one turn—which in his schooldays would have been a great humiliation for Ivan. He did not feel much better now. Except that his last marble was none other than—who else? Snowdrop.

His face dropped when Katerina made her first contact hit on Snowdrop. He looked on in horror and awe as she contacted with the second. His whole body tensed. He did not know whether he could bear to part with Snowdrop. How could he be about to lose her? How had Katerina got so good at playing marbles?

Then, to his utmost relief, Katerina missed her ‘kill’ shot.

“Whoops,” she said as she knocked her marble much further across the room than she had meant to, underneath an armchair and over to where the guests were standing. They fanned out to accommodate it. “Oh well,” she said. “I thought I was going to do it all in one go. Never mind.” She smiled. “I’m miles away from you now, you’ll never be able to get me. It’s only a matter of time.”

Ivan made no reply. Instead, he knelt solemnly by Snowdrop. Katerina had won all of his marbles off of him, so now he was going to return the favour. The guests clapped in turn for him as he sent Snowdrop to the bunny hole again and again, winning all of Katerina’s marbles on the way, almost as fast as she had dealt with his. Eventually only Fireflower was left. But that was the only marble of hers that he really wanted.

“He’s too far away for you to hit him,” said Katerina, standing over her lone remaining marble. “You might as well give up now.”

“He?” said Ivan.

“Yes…” Katerina blushed. “I decided when I was a child that Fireflower was a ‘he’…”

Ivan aimed. Snowdrop ricocheted off a wall, then a chair leg, and came slowly to a rest…next to Fireflower. This got an especially loud clap.

“No…” murmured Katerina, open mouthed.

Ivan walked over to the two marbles, got down on one knee, then flicked Snowdrop gently into Fireflower once, twice more. He had made the kill, and without even a single kiss.

“Well done,” said Katerina, more than a little disappointed. She extended her hand.

Ivan picked up Snowdrop, stood up to shake her hand, and looked straight into the light of his favourite marble.