Idea 270 Map It Out: Create a mind map of words, phrases, and ideas that pop into your head or spend some time browsing the many mind maps online. Write a poem, story or journal entry inspired by the mind map.
I Googled mind maps and this caught my attention. It made me think of the children's book I started writing 5 years ago while recovering from an operation due to an ectopic pregnancy. The initial idea for the story had come about 7 or 8 years before that. I've never got round to completing the book and probably never will, so this is the perfect opportunity to share what I wrote. I completed 4 1/2 chapters. Let me know what you think in the comments below :-)
Time Brings Roses (first draft)
Chapter 1
Time waits for no-one
The sun shone brightly
through Florrie-Bea’s window, illuminating those all important words on the
open page of her exercise book:
Write an account of the work of John Snow
2 pages to be handed in on Monday.
Tomorrow was Monday
and Florrie-Bea didn’t have two words let alone 2 pages. She sighed and rocked
back and forth on her chair. Science homework was always left till last.
Florrie-Bea wasn’t a big fan of Science lessons. In fact you could say she
would much rather run through the school corridors shouting ‘Let me out of this
asylum’ while wearing a chicken on her head, than take part in a Science
lesson. It wasn’t that Florrie-Bea didn’t like school. On the contrary she
loved it. Just not Science and especially not the ‘Microbes and Diseases’ topic
she was currently studying. Give her Shakespeare; give her quadratic equations
or a day in the life of Queen Victoria. But please don’t give her something
that had anything to do with Science. Especially a topic that involved germs!
Florrie-Bea could hear
her sisters’ voices coming from the bedroom next to hers. The voices hadn’t
knocked politely and said ‘Do you mind if we disturb you while you try to avoid
your homework?’ Instead they had bulldozed
their way into Florrie-Bea’s peace and quiet. Lyddie and Nollie were twins who
usually got on extremely well. Today was obviously an exception. From what
Florrie-Bea could gather between the screams and thumping around was that a
poster had been torn and that meant the end of the world! The twins both adored
the latest pop sensation – your typical teenage American boy, all wholesome and
cute, who sings songs of love and happiness while raking in the money from his
rollercoaster ride to fame. As for Florrie-Bea she didn’t have the same taste
in music as the twins, nor the obsession for such ‘superstars’. She just liked
music no matter who had written the lyrics or was singing the melody.
Florrie-Bea just liked a good tune. No doubt Lyddie and Nollie would have a
different obsession in a couple of weeks and the torn poster would be in the
recycling bin, long forgotten.
Florrie-Bea tried to
ignore the ruckus and concentrate on her homework. Ten minutes passed and she
was no further forward. Her sisters’ quarrel seemed to have subsided, but now
the peace was shattered by the music coming from the bedroom of Hattie, the
youngest of the four sisters. Hattie took street dance classes and had a show
coming up in the next few weeks. Practice makes perfect, or so they say but why
did she have to practice now? Florrie-Bea was beginning to get rather agitated.
As much as she hated this particular piece of homework, it needed to be done
and all this noise wasn’t helping. ‘Turn
that racket down Hattie!’ Mum, too, obviously needed some peace as she
didn’t usually shout but would instead politely knock on the door and request a
reduction in volume. The music became quieter. ‘Thank you dear,’ came Mum’s
cheery call.
The clock tick-tocked
as Florrie-Bea read through her notes again. It didn’t seem to matter how many
times she read them, she couldn’t get her head round the information. As she
stared hopefully at the page longing for a light bulb moment of enlightenment,
the fingers on her left hand began to stroke a rose on her wallpaper.
Florrie-Bea had always loved this wallpaper. It was vintage and had been in
that room when they had moved into the house. It’s cream background and pale
pink roses brought a warmth and happiness to the room. She stared even more
intently at her exercise book. Suddenly a strange feeling began to wave through
Florrie-Bea’s body. Her fingers continued to stroke the flower as if they had a
mind of their own. A strange spinning sensation began and Florrie-Bea couldn’t
work out whether it was the room spinning or her. She felt herself free
falling, surrounded by whirling colours and lights. With a sudden bump the
strange feelings and sensations vanished. Florrie-Bea blinked a couple of times
and scratched her head. She looked around and was amazed by what she saw. For
she was no longer in her bedroom, in her house, in the leafy suburbs of Surrey
in the year 2010. No. She was in the middle of Soho, London in the year 1854.
Chapter Two
Time to smell the roses
Baffled, confused,
bewildered. Florrie-Bea took a few slow, deep breaths and tried to work out
what had just happened. She went through the event in her mind.
“How did I get here?”
Unbeknown to
Florrie-Bea she was thinking aloud and had been overheard.
“Unfortunately, I’m
unable to answer that my dear. Judging by your appearance, may I presume that
you do not reside locally?”
The man who had
addressed Florrie-Bea seemed familiar, yet how could he be when she had never
met him before? Where was she? When was
she? Nobody talked or dressed like that in 2010. Did they? She looked at him
carefully. He was dressed smartly in a white shirt, waistcoat, black bow tie,
pale trousers and a black frock coat. Florrie-Bea gazed down at what she was
wearing. When it came to clothes, Florrie-Bea had a style all her own. She
wasn’t influenced by the latest fads and fashions; she knew what she liked and
she liked what she wore. When she had got up that morning, she had taken the
comfortable option – baggy faded blue denim dungarees and a white t-shirt with
a pink rose embroidered on each sleeve. She loved her trainers best of all. She
had customised them herself when she was feeling creative one day. The
combination of sequins and fabric pens had created something you would never
find in any high street store. They were her design and Florrie-Bea loved them.
Comparing the
stranger’s appearance to her own she could understand his presumption.
“You could say that”
she replied.
Florrie-Bea looked at
the stranger intently. There was still something so familiar about him yet she
couldn’t put her finger on it. Who was he?
The stranger spoke.
“Let me introduce
myself. My name is John Snow and I’m a doctor. There are some very sick people
around here and I’m concerned for your health my dear. You really shouldn’t be
visiting London when there is a cholera epidemic.”
Then the penny
dropped. Now she knew why the stranger seemed so familiar. The man from the
photo in her text book. The one person who could actually help her with her
homework. Dr John Snow.
Florrie-Bea’s head was
buzzing, questioning how and why this had happened. She looked at Dr Snow.
“I’ve heard a lot
about you Dr Snow and I know people don’t agree with your theories. Could you
explain them to me?”
Dr Snow seemed a
little bewildered himself now, but kindly proceeded with Florrie-Bea’s request.
She sat there in awe as he explained things in a way she had never understood
in class. How he didn’t believe cholera was airborne but that, in fact, it
entered the body through the mouth. Also, that he had been investigating his
theory and they were standing in the street where he believed the source of the
disease to be.
“We are standing in
Broad Street. That water pump over there is the source. I’m going to have the
handle removed and continue my investigation.”
Florrie-Bea had never
dreamt that Science could be so fascinating. She wanted to learn more from this
famous Dr John Snow. She wanted to know what it was like assisting Queen
Victoria when she gave birth to her son Leopold. She wanted to know why so many
people didn’t agree with his theories. Florrie-Bea was about to ask him for
more anecdotes when Dr Snow turned and offered something to her. It was a pink
rose. It looked just like the roses on her wallpaper. She took the rose from Dr
Snow.
“It’s time,” he said
softly.
Florrie-Bea wasn’t
sure what he meant. She lifted the flower to her nose and began to smell its
enticing fragrance.
Suddenly, there it was
again, that strange spinning sensation, the whirling colours and lights. Free
falling faster and faster. BUMP!
Florrie-Bea opened her
eyes to discover she was back in her room, sitting at her desk just as before.
She rubbed her eyes and glanced out the window. That must have been a dream,
surely? Florrie-Bea’s gaze moved from the window to her right hand. Her fingers
tightly grasped a pink rose, whose enticing scent began to fill the room.
Florrie-Bea smiled broadly, placed the rose on her desk then began to write
furiously in her exercise book. There was nothing stopping her now.
Chapter Three
Every Rose Has It’s Thorn
Florrie-Bea was what
you would call very comfortable in her own skin. She was confident and assured
in a good way that meant anyone who met her was instantly drawn to her quirky
creative ways and her independent thinking. That’s what made this week so
strange. For the first time in a very long while, Florrie-Bea had encountered
malicious comments and prejudice. All because of that new girl. All because of
a lack of understanding. All because of Charity Agabah.
Monday morning had
started so normally. The usual battle with her sisters for the bathroom,
rushing breakfast and making those last minute additions to the homework that
was due that day. Her best friend Lucy was patiently waiting for her by the oak
tree at the end of the road; their usual meeting place. They chatted away about
their respective weekends and the homework that had been left until the last
moment. Once at school they joined a group of classmates and made their way
into the building as the bell trilled through the playground. It was then that
Charity made her first appearance.
It was Charity’s first
day, having been expelled from her previous school for persistent bullying. The
teacher introduced her, omitting the information about the bullying, but saying
how Charity had joined them for a fresh start to her learning. She offered
Charity the opportunity to share a little about herself with the class. Charity
looked the teacher up and down, kissed her teeth, then slowly turned her head
away and glared at the child who just happened to be looking her way.
“Yes, well, um, I’m
sure you’ll have plenty of time throughout the day to make Charity feel
welcome.”
The teacher went to continue
speaking but the school bell’s familiar trill stopped her in her tracks.
The class filed out
and trudged to their first lesson. It was obvious that Charity had no intention
of changing her ways and having a fresh start. By break time she already had
two detentions and the majority of the class were keeping well out of her way.
It was out on the playground that Florrie-Bea had her first encounter with
Charity. It was a sunny day and Florrie-Bea and her friends were sitting on a
bench enjoying the sun. Charity marched up to the bench and growled
“Move! I wanna sit
down!”
She grabbed Sarah, the
smallest of the group, and flung her from her seat. Charity then promptly
plonked herself down on the bench.
There was much
protesting by the girls about Charity’s treatment of Sarah but Charity was
having none of it and threatened to start throwing them around too. The girls
were on their feet ready to move to a quieter part of the playground.
Florrie-Bea went over to Sarah, offered her hand and helped her to her feet.
Charity stared fiercely at Florrie-Bea.
“What’s wrong with
your face?”
It had been a long
time since Florrie-Bea had been asked that question. Although she had lost
count of the number of times she had heard it, it still tied knots in her
stomach.
“It’s a scar.”
“Someone give you what
you deserved did they? Tried to shut you up for being such a goody two shoes
swot? I’ve been watching you this morning. Thinking your better than anyone
else. Giving all the answers like the teacher’s pet you are. Pity they didn’t
do a better job and shut you up completely. Save us getting earache from your
know it all mouth!”
The girls looked on in
horror as Charity sat there stretched out on the bench with a smug look on her
face. It was clear that she took great delight in what she had just said, especially
when she saw the tears in Florrie-Bea’s eyes. Florrie-Bea tried to steady
herself. She took a deep breath and turned to walk away.
“Got nothing smart to
say now have ya!” Charity began to cackle with laughter as the girls made their
way across the playground.
“See you in class
Scarface!” she cried after them.
Her heart sank as she
walked slowly across the playground with her friends. Florrie-Bea knew that her
scar would always attract some unwanted attention, but the malicious words seemed
to hurt more this time and she didn’t know why.
“Pull yourself
together girl. It’s not like you haven’t heard it all before” she thought. A
solitary tear rolled down her cheek. She swiftly wiped it away with the cuff of
her blazer and tried to collect herself before the next lesson began.
Chapter 4
Thorn in my side
Twelve years ago
Jackie and Sam Halliday welcomed the arrival of their first child, a daughter
named Florence-Beatrice. They were overjoyed at becoming parents for the first
time and loved their daughter with all of their hearts. Florence-Beatrice
caused quite a stir with family, friends and the local community. Many shared
the joy while others didn’t know where to look. Florence-Beatrice was a very
special baby. Not just because she was Jackie and Sam’s firstborn, but because
she was born with a cleft lip. Her parents love for her was stronger because of
it and they were thankful that it could be treated.
“During the pregnancy
separate areas of the face develop individually then join together. A cleft is
a split or separation. When some of the parts of the face don’t join together
properly, a cleft occurs.”
The doctor had been
amazing explaining things to them and as time went on Florrie-Bea spent time in
hospital receiving treatment. The doctors did a great job. It was obvious that
Florrie-Bea had had treatment, but it made her look more ‘normal’ to the
general public. But to Jackie and Sam Halliday, she would always be they’re
beautiful Florence-Beatrice.
Most of the kids at
school had grown up with Florrie-Bea and knew that she looked a bit different.
Yes there had been problems over the years, but unfortunately that was to be
expected. Everyone knows how cruel people can be when someone is different to
them, no matter how small the difference. Florrie-Bea’s personality outshone
any obvious differences she may have and her friends loved her for it. Those
friends had stood by her through thick and thin and this time was no different. Lucy had informed a
member of staff about the incident in the playground and Charity would be
‘dealt with’ as the teacher put it. This didn’t make Florrie-Bea feel any more
at ease, but she took comfort in the fact that she had her friends around her
and they would cheer her up.
The next few days were
tricky at the best of times. Charity was out for revenge and made completely
sure that Florrie-Bea’s life was hell. It all came to a head when Jackie and
Sam visited the school. This time Charity went too far and the incident
resulted in the police being called. Charity would have to find yet another
school for a fresh start to her learning.
Florrie-Bea sat at the
desk in her bedroom, staring out the large sash window that overlooked the back
garden. The view was usually stunning as the garden was Jackie’s pride and joy.
Today, however, was cheerless and wet, and this tainted the customary view. The
weather mirrored Florrie-Bea’s mood. The events of the past week had knocked
her for six and she couldn’t shake the feeling. It was very unlike her to be so
morose. She usually took it in her stride then rose above it. Not this time.
Her left hand moved towards a rose on the wallpaper. It was the same rose she
had stroked before; the time she met Dr John Snow. That was about a month ago
and Florrie-Bea had dismissed the whole escapade as a dream. After all, what
else could it have been?
As before, her fingers
started to stroke the rose. Before she realised what she was doing she was
overwhelmed by the feeling she had experienced a month ago. First the spinning,
then the free falling through the whirling colours and lights. This time she
landed in an old abandoned cinema. There was the scent of stale popcorn in the
air. She picked herself up, brushed herself down and began to look around. It
was dim and gloomy. There was a light on in the projection booth at the back of
the auditorium.
“Hello. Is there
anyone there?” she called.
There was no immediate
reply. Florrie-Bea felt uneasy about the whole situation. Surely this was just
another dream. Stress! That was it! Stress! The last time this happened she was
stressed out with homework. This time she was stressed out because of the
bullying. It was obvious. During times of stress she had weird and wonderful
dreams. Might as well make the most of it.
While she had been
contemplating the effect stress was having on her, the curtains on the stage
had retracted and crackly black and white pictures were being projected on to
the vast screen. When she became aware of this, Florrie-Bea turned to face it. She
was amazed by what she saw. It wasn’t some old movie playing on the screen but
old home movies of her family and friends; nothing but the good times.
Florrie-Bea plonked herself in the nearest seat and began to watch. It made her
feel warm inside, watching herself playing with her friends and having fun with
her three sisters. She couldn’t tell how much time had passed; she had got so
involved with the pictures on the screen. Suddenly the screen went black and
then still photographs began to flash up on the screen. Florrie-Bea didn’t comprehend
it at first but slowly she began to see how the people in the pictures related
to each other; she could understand. For the images projected onto the screen
were of people who were different. Famous people, ordinary people, all with
something in common - their differences. Even if she didn’t
know who the person was, she knew their story. She could see their difference
and had they had overcome it; adversity had not beaten them. Florrie-Bea gasped
as the last image flashed into view. She was the subject of the photograph and
it was a photograph she recognised instantly. She was about eight years old
dressed up as Dorothy from the ‘Wizard of Oz’. It was for book week at school
and the rest of the class had to vote for the best costume. The thought of
winning had never crossed Florrie-Bea’s mind as she was having great fun just
being dressed up. She also knew, deep down, that these competitions were won by
the most popular boy and girl in the class, so yet again Shantelle and Ben were
bound to win the prize. But Shantelle didn’t win the prize that year and boy
was she mad about it. This year it was Florrie-Bea’s turn. She looked at
herself standing at the front of the class, bursting with pride. Not because
she had won, but because she felt accepted for being her. Suddenly she could
feel that sense of acceptance running through her veins. She thought of her
friends and family and all the things she was able to do. All the things that
she wanted to do. Everything she wanted to accomplish.
Florrie-Bea rose from
her seat feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She
turned to look for the exit. As she did she inadvertently kicked something with
her right foot. The auditorium was still rather dark so she bent sown for a
closer look. She picked up a familiar item from the floor. That enticing scent
tickled her nostrils and from the projector room she heard a voice say “it’s
time!” She drew the rose closer to her face and inhaled the scent deeply.
Moments later she was back in her room and sitting in her chair at her desk by
the window. The difference now was the view from the sash window was as bright
and sunny as the way she felt inside. She took a key from her pencil case and
unlocked the top drawer of her desk. Carefully, she opened it and placed the
rose neatly beside the one given to her by Dr John Snow.
Florrie-Bea gazed out
the window and decided she didn’t want to know if what had happened was a dream
or a reality. She just wanted to know where she would land next time.
Chapter Five
A Rose By Any Other Name
Florrie-Bea was really
looking forward to her English lessons over the next few weeks. Shakespeare. At
last she could finally get her teeth stuck into the text. Florrie-Bea had been
introduced, briefly, to the works of Shakespeare while at primary school. That
brief encounter had given her a thirst for hearing and reading more about this
great writer. She loved the sonnets, the comedies, the tragedies and wanted to
enrich her understanding of the text. Typically not all her classmates shared
her enthusiasm for Shakespeare; however that wasn’t going to deter Florrie-Bea.
“The text we shall be
focussing on is Romeo and Juliet.”
There were mixed
feelings to the teacher’s announcement. Florrie-Bea was filled with
anticipation and excitement. She had hoped this would be the play they would
study.
“Does that mean we get
to watch the movie directed by Baz Luhrmann, Miss?” Lucy enquired hopefully.
There were a variety
of murmurs around the classroom. Many hoping the movies would mean not having
to read any Shakespeare, while others were more concerned with swooning over a
young Leonardo Di Caprio. Lucy was a big fan of Mr Di Caprio, especially his
earlier work.
“We may get the
opportunity to watch a performance of Romeo and Juliet in order that we can
make comparisons between that and the text. However, that is not a definite and
we will be concentrating on the text for the majority of our study.”
There were a few
groans around the room, but most seemed reasonably content with the
possibility.
