Mrs Keasey’s shoulders visibly slumped.
“I’m going to write a science-fiction story,” I told her, one autumnal day in the long ago of the world. “And it’s going to be the longest science-fiction story I’ve ever written.”
I was ten years old. For two years in the Upper Band of Levendale Primary School, poor Mrs Keasey had already diligently appraised countless variations on “the longest science-fiction story I’ve ever written”. I worked on them almost constantly, both at school and at home, filling them with countless tawdry variations on the films and TV shows that had come to dominate my every waking thought: Star Wars, Doctor Who, Flash Gordon and Blake’s 7.
“Very good,” she sighed. “But here’s a little idea for you – why don’t you start by writing something set in the here and now, with normal people, then introduce the science fiction bits very gradually as you go along? That might be nice.”
I didn’t quite like the sound of that, but the following day – Thursday 29th September 1983 – I found a table in the quiet corner of the Upper Band, spent at least three hours drawing the cover, then elected to give this radical new approach a try.
Judge for yourself how successful I was…
A TRIP AROUND THE GALAXY
Chapter One – The Coutroom of the Zorls
It was a windy day, but with a little sun up on the North Yorkshire moors. In fact, if it wasn’t for the wind, it would of been unbearable.
Michael Smith looked out of his tent and rubbed his eyes. He was on a camping holiday and was none so plesed about the weather he had recieved so far. It had rained all loast night, so the stream that he had pitched his tent next to was running a lot faster. The ground was soaked and there was a large patch of mud next to the tent. Michael went back into his tent to fetch his coat.
The planet Zorl was an unnatural world, orbiting a sun much bigger than our own in no particular order. Zorl was the home of the most famed jury in the galaxy – the deaded jury of Zorl.
Appearing before the jury were two people, a boy called Zak Apoker, and a mass-murderer named Baron Tarog. Tarog was the first to be sentanced.
“Baron Zarbod Tarog” addressed the Zorlian judge. “You have been charged with murdering seventeen innocent space traders, and so I bring upon you an exile of 800 years from any planet in the entire universe.” (Barons from Venus live for an awful long time). Another judge continued “You will be encased in a meteor during these eight centuries, making it impossible for you to harm any other people. I rest my case.”
Chapter Two – The Edge of the Universe
The sentance brought upon Zak Apoker was to be a made a slave to an intergalactic slave trader named Rancas Zancas. He was a mysterious man, and nobody knew much about him. He travelled around in a small, battered old spaceship called ‘the Flying dog’. At this moment, Zak was attempting to mend the broken laser weapon on Zancas’ ship. They had grounded on a desert world called Sartak. (It was really a moon of a ringed planet that was in danger of being sucked up by a black hole). Zak was a tall boy, with black hair and tanned skin. He was wearing a green uniform and black boots.
Suddenly there was a loud crash and the whole ship rocked. Rancas Zancas came rushing into the cockpit. “What in the rings of Fornax did you do??” he screamed. “Nothing, I was only working…”. Rancas Zancas thumped him and Zak went reeling. Then Rancas realised it was not Zak that had made the explosion, but 3 robots outside with laser guns. Rancas Zancas staggered over to the window but a laster beam crashed through it and killed him. Zak crawled towards the broken laser cannon, and jabbed at it with his electronic screwdriver. The cannon fired three blasts of laser fire, blowing up the robots. Zak then started up the Flying dog and blasted off Sartak.
Baron Tarog was in a red chamber somewhere on the planet Zorl. All around him were Zorl technicians, and before him was the top half and the bottom half of a large meteor, both separate and hollow. One of the Zorlians shoved a gun in Baron Tarog’s back and said “Get in the meteor.” Tarog gulped, then walked forward and climbed into the meteor. The top half came down, upon him, then was sealed for 800 years. The meteor was then cast out into deep space.
Zak had just got out of Sartak’s atmosphere and was making slow progress. He had Jettisoned Rancas Zancas’ body, and was heading for a small blue planet his father had oce told him about – Earth.
Michael was walking across a steep hill when he heard a slurred voice saying “Heelllp!!!” Michael turned, and saw a bright light in the distance. He turned round and headed towards it.
Zak had crashlanded on a hill somewhere on Earth. He was squashed up in the wrecked cockpit of the Flying Dog, and was broadcasting SOS messages over the broken loudspeaker. Suddenly he saw a tall figure in the doorway and in walked Michael. “Thanks” said Zak and shook Michael’s hand. Then he stood up and Michael looked round the ship in astonishment. “Well” said Zak “We’d better blast off this planet.”
The Draals were evil. They flew around the galaxy in a battered old spaceship and terrorised other peaceful races. The Draal captain stood on the bridge when an officer said “Sir we’ve picked up a meteor with life readings inside it!” “Life readings?” shreiked the Captain. “Pick it up!” And so the meteor was drawn into the Draal ship and opened. Inside, Baron Tarog was deep in hibernation.
Zak had done his best to repair the Flying dog and had blasted off with Michael, who had fainted during take off, in the co-pilot’s seat out cold. He was bored with the slow
And that’s it. This final extract is dated 28th February 1984, and the adventure ends right there – in frustrating mid-sentence. It had taken me five months to write less than four pages of story. My 1984 diary details a full afternoon spent attempting to pick up the pieces, but once home from school I was swiftly distracted by Grange Hill and Tucker’s Luck. I have no recollection of any further “trips around the galaxy” being planned for Michael, Zak, Baron Tarog and the dreaded Draals, but let’s be honest – that’s probably for the best.
Felt Trips is a collaborative effort. If anyone wants to contribute their own childhood drawings from the era, I would be utterly delighted – please drop me a line using the “Contact” link at the top of the page. A good quality scan would be perfect, but – if not – then a clear photo of your artwork, lying flat, is fine. And maybe a few words of explanation, too: when the drawings were done, how old you were, what inspired you to tackle those particular subjects? Thanks so much.
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