Evelyn Wow


03-02-2014 Monday


A major breakthrough for me today! I talked to Evelyn and this time it was more than just three words. Even more than five words. It was all because I started feeling really, really sorry for her after having heard people started calling her Evelyn Wow. I was wondering why at first. It could have been wordplay on Evelyn Waugh, but then I figured not many of my fellow peers would know the guy. Then I thought it was just because she always amazes people with her silly answers and she makes people go,’ Wow!’ It probably won’t be long before people will start referring to her as the ‘Wow-girl’. Which is why I decided to talk to her, I guess.


I’ll admit, it wasn’t a very long conversation, but at least we exchanged some words together. It started off with the usual ‘How are you?’ and ‘K’ thing after which I fell silent for a minute or two and we just stood there looking round a bit. I was desperately looking for conversation and trying to think of what normal people say to each other that is not about the weather. That’s when I thought of the book ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide’. Although I must admit, Evelyn does not look like the girl who’s really into reading much of anything; it was worth a shot, wasn’t it? Maybe she was reading it too.


‘Have you read any good books lately?’ I asked her.


First she gave me that look. You know, the look when you find out your parents have had to have sex together. That face. Then she figured she might as well just answer the question, and said,


‘Not much of a reader. You?’


‘Not much of a reader either.’


Okay, so I lied to her, which is not a good start of any relationship, I know. I couldn’t help myself and I didn’t want to make her feel any more uncomfortable.


‘Seen any good films?’


‘Don’t like ‘em.’


All right, this was where I started to wonder what I was doing. I was running out of questions (I didn’t have any in the first place) and I really had to find a way to leave her without her noticing me feeling a bit awkward here. That’s when she said,


‘Gotta go, meet some friends. Later, dude.’


That’s when she walked away and when she turned round the corner, I let out a big sigh of relief. Man, was I scared. Those were probably the five longest minutes in my entire life. Next time I will have to come prepared. Maybe I should write down some questions or topics or anything before I start talking to people again. Aren’t there any YouTube instruction films on how to make conversation with anybody?


When I got home after school I took Cheddar for a long walk. Man, was that dog a happy dog. I felt kind of stupid and silly after that conversation. How do people do that: talk? What do they say to each other and how? All these thoughts were going through my mind and I ended up thinking about Valentine’s Day, which is just round the corner. Should I maybe get Evelyn a box or chocolates or anything? It might brighten up her day and it would make me feel a little better, too. I’ll have to think about that very carefully, because I don’t want to jump into things and I don’t want to give her the wrong idea. Maybe Mr Bent could advise me on this. Oh well, I’ll see and you’ll see me tomorrow.








Amelia Dyer – the beginning

20140127_23113327-01-2014 Monday


So, as I was saying, I was making tea for us and Mr Bent came into the kitchen with his dowsing rod in his hands. He looked at the rods and played with them a little. Trying to hold them in different ways to make different geometrical shapes. While he was fidgeting with those darn things he said, in his thoughtful deep dark voice,’ You know, I’ve actually never quite understood these things.’ That’s when he threw them out of the window.

We stared at each other for a couple of seconds and then burst out in laughter. You should have seen the look on his face. He was dead serious when he said it and just chucked them out like that. I hope nobody was walking by at that very moment. He said he had something better for me. Well, actually, two things. Another story, and, what was even better, a book! The book he had been looking for wasn’t for him; it was for me. I made a picture of it to show you. It has got all kinds of freaky ghost stories about London. Sometimes I wish school made us read these kinds of books, they are way more interesting than things like ‘Gone with the wind’ or ‘Jane Eyre’

When tea was ready we sat ourselves down in sitting room, somewhere amidst all those books. Mr Bent said it was ok to just make a chair out of books if I wanted to. I thought it would a bit disrespectful, so I just threw some books on the floor and sat down on the sofa (I know, bad idea) while Mr Bent settled himself on one of the few … no, rephrase … the only free chair in the room. Which, as you can understand, wasn’t free anymore now.

He asked me if I had ever heard of a woman called Amelia Dyer. The name didn’t really ring a bell. Even after thinking really hard with my little thinker I couldn’t think of anyone who goes by that name. Even though I kept thinking Mr Bent was already saying it was useless to go on thinking. Amelia Dyer has been dead for a long time now; for over a century already. The world might be better off without her, too. She was not the nicest of woman.

‘For this story,’ as he added a little more bass to his voice,’ I have to take you back to the late 19th century. It were different times then, what with Jack the Ripper about, stirring up life in London. Great many killings were going on at that time and not all of them were done by dear ol’ Jacky.’

A loud noise of things falling filled the room.  It made an awful racket. We looked round us to see if we could see what had happened. A bunch of books fell down from one of the shelves and on their way down they had knocked over a quite inexpensive vase that shattered into pieces as it hit a very thick book. Mr Bent couldn’t be bothered. He took of sip of his tea, which was still piping hot, and swallowed it as if his throat was made of lead. Maybe that comes with old age, I dunno.

I will have to continue my story tomorrow. I can assure that it is going to be amazing. Though it’s a bit sad too. My bed is calling me and I can hear it calling me over the song I’ve been hearing in my head all day. Does everybody have that? A song that just gets stuck in your head for days and you can’t help but humming it or singing it in your head. The most frustrating thing is that I keep on repeating one bit of the song because I forgot the lyrics to the rest of it. All day long I’ve been walking around singing the same two lines, then I pause for a bit – there are more lines but I just don’t know the words – and finish with the last line of the verse and head into the first line of the chorus ending in a lalala, because I just don’t know the rest of the bleeding song anymore. I hope I am the only who has this, I wouldn’t want anybody else to suffer like this. See me tomorrow.