Poetry Corner – The Shark (a scary bedtime story for kids)

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The Shark

by Cameron Brtnik

(a scary bedtime story for kids)


There once was a boy named Mark

And he was afraid of the dark

Every time that he tried to sleep

He imagined being chased by a shark



His mother tried to comfort her son

When he screamed her name out in the night

She told her poor boy to calm down

As he stared at the darkness with fright



Eventually he calmed down

As she gently put him back to bed

But as soon as Mark went back to dreaming

They once again filled him with dread



So his mom took him to see a doctor

She’d try anything at this point to help

Just at the mention of the word shark

Mark would jump in the air and he’d yelp



The doctor prescribed medication

That would cause Mark to have a deep sleep

She gave him two pills before bedtime

So instead of a shark he'd count sheep



The pills worked! Yes they worked like a charm

Mark finally slumped on his back

His mother was happy and went to her bed

While Mark in his dream was attacked



See those pills, well they put Mark to sleep

But they worked just a little too well
 
Poor Mark was still having his nightmare

It was like he was under a spell



In his dream he saw sharks in the water

Surrounding him, and he could feel

If he didn't wake up from this nightmare

He would be the shark's next toothsome meal



Pinching himself didn't work now

His body was limp as a worm

As much as he tried to snap out of his daze

Mark's body would barely just squirm



Mark prayed to God he would survive this

And somehow wake up from this 'mare

By try as he might try to struggle and fight

Nobody could hear poor Mark's prayer



The big shark attacked and it bit him

And the pain seemed as real as life

When his mother found him the kitchen

Mark was standing there holding a knife



But she couldn't seem to awake him
 
Then she suddenly started to scream
 
Cause to his mom's horror he fell to the floor
 
And Mark never woke up from his dream



The End....Sweet dreams!


PS. 


The Shark you ask? He still roams children’s nightmares

He lurks deep in the murky blue

He's always ready and waiting

For the next child that sleeps might be you!




Cameron is a poet, fiction writer and children's author, and is scared of swimming in the ocean to this day

BLOGasides: The Big Comeback

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BLOGasides

The Big Comeback

Sep 22, 2016

     I’ve never had a comeback per se. Sure, I’ve bounced back from adversity, challenges, struggles, and disappointments. We all do. But to be honest, I always imagined a BIG comeback. Not from any one thing in particular, but from life itself. I am waiting on the day I turn it all around: My Big Comeback.

     What would I come back from? you silently ask. Well since you asked…

I would come back from all my mistakes, mess-ups, failures, and fuck-ups I’ve made – and I’ve made plenty – along the way. First, lets take a trip back to Junior High… An awkward time where I was shy, uncomfortable, and consequently an outcast. I was teased for being gay – perhaps because of my fashionable taste in clothes and boyband looks – and endured a daily onslaught of insults hurled at me in the hallways. And I was bullied because, well, I was an easy target. The bullies would slam me up against the lockers for no reason at all, embarrassing me in front of any onlookers. My mom used to have to wait for me outside after-school so that I wouldn’t be pummelled. I had low self esteem, and no confidence in myself. The pathetic part is I never fought back. I was too much of a pussy. I was scared, but looking back, I’m not sure what I was scared of….

I can see all the faces of those who bullied me now, and I picture My Comeback: Me, kicking in the doors to the entrance of the school, Backstreet’s Back playing on some boombox in the background while everything is moving in slow motion. The Bully, seeing me confidently walk in with my white Levis jean jacket, cracking his knuckles and getting ready for another beat down. As I approach him, I look him dead in the eye and say, “You’re a real dick.” As the initial shock wears off, both hands fling out to grab me…but I counteract by pulling his arms toward me, using his own strength against him, and watch, giddily, as he falls to the floor…all this taking place of course in front of every student in the school. As they point and laugh, Cory (I don’t actually remember his name but Cory seems like a pretty generic bully’s name) gets to his feet to throw a punch…but I catch his fist, midair, and uppercut his jaw, watching him stumble back on his ass in humiliation and the realization that I AM THE STRONGEST OPPONENT HE’S EVER FACED AND AM NEVER TO BE FUCKED WITH AGAIN. He even thinks he’d like to invite me to his birthday party, but I’d never accept, I’d never hang out with losers like him! And all the while everybody’s chanting my name “Cameron! Cameron! Cameron!”

As I snap out of this sycophantic fantasy, I realize this comeback comes twenty years too late, but only if I could go back….

Next came High School… A slightly, though not much better experience. I was used to the bullying by then, and didn’t pay them much attention. I made friends and had my own clique: “The Loners.” We certainly weren’t cool, but we had out own plebes we made fun of, like a natural food chain, everyone having their place, never to be messed with. I was a good student. I just hung out with the wrong crowd. I studied, did my homework, handed in assignments on time… That all changed when I met my best friend. He showed me a whole new world: A world of not studying history, but of studying ass. In the library, while everyone was checking out books, we checked out Sonya’s ass. They both had overdue fees. I’m sorry, that metaphor made no sense. Instead of doing homework, we shot pool in the local bar, never being checked for ID, and early on discovered our enjoyment of alcohol and the underbellies of society. Instead of handing in assignments, we rarely went to class, instead skipping to hang out in the lunchroom and watch movies on our smartphones. I’m just kidding, we didn’t have smartphones then, pagers were about be in vogue… I don’t know what we did in the lunchroom. But I know it didn’t help me with my final marks or report cards.

I can see all the faces of those teachers who failed me now, and I picture My Comeback: Me, strutting into class at 7:59 one minute before the cut-off deadline, and tossing my A+ project on top of the pile. Mr. Pelic’s eyes widening in surprise as he reads my above-grade level report on “Nature versus Nurture.” The bell rings at the end of class, and as the average students scamper toward the door to leave he calls out my name “Cameron, why don’t you stay behind for a minute,” and I do. “You know, I’ve read a lot of reports in my day and never have I read something with such..brilliance.” As I smugly reply that I was up all night writing it, Mr P, not believing I could’ve written such a masterpiece in only one night, shakes his head with pride. We both share a smile. I start studying and acing my tests, quickly becoming the top student in all my classes. Suddenly the word “genius” is thrown around and the other students are in awe of me. It’s clear that I have a bright future: doctor, lawyer, or even a writer… As I come to, daydreaming on the toilet again, I realize none of these things ever came true, but there’s still hope I tell myself, I can always make a comeback….

The girl I was crazy over chose another, more muscular guy There’s still a chance for a comeback a voice in the back of my head assures me. Another bomb at standup night – I pictured it going so well – We’ll get’em next timeI tell myself. I didn’t get the job I was sure I had in the bag. When I’m working for myself and making enough money to walk in, buy the company, and fire the manager, then I’ll show’em who’s boss!

     There will always be time, I tell myself. I can always make a COMEBACK.

By Cameron Brtnik

Cameron is a freelance writer based in Toronto who’s still looking to make that “big comeback”

Short Story – It’s Magic!

It’s Magic!

A (very) Short Fiction

by Cameron Brtnik

It’s Magic!

    “Magic! It’s magic!!” He said again. I didn’t believe him, nor did anyone else in the room. Mike had borrowed my pencil, held it between his fingers, shook it and – as if my magic – it “turned into rubber.” “It’s just a stupid illusion!” yelled David. “You’re not fooling anybody!” “But it’s real, I swear…” but by then nobody was listening, and had moved on to the next item of interest, in this case Gordy happily picking his nose and eating the boogers, enjoying the grossed out reactions from all his classmates. “Eww! Disgusting!!” Everyone exclaimed in unison, but I knew deep down they enjoyed watching it. The same way people enjoy watching some poor kid fall into a tiger cage and get mauled, all while the cameraman stands there filming rather than helping.

    Mike (“Mike The Magnificent” his full name) remained at his desk, uninterested in the childish antics of the other “less-developed” (in his opinion) kids. He was on to his next feat of the impossible: floating a straw in a bottle. All the kids knew it was done with a string – you simply tape a string to the centre of the straw, attach the other end to your body, and pull the bottle outward so the straw “floats” magically out of the bottle (this was 101 in any kids’ magic book). But as usual, Mike proclaimed this illusion “real” and some of the kids threw paper balls at his head. Although I never actually caught a glimpse of the string myself, I went along with the other kids (isn’t that what all kids do?) and made fun of him. “Weirdo!” “Loser!” “Freak!” all the kids taunted in unison. Even though I went along with it, I never actually said the words, but rather mouthed them (which I suppose was just as bad).

    Suddenly, Mike stood up, not visibly shaken (although I believe, deep down, all the insults bothered him) and walked defiantly to the corner of the class room. He clasped both his feet together, raised his arms in the air and…rose into the air!…about three centimeters. I was dumbfounded. But once again I joined in the jeers of my classmates: “He just stood up on his tippi toes!” “What a faker!” “My fish can fly higher than that!” But I wasn’t so sure he was faking… All of a sudden Mike started shaking, his whole body turning red, and an angry grumbling sound escaped from his lips…”Arghhhhh!!!” and he started rising into the air, a good three feet this time, and yet still some kids dismissed it as “a stupid illusion” but I wasn’t so sure this time it- Mike was a full six feet off the ground now! Some kids stood under him and grabbed his feet, attempting to yank him down. “It’s just a string!” Kevin, the little asshole, yelled. “A string attached to what, the ceiling you idiot?!” Liz retorted, and suddenly Mike fell from heaven, into her arms, with a big grin on his face and smiled up at her: “You believe me! Magic! It’s magic!!” No one ever made fun of him again.

The End

Cameron is a Toronto-based short story writer and professional children’s magician cbrtnik.com