That's Another Story

Charlie Parker typed up his latest story on his website. He read the story through one more time. Yes, that would do it. He finished with his trademark line. A story by Charlie Parker. He nodded to himself. His many fans would love that story, he was sure. He clicked on the post story icon.

Charlie Parker was very famous in the short-story community. The stories he posted online, and his story collections published annually were the stuff of legend. He would often receive emails from fans of his work from across the UK. His fans would reach out to him on his website, email him and message him on his social media accounts. 

When Charlie wasn’t working on posting his stories and dealing with his fans he was doing what he called spreading the word. Charlie travelled the length of the country. He toured the UK visiting schools and colleges, reading his work, hosting story competitions. The students would submit their work and he would pick the winner of the story competition. They would win £150 and a book signed by Charlie himself. 

One evening he arrived home from visiting a sixth-form college in Salford. As he sipped a cold beer in front of the television, he checked his emails. There were messages from fans, all enthusing about his latest story. He replied thanking them all for their kind words. 

There was one email that caught his eye. The subject of the email was, A message from Madrid.

Wowzer, Madrid. Word of his stories had reached beyond the shores of the UK. Fascinating stuff. 

The message explained how Jane was at a Madrid school, teaching her students English as a Second Language. Every week she would read the latest stories on his website to her class. She just had to get in touch to say how much she and her student enjoyed her stories. 

Charlie read the message again. This was fantastic. People in Spain were reading his stories. Such good news. If he played his cards right, he could spread his readership across Europe. He could work in a similar way as he did now in the UK, but also with Spanish students.

Charlie replied thanking Jane for her comments and saying that he appreciated her support. He hinted at the idea of coming over to visit the school, if the institution could cover the flight costs.

The following morning, Charlie was typing up a story about a werewolf, reading the words from a stack of handwritten papers, when his computer pinged. One new email. Normally, Charlie would have ignored the email until he’d finished typing up the story but as the email was from Jane in Madrid, he saved and closed his story, and went into his emails. 

Jane had persuaded the head of the school to fund his trip to Madrid. It would, they had decided, be beneficial to the students, their English studies, and also their literacy, to have the famous story-teller visit their school. If he could book the flights, the ESL school would transfer the money.

Charlie rubbed his hands together in delight. The thought of getting away from the British winter for a little Spanish sun sounded wonderful. And so they agreed on a date at the end of the month. 

Charlie caught the taxi straight from the airport to the school, giving the driver the address Jane had given him. He stepped out of the taxi, squinting in the sunshine, at the school gates. The pupils flocked to him clapping and cheering. They called out excitedly, el esta aqui! 

He was surrounded by the students, they were of various ages from early to late teens. They patted him on the back and chanted his name. He waved a hand, feeling like a rock star or the star striker of Real Madrid. The school and college visits in the UK were slightly more sedate, more reserved affairs. Here he was, miles away from home, being treated like a hero. 

A woman in her thirties, with shoulder-length dark hair, and glasses, moved through the throng of pupils. 

‘Charlie, I’m Jane. Mucho gusto.’ Jane said, shaking him by the hand.

‘Lovely to meet you.’ Charlie said. 

Jane turned and said something to her students in Spanish. The pupils parted to let the two of them pass. Jane ushered him into the school building. He was introduced to the headmistress, a stern-looking woman in her mid-fifties. Charlie sensed she would have no problem keeping unruly students in check. She thanked him for coming and said it was a pleasure to have him. Charlie insisted the pleasure was all his. 

He was shown into the school hall, to a podium at the front of the hall. The students filed into the hall and filled the rows of plastic chairs. Jane introduced him, saying it was a pleasure to have the English writer visiting the school. 

When Charlie took to the podium, the student fell silent, eager to listen to the prolific writer speak. He explained about the writing process, how stories seemed to come to him, almost fully formed. The students asked him questions, sometimes needing Jane to translate into English. 

He read them one of his recent stories. When he had delivered the dramatic twist in the story, and read the last line, he simply said, thank you. 

The students, teachers and staff responded with thunderous applause. Jane suggested the students then line up to get their books signed and have their photograph taken, if Charlie didn’t mind, of course.

‘Not at all,’ he grinned. ‘I’d be delighted.’

When the last of the pupils had posed to have their picture taken and he’d signed the last of their copies of his books, he turned to Jane.

‘I mentioned in our correspondence about a story competition.’ Charlie said. ‘That always goes down well at these events.’

‘Yes, por supuesto. The students were delighted to be writing stories for you to read. They have been working on their compositions all week.’

‘Wonderful.’ Charlie said. 

The students handed in their stories for the competition, before taking an hour’s break to give Charlie a chance to read the work and pick a winner. Charlie sipped a cup of coffee and went through the stories. 

After their break, the pupils returned to the hall. Charlie waved a sheet of paper.

‘We have a winner.’ He declared. 

He read out the name of the writer and the story. The winning student, Manuela, joined Charlie on stage. He presented her with a cheque for 100 EUR, that the school had provided. He shook her hand and congratulated her.

‘You have quite the imagination, and a wonderful grasp of English.’ Charlie said. 

Jane joined them by the podium. 

‘Congratulations, Manuela, and everybody give it up for Charlie Parker.’

The school erupted in applause once again. Charlie tucked the competition entries in his leather satchel. 

‘When I’m home I’ll be working on lots of new stories for you all.’ Charlie said.

‘We can’t wait to read them. Jane said. Isn’t that right, everyone?’ Jane asked.

The students called out eagerly in response.

The following evening back home in his study, Charlie took the stack of students’ stories from his satchel. That should keep him going for a while. It would be nice to have stories from outside the UK to pass off as his own. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up before being exposed, but for now he had a fresh batch of stories. 

He picked the top story, and logged into his website and began copying the story the student had written. When he had finished he tapped out :

A story by Charlie Parker.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom