Experimenting with what might become a children’s book. Imagine reading this with appropriate illustrations…
Do you think it works as the kind of story children would enjoy? Maybe pre/early teens?
If you have any of these types 👆 to hand, please do me a favour and let them read it. I’d love to get some feedback from its intended audience.
In which we meet Rick and an unusual narrator.
With the final clunk of the hammer and tightening of the last bolt, he was finally there. Of course, there would need to be an actual flight, but all the indications were good. He’d successfully built a fully functional Rocket. Blast off was within reach.
Rick had always wanted to reach the stars. He is the kind of man that believes anything is possible.
The accident he’d suffered as a teenager, in which he’d lost the use of his legs, was simply a different kind of opportunity for him to realise.
If he couldn’t walk on Earth, he’d do so in Space.
He often told me that a Space walk seemed a little more interesting, to him, than the process of putting one foot in front of the other and heading to the shop for a carton of milk.
Although I’m sure he’d have found that nice as well.
But Beggars can’t be choosers.
Not that Rick is a Beggar.
He is a Rocket Man.
Or at least he would be once he’d put the bins out, fed the dog and had his dinner.
His plan that evening was to blast off for a quick trip. No further than a quick circle around the moon and then home in time for his nightly hot chocolate.
That was his plan.
Before we get to the nitty gritty of what happened during Rick’s inaugural flight, it’s probably worth a quick explanation as to how he managed to turn his Wheelchair into a Rocket. The science bit if you will.
He just did.
I hope that covers it.
There’s obviously more to it than that. I just don’t understand it so, if you’re interested, It’s probably better to ask Rick to explain it to you directly when we finally get home.
If we get home.
I’m his dog by the way.
My name is Buddy.
The part where he was going to put the bins out, feed me and have his dinner went a bit wrong.
Rick didn’t have his dinner.
The bins remained where they were.
I missed out on my mid week sausages.
And we both ended up in Space without the means to get home.
And I missed out on my mid week sausages.
If we ever do get home we really will have a great story to tell. Rick would tell you, it’s just a matter of time. He remains the eternal optimist.
I’m far more of a realist, I know that it’s far from a given. It’s for that reason that I decided to write it all down. Maybe, if we don’t make it, someone, somewhere, sometime will find this and know we tried.
I do realise dogs are generally optimistic creatures but, I like to think, my outlook gives balance to Rick’s unshakable positivity.
It’s certainly got us out of a few scrapes on our journey together.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though.
I need to explain how I came to be onboard with Rocket Man Rick, at the time of blast off, and why we couldn’t come straight home, as per the original plan.
Do you know when somebody repeatedly tells you not to go near something, to touch something or to press something?
Well that’s what happened.
I went near something, I touched something and I pressed something.
Specifically, I jumped up on Rick’s knee. Just at the very moment he was sitting on the patio with the launch button in his hands.
He’d been getting a feel for his post bins, dinner and sausages adventure but wasn’t ready for an actual launch.
My front left paw had other ideas. I’d meant to use it as a springboard, from knee to chin, as I bounded up to give him a congratulatory lick to mark his Rocket building success.
Instead, my paw made contact with the afore mentioned launch button and as quick as you can say, “everyone makes mistakes”, we were hurtling upwards towards, what was for us anyway, the great unknown.
It’s a good job he was wearing his Space suit.
It’s a good job I seem to be dog who, as well as being able to write, can survive in Space without an unbecoming goldfish bowl type helmet on my head.
Our adventure had begun.
In which we learn that what goes up, doesn’t always go down.