By Giles Darling
“I’m going to speak to the union.” a pea turns to its neighbour. “We didn’t sign up for this.”
“Yeah.” the neighbour joins in. “One minute we were photosynthesizing in our pods. Next without warning we were plucked from our bush, stripped from our homes, and tipped into boiling water.”
“Bobbing to the surface,” the first pea shivers, “for a gasp of air.”
“You should count yourselves lucky.” a carrot interrupts. “I was surrounded by snug, warm soil when I was ripped out of the ground, washed, cut up, cooked.” It sighs. “Look at me. How I’ll survive this, I don’t know.”
The peas admire the neat row of stacked orange slices.
“You think you had it bad?” a deep voice booms from a rugged pile of mashed potato. “I was skinned alive, brought to the boil, and then pulverised into this mush.”
“That’s bad.” the others nod.
“Watch out!” the carrot screams as four parallel metals bar descend from above and sweep the peas up into the air.
“Look!” the first pea whispers as they’re tipped into a black tunnel. “There’s a way out beyond this wet, pink rug.”
They roll along furtively and dive down a black mineshaft.
Giles was initially a civil engineer but he changed career in 2013 and he now runs a local shop in a Sussex village. Here he has an excellent opportunity to observe a wide range of people and, in between serving customers, he can plan and write his next project. Giles was also involved in local politics for a number of years and draws on this experience to create the less likeable characters in his stories.