The Ballad of Deirdre Chen

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The profile pic is of me, a sentient worm from another dimension, sent here to tell you about Deirdre Chen: Saviour of the Multiverse! She is afraid of the future, her name is Deirdre Chen, a twelve year old girl from Manchester. Named after her mothers’ favourite Coronation Street character. Her life takes an unexpected turn when an objected falls from the sky. This is the Finger Gauntlet, a device of immense power. Where did this object come from you ask? He is tormented by the past, his name is Mengo the Conqueror and he didn’t earn that name through his negotiation skills! Mengo is the ruler of an empire that stretches across the Multiverse. It was forged in minutes by using the Gauntlet to teleport comets into planets. Their world's are about to collide!

Scifi / Children
4.9 7 reviews
Age Rating:

Chapter 1


Aside from the dreams in which he found himself being chased by the ghosts of his victims, Mengo the Conqueror didn’t dwell on the past. It was one such nightmare that lead to him flying through the rift, the causeway between dimensions. Imagine the surface of an ocean rolled into the shape of a tube with tiny wavelets rushing across its surface. Mengo was travelling through it in the imaginatively named ‘Rift Ship’. These spherical craft are sophisticated pieces of engineering with a hoop around them that spins and spins until forming a drill that pierces the fabric of reality. You don’t barge your way into the rift, you have to surgically implant yourself, then cut your way out afterwards.
Mengo’s ship was ‘The Lormian Glory’, a perfect ball of plated gold. It was a symbol of his family’s wealth and power, Mengo was of the clan Termut. When he was a boy, the clan was very close to being wiped out through a combination of poverty and war. Good fortune had turned the situation around, but now, those halcyon days were soon to be over thanks to his little brother, Bengo the Stupid.
He let Bengo pilot, feeling that it was best to get his spirits back up by showing the oaf that Mengo still trusted him. The Pilot chair he sat in was like a tongue curling down from the roof. A footrest jutted down diagonally from it. Two arms that started from the back of the headrest held out three screens in column formation. With a holder for Sulphade, a popular soft drink made of sulphuric acid that had recently caused controversy when parents become concerned about the sugar content. The screens let you know if anyone was sneaking up on you because the circular window at the front of the cockpit didn’t let you see everything. His twin brother, younger than him by five minutes, had some making up to do.
Whilst Mengo loved him with all his six hearts, and the spare seventh located in their species’ left buttock cheek, Bengo was so thick that two short planks would be charging him money to do his homework for him. It wasn’t a case of Bengo being ‘Not all there’, but rather that was totally lost, asking where ‘There’ was. As for playing with a full deck, Bengo was playing Poker with a deck of Snap!
You might think it fair that if Mengo got the brains, then Bengo might get the looks. However Mengo had boulder like biceps, shoulders like a mountain that had then injected steroids because it felt inferior to Everest, under his Jade skin, the desired shade for their race called ‘Lormians’. Whereas Bengo looked the same colour you might turn when you’re about to vomit. Bengo’s physical state was at one point so awful, that he required a suit that levitated him inches from the ground as slaves pushed him along.
Mengo wasn’t too harsh on him, for he was partly to blame. The Finger Gauntlet, is a device that he wore on his forefinger unique to his DNA, that can teleport the wearer or any object you desire through dimensions. It had landed in the dense forests of Lormia when Mengo was but a child, during one of his many hunting trips, Mengo was very close to wiping out The Jenesnax, a ferocious species of grass eating bovines, when it arrived in a bolt of lightning.
You may have noticed Mengo was not currently using it as a mode of transportation, that is because before bed he had a bowl of molten steel soup, he had to take my gauntlet off because he didn’t want it to get dirty as he dipped his graphite slices into the soup, made from robots that had gained self-awareness, a split second before being melted down. The sentience really have the soup kick, especially with a bit of ground pepper! The mistake was going off to bed whilst leaving it on the table. You see, if the gauntlet is not worn for a long period of time, it turns to liquid, liquid which If left next to a bowl of molten soup might look as if he spilled some. And if you were his brother Bengo, you might wipe it up with a cloth and flush it down the toilet, all whilst humming a pleasant tune and congratulating yourself on having the diligence to tidy up.
Lormian toilets are a little different from ours on Earth. We have a sewage system, and that’s pretty good for a civilization too inept for space travel. What Lormians prefer to do is fit their toilets with a vortex. Therefore, instead of all this harmful waste being built up, it just drops on civilizations too inept for space travel, and it just so happened to be our inept civilization!
The reason this caused Mengo’s stomach to bubble with dread and purple sweat to seep out of his pickle coloured pores, was because he had built an empire in minutes by teleporting comets at planets; simple yet effective. I can feel you judging him, and so you should. There were deaths, I shudder to think how many. Understand this though, those who surrendered now live in prosperity. Mengo had turned backwaters into beacons of civilization. Mengo told himself that it was worth the pain. That’s why the motto on his royal seal is, ‘Always look to the light ahead, not the darkness behind’. The issue was, that without the Gauntlet, the darkness was going to come rushing towards Mengo like a freight train.
Folding his arms, to cover up the fact that his hands were trembling, Mengo ordered Bengo to test the ships weaponry. The turrets on a rift ship are different from the ones on other craft. What with the big hoop spinning around its hull, standard weaponry would cause more damage to you than your enemy. The Glory’s was working fine, it was a cannon made out of pure energy that hovered in the ships orbit. Each rift ship has a unique weapon according to the tastes of their captain. Mengo liked to reminisce about one Lieutenant whose weapon was a broadsword, it was a jovial site as he cleaved enemy frigates in half. This pleasant memory was brief, because needless to say Mengo was very, very nervous. What would Earth have in store for him? Upon first learning about us Humans he was more than a little frightened. I mean, we know how infinite the space around us is, and yet we kill each other over a segment of rock. Mengo’s coordinates were set for a small dwelling known as ‘Manchester’, a settlement he assumed was built for prunes seeking moisture, as it was located in the middle of a rainy valley.
Strange and savage as we sapiens may be, we scare him far less than his mother, who thankfully didn’t know about him losing The Gauntlet.
“COME BACK WITH THE GAUNTLET OR DON’T COME BACK AT ALL!!!!!” Lenga roared like the fearsome lioness that she was, as she appeared on the comm screen above the window. Now dear reader, Mengo is a big alien. He can squat an Alzuran Mastadon. Bench an Ipraxan Whale and can even shot put a Neutrino Star. But let me assure you that none of that, I repeat, none of that matters when he hears his mother’s voice. She always had this ability to make him recoil. Not physically mind, he was sure to maintain an intimidating power stance when around her, because as a boy she used to whip him until he got his intimidating power stance right. Lenga made him recoil on the inside, if you want to call it his soul, then very well. She stood with the use of her zimmer frame, her back arched upward, giving her the appearance of an angry cat dressed in Tan coloured robes.
“Now mummy, how did you find out?”
“Call it a Mothers intuition, and also my ability to read”, she held up Mengo’s Diary. She opened it, showing a passage that read, ‘My idiot brother has lost the Gauntlet, off to retrieve it, should be back for elevenses’. Lenga looked at Mengo, wanting to grind his bones into sherbet.
“I’m warning you now, if you don’t get it back, then either I or your sister will do it for you”. The thought of his sisters smug face, filled him with rage. “So what is your plan my dearest Mengo?”
“Simple, go down to Earth, and kill a child.”
Yes, he was fixing to kill a child, perhaps you should get to know her first.


The Future is;

Full of



Used to

Rinse you


This was something Deirdre Chen’s Aunty Val shared on Facebook once, and although Deirdre was way too cool to like and share it, she did save it to her images.
Deirdre was trudging in the mud, sploshing about in her wellies like a toddler, but her reflection in the little puddles reminded her that those innocent days were passed. Deirdre purposefully left a fringe to hide her strong forehead, which now that she was beginning puberty, was the perfect canvass for nature to splatter acne all over. She’d inherited her mother’s fierce, green eyes and round face, as well as her straight teeth. Luckily for her, because her crippling, teenage insecurity couldn’t deal with braces.
“Ow, my uterus”, her friend Cassie yelped as she slipped in the mud and banged her elbow against the tree, ruining her Air Jordan trainers and scraping her Ellessee jacket against the bark. She had a pale complexion that dared the sun’s rays to tan it. Cassie had the wild, blonde hair of a Germanic warrior Queen, courtesy of her Estonian father. In the centre of her face lay a small, button nose.
“What did you just say?” Deirdre laughed, proper immaculate, with her red Sergio Tacchini trackie top untouched by the mud.
“You know, my uterus, my funny bone”
“No Cassie” she said, “Your humerus
“I know I’m funny mate, I don’t need you reminding me”.


The woods were their usual meeting spot, normally they’d just loiter and that, carving names into trees, smoking cigs and drinking whatever ale the girls had snuck out of their parents’ houses. Deirdre and Cassie had gone to the field that day for a little target practice with her older brother’s BB gun. They would do this with cans of ‘Nova’, a 25p drink that powered you like battery acid, but also tasted like battery acid. To sip it you would swear the factory is just full of bored staff, holding empty cans under elephant’s willies, before emptying caffeine into it. It does the trick mind, they’d use it for revision, or as more often happens, when they had to do their homework on the back of the bus the day it was meant to be handed in.

Deirdre was lining up cans on the wall.
The can that she had just placed on the wall, went spinning end over end.
“Cassie!” she shouted.
Cassie was laughing as she twirled the pistol like a cowboy.
“I was never gonna hit you Deirdre, I’m a crack shot.”
“I’ll show you a crack shot”. Deirdre marched over and snatched the BB gun, looked Cassie dead in the eye and pointed the gun at where she thought the can was. Deirdre pulled the trigger and KABOOM!

Literally, KABOOM!

So much KABOOM! That it threw both of them off of their feet. Our dynamic duo went into the air like they were wearing ‘Basroid’s Blaster Boots’! Oh by the way, the publication of this novel is being sponsored by the Basroid Corporation, my lawyers weren’t happy about this but negotiated it down to three plugs. One down, two to go. Back to the story.
Deirdre looked at the wall, a smoking hole had been where the cans used to be.
As she walked over to the carnage, she saw that the cans had melted.

One puddle darted out of sight.

Deirdre felt something lapping at her feet. It was liquid metal, living liquid metal! She tried to scream as it slid up her body, but the cold knocked the wind out of her. Deirdre’s felt numb as it slid onto her right hand and solidified over her fore finger. She saw glass forming over her knuckle, and in the glass was something that looked like it could have been a circle, but it had some pieces cut out, so that only two were left.

Energy Level: 2

Deirdre was trying to yank it off her finger, like a seatbelt buckle she had stuck her thumb in, when she was five years old. It weren’t budging. Deirdre was in full panic mode. It was a strange feeling she got when she proper bricked it over something. It hit her like a jolt of electricity, the current started at the top of her head and travelled through her skeleton, right down to her tip toes, taking a break halfway through to tie her stomach in knots. It felt like she had entered a nightmare world; her body in the same spot but her mind is in the land of thepoohashitthefanistan. In this strange country, all your worst fears were manifested.
Deirdre pictured what would happen if they couldn’t get if off, for some reason she would be totally awake as they cut her finger off, or worse, she would get a mark on her uniform card because she would still be wearing it Monday morning, and that was against her school’s strict dress code.
“Let’s get some margarine” Cassie said.
Deirdre’s heart was beating so fast that she could just nod her head in agreement. Cassie was always cool under pressure. That’s why she made a good striker for her Sunday league team, there were rumours going round that she was being scouted to play in America. Deirdre never let it show, but she was jealous. Then she remembered something that her mum always used to say, “At the age of 32, Alexander the Great conquered the known world. So if you feel like a failure just remember, at least you didn’t invade a bunch of countries and kill thousands of people like he did”.


“Is that some new technology? Like, from Japan or something?” Cassie wondered as they walked to the supermarket.
“I’ve no idea”
“What if it’s from another world? What if it’s been sent down by an alien race as their first contact with humans?” That idea scared the both of them, so they stopped talking.


They were stood in the baking section, scanning the shelves for the most dirt cheap block of marge. Deirdre managed to clock one for 50p, when the ground beneath her started to quake.
Deirdre looked to her left, where Mengo stood before her. Initially, she thought that it was some sort of spray-painted bodybuilder. He was dressed in that armour those Spanish blokes wore, when they invaded South America back in the ‘thee, thou’ days.
“Give me the Gauntlet!” His voice was like an erupting volcano.
Cassie weren’t bothered, just flicked her hair back and said, “Halloween ain’t til next week mate”, so Mengo pulled a laser cannon on them.
“Bet that’s not real” Cassie said.
“Cassie, he’s either mentally ill, which means you shouldn’t be winding him up like that, or he actually is an alien and that thing is real” Deirdre hissed.
Mengo big green alien fired at the ceiling, bringing rubble crashing down.
“Psst.” Deirdre said to Cassie “I think it’s real”
“Psst” Cassie said to Deirdre “I think it is too”, Mengo took aim at both of them. Deirdre closed her eyes and braced for oblivion.
I can’t really add anything to the story right now, so it’s time for it to change perspective. Mengo will be taking over, but remember DEIRDRE IS THE MAIN CHARACTER.
Bye X

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