Amanda Palmer was telling me how she had to drive. The very thought was quite forward, but I appreciated the no-bullshit approach and was about to steal a car when I noticed a woman stood in front of me, ostensibly mouthing along to the music. I popped one of the headphones from my ear and tried to nod her away- it was a beautiful day indeed, and yes, isn’t it lovely how the days are getting lighter. But my nodding appeared to have the opposite effect to the one I had intended- she continued talking and I gradually felt my brain slipping out of my ears. The headphones stayed in, so my brain began to emerge from my nose instead, under the brilliant winter sunshine, at the dreary town centre bus stop.
‘That’s a fancy coat,’ she began, ‘where did you get that from?’
It’s cold outside, I hate the seasons here. Continue reading “Lorraine Goes to Scotland”
We had only ourselves to blame, the sky had changed months ago, but we had been too preoccupied to notice. We had stared at our shoes and into each other’s eyes, and down the aisles of the supermarket, but when the clouds had disappeared and each morning was painted with an amusing shade of pastel gold, we were too deeply buried in each other’s beds or too transfixed with the glory of the television to have noticed. Continue reading “Another Invasion”
I didn’t push my face against the window. I didn’t want to. The glass was melting, a steady and deliberate dissolving which would cause my skin to burn, should I have touched it. The slow dissipation of the window caused me to suddenly remember being taught at school that glass was always melting, the faint scent of blancmange still present upon my clothes from the canteen. They told me that glass was liquid. The years would change its shape, alter its form, distort what lay behind it. Outside the sun was shining. For a moment my mind smiled, but my present image remained frozen at the window on the bleak, bleak day. The glass melted now because everything was wrong… not because of its matter, and not because of blancmange, but because the poison rain fell from the sky; from clouds blacker than the scorched bodies which had littered the streets in times past. Darker than night, and more terrifying than anything which had come before. The droplets would fall, dissolving the concrete architecture, ravaging skin. Magnificent flickers of a blue shimmer, leaving behind such fluorescent flowers, such ferocious and beautiful mutations- of pink, and green, and yellow- alive, and dead within minutes. Humanity personified in nature. Continue reading “Something Wrong with Heart”