Forever Falling

The sky slowly darkens as the sun dips behind the clouds, the windows slide from light to grey. Whisps of air stream past, chasing droplets across the glass, helter skelter as the plane starts to descend. Inside the cabin the light changes, melting from the dazzling brilliance of moments ago to the dull artificial glow that washes over the life within; an irregular motion bumps and buffets the plane, pockets of turbulent air enjoy their brief moments of power. The rows of seats are almost full, the gentle chatter of a hundred strangers fight the mechanical hum, a war of attrition that neither will win. A sudden burst of laughter breaks through but is soon lost, impaled on the battlements …

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Finding the way

Overhead the clouds swirl, heavy drops of rain plummet onto his upturned face. Eyes closed he savours each tiny impact, each one reaffirming one thing, he is still alive and, as the rain washes away the dust and grime, he smiles. He lowers his head and looks around, noticing each blade of grass anew, the slick leaves on the trees, springing back and forth as the rain continues to fall. His head is light and the disconnect remains, he is floating just outside this reality despite the cold damp of his sodden clothes. He turns full circle, unsure of what he is looking for and as the first shiver of the evening passes through him he intuitively sets out to …

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Habit

He hurries in from the cold,shakes his overcoat from his shoulders and hangs it, then his hat, on the bentwood coat stand. He warms his hands on the radiator, crosses the living room to the hi-fi. Bending down he flick-flacks quickly through the LPs, and in practised movement slides an album from its sleeve and onto the deck. The familiar static clunk as he drops the needle. To the kitchen now. A glug of deep red wine, a solid slab of cheese, a torn chunk of bread and back to his chair. He uses the plate to clear space on the low table at his side, glasses and dishes from previous evenings clink as they slide across the grain. A …

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Happily lost

The heavy staccato, the ponderous, throbbing heartbeat, pulsating through their every pore, filling them completely. They are beholden to it, quick to relinquish control, released into it, devoured, immersed, completely lost to each pulse, every melody. All around them the closed eyes of their brothers and sisters cry out, silence roars from deafened mouths as torsos twist in grotesque beauty. The air fills with animal noise, the lust flashes and fades, whilst the gentle sheen of bodies in movement, syncopated in their desires, oblivious to the world, continues to move. There is no time in this place, no walls or ceiling, the floor rendered in booming sonic waves, the smoke machines billow and bloom, false clouds ripped apart by light …

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Svetlana

She can’t remember much of her childhood, a life spent travelling from town to provincial town, her parents picking up jobs where they could until something, as it inevitably did, went wrong. She tries not to remember the shouting and yelling, the men fighting, the women cursing, the pointing, the stares, the hasty packing of meagre belongings and the jolt of yet another train carriage. She has always been looked at, glances becoming stares. She is used to it now but it wasn’t always this way, she remembers moments of peace, childhood memories of dolls and quiet places. She knows she was loved, that her parents understood her life and how she was seen by others, she knew why they …

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Darkness unbeing

It’s an itch, and urge, a pulling, scratching, gouging force churning away inside him. His chest is tight, knotted, formulate and plotting. Despising and demonic he plots revenge, he charts the motions and savours the instant. Brutal and vicious, he is animal. A deep breath. It refuses to move. Tensed, he is ready to pounce, his actions are driven by constriction, a rope taut around him, pulling him this way and that yet leaving him bound and motionless. Rooted here he spins it round again, and again the vitriol stirs. Where is the saviour? Is it pain, is it destruction and violation that will wreck this feeling, lay it to waste, hammerblows to his head? It spins again, fuelling itself …

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The Notebook

“This time it will be different, it will, it will, it will.” She repeats her promise over and over, the needle jumping inside her head. “This time I will be controlled and calm, I’m sure he will notice”, she thinks, “He must notice and if he doesn’t, I will make sure he does!” She laughs out loud at the thought. Heads turn, she blushes and turns away to face the window. Outside the rain falls and sparkling droplets race each other down the glass as the sky rolls and roars above. “How apt” she murmurs. As the bus slowly winds its way through street after street she revisits her journey. She remembers how each passing footstep changed her view, how …

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The Slick Blade

His muscles strain as he tenses against the movement beneath him. His grip remains firm as he shifts his weight slightly, fully immobilising the writhing mass that twitches at his feet. He looks down with impunity, almost with a sense of pity but he knows what must be done. He has trained a long time for this and is wary of his mentor standing off to onside, quietly observing him and taking in every action, every pause, each calculated pass of the blade. He reaches down and the blade catches in the sunlight. Freeze frame as suddenly the moment is here and he can see everything, feel everything, sense everything. The gentle breeze that caresses the long grass into soft …

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In the head space

Adrift. Floating in an empty space. Colour fills the horizon, seeping into the space below, sinking deeper and merging with black. The subtle rhythm of the music, the staccato beat fills the room. Repetition on repetition, frequency and tone, key in maintaining the moment. Syncopated change fluctuates the air and the colours swirl once more, the room spins back into being whilst retaining a distance, smoked glass and dull mirrors. Lost in fragments of time, seconds are hours, minutes become seconds. The colours blur, space bends and the contours are rubbed smooth with the resonance of the sound in the air. Animal cries punctuate each instance, a moment scattered and regained. Carnal, base utterances added to the cacophony and once …

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The plane

The sky slowly darkens as the sun dips behind the clouds and the windows of the plane slide to grey. Whisps of air stream past, chasing droplets across the glass, helter skelter as the plane starts to descend. The light changes, melting from the dazzling brilliance of moments ago to the dull artificial glow that washes over the life within, and an irregular motion bumps and buffets the plane, pockets of turbulent air enjoy their brief moments of power. The rows of seats are almost full, the gentle chatter of a hundred strangers fight the mechanical hum, a war of attrition that neither will win. A sudden burst of laughter breaks through but is soon lost, impaled on battlements. Near …

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