All entries for November 2008

November 25, 2008

See the sun rise

Ok, flash fiction here. Basic principle is to take an event from someones life and twist it into something fantastical in some way whilst retaining the heart of what the event was about/signified. This is the second proper draft of this, and I'm not altogether happy with it as I think I've copped out on one or two things and gotten too engrossed in a few others. Still time to rewrite at a later date.

P.S. Formatting stupidity is not my fault but the bloody blogs.

I met a man once in the infirmary; he was waiting to see one of the nurses and grumbled about how they were already behind schedule. He told me a story about a sunset that for his love froze the motion of the entire world.


Now see the sun rise over a scarred desert of blackened red rocks, the glowing horizon of scorching fire, blazing red and molten gold, stretching across the horizon from end to end. Advancing with inexorable slowness; casting deadly light in its wake. On the desert floor the red rocks smoke and pop as the ice and condensation of the night flash away in a haze of tumultuous air that twists the moisture up high into the sky.

High above great herds of floating tents made of skin and sinew float along on the thermal currents, their great jaws hanging open to catch whatever flotsam comes up on the wind. Whilst on their great leathery backs swarms of smaller kites hop about and peck in the deep crevassed wrinkles of skin for the even smaller creatures that live there amongst the mould and dirt. As they peck, they keep one stalk-like eye in constant motion; always looking around the sky, for the flash of light that signals a hunter’s approach.

On the ground once more a flower blooms in the darkness. Delicate sapphire blue petals curling upwards, entwined around each other in a lattice; forming a bulb above the pale green stem. Which becomes ever thicker as it falls to the floor, where it’s roots are like those of a tree, gnarled and twisted bitter by age. Sensing the sun’s approach the plant responds, from its trunk-like base begins to raise a shell made from tendrils of obsidian like fibre that twist themselves with serpentine method around the base, and begin to rise up layer by layer towards the flower, racing once again to beat the onrushing light.

The devastating day pushes on, but in the half light between day and night where scorching heat and freezing cold do not hold sway there is movement. Across the desert moves something with agility surprising for its construction; a monstrosity of clanking iron and steel, covered all over in a film of fine red dust. Great piston like legs loping along and crushing whatever is in its path in thunderclaps of sound and explosions of blood red sand. Around its head a halo of panels are turned to face the sun, reflecting multi-hued rainbows across their shimmering surfaces.

This great creature of ingenuity slams to a halt mere meters from the flower, where the tendrils of armour are almost reaching their zenith, and from it’s face comes another creature, this one smaller and covered in heavy red layers of clothing and equipment that jingle on it’s back and arms. It’s face is covered by a long beak-like mask and it’s eyes are hidden behind tinted black glass. In a few short loping steps it stands above the flower, and drawing a ice-white knife it reaches in with long supple fingers through the tightening web of obsidian black fibre, that shakes with rage at what is to come, and with a deft motion cuts the flower from the stem and scoops it out and into a brass container; which sizzles with some strange energy.

Above the kites scream a warning as out of the sky a great silvered hunter sweeps out of the suns rays, armour plated wings beating great strokes as it’s sword claws slice through the tents, sending great clouds of smaller kites flying about in tumultuous mayhem. Then it’s first attack complete the hunter stops, hangs in mid air before with another great wing beat it arches back in amongst the kites, jaws open to catch its dislodged prey.


I walk out of the infirmary, the man’s story all but forgotten in the picture he had painted for my mind. Still lost in my thoughts I move towards the exit, and step out onto the great steel decked promenade, below I can feel the throb of the cities engines pushing us up and along the desert floor into the night. Towards the sunside I can see the great terraced gardens where the food is grown, a flowering paradise in amongst the clouds, constantly chased by day but never reaching night.

November 06, 2008


I just had one of the most terrifying experiences in my entire life.

I thought I'd gone down with another cold yesterday: so stayed in bed, ate plenty of fruit and drank lots of water. I also read the first 110 pages of Absolute Beginners in between falling asleep. However tonight I went to sleep and dreamt. Now I very rarely dream; or rather I very rarely remember dreaming. However tonight was different, it was as close to insanity as I have ever been. I could physically feel myself slipping away, my mind merging in consciousness with the book, facts and thoughts twisting into each other and splitting down an infinite number of paths that had me screaming in agony and sheer ball-twisting terror. I felt, in short that I was losing myself being subsumed by something unstoppable that would leave me forever destroyed and gone.

I barely managed to wake up again, to push my head up above the waves, and even then it felt like I was still asleep, still trapped in the nightmare as I pushed my wearing, sweat soaked body onto legs that felt like I was standing in the midst of an earthquake. Juddering this way and that and gripping the wall for support I focussed on what little part of me I could still find amongst the confusion and the pain and snatching my cup I lurched into the bathroom and began with shaky hands and blurry vision to drink what felt like my own body weight in water. Whilst trying to force myself through the static of names and places that seemed to dominate my mind.

Eventually I started to feel like a shadow of myself again. But the whole event has left me scared shitless like a little kid. I hope it was simply a fever dream of extreme severity. But I've always felt two points away from the edge of madness and only a little push into the padded cell of the mind.

November 2008

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  • "only a little push into the padded cell of the mind." That's the opening line to a poem I reckon…… by George Ttoouli on this entry
  • This reminds me of Northern Lights :) by Helen Gaterell on this entry
  • I like the end! Scattered scarlet. Bon choix de mot! by on this entry
  • Depends why you want it, but in general I accept cash, travellers checks and also treasure maps. by on this entry
  • Good to see this happening, and yes, transferring from Word to blog produces W e i R d for MAT T iN … by David Morley on this entry

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