Posts in Everyday darkness
Introducing: Samson the Lemming

Heat warps the human being. It can buckles them, slows their step. Halts their ability to sleep. It shortens their fuse to only trigger finger fast reactions and causes a strange sort of cannibalistic pack mentality. Take the British, for the example. A country swarming with people who act as babbling thermometers. They wander into shops or homes or offices and declare ‘isn’t it hot?’ or ‘blimey, it’s freezing in here’. They check the weather reports like they’ve been handed the lottery results. These are people who, once gun ownership is made legal here, will spend their lunchtimes patrolling their offices and hunting down anyone who dared to fiddle with the air conditioning without first seeking their bloated, withholding say so.

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The Second Pencil Case

   I suppose some people like to keep the defining north and south poles of their empires a little further apart.  Span a larger axis.  For whatever reason, life has really made sure I’ve kept my own poles far more provincial.  Hoping between two neighbouring counties, whose defining edges are so uneven that they practically border on incest.  Still, it’s okay, there’s some history around here.  Shakespeare wrote plays and poems not too far away, before commuting to London and possibly not existing.  Richard the Third, pantomime villain turned award winning role in one of those plays, slept under car park after forgetting where he parked his horse.  Alan Moore only lives one country over, sewing seeds of magic, myth and political mayhem.  Not a bad neighbour to have in these times.

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The Guilt Frame

I am not Catholic.  Which is not a problem or a solution.  It’s simply a statement.  It’s probably for the best if we steer clear of religion.  Even though a lot of them are very pro forgiveness, their biggest supporters seem to practice very differently to what’s been preached in their direction.  I’m just saying, before we get into this, that I’m not Catholic.  I was married in a Catholic church, but I’m fat and privileged with a beard.  Which is probably why I was taken to Church of England services.  Fat, white and bearded is basically their mascot, after all.

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Judging Dread

There was a definite menace in the silence that followed.  I don’t think I heard a front door close, which makes me wonder if I heard anything at all.  Still, that silence pressed down on me.  It wouldn’t let me close my eyes.  I wasn’t scared.  I wasn’t fearing for my own safety.  My sleep, maybe; but not my safety.  I lay there and waited for a violent encore.  Raised voices.  Doors slamming shut.  Glass smashing.  Or, worse, laughter.

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