Congratulations, your new e-book is now available from the Chipmunka website. The direct link is:
http://chipmunkapublishing.co.uk/shop/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=1128
what is it they say? all you have to doooo is copy and paste the link
Wednesday 30 July 2008
Wednesday 5 March 2008
What's True
What’s true – is this a dream – it is so real, was it real or just another vivid dream. I was looking for people, but could not find anyone. I wanted to chop their heads off, but the street was empty. No one around.
It was not quite dark, yet still some blue in the sky, but no stars. I could imagine a cat jumping over the moon but there was no moon or moonlight.
There was still no one to be seen, the crack on the pavement left signs of people gathering, smoking, just a pile of butt ends in the gutter. Space between empty buildings waiting to come alive between the hours of 9 to 5pm.
The rain making round by eddies as it washes down the drain, the sound of emptying sinks – 100 emptying all at once. Still no one to be seen. The axe I have is the type for cutting down trees, no trees to be seen.
I run up the road, it’s silent. The moon’s come out now, it is dark now. I run down the road. I can compare it to 4am on London Bridge in the morning. It reminds me of the stillness of early morning when nobody is to be seen.
Who’s head can I chop off, the only head is mine? I spin the axe this way and that but it’s impossible to chop my head with it.
Still no early morning noise, I throw the axe up in the air, there’s no clouds to pass, only the night sky.
The axe disappears, I lie down on the street face down, shaped like an X – head out, neck stretched out 20 feet like a giraffe.
I turn over, I can see no axe, hear no axe, only the stillness of early morning. I turn back, the axe has gone from view, disappeared into the night sky.
On all fours, face down I start to get up, seconds feel like hours as I rise – a thud from my top left shoulder, the axe hit and made it’s way to bottom right waist – a diagonal cut.
I stand up trying to look over my shoulder turning my neck but just not seeing what has happened.
My feet are frozen to the pavement, not moving I pull my belt up (it is not too bad, I can still use both hands), under my arm, up to my arm pit. The belt comes down but this time it goes round my shoulder pulling me together.
Still my legs won’t move, I feel a knife plunge deep into my back, cutting from shoulder to waist, making an X.
Fear inside me starts to bubble, but no sweat, I cannot move not even my neck will turn.
Thud, my head drops out of my back and hits the ground followed by hundreds of little heads covered in something. Eyes like dead fishes, bloodstained with bits of neck, shouting words I can’t hear.
Rolling heads with dead eyes, eyes that roll like toy dollies, all calling something I can not hear or understand. I’m on a treadmill going nowhere. Is this just a nightmare to be repeated?
At this point the camera pulls back and you see me in a padded cell with just a ant of a smile. Who next?
It was not quite dark, yet still some blue in the sky, but no stars. I could imagine a cat jumping over the moon but there was no moon or moonlight.
There was still no one to be seen, the crack on the pavement left signs of people gathering, smoking, just a pile of butt ends in the gutter. Space between empty buildings waiting to come alive between the hours of 9 to 5pm.
The rain making round by eddies as it washes down the drain, the sound of emptying sinks – 100 emptying all at once. Still no one to be seen. The axe I have is the type for cutting down trees, no trees to be seen.
I run up the road, it’s silent. The moon’s come out now, it is dark now. I run down the road. I can compare it to 4am on London Bridge in the morning. It reminds me of the stillness of early morning when nobody is to be seen.
Who’s head can I chop off, the only head is mine? I spin the axe this way and that but it’s impossible to chop my head with it.
Still no early morning noise, I throw the axe up in the air, there’s no clouds to pass, only the night sky.
The axe disappears, I lie down on the street face down, shaped like an X – head out, neck stretched out 20 feet like a giraffe.
I turn over, I can see no axe, hear no axe, only the stillness of early morning. I turn back, the axe has gone from view, disappeared into the night sky.
On all fours, face down I start to get up, seconds feel like hours as I rise – a thud from my top left shoulder, the axe hit and made it’s way to bottom right waist – a diagonal cut.
I stand up trying to look over my shoulder turning my neck but just not seeing what has happened.
My feet are frozen to the pavement, not moving I pull my belt up (it is not too bad, I can still use both hands), under my arm, up to my arm pit. The belt comes down but this time it goes round my shoulder pulling me together.
Still my legs won’t move, I feel a knife plunge deep into my back, cutting from shoulder to waist, making an X.
Fear inside me starts to bubble, but no sweat, I cannot move not even my neck will turn.
Thud, my head drops out of my back and hits the ground followed by hundreds of little heads covered in something. Eyes like dead fishes, bloodstained with bits of neck, shouting words I can’t hear.
Rolling heads with dead eyes, eyes that roll like toy dollies, all calling something I can not hear or understand. I’m on a treadmill going nowhere. Is this just a nightmare to be repeated?
At this point the camera pulls back and you see me in a padded cell with just a ant of a smile. Who next?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)