Saturday, 24 September 2011

Don't ignore me again

Hey hello, I’m on Times Square again, doing my thing. Creeping slowly down the sidewalk. The noise, the lights, the throng - all convenient for my purpose. Ideal in fact. They simply won’t know until it is too late. But slow now. Just be careful. One at a time will suffice.

I've been here before, but that was just to visit. Now I am here to work. And my work never seems to end. Some days I wonder if I had chosen the right path in life, or rather death. But deep down I know it makes sense. Everything fits together perfectly in my mind - and frankly the minds of others too. Sure, I am not alone. Over the years I had converted many people. Usually they come over okay, but not always, occasionally they struggle.

And in those cases things can get a little messy. They never seemed to want to go down quietly, but that should not be such a surprise, particular since I've been doing this line of work for some 260 years. Surprised? Well that's not to be wondered at - you don't know what I do. Yet Maybe you will wish you would never know, but already you're on that slippery slope to discover the truth.

Come on, don't worry, it won't hurt, well not too much. Maybe a little at first but I like to think that is more akin to discomfort than pain. Yeah okay, I guess it's all relative to your experience, and I have to say I have plenty of that. Feels quite good really.

By the way, did you see me the other day? We almost bumped into each other. Not in Times Square of course, just around the corner from where you live. I did smile but you seemed to be in a bit of a hurry. Silly really because now there is no need to rush any more. The daily madness will soon dwindle in significance for you. It takes a little while for the new mode to settle, but ŷou'll be fine, I promise.

Maybe if you think hard you will remember me?

Anyhow, can I ask a favour - try not to ignore me again. I know you have no clue what I look like - and I do change a little from week to week - but it would be very much in your interests to take a little more notice of strangers, just in case it's me!

See ya soon!

Thursday, 14 July 2011

A Good Place to Die

This is a good place to die. Barren, desolate. You could lay here unmolested for weeks if not months. Yes, I think this is the place. And you really do want to be long gone before the molestation starts. It’s not a pretty sight as they have their wicked way. Of course people used to think you left the moment you died, but now we know better. So it pays to find the right place to die.
It was the original Pathfinder who first discovered the key. He managed to unlock the linear progression of life phases. It had probably happened before, but he was the first to share the discovery, giving hope to our sorry consciousness trapped and withering in the human phase.
Of course the Pathfinder went through the usual cycle of being ignored, ridiculed. A fool, an idiot. Achieving heretic status signalled the arrival of credibility, he had started to worry the establishment. But as the generations passed, the records of his teaching gradually gained more credence. The main reason for this was the arrival of some worrying omens which started to corroborate his wisdom.
The first signs started about 50 years ago. That was when the screaming started. Yes, that’s right, screams. Screams from another world. To start with it was just isolated incidents. Mere figments of over active imaginations in the middle of the night. Echoes of nightmares past. Little did they then realise, echoes of nightmares yet to pass.
At first nobody could pin down what they were or where they were coming from. But they kept coming and they kept increasing. Not only in frequency, but also in volume. Eventually some scientist whose name is now long forgotten noticed the pattern. All of the screams seemed to emanate from cemeteries. Initially in remote communities, but increasingly in more populated areas.
Yet still the link had not been made. That took the best part of five years before someone noticed the connection with the Pathfinders teaching, focused initially around the now notorious words...
“And in the darkness, the agony of the dead shall multiply. Perpetual carrion for the Veltars. This will be the beginning of the end. It will be the signal the futility of the human phase. A phase with no place left to go, redundant for eternity”
And so now here I stand. Prepared I think. Certainly accepting of my role, my duty. Now it is my turn to take that step. Not quite blind faith but almost. It is the time for me to play my part in this struggle to turn back the ravages of time, to stop the screams. It’s my time to die – and this is the perfect place to do it.

Written today, July 14, 7:30am, summit of Mount Snowdon, Wales. In a few hours the first train will arrive full of tourists with their flip flops and Zimmer frames. Not a good place to die.

Friday, 24 June 2011


She’d dropped one – how totally embarrassing. The fact that it was a rare occasion failed to make any impression in her thoughts as emotions raged. The session had been pretty brutal, but after all these years the reality that she could still drop one like that cut deep. Despite all the training, the practise and experience, it proved she was human, not quite a woman but certainly human. It was scary. In her world you couldn’t afford to be seen like that.
And the bastard had the temerity to mock her. He’d seen it fall and his eyes said it all. He knew what it meant. He didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were immediately evident. They laughed, they taunted, they bred. Smelling victory. Visions of glory and honour. And in her mind, the rage took over, only later would it feed on all the consequences. In that instant she knew what she had to do. She had to totally crush him. To leave him in no doubt that she wasn’t like that. The ferocity of her response had to be so quick, so terrifying, so fast, that the anonymous watchers wouldn’t notice what she’d done. Hidden behind their cameras, noting the pace, sensing the energy, They may not have seen it fall, and now she had to make sure that if they had, they quickly forgot, overwhelmed by the speed of her brutality.
The corners of his mouth were still betraying thoughts as she moved to capitalise on his growing complacency. She caught the bar before it struck the ground and was already in motion, moving forward with fluidly. The hard steel of the pipe felt good as she started the swing, fingers gripping tighter, adding more power and building speed. She noticed his thoughts change as he realised his error. The eyes reflecting to potency of what was bearing down on him. His reflexes snapped but it was too late, she was faster. Much faster and his face showed defeat. That look didn’t last long.
The pipe didn’t really hit his cheek.  It should have given its two inch diameter, but such was the force of her move that it sliced into the side of his face. It disappeared inside as the gore flew. Absorbed its cold embrace. And then it was free. Out the other side having half decapitated him, opening up a savage rent which immediately began to bubble with bile and blood. If she noticed the severity of the wound nobody could tell. Automatically she was rebalancing for the next part of her manoeuvre. Leaving no room for error. As her head swept round ahead of her body, the bar maintaining full speed, she realised he’d gone. Sinking backwards, his game over. Had she gone too far? She froze and looked up at the panel of lights, knowing that they would soon give the answer. Ignorant of the body beside her, she slowed, calmed and stood erect, arms by her sides, waiting for the verdict. Resisting the impulse to wipe away the tear she’d dropped, even now still mocking on her cheek.

Thursday, 16 June 2011

Break In: 1

It smelt bad, really bad. Even before he prised up the metal cover he could smell it. Not long before others would begin to notice it. That kind of smell was distinctive, and if somebody wandered near and had smelt this smell before, they’d know. The cops would be called in an instant. He had to do something.
He curled his fingers under the edge of the cover and braced himself for the stench. Even before the metal shifted the smell escalated badly. It was even worse than he had expected. He hadn’t factored in that the weather had been incredibly good over the last week. The sun had been beating down on the metal cover and created an oven. His fingers lost their grip as the natural urge to vomit took over. He didn’t have a choice.
But it had to be done. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth and worked his fingers once more under the cover to begin this unpalatable chore. This time, even though he was ready for it, he still felt his body react and had to work hard to hold the bile down. As the cover lifted the late evening sunlight drifted down into the shallow grave. It was not a pretty sight. Once upon a time it had been a pretty sight, a very pretty sight indeed. But that was a long time ago. Maybe that had been the problem, too pretty by far. Little wonder it ended like this.
He noticed the glint of the wedding band just visible through the puffed up fingers. It seemed to taunt and tease him. It whispered in his head. Do you see anything you fancy? Wanna play? Come give me a kiss big boy? That’s it darling, fuck me hard.
She’d been fucked all right, and he’d enjoyed it.
But now he had to push those thoughts away; he had work to do. Of course she’d deserved it. She’d asked for it. They all do. She’d got it good and proper. That’s the only decent way to deal with such a slut. But she’d lasted well. She put up a good fight. He’d enjoyed that. In so many ways she was his favourite. Now, time to get it done.
She had been good though. It didn’t turn out quite the way he had planned, but it was still good. Watching faces had always been a pleasure. Seeing them go from excited anticipation. The thrill of what pleasures would soon arrive. Then – click. As the eyelid moved the flicker of concern began. Have I missed something? Something doesn’t feel right. He liked that moment. The moment when power shifted, control changed hands. Their adult life had been spent manipulating others. Spinning tales and pulling strings. They were used to getting what they wanted. It was this flicker that was the turning point. After that point their life would never be the same again. Of course they didn’t know the detail, but in that second they seemed to sense that something fundamental in their world had changed. The birth of a new life. A short life. A life totally controlled. A life with only one option, one path, one end. Seeing that played out in their face was fascinating. Thrilling. To work...

He knew...

...that he was different. People whispered he was weird. Occasionally that hurt, but most of the time he secretly relished the label, and even at times he could be accused of inciting it by his oft bizarre activities. He didn't want to be normal, which is probably just as well!