Skip to main content

Sixty Two



I am an unsuccessful dectective - so unsuccessful I cannot even spell my own job correctly - with a disabled son. I am attempting to find the killer of a woman in Cambridge, murdered by Lion's Yard, her body found grasping a ladle. Somehow I know the outfit worn by the killer is blue/green/grey and I am compelled to look for evidence in the shampoo aisle of a local supermarket. By chance, over the road, I spot the killer queuing to get in to a Pizza Express. I give chase with my partner, who now exists. The killer leads us to a rooftop which seems to be similar to Hadid's re-imagined transport museum in Glasgow, where my disabled son is intent on killing himself owing to my neglect. We attempt to reach him, but before we can he rolls off the roof. I assume he is dead, but when I am eventually persuaded to look over the edge, in an exchange reminiscent of Brad Pitt at the conclusion of the film Se7en, the chair is empty. What sort of elaborate prank is this? When my partner tells me to look closer I note that my son is actually dead, but reduced to a bloody mush. I am crying, as is a female onlooker and her daughter. I turn to the daughter who says 'I only cry when mummy cries'. I am unable to apprehend the murderer.

* I like the cheeky copyright notice that has automatically crept in to the picture.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fifty Six

In the past few weeks I was getting a little worried that my lack of memorable midnight recollections would end this chart of nocturnal wanderings, but in the last week or so, I have remembered around 3 dreams a night; in the process of doing so, I have started using my phone to note things down rather than a pad and pen, and then email myself so I actually remember I have the material. Remembering is half the battle. This dream I thought pertinent as I have just finished marking student essays for Spring Term (and presumably this is what inspired it) 'I am circling some sort of warehouse, possibly owned and run by Argos. Inside, a number of my students have killed a man by beating him to death. They now fall about laughing whilst bouncing off inflatable children’s toys. I try to remain stoic in the face of horror, concerned that I may be next. I talk to them a while, and on finding out that ____ is their ring leader, I try to escape. Every path leads back to the warehouse. Insi...
Post a Comment
Read more

Sixty Eight

In some sort of wasteland, possibly Malton from urbandead but in reality. The buildings and general lay out of the space appears to be a grid system, dark green, crisscrossing and bisecting the land; it resembles a giant board game. The sky is muted orange, and I have a feeling there is something lurking in the increasing shadows that dusk has introduced. Someone who I am with shows me around their flat. From the window I see abandoned car parks, and in the distance lakes and mountains, though this view is partially obscured by smoke rising from refineries that seem to encircle the town. The light is falling away. No-one is on the street when I am taken to the next house. The view from the window is the other house. Each subsequent place I am shown around offers a view of the preceding property. I am caught in a loop of property viewing, with some unknown menace responsible for the trap I find myself in.
1 comment
Read more

Fifty One

'Spending time living in a valley, where the only access is one road in and out. Everyone I explain this to seems confused by how a road can only go in two directions, suggesting an understanding of directional space I am not privy to. In a hut on one side of the valley I find some serum in a jar that tells me if I drink it that I’ll forget whatever I’m dreaming about. I am reminded of Alice in Wonderland. In the valley bottom, I drink from the jar in front of a small circle of onlookers. Rather than forget, or mutate or something, what actually happens is the sky changes from blue to red, and the sun becomes a cut out child’s collage of various spiky colours, similar to the front cover of an album for Mount Vernon Art Labs which was designed by the friend of someone who once spoke to me at a conference, but subsequently abandoned in favour of Julian House's designs when the band released the record with Ghost Box. I also own a jeep.'
Post a Comment
Read more