He rose from the ground, anti-angelic in a plume of soot and dust; a negative of the pearly gates, splintering as they landed with a crack on the adjacent concrete. Tartan robe clashed with grass, holed slippers absorbed the dew of a crisp spring morning, the joyful shrieks and twitters of passing aviary; the nostalgia tore a tsunami through his memory. He turned to face his old house, his bungalow. It hadn't changed much; the roof tiles were a tad worse for wear, and the wood panelling showed signs of rot, but nothing 37 years of neglect hadn't catered for. The nest atop the chimney still remained, although with no sign of it's former inhabitants. Shame, he'd become fond of their midnight warblings.
Showing posts with label Era 1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Era 1. Show all posts
Tuesday, 8 March 2011
Set Pt.2
Pt.1
He rose from the ground, anti-angelic in a plume of soot and dust; a negative of the pearly gates, splintering as they landed with a crack on the adjacent concrete. Tartan robe clashed with grass, holed slippers absorbed the dew of a crisp spring morning, the joyful shrieks and twitters of passing aviary; the nostalgia tore a tsunami through his memory. He turned to face his old house, his bungalow. It hadn't changed much; the roof tiles were a tad worse for wear, and the wood panelling showed signs of rot, but nothing 37 years of neglect hadn't catered for. The nest atop the chimney still remained, although with no sign of it's former inhabitants. Shame, he'd become fond of their midnight warblings.
He rose from the ground, anti-angelic in a plume of soot and dust; a negative of the pearly gates, splintering as they landed with a crack on the adjacent concrete. Tartan robe clashed with grass, holed slippers absorbed the dew of a crisp spring morning, the joyful shrieks and twitters of passing aviary; the nostalgia tore a tsunami through his memory. He turned to face his old house, his bungalow. It hadn't changed much; the roof tiles were a tad worse for wear, and the wood panelling showed signs of rot, but nothing 37 years of neglect hadn't catered for. The nest atop the chimney still remained, although with no sign of it's former inhabitants. Shame, he'd become fond of their midnight warblings.
Friday, 22 October 2010
Set Pt.1
That was it, the last beans had been eaten, the oxygen was wearing thin and it was time to emerge into a new world.
'As social experiments go, this was a good one', thought Dara. 'Culture shock experienced for the first time on a human who hasn't been in a coma'. He wandered, lurching toward the hatch, dragging his feet against the floor, such that the bulkhead gave him a small static shock. Gripping the circumference of the seal lock, he waited for the timer to count down.
'As social experiments go, this was a good one', thought Dara. 'Culture shock experienced for the first time on a human who hasn't been in a coma'. He wandered, lurching toward the hatch, dragging his feet against the floor, such that the bulkhead gave him a small static shock. Gripping the circumference of the seal lock, he waited for the timer to count down.
Wednesday, 20 October 2010
Bass
Waiting for entry into a room belongs to a number of categories. These include boredom, irritability, patience, loss of patience and an enhanced sense of fidgeting. To many, the latter is the least evident and indeed least important of an otherwise unpleasant and self-inducingly irritating list. To the human brain, however, the ability to fidget for no reason besides keeping your motor senses running remains one of the most important aspects of survival and sanity it has equipped itself with, over otherwise unproductive millennia.
Tuesday, 19 October 2010
Immersion
Free Thought Brings No Profit
The credit was still in the slot, another game over. Half an hour until work, another life shouldn't be too detrimental.
Start; jump; fire; talk; grab; persuade; love; kill; die. Within the confines of the following 20 minutes, as the rest of the world and it's intricate cogs turned at their steady rhythmic pace, Gerald Berkensoft was in a state of IREM. 2 non-existent months crammed themselves into these TARDIS-esque 20 minutes, in a forced dream-state, his Virtual Immersion-Reality Universe Seat - forcibly titled in order to gain the abbreviation VIRUS - held him sleeping to infinitely stretch his lunch-hour. And his chances too. In IREM, very nearly anything is possible, so long as you have no wish to turn the lights off.
The credit was still in the slot, another game over. Half an hour until work, another life shouldn't be too detrimental.
Start; jump; fire; talk; grab; persuade; love; kill; die. Within the confines of the following 20 minutes, as the rest of the world and it's intricate cogs turned at their steady rhythmic pace, Gerald Berkensoft was in a state of IREM. 2 non-existent months crammed themselves into these TARDIS-esque 20 minutes, in a forced dream-state, his Virtual Immersion-Reality Universe Seat - forcibly titled in order to gain the abbreviation VIRUS - held him sleeping to infinitely stretch his lunch-hour. And his chances too. In IREM, very nearly anything is possible, so long as you have no wish to turn the lights off.
Tramp
Chink.
£1.45.
I hate getting tipped.
That’s what it is, tipping. Granted, the punters think it’s just being generous to a roadside scoundrel. Charity bestowed upon this human mutt to cleanse their delicate sense of self-guilt, right up until the moment they exhibit their monstrous gluttonies at the dinner table, surreptitiously flirt with the neighbour’s spouse or accidentally kick a pigeon.
£1.45.
I hate getting tipped.
That’s what it is, tipping. Granted, the punters think it’s just being generous to a roadside scoundrel. Charity bestowed upon this human mutt to cleanse their delicate sense of self-guilt, right up until the moment they exhibit their monstrous gluttonies at the dinner table, surreptitiously flirt with the neighbour’s spouse or accidentally kick a pigeon.
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