Chapter I (for the moment)

The police cars arrived in drones and weary murmurs down the long, gravel driveway which forced dust to rise into a thick fog, blanketing the sullen spring air. Madeline stood fixed in a muddy white dressing gown staring through the dusty mist as if she could see something utterly terrible behind it. As if she was looking at a jolty film projection of all the memories she had pushed away a very long time ago. She wasn’t crying, but she wanted to, her tears were trying to push out but it only made her eyes bloodshot and as dry as needles. One of the policemen came up to her side and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

‘Madeline?’ he said ‘My name is Officer Worthing,” he paused, “I know this is difficult but you need to show us to the lake’ he paused and swallowed the lump of stale air that was growing in his throat, ‘you need to show me where you found the…’ he looked around at the other officers who had gathered in a nervous circle around her; her contorted and terrified face affected their own expressions into pure pity. He continued, “Um, the lake, where is the lake?” Madeline reached her hand into the pocket of her wet dressing gown and pulled out a necklace. It was fringed with frays of pond weed, like tiny strands of green, matted hair, she looked at it for a second, put it around her neck and turned around to face the house. Then she began to walk towards it, unflinching from the pain of the sharp gravel underneath her bare feet. 3 of the officers followed her along with officer Worthing. They walked down the side of the house past a pristine rose garden which burst with a divine perfume, and past a cat that was basking in the early morning sunshine. The garden opened out onto a healthy green lawn and quite a large glistening lake. A sugary mist of vapour rose lazily from the water and danced into the tops of the ancient trees.

Officer Worthing looked ahead and then at Madeline and walked gingerly towards the lake, as he got closer the mist grew thinner and he could see a trail of mud, sludge and weeds coming out of the lake at one side. He stepped forward half a pace more and looked a bit closer, something came into view that caused his face to contort into a horrifically pallid expression. Unable to look for more than a second he held his face in his hands, things like this don’t happen in the secluded, rural countryside he thought. He hadn’t expected to be confronted with something like this in his job.

Madeline walked towards him and, in a weak and wavering voice as quiet as the breeze said, “It’s been so long, been so long since I…” She stopped and looked down at the ground “How dare they come back!” she exclaimed in a strained and tired voice, “Come back twenty years later to ruin what I have made for myself, what I made from scratch, from books and courage and good sense. I always knew I had been lied to but was never sure in what way; things never seemed to match up.” She looked into officer Worthing’s eyes which were fighting back his tears. She went on, “Have you ever tried to forget something important, something that you don’t understand, but should seek to understand?” He said nothing, “Do you regret anything in your life Mr Worthing?” He took her hand, squeezed it lightly and nodded, “yes I do, I regret many things in my life” Madeline’s eyes started to grow damp, and on seeing this officer Worthing quickly added, “but I’m sure that everyone has regrets, don’t they?”
“Yes, yes but I don’t mean the sort of regrets like, regretting you stopped learning the piano, or regretting that you never got a pet, I mean regretting that you didn’t try hard enough to find out the truth” He looked at her and replied, “But what if you’re unable to try hard enough? The hardest possible amount you can try is just breaths away from the truth, you can’t gage how hard you’ve tried until you’ve got to the end and achieved what you were trying to find out in the first place” They looked at each other, and Madeline knew exactly what he meant, despite the fact that they both had their own lives which they were likening their conversation to, different lives; somehow Madeline knew he had felt a similar pain to hers.

As they spoke a whole team of police officers were walking around the lake, taking pictures and putting up stripes of tape. Madeline and officer Worthing had been unaware of the activity until one of the officers went up to them to ask a question, and they were snapped out of their reminiscent trances into the horror of what must follow such a discovery as this.

NAIL

This dusky crescent sits lone and proud on a wide plain of plastic. It waits, silently hoping for something better. A detached and disgusting fray of someone else, it waits. But it doesn't feel disgusting, it feels free, in its cream-coloured entirety it has been released into the world and this time without a chaperone. Up close this dreary moonbeam has fissures and 'lack-of-calcium' cracks. Its layers of low-grade ivory intertwined into a torpid, tapestry of emaciated cells and plasma.

The fingernail is always trying to escape its destiny, escape the finger, the chemistry and the body that built it. Even when its host is dead and rotting in the ground it continues to grow away from its station.

This edge of a tectonic plate that once slid across an ocean of blood and nerves is now...just a nail. And it waits, hoping it will be able to nestle in the delicate fibres of someone's cashmere jumper.

ALKALINE TRIO

was so amazing, i was like a weed blowing in a wind of sweat and long hair strands.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHIA!

Don't eat the cod, the pollack's your friend,
the cod's a sod who's met his end,
he feasts on Winehouse's sinewy blend
of potatoe skins tatooily penned

Perhaps a haddock you'd like instead?
You can't use haddock to whack someone's head,
perhaps the best is the Arctic blend,
But i guess that that would have to depend

Talk of fake skin and the eifel tower,
skypey fat chin of power of power,
And now I don't know what else to say
except for have a HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

ICE WALK

This morning it was so beautiful outside, absolutely everything was covered in frost.

Between the pages of a book,
I’m young or old or cat or crook,
I’m eating leaves that taste of sweets,
Delicious feasts of country meats,

Roaring fires and kicking boots,
Dry-cleaned, crisp and pristine suits,
Flowers hang from ceiling beams,
Fairies come to dine on dreams,

Pan sits by a wishing well,
Drinking red wine from a shell,
Tying saint’s hair to his harp,
A matted hairball by his heart,

Giant dragons made from petals,
Cough up orbs of precious metals,
And as some cherubs hum a tune,
An antique teapot marries a spoon,

Rosaries that hang from trees,
Forever tangled in the breeze,
Bark that’s covered in Russian lacquer,
Paper trees inscribed with Kafka,

And so I go there to a place,
Where rain is scented and falls from lace,
And in the morning I smell the dew,
It is the finest French Perfume.

I can't wait until 'The Reader' comes out in the cinema. Ralph Fiennes is so sexy! He even looks great in HD where you can see absolutely every detail. Watching him in High Definition makes me want to climb into a pore on his face and spend some time there; seeing the world how he sees the world. In fact I would be content living there (in his face), maybe invite Nicholas Cage around for dinner a few times. I appologize in advance but i really can't let this one go...I'd be living in a MANsion. HAAAAAAA.

THE READER

P ROACH

YES! Just found out Papa Roach have a new album for 2009. This makes me happy, also it's called 'Metamorphosis' which leads me to picture things like this... in my head. Which is also good.

NEWSPAPER GAME

This kind of thing never fails to ammuse me. I discovered this game 2 years ago when reading the London Lite. However, using the Sun creates a whole other rhealm of entertainment.

THE SPHERICAL DEMON

This is something I wrote a while ago during 'the clumsy years' when i had a series of mishaps in the kitchen. This is about when I sliced my finger cutting a cabbage.

Today was no ordinary day. It was something different. The air was fat, the light slim. A cabbage called to me from deep within the fridge, "slice me friend...make a salad." I should have been strong, walked away, ignored the layers of green deceit... but I was weak.
I reached in, took the spherical demon and placed it on the side board. Then it was the bread knife that called to me. It was as if they cabbage and the knife had it planned all along. I knew something bad would come about if I used a bread knife to cut a cabbage, especially one as evil as this one. But I couldn’t give in to the ridged persuasions of the knife and the tauntings of the vegetable...

I took the knife in my hand and set about the slicing of the cabbage. It beckoned me to try and cut the slithers finer, Much finer. There were thin slices of death accumulating on the side board but I couldn't stop cutting. Then the knife took a turn for the worse, a turn towards my middle finger. As it slid across I knew there was little hope in me keeping the finger which I had grown to love. The cabbage had spoken. I dropped the knife in a frenzy of shattered expectations. I fled the kitchen and fled the nightmare, never again would I give in to the green temptations. NEVER.

I now live to roam the world as a 9 fingered mutant. An outlaw. A freak. And a fool. Never again would I be able to shake a hang or wave goodbye, not with this shame on my shoulders. I was defeated by a 3d circle of misfortune. The cabbage won in this battle of being versus vegetable

The cabbage had gone but the hurt remained...