By the time night came,
I was mentally gone,
Caught up in a moment
I couldn’t run from.
So I erased the mind
That had been so unkind,
To hide from the man
I had become.
Possession
I awaken to a black universe,
Like Gulliver during his travels,
Tied to the ground,
Flat upon my back,
And unable to move.
Any attempt at movement
Instructs the thorny vines
That bind me
To constrict.
Their vicious barbs bite
Into my flesh
And pull me deeper
Into the soil.
I struggle,
But every movement
Brings another tightening.
The vines wind around my limbs,
Across my chest,
Around my throat.
I try to scream,
But they tighten
Across my open mouth.
I gag and cough
As thorny particles
Fill my throat.
Each cough
Is met with greater pressure.
My breathing becomes laboured.
The pain unbearable.
I cannot move.
I cannot speak.
I cannot escape.
The vines possess me,
Holding me against the earth
As though my body
Belongs to them.
My eyes roll back to white.
My form begins to splinter,
I shatter into dust
That falls upon the soil.
The vines pull through
The surface,
Dragging the last remnants
Of me beneath the earth.
And then,
I awaken.
A white ceiling
Above me.
I lie still,
Confused,
Cold,
And crying.
How Are You?
When I’m asked,
“How are you?”
My answer
Holds no truth.
Perhaps the first
Three letters of the question
Are jumbled,
Perhaps it should be,
Who are you?
For I am sleeping awake,
Waiting,
Surviving,
Sleepwalking.
Caught within
A strange dream,
Locked inside this body,
My holding cell.
Until I awaken again.
Perhaps then
I will find myself,
In whatever forgotten place
It is
That I have been lost.
Foreign body
Tonight,
I feel like
an entity.
An alien
encased.
Trapped within
my skull,
Like a bird
in an eggshell,
Waiting
to break free,
And escape this
mortal coil.
Spiderweb of memories
Sometimes you
Become caught
In the spider webs
Of past memory.
You cannot
Find comfort,
No matter
Where you seek it.
You are suspended,
Vulnerable,
Locked in place
Until it passes.
You can recreate
A feeling,
A sound,
An image,
But your mind
holds you captive
Within
Your own history.
I find myself there
Tonight,
Caught between
Shadow and daylight,
Memory
and the present.
Lost.
There will be
No comfort tonight,
No escape
From the web,
Until eventually,
Exhaustion
Takes me,
And sleep
Sets me free.
Phoenix Within
I feel,
right now,
That whatever
Is inside me
Wants out.
I feel like
A giant crocodile
Confined within
A wet paper bag,
Too large
For its walls,
Too powerful
For its confines.
I feel as though
I could burst,
Tear through
This fat-filled prison,
And explode
Into the sky,
Burning
Like a phoenix,
Rising beyond
My own limitations,
Becoming invisible,
Dissolving
Into the stars.
There is something
Inside me
That wants out.
I don’t know
What it is,
Only that
I can feel it
Pushing.
And pushing.
And pushing.
The Box
“Have you noticed the box?”
“What box?”
“That box.”
Seamus Draker points his pipe
In the direction of a small,
Ornate wooden box sitting upon
A low mahogany table
In the centre of the lounge.
Dante Ververs follows the direction
Of the pipe.
He takes a sip from his black teacup.
He studies the box.
Then Seamus.
Then the box again.
“I had not.”
“You have now.”
“Indeed.”
A silence follows.
The sort of silence
That only occurs when two gentlemen
Have encountered something which,
Until moments earlier,
Had been entirely unimportant.
It is beautifully carved.
Dark walnut.
Brass corners.
A tiny silver clasp.
No initials.
No markings.
No explanation.
Grove 0: The Chase
Tina Murphy stops to catch her breath
In the shadows of a filthy city alley.
Rain runs down the walls,
Carrying oil,
Blood,
And everything else
Central City leaves behind.
She presses herself against the bricks,
Listening.
Nothing.
For a moment.
Then,
Bzzzzzzzz.
Her eyes widen.
No.
Not again.
She has been running
For nearly an hour.
Always the same sound.
Always getting closer.
A mechanical hum,
A faint metallic whine,
The unmistakable sound
Of something hunting.
She looks behind her.
The alley is empty.
Then a shadow moves
Across the wall.
Tina recoils.
“It found me.”
Her breath catches.
“Run.”
Grove 0: Cyberwolf Sky
High above Central City,
Above the neon,
The smoke,
The endless din.
Dennis Hotham sits upon the edge
Of a rooftop.
Seven storeys between him
And the concrete below.
Behind him,
An old air conditioner
Grinds and rattles,
Its rusted housing
Shivering beneath the rain.
Around him,
The rooftop shanty town sleeps.
Makeshift shelters
Built from corrugated metal,
Plastic sheeting,
Broken signs,
Old machine parts,
Anything that can keep
The rain from getting in.
A city above the city.
Far above the streets.
Far above the noise.
Dennis has come here
For the silence.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen years
Since his family disappeared.
Fifteen years of searching.
Fifteen years of sleeping badly,
Waking frightened,
And wondering
If today might finally be
The day he stopped looking.
The Young Apprentice
Service had ended for the day.
Nocturna Head Chef Cedric Wintervale
Announced to his Brigade
As he washed his hands.
Agnes Brindle and Percival ‘Pip’ Rook
Had almost finished washing
The last of the plates and cutlery.
“Good job my boy.”
Agnes warmly smiled at Pip
Then placed a wet hand on his shoulder.
“Now, you’re needed at front of house,
So apron and cap off
And go see your uncle Gideon.”
Pip smiled,
It was rare that his uncle
Ever asked to see him.
“Did he say what it was about?”
“Not my place to ask lad,
So get moving and find out.”
Pip dried his hands,
Removed his cap and apron,
And smoothed his white hair over
In an attempt
To make himself presentable,
Then made his way
Out into the club rooms.
