Tag Archives: horror

Ghosts

Nothing can twist your heart and mess with your mind more, nothing can slice through your soul with more ease like a hot knife through butter.  Chills tingle down the spine, goose bumps pop with a shivering touch, a face from whenever and more.

Does your memory scare you, does it pick those perfect moments to whisper a name or  flash a thought that sinks your heart?  Do you find a revery in solitude but sob at the loss of something you can’t quite touch?

As you sift through your life, events build, time gathers more than dust.  The bitter with the sweet, the warmth with the chill, the ecstacy with the depths of despair.  Your time here is mixed and melted and ground and salted with tears.

You are alone in a vast seething crowd, you are a speck on the beach, a single mind in a sea of thought.  But even when calm, even when the softness of love holds you close, then is the time.  Beware the ghosts.

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Living in the Future?

I have a dilemma.  I’m soaked in a society where the old mixes with  the new in a way seemingly unimagined by Sci Fi filmmaker of the past or indeed the general public.

It must be very hard to produce a film based in a future of say about 40 to 60 years from the present.  Just look at Bladerunner – an excellent gritty looking adventure set in Los Angeles in 2019, 6 years from now!  The film was made in 1982 (the year I left school so quite a long time ago) but I’m sure the venerable city doesn’t look too much different to how it did 30 years ago (though I’m sure if any of you are more familiar with the place you’ll tell me if I’m wrong?).

Even books can get it wrong (I’m thinking 1984 here though of course there is no Sci Fi wizardry in this classic book and looking at it from the 1940’s quite possible to imagine such a dystopian future).  None the less anything set in a future within our lifetimes does seem to replace everything rather than embellish it with the potential new.

I have noticed a tendency nowadays to set things in the ‘near’ future which can be a little bit of a copout.  It means they can use current land and city scapes, dress the characters up pretty much as they are now and even use the same vehicles.

I think the job is made harder by some of the things that set time periods apart in the past being less important now.   Hair styles for instance.  There is a clear distinction between the hair styles of 1964 and 1974 and again from 1974 to 1984 but I would argue that in general our general everyday hair styles are now pretty much the same as they were back in 1984 (and I’m not counting the trendy styles seen in film and on TV).  Ok there were a few differences but not as many.  The same with clothes: again look at the mid-60’s to the mid-70’s and then jump to the 90’s.  Yes it’s still possible to look at a TV programme or film from the early 90’s and see the style differences but they are less subtle.  I have worn jeans, t-shirts and trainers for a long time (not the same ones obviously and I do wash them occasionally ) but in general, the same style.  Watch something from ten years ago and you’ll not see much difference stylistically.

At this point I just have to talk about ties.  Just what are they all about?  Men have been wearing basically the same bit of cloth around their necks for a hundred or more years – but why?  What use do they have?  In the sixties the futuristic programmes showed a distinct lack of ties in the future, a future we are now in (think Space 1999 etc.) yet we still wear the things.  Of course they do have some uses: they are excellent devices for soaking up coffee or soup (and as long as they don’t dry out too fast you can refresh yourself later) but otherwise quite dangerous (always make sure you don’t dangle it in a shredder at least if you’re wearing a white shirt – red ones are much better in these situations).

The biggest difference that sets the decades apart is in the technology.  Mobiles/cell phones are getting bigger (which seem a bit of an anomaly really given how we laugh at the bricks from the ’90’s) and TV’s are now flat, thin large screened and can show programmes in HD and 3D (though for some reason you can still see Bruce Forsyth..).

There’s probably a lot more examples (and please feel free to mention them here) but the point is that where in the past the changes were big (black and white TV to Colour, short hair to long etc.) now they are small and subtle.

And so our future will look pretty much the same with similar if not the same buildings, populated by similarly dressed people but if you look closely…

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Animal Tales

Once upon a time in a land of people with voices honeyed with the grit of the north and peppered with the laconic wit of the midlands, a man was teased and tortured by the beasts that dwelled within his home.

The king was a mild looking creature of pure white fluff but his eyes could either drown a person in love or instill fear in equal measure.  Oliver ruled with an iron paw, his sabre sharp claws always ready to extend and gently taunt the poor man.  The very worst part of the man’s day was usuallly in the early hours when the rest of the world was at peace and the silver moon sent gentle light through the partly open curtains.

The king was often inpatient for his morning meal and a gentle stroll in his grounds.  The man needed to serve not slumber so several jabs and a couple of well aimed head-butts were all that were needed to get the servant up and moving.

The rest of the beasts were less controlling though the dog could use his big doleful eyes to wind the man around his paw digits, the budgie used constant high-pitched instruction to wear him down and the hamster simply stared, and stared and stared!

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Rich – A Poem

Colours fly with speeding change

Across eternal winter rage

Fill my senses drown my world

Vicious winds around me whirl

Can you help me can you see

There is no endless you and me

Once there was a man

Who sat and cried

And cast away his pain

And all around him set in awe

The biting acid rain

Colours fly with endless motion

If every man could swim the ocean

If all the money in the world

Could buy the boy the sweetest girl

Then I’d be yours and you’d be mine

But do you really have the time?

One there was a thought

That didn’t die

Once there was sound an endless cry

Once I was poor until it ended

Filled my world that I defended

And here I lay a bloody sodden wretch

Without the heart and soul that made me rich.

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On Ones Own Visage

What do you think of yourself?  Are you comfortable in your own skin?  When you look at yourself in the mirror (presuming you can and many people can’t) who do you see?  I can look, in fact in order to shave without creating a scene from a Stephen King book in the bathroom it’s essential, but I always see something or somebody different.  It’s not a psychic thing, I’m not seeing faces of ghosts and I’m not getting confused with the window (which can be embarrassing especially if naked and is likely to either get me arrested or remind my neighbours that we haven’t had a huge amount of quality summer around these parts).

But each time I do look I can either wonder if shaving is possible eventually in total darkness or that yes perhaps I do have some semblance of normality and perhaps the ladies may get a treat when I’m out and about (if it’s dark and they have their glasses safely hidden in a pocket or bag).  The other day I looked in the mirror and saw my father, which is fine he’s not a monster and has in fairness given me a large number of genes so I will have some resemblance but my dad is now in his ’70’s.  So I saw my face really as I imagine it will look at around about the same age!  It was a slight shock but it was very early in the morning.

I tend to think I look younger than I am, I certainly feel a whole lot younger than I am and the grey has only just started to push through with fine silver hairs visible close up (though my eyebrows have been silver since several years back for some strange reason though if you glance they do look blond(ish)).  I still have a full head of hair though it is getting thinner especially at the front!  There is some history of being follicularly challenged on my father’s side but I’m holding out that my mother’s genes will be the stronger (my grandfather still had a fullish head of hair and my uncle still has his mostly in place).

Anyway back to that mirror.  I do not spend hours admiring myself in it.  I look when I need to and when I want to pull a few faces to see how many wrinkles appear and then stay in place!  I’d say that I look as though I was pushing towards my 40’s, especially now I’ve lost a few pounds (and am desperately trying to keep it off – it is soooo darned hard, the call of the chocolate is sooo loud and persistent!).  But maybe I’m kidding myself, I’ve never seen myself as a ‘catch’, more a middling kinda guy, not the ugliest man around but not a ‘hunk’; I’d not get picked to model jumpers for catalogues anyway!  If I was an actor I’d get the quirky interesting friend roles, I’d be a less manic (and slightly slimmer) Jack Black, or a more nerdy Kevin Bacon.

I’m an avid people watcher and sometimes I catch myself wondering what others see or do they even notice me?  I even catch myself wondering ‘do any of these ladies see a fanciable chap or are they close to reaching for a sick bag?’  Of course sheer statists mean that everybody will be ‘fanciable’ to somebody but it alway makes me feel slight uncomfortable if I notice somebody looking; I wonder if I’ve not dressed properly or perhaps I remind them of an old teacher or pet.  I even wonder if they have seen something resembling an attractive human being and their poor little tickers have missed a beat (I know I must have had this effect a couple of times, I have had a couple of girlfriends in my past life (before I had my wife and three children, a mortgage, a dog, a cat and fulltime job) but then I was a lot younger of course.  It also makes me feel a little guilty, I don’t know why.

So what do you see?

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Questions?

Do you know any answers?  Can you see how the world works when the night falls in pitiful shades of gray, dampening the light from a weak sun filtered through clouds of melting mountains?  Is it good to say I ache from the machinations of a crowd that pushes me in all directions with angry power?  Once I stood naked before the mirror and saw a man not yet old and no longer young but I didn’t see me, I couldn’t see me.  Why can people only glimpse that part of us that boils and simmers with some parts rage some parts love?  Am I going mad when I remember you from so long ago as though it was only this morning?   You were so fresh and new and I wanted you more than the air I breath.  Is it brash to lay down my feelings like so many open sores to be eaten away by time?  I dream in colours so vivid they hurt my eyes and pulses of pain seep deep, laying trenches in my conscious waking life, can I survive or sink into a spiral of hurt?

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Philosophical Musing – A Fictional Piece

Very few people get out of this life without some damage, some chip of mental debris or something far bigger but hidden inside the skull.  Don’t believe a word don’t fall prey to the lies of those who tell you they have the rosiest of lives.  They of course may not know themselves so it’s not malicious or out of fear.  But deep inside their psychic shell will be a crack, a fissure that leaks pain and seeps life like a sinking boat.

Can it really be so long ago when the dreams came and wrecked my sleep, when the life within flooded my head with nightmares.  Screaming banshee and red lightning sheets of bloody storms, rain that fell in torrents and hammered on the metal roof like a millions falling nails.  A wind that thrashed the trees for telling the truth and tore the branches from the very wood that gave shelter in sunnier times.

Green grow the leaves in springtime when life is fresh and raw but nothing can save the foliage from the ravishing rage of nature flexing a power that defies all to stand and hold a palm forward and yell for it to stop!  In my dreams I tried like a fool and I suffered for it.

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