weirdmonger
THE LAST BALCONY (www.nemonymous.com)
Terrible Times
TERRIBLE TIMES
Published 'Night Songs' 1994
Terrible times. The years of revolution, of false hopes and irreducible despairs—those days of unending brevity when life was no longer nor shorter than death's umbilical noose. In those terrible times, stateless vampires and moonspat werewolves did roam in packs, seeking out those of us who still recalled sanity and normalcy. I, for one, crouched in a bus station, with the tall buses: nobody or nothing wanted to travel, or, if they did, they went in flocks on foot. Each time I was stirred from sleep, by passage of such creatures, I would descend the steps of the bus to its boarding platform, to safeguard my domain. But even a vampire would be better company than none. None, that was, except for myself. How long could the self underpin the selfsame self?
Terrible times, yes. And, one day, a creature of the night did snicker in the vicinity of the bus station. I could hardly believe my ears, except they were my ears and I was on the other side of them listening: no false medium that, just the direct socket of sound and self. If it were a creature of vampiric leaning, I had no blood left, being myself a leathery bag of rattly bones. I slithered from the platform, my twin leg-tails coiling away from the silver boarding-bar. Despite such shell of my own appearance, I retained a self that indeed recalled sanity and normalcy. But, it was no vampire that I had disturbed disturbing me. The beautiful creature mopped at the real human blood oozing from her nethermouth. The snickering was the sound of her near-teenage child at the breast. Blood and milk, the first I had seen for yonks and yonks. I extruded from my own pythonic embrace and wrapped the resultant umbilica round and round the creatures like a mummy and its mummy—whilst the halting howls of wolves fitfully filled the moon-laden air and an ever-teetering bus finally fell on its side with a huge clattering crash. I left just a small area bare in the mother-and-child's new-swaddled snakeskin wherefrom a single dummy blood-nipple poked. This double-decker gummy mummy humped: wildly body-jacking in fright. Terrible times entailed terrible means.
Published 'Night Songs' 1994
Terrible times. The years of revolution, of false hopes and irreducible despairs—those days of unending brevity when life was no longer nor shorter than death's umbilical noose. In those terrible times, stateless vampires and moonspat werewolves did roam in packs, seeking out those of us who still recalled sanity and normalcy. I, for one, crouched in a bus station, with the tall buses: nobody or nothing wanted to travel, or, if they did, they went in flocks on foot. Each time I was stirred from sleep, by passage of such creatures, I would descend the steps of the bus to its boarding platform, to safeguard my domain. But even a vampire would be better company than none. None, that was, except for myself. How long could the self underpin the selfsame self?
Terrible times, yes. And, one day, a creature of the night did snicker in the vicinity of the bus station. I could hardly believe my ears, except they were my ears and I was on the other side of them listening: no false medium that, just the direct socket of sound and self. If it were a creature of vampiric leaning, I had no blood left, being myself a leathery bag of rattly bones. I slithered from the platform, my twin leg-tails coiling away from the silver boarding-bar. Despite such shell of my own appearance, I retained a self that indeed recalled sanity and normalcy. But, it was no vampire that I had disturbed disturbing me. The beautiful creature mopped at the real human blood oozing from her nethermouth. The snickering was the sound of her near-teenage child at the breast. Blood and milk, the first I had seen for yonks and yonks. I extruded from my own pythonic embrace and wrapped the resultant umbilica round and round the creatures like a mummy and its mummy—whilst the halting howls of wolves fitfully filled the moon-laden air and an ever-teetering bus finally fell on its side with a huge clattering crash. I left just a small area bare in the mother-and-child's new-swaddled snakeskin wherefrom a single dummy blood-nipple poked. This double-decker gummy mummy humped: wildly body-jacking in fright. Terrible times entailed terrible means.
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