Streams of conscious 3

I ask Ma Beaty to sit down, she has back pain and maybe I’m asking a lot. I thought it would be a welcome respite from the Last Will and Testament conversation I’ve just overheard in her kitchen. I sensed her weariness when at last she exclaimed she would give her stuff away on the day she dies. I hear my voice say she may be busy that day. Mercifully she has a sense of humour.

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Streams of conscious 2

I know I’m pushing it; a car accident has left him unable to hold a cigarette and it’s starting to singe his mouth. But he looks so grand in that hat and I’m struggling to frame. At last, I release and hear and feel the heavy ka-klunk of the mirror bash up and back down again. Someone else’s hand appears in the right of the frame and grabs the burning cigarette from Greg’s lips. With that schoolboy smile, he insinuates […]

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Streams of conscious 1

  Walking to the rear of the house up a narrow staircase leading through a dark corridor and exiting into a small room. There’s a preacher nearby shouting at his congregation through a bullhorn. The plastic-wrapped Teddy’s in the corner amplify the already macabre atmosphere. I hear Jesus isn’t going to take kindly to sinners; the voice sounding raw from the shrill. The plastic feels old and brittle, they’ve been in this position for a long time. Clearing the small […]

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