Expressing yourself through the medium of sculpture

How do you do it? Well, you have to work quickly but carefully when you’re putting together a sculpture like this. The flies come quickly, especially outside, especially in the summer. And especially if you use old meat, meat you’ve dug up to use again.

Keep the bones in when you can, keep the shapes of the arms or the legs – but make sure you don’t get too much all from the same place. You’re not copying, you’re expressing yourself through the medium of sculpture. Hear that? David would be proud of me. Oh! Oh! Yes, I could do that next time. Ears are tricky. Need pinning.

And the smell. If it’s all fresh, it’s just, you know, metallic but if some of it is riper than it should be…. That’s what attracts the flies of course. It must have been the flies that took the police to my first experiment – my first draft. The police said it must have been kids or Satanists. Well, one bit was a Satanist. He was fresh. The rest of him was in a shopping trolley in the canal. I sweated that day.

But it’s cooler down here, isn’t it? I can’t see any flies at all. Unless they’re in those binbags with my materials. Well, I’ll sort them out in a minute.

I’ve got everything I need. I’ve even got an Alsatian’s tongue. I thought that would be fun, artistic, sticking out from under that moustache.

All that’s missing are the eyes. They dull so quickly, don’t they? And that’s where you come in. Oh, no, no, don’t cry. Your eyes will go all red.

Jogging on Halloween

It hit him on the shoulder like a hammer hurled from hell. His legs were still running as fast as they could so the blow knocked him off balance and he stumbled down the grassy slope and into the icy water of the lake. The mud grasped his ankles like bony hands and pulled. He struggled briefly and tried to scream but the mud and the water were in his mouth. A few frantic bubbles then nothing. Minutes later the nightbirds were gliding gracefully across the lapping water.

He had often joked about being the only jogger not being chased around the park. He went at his own speed but everyone else, the serious ones, the ones who sped past him up the hill, they were being chased by something large and terrifying and invisible. That was why they went so fast, they did not dare slow down. Then, as he ran and the nights grew longer, grew towards his running time, he thought more about the story and as people passed he squinted after them, trying to make out their demons.

Then one evening, just for a flash, he saw one. As the path came out from the trees, the man in shorts ran past him, face contorted, and John caught a glimpse of the animal chasing him. Wolf-like, foam dripping from its jaws, eyes coal red in the dark, it ran snapping at his heels, never quite touching but close enough that he could feel its cold breath on his legs.

And then it was gone. John shook his head. He was sure he had seen it but it was gone. He walked the rest of the way home.

The next few times he went for a run he looked carefully as people passed him. Nothing was chasing them that he could see but still they ran faster. He felt odd, uneasy, when he ran now.

He thought twice about running on Halloween but then put on his kit. It was only just dark and there would be people about, trick or treating. His front door creaked as he closed it and his footsteps seemed to echo on the stairs. As he had imagined, clouds scudded across a deep black sky.

He jogged slowly down the road. There was nobody about. Strange. The castle on the hill hung in its own red light. He crossed the road and squeezed through the gap in the hedge into the park. The trees whispered.

He turned down the hill under the trees. It was darker today and the knobbly roots were hidden. He tried to slow down, tripped and fell. As he pushed himself up onto his knees something touched his hair. Heart pounding he jumped to his feet and looked around and there it was. He had never seen it before but he knew what it was, his blood felt what it was and froze. Down the hill again he half staggered half ran then at the bottom, lungs bursting, he ran and ran and ran until he could not run any more but run he did. He looked around. It hit him on the shoulder like a hammer hurled from hell.

Ari in bed, eyes closed

Stroke; stroke, stroke. Wriggle of shoulders, wiggle of toes.
Small tight grin, head under the bedclothes.
Toes stretched out. Stroke stroke itch.
Sole and top of foot and now the ankle too. Feather stroke.
Toes flex and stretch. Itch, smile.
Up the calf, feather light, behind the knee. Moving up and slowly slowly up.
Pull bedclothes close to face to hide the closed eyes smiling.
Pretend to be asleep.

Ari opened her eyes wide when her boyfriend screamed.
She opened her eyes wide and saw him standing by the door.
Not lying in bed behind her.
Not touching her ankle, not stroking her thigh, not moving up, up.

She twisted, half sat, and saw some of the spiders.

Murray taught his young wife to swim

Murray taught his young wife to swim so they could spend more time snorkelling and looking at the fishes. He loved it. She found diving easy, gently flippering around ten or so metres down. Later she learned to drive the boat so he knew she would be safe even if he was not there.

He shouldn’t have taught her to use the speargun, she thought, as she opened the throttle and sped towards the Albanian mountains.

Put me out to stud

“Put me out to stud! I said – oh for Silver’s sake, get your hands out of my mouth. How am I supposed to be a man whisperer if you won’t let me whisper. I know you’re nearly bankrupt but you can afford me. Buy me and put me out to stud. The whispering ponies will be worth their weight in gold.”

Jeb let go of the horse and scratched his head. He had a strange feeling that if he bought this horse all his money worries would simply disappear. And he wouldn’t use him in the field. He would breed from him and sell the ponies.

“What have you done? We’ll be ruined!”
“Don’t worry Mother, the ponies will save us.”

Unfortunately, a year later his mother was proved right and the bank took their farm. In the warm stable the tired yet happy Man Whisperer planned his next move.

Also posted at http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2014/10/24/flash-friday-vol-2-46/ 24 October 2014

Harold takes tea

Harold carefully placed his verdant fusion of organic peppermint, spearmint and fieldmint back in the centre of its saucer. He twisted the cup slightly. It was what he had ordered, what it had said on the list of specialty teas: “a verdant fusion of organic peppermint, spearmint and fieldmint”. But there was a problem; a simple, yet potentially insurmountable problem. Harold’s lips narrowed. The fusion was not sufficiently minty. He would have to send it back and quietly complain. Verdancy had to be a good thing, did it not? And organic was the new way of the world. But. But. Although Harold liked fusions, and infusions, especially flavoured with a number of varieties of mint, the mintiness had to be the foundation, the keystone of their flavour. It had to be the essence, the driving fresh green force within the liquid. Without mint, what is there?

He raised an eyebrow to summon someone’s assistance, but then noticed, with horror, that the waiter was chewing. Gum, probably. This would not, could not, end well. He swiftly, yet discreetly, lowered his eyebrow and hurried away from the table, leaving too large a tip and his infusion undrunk.

Unicorn to dragon rock 4

Unicorn to dragon rock 4.
[Ooh, say the crowd.]
Rock stands.
[Ahhh.]
Wanderer to dragon rock 3.
[A hissing of breath.]
Wanderer staff strikes dragon rock 2.
[Another intake of breath, quieter this time.]
Staff strikes dragon rock 1.
[Near silence, glances around the arena.]
Dragon rock 1 shifts.
[Silence.]
Dragon! Dragon enters the arena!
[Screams. Scrambling.]
Fire! Fire! Dragon fire!
[Screams. Silence.]