You wake up in an empty room to the kind of silence that can deafen you.
The room is both familiar and strange, a warehouse with cool, metal walls and strobe
lighting. You get to your feet, moving immediately for some kind of escape because
wherever it is you are, you don’t want to be there for long.
You walk towards the door. You try the handle – expecting it to be locked – but it creaks
open. The corridor is dark. But you recognise it. It is your place of work.
The exit is directly ahead, but even in the shadows, you can see the bars across it.
Escape seems futile.
You know that if you don’t get out now, you never will. You need to make contact with
the outside world. You remember the phone in the breakroom.
You waste no time. Dial 999. The receiver beeps into life.
This number is currently out of use. To reach Quarantine assistance. please dial 0181534726.
You don’t understand.
Still, you dial the number. After an agonising pause. someone answers.
Hello? Can I help you?
You open your mouth. but no sound comes out.
Are you trying to reach a safe space? Are you near the infected?
A rasp escapes your throat. A guttural sound. More animal than anything. They sigh.
You can’t speak, can you? We can’t help once the infection has hit. I’m sorry. If it makes you
feel better, they say you soon forget when it spreads. Oh god. I am sor-
The phone cuts off.
You can’t speak. You can’t speak. You turn towards the mirror on the wall. It is only when
you open your mouth, do you see the film of skin that has grown across it.
Nobody hears your scream.
I had a dream that I was playing football with ostriches. It was a tough game because not only can ostriches run very fast, but they were also terrible cheats. On the few occasions when I could kick the ball, an ostrich would simply unfold one of its wings, knock it down, dribble it past me and score a goal.
Ref!’ I screamed the first time it happened, ‘That is hand ball!
The referee gave me a bemused look and said calmly, ‘But ostriches don’t have hands.”
Frustrated, I yelled back ‘Their wings are their hands! Their wings ARE their hands!’
The referee reached for his pocket, and with a flourish pulled out his yellow card and carefully wrote my name on it.
The only thing I could do was play harder. It was kick off, which at least gave me the opportunity to use the ball. With terrific concentration I dribbled the ball forward. The first ostrich was before me. I fainted to the left, kicked the ball right and was past him in a flash. Then there were two ostriches in front of me, moving in. I flicked the ball over them. sprinted between them and caught the ball on my chest, and dropped it to my feet and dribbled forward again.
By now I was in the goal area, and had one last ostrich to beat before I could shoot at goal.
This ostrich slid in at me and I went down. I was going to claim for a penalty, when I noticed that the ostrich had gently passed the ball back to his goalie, and the goalie had not kicked it, but picked it up.
Ref! That was a back pass! The goalie cannot pick it up with his hands- it should be an indirect free kick!
The ref looked at me solemnly and said, ‘Ostriches don’t have hands.
I yelled back ‘Their wings are their hands! Their wings ARE their hands!
With a flourish, he gave me a second yellow card, and sent me off.
The beginning of the 20th century.
I am 12 years old. Our family is peasants.
I run out of the house and run straight to meet my little sister.
My heart is full of happiness.Today is a day off. The whole family is assembled – mom, dad, me and my favorite red-haired sister and her nanny. We are walking in the yellow field of rye. Above us is a dark gray pre-threatening sky.
A strong wind is blowing, a thunderstorm has begun. I grab my sister and run towards the house but the field becomes endless. It scares me and I stop. Around us there are 12 peeping heads of riders in ritual clothing. They’re watching us. I can’t move. I hold my sister in my arms. I understand that they came for her.
Another moment they disappeared. The storm doesn’t stop. We ran to the house. Adults like they know what happened to us. Mom and the nurse are nervously looking for my sister’s drawings and saying that there are clues that she’s special. It needs to be protected from them. Dad cooks something from herbs…
I find myself in the big empty room of our house. Around me riders. I try to prove to them that something. They are not collapsing. They are a deity. They are leading “justice”. They order my dad to bring my sister. He tries to agree with them. Riders are annoyed…
I find myself outside the door. My little sister is no more. The nurse reads a prayer. My mother screams and cries. The door opens. From there comes the daddy. The blood of my beloved sister is on him. I beat the walls from the pain inside me. I’m screaming.
I wake up from my own cry.
I was at my mom’s house fighting my brother and rusher outside and climbed a tree a little bit later I see my uncle sitting next to me and he says “you’ve got a magical power” and I ask what it was but he told me that he would show me, he grabbed a leaf and says turn into a stick and it turned into a stick then I notice that we are at my grand parents house and I show my new powers to every one but at the end I acedentaly created an explosion.
I open the door that leads to the backyard. Bright colors. The conflict of snowy winter and dirty spring. My recently deceased white dog comes slowly to me.
“How are you” – I’m asking
“The recent illness has knocked me down, now I’m less moving and lying more and so not bad” – my white friend answers me.
“Why black doesn’t talk?” – I ask, pointing to a dog that is alive.
“His time hasn’t come.”
I suggest scratching their bellies.
White dog lies on a black ground, a black dog on the white snow. They’re like yin and yang. I stroke them. We’re happy.
School class (where I studied). The teacher from the university (which I study now) is giving a lecture on Soil Mechanics. On the first desk there is a very fat guy.
He takes out a burger in foil and starts to turn it very loud. The teacher became nervous. As soon as the fatty bit off the first piece,
the teacher takes out a gun and makes a big guy a colander. One bullet flies right through and hits me. I did not feel the pain, but I saw a lot of blood, so I decided to play along.
After my affectation and falling on the sink began to run up to me unfamiliar people with shouts: NO! One girl said that they need to call my brother.
My brother (Dean Winchester from Supernatural) comes to me, takes me, throws me into the back of the pickup truck and takes me home. At home he throws me on the floor in the kitchen, and opens the fridge.
Smelling the food I say: Damn, eat the hunt, went to the KFC. He turns around in surprise and says: What is dead may never chicken can eat!
Houses cold. I went to sleep under two blankets. Dreamed that sleep under its four blankets. Woke up without blankets.
Last night I had a dream about Huge Jurassic bugs coming out of a hole in a ceiling.. But my Mom was there so that made it better.
“There it is,” he said.
The Volvo SUV had gone off the road nose first into a creek. Its lights were still on.
He saw them try to move the car, heard the kids’ screams from inside. He tried his best not to look, though out of the corner of his eye he saw the red of blood.
He walked to the old lady’s cottage, getting there before the old lady did. When she arrived her face was blank. She wasn’t smiling, but she also didn’t seem tormented by what she’d just done.
She unlocked the door and went inside. He followed her in and sat on the couch. She stayed standing and chewed on a fingernail.
“What happened?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. He repeated the question. She ignored it again.
The father entered, wet from standing knee-deep in the creek trying to get his kids out of the overturned car. He looked at the reporter with disdain.
“You waste no time, do you?”
“I didn’t know what to do,” he found himself saying.
“Are you a cop? Are you press?”
“Press, I guess.”
“I see,” the father said, confirming some suspicion. He walked back out. Something inside him stirred and he rose to his feet, following him out.
“I’ll help,” he told the father.
He followed him outside and for the first time saw the accident scene. One of the kids, the boy, was already out. The girl was still inside. The car was upside down and the girl had made her way to the driver’s side window.
They had been able to push the car onto its side. A bit more and they’d be able to pull her out.
Then the car slipped, falling back into its old position with a crunch. The girl screamed once and then lay still. The silence seemed eternal.
“She’s dead!” screamed her brother.
“I’m not dead,” whispered the girl.
He saw a way to get her out. He ran to her and busted out the rest of the driver’s side window, and pulled her out as gently as he could. One of her hands was nearly severed. He thought that was the worst of it, until he saw she’d also been almost sliced Read more…
I was at St. Peter’s Square in the Vatican City. It was the size of a small city. Around was fog.
I was approached by Jim Carrey on huge stilts and said that I was the last Horcrux. Then he sat in a huge Tesla, and flew away.