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| Blood on the Moon ~ Bastien Lecouffe Deharme |
You zoom out from the black ink dot of her eye, kohl shaded, lashes mascara thick; out from the newspaper white of her face, slashed by sharply defined lips, a glimpse of tooth between; out from her sculptured and, presently curler-bedecked matt black hair, escaped wisps of spiralling curlicues ruffled by some apocalypse wind; out from the studied anarchy of her clothing, from the tabloid raised before her while the hairdresser checks the curlers with probing red fingernail, flicking ash from the cigarette in her other hand. The ash snows down to the dusty and ash-strewn floor.
The assignment is (as you could probably guess) printed in the personal column, page 47: lurking between “Seamas O'Reilly wis ere” and “I love what you’ve done with the place ~ Ayleen 56”.
“Vivacious fifth-columnist seeks like-minded for future legends & laffs” – translates roughly as a morning pickup to be delivered to the doorway of the evening edition.
Thus, a dream package is to be collected from the half-raised shutter at the south east corner of the warehouse of abandoned expectations.
Delivery may prove problematic - what with the full moon and all – but not impossible since the old bloke in the gatehouse is susceptible.
The package is handed to the Second Assistant Sub-Editor (Current Affairs) in the fluorescent flicker between the rattling presses that fill the print room ceiling to floor and wall to wall with noise.
The gunshot is camouflaged perfectly in the clamour above which no voice may be raised. The gunshot has no voice here save the visual which describes her slumped profile filleted into the angle between deck-plate and press; black blood on cold concrete.
The Second Assistant Sub-Editor (CA) looks up from the package that is unfurling in his hands like an octopus and you zoom into the black ink dot of his eye.
The assignment is (as you could probably guess) printed in the personal column, page 47: lurking between “Seamas O'Reilly wis ere” and “I love what you’ve done with the place ~ Ayleen 56”.
“Vivacious fifth-columnist seeks like-minded for future legends & laffs” – translates roughly as a morning pickup to be delivered to the doorway of the evening edition.
Thus, a dream package is to be collected from the half-raised shutter at the south east corner of the warehouse of abandoned expectations.
Delivery may prove problematic - what with the full moon and all – but not impossible since the old bloke in the gatehouse is susceptible.
The package is handed to the Second Assistant Sub-Editor (Current Affairs) in the fluorescent flicker between the rattling presses that fill the print room ceiling to floor and wall to wall with noise.
The gunshot is camouflaged perfectly in the clamour above which no voice may be raised. The gunshot has no voice here save the visual which describes her slumped profile filleted into the angle between deck-plate and press; black blood on cold concrete.
The Second Assistant Sub-Editor (CA) looks up from the package that is unfurling in his hands like an octopus and you zoom into the black ink dot of his eye.
Tales for an attention deficit world
This story was conceived between sleep and waking, the title floated
into the imagery while, half asleep, I wrote down the bones of the dream.
The story is in some way prescient to the fabricated Manafort/Assange story
that appeared in the Guardian some days later.
into the imagery while, half asleep, I wrote down the bones of the dream.
The story is in some way prescient to the fabricated Manafort/Assange story
that appeared in the Guardian some days later.
1 comment:
aah :)
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