On a day when it should be raining I awake to glorious sunshine and a bare, cool shady apartment. The place seems cleansed, as if things have been rearranged and made proper throughout the night. Jaws seems to be asleep, if not just lulling calmly, as lazy as the day. I think I am going away, drifting off through centuries of time...

I open my eyes and John kinda squints down smiling. I screw my face up embarrassed by my sleepy features and sink back into the bliss of his soft, warm stomach. He lays back and I stare at the hairs leading up to his chest. Sometimes they move, very slightly, as if someone is gently blowing on them. It is summer 2008, we are alone and spread out in the grass on Hampstead Heath. London stretches off forever in every direction. The world is more beautiful than it ever has the right to be.

“It's kinda just perfect here isn't it? With the insects and all, the grass and shade. In this moment, in this time, we have it all. There cannot be anything more than this.”
I felt John's eyes open. A kind of warm rush went through his body as the sun soaked into him. ”It's like we've crash landed on heaven” he droned, drunk on the sun “almost like the perfect accident.”
“Oh John, I could die! Just like this. Be found here with you. No mess, no blood, no massacre or pain. Just two people at the height of all beauty and art  laying together. It makes me sad that soon the evening will sweep in, the light will fade and we'll have to pack up and go. It's like we've found this one perfect moment in time but cannot capture it... cannott preserve it. All we have to remember it by is our heat stroked memory.”
“Yeah, but we have it! Our eyes will always show that. It's like people who have been to war, have seen death and dying up close like that. It remains in the eyes  like a veneer of horror. It can be like that for us. Our eyes can sort of reflect this moment forever. Shine with the secrets of this day.”

John lit a cigarette. I lay rising and falling to the rhythm of his body as he inhaled, held for a moment then slowly blew out. Perfect, fanned plumes of smoke right into the blue.

I closed my eyes and over sun-rendered black and red shapes  the sounds of the day rung out. They seemed to come from a place far beyond just luck. It was as if there were other forces in play, like it was something bigger than life which had brought us here.

“John, I'm scared,” I said “I've never felt this before and it scares the shit outta me. It's like I could do anything for you... for us. I'm not sure that's a good thing... it may even be a bad thing.”
John's hand reached down and found mine. He gave a gentle couple of squeezes as if he was telling me it was fine, that he understood and it would be OK. But there was also something more, like I'd said the words he'd been laying there secretly waiting to hear. I rolled off and onto my elbow. The cool grass was stuck and milky on my arm. Blocking out the sun my shadow crept over John's face. He opened an eye as he sensed the change of light. “John” I said, now large and dark in his vision “one day I'm gonna kill you, then I'm gonna kill myself.” I waited for a moment then broke out into a smile. John didn't react, not a dicky bird. He just lay there in silence, splayed out under the sun, a squinted left eye looking my way


  1. Sounds like the perfect person to go on a murdering spree with some evening when there's nothing on telly.

  2. You're right... i'm a little bit worried now. Not worried about him, worried about getting caught! I saw your latest post and will leave a comment later. It seems you have the same water problems as my mother! lol X

  3. ”It's like we've crash landed on heaven”
    OMG I would either love him to death or beat him with a cold chisell-either way he's dead right?
    Today the Come Whine with me tea rooms had no lemon and being Streatham they put ganja in my black tea-off for a lay down, I have one of my queer heads coming on...byee

  4. How strange that it was on such a glorious sunny day that you threatened murder and suicide.

    I have just been watching the Stephen King film Misery with my nephew in our private cinema. We watch it every year on the anniversary. He used to scream that I was just like Kathy Bates in that film. Today he is silent as the film washes over us.

    Anyway: in Ms Bates's case it was the rain that 'gave her the blues' and led to thoughts of murder and suicide.

    Funny old world.

    I have investigated Mr Dali, who turns out to be yet another degenerate. Thus I have reverted to old pal Mrs Whitehouse as my pictorial Representative on Earth.

    Are there no decent Christian artists left on this planet?

  5. Beautiful word pictures. I can see it all. Smell the sun warmed grass, feel the sun on my eyelids. Smell the smoke as it drifts by.... you have such a way with words......

  6. I so wasn't expecting the "some day I'm gonna kill you" part! Although, i had a hunch something was coming, as it was all so very sweet and nice, and that just doesn't seem to flow with the general tone of this blog.
    Great writing!

  7. @ Nick: Cold chisel... you could be on to something. I don't know those tea-rooms, but they sound like fun, lol. X

    @ Mrs Winthrope: well that's the thing, when life kicks she follows no rules. That's what I've learnt. The world can explode in bright sunshine, and when it does, it's even more terrifying. Misery, hmmm, you're on to something as well. But who will be in the wheelchair and why? Mother? Verity? John? Me? You? The missing postman?

    My agenda next week involves finding you an artist of clean repute. I'll have to search the whore houses for him, but be sure I'll find one! X

    @ Biki: Thank you & thanx again for reading. X

    @ Dollyasylum: Yeah, we're not very nice to each other are we? haha Thank you for all you say. X


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