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  1. The bench was white and freshly painted, its scent held onto the air alongside that of the newly blossomed spring flowers creating a strange, yet pleasant, aroma. Daniel sat with his head cocked upwards towards the afternoon sun; his hair was dishevelled and he was in his second-best black suit. He didn't hear the young woman approach from behind, not until the very last moment, at which point the happiest of smiles spread across his face. "Took you long enough," he said, with his eyes still on the sun. She didn't say a word. She's sad, thought Daniel. She's always like this when she's sad, bless her. Rebecca sat down next to him and adjusted her black dress. He didn't look directly at her but he could just make out the white flower pattern. Both of them stared straight ahead towards the pond. She was crying, softly. Every time she came to see him she did nothing but cry and then leave some flowers for him but not, it seemed, today. "Well", Daniel said, breaking the silence. "You've not missed much. The ducks have come back, and some geese but no swans yet. I don't mind the ducks and geese but I do enjoy the swans". Rebecca still said nothing. Did only thing she seemed to be doing was stifling a sob. "If you've come about that money you owe me don't worry about it. I don't need it and - let's face it - we both knew you were never going to give it me back". He chuckled, eyes scanning the far edges of the pond and into the woods ahead. Finally, he heard her. "I miss you," she said. her voice was cracked and sounded as if she had been crying hard. "I know but don't you worry about me, I'm fine. I'm the big brother remember, it's me who should be worrying about you". "I know we haven't spoken in such a long time but I thought I needed to come and see you" she started to pick at her dress. Daniel could see that her nails had been chewed. "I came to tell you...", Rebecca broke off as thick, wet tears crawled down her cheeks. "Come on now," said Daniel, his voice turned softer. "Let's have none of that. Just look out there, it's beautiful" "I came to tell you that I won't be back for a while. We're moving down south, Grant has been offered a job down there. It'll be better for the kids. You'd like it, there's a big garden with lots of flowers" Daniel fell silent, his eyes remained on the lake. All around him he could hear the chaos of birdsong, the distant yawn of the breeze as it brushed softly through the trees He closed his eyes and appeared to be taking a deep breath. He didn't seem perturbed, rather at peace. The same smile sat on his face. Finally, he opened eyes and said, "So you're leaving? Good for you. Listen, if it's what's best for the family then you have to put yourselves first. I'm fine here. Always been happy with my own company, I just wish there were swans". Daniel seemed to disappear in himself for a moment. The blue in his eyes seemed to fade and the colour from his skin became much paler. "I'll be back one day I promise. I'll never forget about you". The tears in her eyes and dried up and had left their mark on her make-up. She stood up and straightened her dress up. "I love you Big Bro". Rebecca walked away with a pit in her stomach but knowing she had done the right thing. Daniel closed his eyes once more and said to himself, "I lied about the geese, bloody annoying things. But the swans. I really do miss the swans". Rebecca reached her car and turned back one last time looking towards the still lake where the bench sat. The bench itself wasn't anything special it had been put there a long time ago in the spring. In front of it was a small plaque that reads: The ducks and geese had slowly made their way back but the swans hadn't landed. It was the day that her brother had died.
  2. Danny Lowlife

    Golem: A Diary

    **This was a recent assignment for my degree. In it we had to write a 900 word story following a theme, the theme for this being a diary. In it we follow the thoughts of a man who has lost grips on reality and is, apparently, trapped within his room. Leave a thought, I'd love to come back to this. D. 01/04/31 Blood in stool again. Will have to re-evaluate diet and go a little easier on the sauce. The corpse in the corner of the bathroom is beginning to reassemble itself again. Before long I am going to have to axe it back into a bloody brick-a-brack. I should really find a more permanent solution but you know what it’s like; you have a bad day at the office, answering to idiots the entire day, come home and the only thing you’ve got to eat is homemade pasta that is fourteen days passed from being inedible and even longer from edible, and the neighbour’s cat has somehow found its way into your house and shit on your favourite leather armchair. The only thing that makes you feel better is disembowelling and lopping the parts off a corpse of a body of a complete stranger who appears to be invulnerable. We all have days like that right? There you go. I’m not alone after all. Try to think of the last time you thought about murder. I guarantee you enjoyed it, and why? Because nobody caught you. And every time I take a swing it is nothing but cathartic. Each swing is at a different person. Each swing a tiny shot of dopamine. The arm? That’s my neighbour. The chest? My boss. And every digit on the hands is every moron that I spoke to that pissed me off. There’s a release within the muscles and before you know it one giant blast of euphoria that has me in hysterical laughter and tears. Actions with no consequence; now that’s my idea of a beautiful world, like enjoying a vindaloo without having to deal with the flop sweat and the barrage of stomach cramps and… Note to self: Reduce the number of times I bring shit up in a page. Possible complex. Point is there is no such thing as murder if your subject can’t ever die. I’ve no idea where the cadaver came from; the thing just appeared one day and ever since I’ve been using it as my own personal stress machine. Occasionally the head finds its way back on and we talk for a moment - me to it because it usually lacks a jaw. Occasionally, I like to watch the eyes reform in the sockets as they always change colour from brown to blue to green and violet. I like the violet best. Often, I keep them untouched. I’ve no idea what it is either. I'm unsure if it's human - when it’s not a broken jigsaw - or if it's male. I tried kicking it in the crotch a few times, but the damn thing didn’t even so much as blink. I took another moment to wait for it to heal. I enjoyed watching the sinews and bones and the pale skin stitch itself back together whilst I hum Frère Jacques and wash. 14/04/31 Shopping is done. Wanted to make pancakes and bacon but the milk in my fridge shares a large resemblance to the rice pudding my grandmother used to make. The body is talking. I can't understand it. It’s not a language; more of a series of clicks and gargles but each time it holds its hands up as if it was begging for its life. Well, I suppose I better get in my cardio for today. For today's regime: cricket bat with Kenny Loggins, Danger Zone. P.S. Bruises have appeared on my body and ribs are sore. Unknown as to how they got there 30/4/31 Coughing and spluttering. The lining of my chest feels like it is on fire. There is blood, lots of blood. My lips and beard drip and drop with claret onto my bare chest. That corpse is back again; its legs akimbo, clothes were torn, and the head has somehow managed to reattach itself. Also, the skin still hasn’t managed to grow back yet, so I am constantly met with the lidless stare from a pair of precariously balanced, bright green eyeballs and an endless smile. It knows it’s winning. I’m sure it would be laughing if it could but fortunately I’ve ripped out its voice box and have been using it as an ashtray. 15/05/31 Carmen Suite No.2: Habernera plays in the background. The place stinks of rotting meat and shit. I can't even tell if it's that thing or me anymore Haven't left the apartment in over two weeks. I honestly don't know if I can. My legs have given in. I feel weak and my head is throbbing; I can feel my heartbeat in my tongue. The creature is standing above me, almost fully healed, its wide eyes constantly flit from me to the window and its lipless smile has an endless vengeance written on it. A cold realization is spreading through my body. This is my last entry. 01/06/31 First entry. Blood in stool again. There appears to be a body rotting on my floor. It is conscious and that of a man. I should report this to the police, but a better idea has spawned in my head.
  3. For anyone who is interested I’ve not been idle.  My note book is almost full and I’ve got a couple more things to bring this way.

    Hope you’re well,

    D. 

    1. RegalSausage

      RegalSausage

      Looking forward to them!

  4. Currently writing a dark comedy involving repeated murder, dismembering and intestinal activity.  By the looks of it it's sounding like when Roshach had a bad day in The Watchmen.

  5. New poem Forever and a Day is up.  If you like anything you read, or better yet have anything you feel should be added, chopped and changed then leave a comment.

  6. Your very own Hairy Poppins.  I’ll pop in when you least expect it, have you giggling and disappear before you know it

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