This is me

Regards

He strode, manfully, through its busy streets with an air befitting a leader. A smile on his freckled face, his head suitably aloft and his broad shoulders held back pushing his chest out before him. King of this town, he was. Respected among his people. Status undisputed among his peers. Lord Mayor Edward Fay. A giant of a man.                                                        

But in reality, he was none of this and his bedraggled appearance said as much. His drunken ramblings betrayed him. Only madness and cider sustained the fantasy within the confines of his own battered and tortured skull. It was a happy fantasy though.  And wasn’t it just as good?

Its fine, honed edge sliced swiftly through the old man’s flesh as he sat, innocently, in the park, reading his paper. Blood gushed from the wound. The old man was in pain but nobody seemed to notice. Vacuous gazes betrayed no emotion. Stranger still, the old man held his attacker lovingly, displaying no resentment for this nefarious act. Papercut!

His words reached my ears with crystal clarity, the signal had been successfully received, demodulated and amplified but his urgent proclamations did little to elucidate the action. His flawless pronunciation of the most intricate of names, paradoxically, served only to exacerbate my annoyance at the inadequacy of the information being provided. George Hamilton is a shite commentator!

The temperature remained below zero, conditions were harsh and unforgiving. But they struggled on, drawing comfort from the faint hope of, one day, being rescued, being whisked from this icy hell. Oh, how they longed for the generous warmth of the fires of hell. Even daylight was a rarity in this brutal arctic climate. They lay close together to conserve what little heat their feeble bodies could muster, each one studiously pretending not to notice the gangrenous hue of their neighbour’s skin. If they could only have foreseen the fate that was to befall them upon their eventual escape, they would have been grateful for the relative luxury of their present situation. Peas in the freezer!

As I cast the abhorrently anhydrous specimen of crumbly, black matter towards the caliginous depths of the polyethylene container, I simultaneously cast, using an entirely different faculty, aspersions on the modern technological age in which we reside. Me feckin’ toast was burnt!

The tension, ultimately, became too much to bear and he snapped, lashing out violently, swiftly swiping the right eye from the nearest bystander and destroying himself in the process. Fiddle string broke!

The gentle sway of trees in the breeze, as a mellow evening sun beamed down upon their leaves, did not seem an appropriate backdrop for the horror which had just unfolded before my very eyes. A young, athletic man, in the prime of his life, had been cruelly, efficiently felled like an oak at the hands of an accomplished lumberjack. The assailant was a rival from a neighbouring parish. The vile deed had been witnessed by many and, scandalously, applauded by some, yet, justice would not be served. A deep rage at this miscarriage rose within me as smoke rises from a burning corpse. Referee! Would ya open your eyes!

The shrill but muted squeal of a woman who had lost her only son, the child’s bedroom exposed, only three walls remaining, people frantically searching, scouring, rummaging. Utter chaos surrounded me. I wandered into an unfamiliar kitchen. I was disorientated and dispirited. I began to wonder would I ever see the light of day again. I had been in Ikea too long!

The low click-clack of keys permeated the silent emptiness of the chamber in which I was situated and, indeed, that of my very existence, but my train of thought remained unperturbed, my focus uninterrupted as, for that brief instant in time, I embarked upon a new and exciting adventure. Aho ya boy ya, my first post!