Friday, 24 January 2014


1.  The sunlight streams like mercury, thin silver lines pouring through fast moving clouds.  It shines a spotlight down along the icy surface of Lake Ontario, changing colour and feel with each passing moment.

2.  In my dream I remember wrestling with him for the pistol.  A cheap, tacky looking thing, entirely chromed silver.  You could see how the shine was ruined where the serial number had been filed off. 

We grapple.  He has the gun in his hand but I have my hand over his.  I have been training for this for years, and am much stronger than he.  I force his hand to move, I force the barrel of the gun up to his face.  I make him look into the eye of his own gun. 

She lies in the corner on too many pills, unaware or else indifferent.  Her lips are blue.  

The police will never discover that I was there.  They will call this a suicide.  Who am I to disagree?  I am not worried.  It's not the first time I've dreamt of murder.

 3.  If I can finish this thought I can take my very last pain pill.  Wash all the redness away in a blur of cottony white.  Actually, I like the pills a lot less than I thought I would and am quite grateful about the fact.  It will be nice if next week can just go back to business-as-usual.

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