We must first start this story with the end; if anything it will save you from turning to the back page…
The Heavenly Hosts rejoicingly pirouette about the head of the infant.
The Unicorn’s blood – precious droplets fall in the tears of Man, permeating even the McDonalds chain within the tiled, sterile walls of sweetened “hospital food” “to go”.
The hideous arthritic dwarves conspire with uranium and rare earths, cunningly carving a future, literally.
The fay folk and the Muses still whisper to inspire now the Greenies and their Pan god, battling ever daily the green-slime demons of the electric ether, who have radiated their presence into every household, stranglehold…….
Nothing has really changed from the past dreams (‘fantasy’ it is now called), nothing save men’s perceptions of the true inhabitants of this world.
Strange magic is woven- the greatest test than ever before, it is an effort to arouse an erection of understanding “et spirito”. But the sleepers do not dictate to the gods the reality which they dream amongst.
Wash the cynicism away; cleanse the knife-sharp soul-suicide. Fortunately the King of Men is very much with us, and when all is done He shall still be with us. We have surely just begun.
Rifling through the belongings of the now deceased, was an awesome privilege, she had many times played out in her mind. Today however, was that day.
The house smelt of sweet undefinable dampness, the rooms appeared empty, even though nothing had been touched. She felt as an intruder amongst the sanctity of thoughts that still hung heavy permeating the stale collections of a lifetime. He had bequeathed all his worldly possessions and the unworldly; and yes of course, three laughs…