Wednesday, October 31, 2007

The Mirror

They were still cleaning up three days after the event ended. Empty bottles and cans were the main items strewn over the ground. These would be recycled in to new bottles and cans and end up on the ground again next year.

“Sometimes people can be so thoughtless” comments Katrina as she picks up three empty beer bottles and a half eaten pie.

“Keeps us in a job though”, says Andrew.

“It just depresses me. A bunch of people getting together to bring some fun in to the world and the result is 25 dump trucks full of rubbish.”

“27 dump trucks actually, the boss forgot about the field down the back. Filthy.”

Katrina shakes her head and takes a moment to stretch her back.

“Hey, what’s that?” she asks.

“What’s what?”

Katrina bends down and pulls a small object out from under a ripped T-Shirt.

Andrew comes over to take a look. “Looks like a mirror.”

“It’s not a mirror. Look. I can see right through it”.

Katrina holds the object up between them to make her point. But as they look they see something strange.

There is a faint image moving in the glass, a whisper of an image, if you know what I mean. Looking closer they see that the image is moving and that it is an old woman with hair like pure silver and skin like golden sand dunes.

“It does make a difference” says the old woman.

Katrina almost drops the frame but manages to say “Ahhh, thanks”.

The old woman smiles and is gone

“Freaky” says Andrew.

And they keep on cleaning.

Monday, October 29, 2007


The temperature drops; grey fog, black cloud and the wind.

A storm is approaching.

It is time to batten down the hatches. It is time to make for safe harbour. It is time for haste and action.

At first I am running but losing. Then I am running but not moving. And now my body will not move; my will is gone.

This is no natural storm.

Uncountable they are. Foul and loathsome; terrible yet ridiculous. They pass across the sky. They make day night and all beauty grey. Life is death, love is hate and magic science.

I cannot struggle.

I cannot move.

I am losing my life. I am alive but dead. I am older.


“Are you okay?”

“It’s the darkness again” I manage to say.


“Here, drink this.”

I take and drink.

Slowly my eyes open and I see, well, I see something outside of me. I see a face, a worried face, and I feel a hand on my hand. Then there is a gap, a break in the clouds, and a small patch of light shining through.

There is hope.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Sword Sharpener

“But Dad, how can you like ‘The Rolling Stones’? They’re practically dead aren’t they? I mean cryogenics has come a long way.”

“Well what’s this rot you’re listening to? Sounds more like a car crash than music.”

“You have bad taste. Anyway, I just wanted to know if I could borrow some money.”

“You want to insult my taste and then ask if you can have some of my hard earned cash?!”

“Pretty much.”

“Cheeky monkey, go and get my wallet then. How much do you need?”

“Fifty dollars.”

“Fifty! In my day you could have lived for a week on 50 dollars!”

“Yes, but you’re really old Dad. Besides, you still owe me for painting the house.”

“That was two years ago!”

“And you still haven’t paid up.”

Money changes hands.

“Thanks Dad.”

“Look after yourself out there and call me, for anything.”

“I will.”

The front door closes with a bang. Mother looks up from her book and smiles at Father.

“Well Love," Dad says "did you hear all that? How do you think it went?”

“He’s developing his own likes and dislikes. He’s questioning the status quo and your authority. I think he’s coming along nicely.”

“Hmmmm, I agree. You don’t think I sounded a bit phoney though, I mean ‘The Rolling Stones’! It was just the first thing that came in to my head.”

“You’re coming along nicely too” says Mum and gives him a big hug.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

The Kingdom of Heaven

Mark had been sick of his life since he was 20.

Every night he prayed.

“Make or break me.”

Every morning he woke up neither made nor broken.

“When will this end?”

There had been attempts to end the tedium; half hearted, embarrassing attempts that only underscored the failure and the futility of his life.

One morning he had decided not to get out of bed. This was the end. After a week he got up, stood under a lukewarm shower, dressed mechanically and went to work. At work he sat staring at a computer screen that had long since gone into power-save mode.

He stopped trying to feel better about his life, stopped trying to apply reason to his problems – he gave up thinking. His mind was a flat featureless landscape and a grey sky.

At 75 he arranged for all his food to be delivered to his house. In that house he sat.

Days passed.

“Make or break me”

“Make or break me”

One cold night Mark’s prayer was answered. His heart stopped while he slept. He was 87 years old.

It felt like waking up, it felt like waking up made!

Surrounded by white light, not floating – no indeed!, speeding through the light. And it was exhilarating!

A choir of angels travelled with him singing, not in a churchy way, but in a way that filled you with power and hurt your eardrums. The music banished Marks greyness in the same way the morning sun chasses the dawn away.

Peter was there at the gates of heaven and greeted Mark with a wide smile and a hearty hug.

“So, well, we expected you sooner Mark. But here you are and we are pleased to see you.

Many people have lived lives like yours Mark but you have lived it the longest

Hearing this filled Mark with sadness.

“Don’t be sad”, Peter said. “In heaven all lives make sense – even yours”.

And Mark found out -

Peter was right.