A place to start, my ship sets sail in to the unknown and it scares the living out of me. The living part of me I no longer know, or care for, until now.


This is a story about nothing.


I remember everything, I remember, remembering.


I am a story of no consequence, a story of no-one, I am you and me simultaneously reduced and complicit in my reduction.



She went down, head first, right in front of Maura. Right by the rail stocked with deep red cardigans, they were all reduced. Twenty two to seven.

Had she not knocked the rail against the freestanding mirror, which also fell, she may have not been noticed immediately.

She was pulling at the rail next to Maura, the annoying; I don’t know the width of my personal space type of person, her shoulder continually brushed against Maura’s.

The back of her neck tensed and the bottom of her jaw felt waves of anger. “Oh to just fuck her out of it, lose what ever bit of patience there was left in my body.”

Suddenly, she fell over, Skinny, mousey brown hair, insipid looking – that’s what I saw, red would never have been her colour! How dare she really have thought so!

The mirror went down with a crash, just as Maura’s boot heal stomp into her head, right by her ear, she could see herself doing this in the mirror, while she continued shopping for the red cardigan.

Shouts, people moved closer as Maura turned to see blood on the floor.

“She must have hit her head” a voice to the left.

“Is she ok?” a sales assistant was sitting by her on the floor.

“I don’t think so, someone needs to call an ambulance”.

I really don’t

I really don’t give a fuck, look at me do I look like I give a fuck? No.

John practiced this sentence every morning as part of his breakfast routine, up, coffee, berries and yogurt then the mirror motivational chat.

Standing in front of it, he repeated the same words over and over, before putting on his suit jacket, lifting his brief case and leaving his house in the hills.

Eventually the words meant nothing and just a thought process was left, inherently and indelibly etched into his psyche.

John was created by his thoughts.

The mirror man, that is who he is now.

John cried

John cried, as a child.

“But, Mum”.

“John I can’t listen to this now, I have to go to work, this is for us, don’t you understand that?”

John didn’t understand, he was seven, and alone. The thing he wanted most was to not be alone.

He had no friends to speak off, rarely went anywhere, his mum was too busy working two jobs, but mostly no one listened.

Not to anyone really and especially not to him. John listened, he watched via his computer, all the things he couldn’t have, all the things he’d like, the internet was his land of possibility, goggle his father, and money was to became his mother.

Molly cried

Molly cried every day, she cried before she could breath, cried in the womb, cried for her mother, cried for her father, she knew she must cry for herself, but she was so petrified of her destiny she could find no tears.

Molly’s birth was traumatic. She didn’t want to be born, she didn’t want to fulfil her destiny, she wanted more time, aware and trapped, her mum’s mood swings made sure she was trapped, she couldn’t help it, tablets to keep her happy were imperative, decelerating her mind while accelerating Molly’s.

Molly’s destiny was to know before she knew, imagine before she could breath, think before she could talk, a mind of infinitive possibility trapped in the body of an infant, so tiny, so dependant it could be disposed of with very little thought.

Mildred bend over

Mildred bend over to lick her ass. She did this frequently during the day as she waited for Maura to return home. Maura always brought her home something nice. Mildred was fat, very fat, but neither Mildred nor Maura cared.

Maura shopped, Mildred ate.

Mildred ate, Maura shopped.

Mildred rolled over off the cushion she used to keep her propped as she licked her nether regions, satisfied she had mostly done a good job, she strolled along the sofa towards the window, Maura was due home.

Mildred had her routine planned precisely, Maura and dinner respectively, and then pets.

Mildred observed as Maura opened the back door to her car and took out a few bags, Mildred’s food, and the Penny’s bag, always a Penny’s bag, never emptied and stacked by the wardrobe with all the other bags.

But today was different. Mildred plopped off the windowsill and slowly made her was to the door…

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