Tuesday, February 7, 2017

Runaway Diamond

The motel room was being investigated by agents. There was a strange film, almost like a liquid cling-film over the glass on the door. It was solidifying, and becoming stronger. One of the agents had an elemental name, though I can't remember it now. I do remember thinking that they may have a connection to Sapphire and Steel, the old series from the 80's.

There was a couple on the floor, kissing, but covered in blood and the agents seemed to be ignoring them. There was a girl in the corner with a guitar, and she knew she had to get away. There was something wrong with the agents. The couple stopped what they were doing, and made for the exit.

Next thing I remember, was out in the parking lot, and the trio were about to make their escape. The agents were trapped in the motel room, the film on the door solidified harder than diamond. The girl threw her guitar, a bass, into the nearby trash and hopped onto the back of a motorcycle-sidecar.

The play's the thing

We'd gone to a play in London, a strange follow up to a massively popular play that we'd already seen, and were confused that they'd managed to create a sequel. Next to the theatre was a very old pub, and the landlord spent a while explaining the history of the place.

The play itself didn't seem to make any sense - there was a suitcase full of water and angels, a child was being frozen under the water, and then it stopped for the end of Act 1.

We left the theatre, and started walking home without returning for Act 2. We walked home through the park, passing various children who had been in the play who said hello and greeted us by name. Out in the green of the park, a brightly coloured parrot was attacking pigeons and it hovered in the air savaging them. I tried to shoo it away with a blanket I'd found.

Monday, February 6, 2017

Bugs under the skin

The kid came up to me and said "I had the same problem, you just need to dig it out".

I looked to my hand, opened my palm and I could see a little black hair sticking out. No, it wasn't a hair. It was a leg. I wiggled and squirmed, and eventually a flying ant crawled out of my skin. It crawled about a bit, then flew off.

I looked again, and another had started to creep out of my hand. It too crawled out and flew off.

A larger one tried to emerge from the heel of my palm, but it struggled and got stuck. I grabbed it, and pulled. It hurt, but not excessively, and a spider was pulled out. I freaked out a little and threw it across the room. My hand was messed up, little holes where the ants had crawled. They weren't bleeding, but in the biggest hole, where the spider had been, I could see a crater in the dermal layers going down to red-raw skin below.

I could feel something else moving in my arm.

The kid opened up a school drawing set, and withdrew a large set of compasses, only the point was larger, like a sharpened straw of glistening silver metal.

"That's it, you just need to dig it out," the kid said.

He grabbed the skin on the inside of my elbow, and forced it into a bulge I could poke with the compass point. Strangely, it didn't hurt, as a huge, hairy tarantula crawled out of the hole I'd made. There was no blood again, despite digging a hole out of my arm about two centimetres across. The tarantula crawled off, turned and looked at me, and did a mocking dance. I shoo'd it away, resisting the urge to kill it...

And then I woke up.