Little Alison had been sent down to give the two daddy pigs a lesson. They were fat and balding and smelled of sweat and old spunk and skanky roll up cigarettes. They sat in their separate houses sending pictures to each other. They sometimes did unspeakable things to babies. Having…
Category: The Rearrangement: a modern story
The Rearrangement: a modern story
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Amari
Athena pointed to a place down below. ‘Ethiopia’ she said to Amari. ‘A place where the children starve, the women get raped and mutilated and the men play war. They fight over the usual male grievances; sovereignty, land and religion. If they were each given their own piece of land…
The Rearrangement: a modern story
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The Meeting
These weren’t siren calls they were the opposite. They were the screeches, the wails and the screams of vengeance. The anger of the dead women so visceral and potent it was starting to scorch the world down below. ”Where do we even start there are so many?” asked Juliet during…
The Rearrangement: a modern story
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Cockroaches
It was Friday afternoon in a little Yorkshire town and the men scurried like little brown beetles to their prayers. Pyjama dresses, half mast trousers, skinny ankles and huge feet in cheap trainers. Absurd and comical and deadly serious. Little boys with little hats dragged along to be initiated into…
The Rearrangement: a modern story
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The Power
At Screaming Time the women of Lextalionis gathered in their many millions and spewed their anguish out into the atmosphere. They let go of their anger and their torment and cast it far out into the black spaces between the planets. Lately there were so many women that the noise…
The Rearrangement: a modern story
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Lextalionis
Sometimes, when a storm breaks days of stifling, sticky humidity and lightning cracks open fissures in the night sky you can hear the women of Lextalionis laughing. In the dead women’s place they laugh all the time unless of course it’s The Screaming Hour, but generally their world peals with…
The Rearrangement: a modern story
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Martin
His flat was a dump. It smelled of damp and cigarettes and grease, three day old chow mein and the sour cheese tang of unwashed man. He was sat on his lumpy, worn sofa gulping down a can of cheap supermarket lager and idly stroking his manhood. Moans and grunts…
The Rearrangement: a modern story
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The Rearrangement: a modern story
They came in great numbers these women. Ravaged and mutilated and angry. Climbing out of the pc monitors and the television screens. Out of the wooded paths and the quiet streams and the rural roads. Out of the seedy hotel rooms and the penthouse apartments. The brothels, the backstreets and…