Tuesday, 23 October 2012

Fekenham and now 'Bogus' (Working title only)


I find it hard sometimes to keep focused on the one thing. I suppose I am guilty of having a butterfly mind. I tend to flit from one thing to another, or so it seems. In reality I don’t. What I do is become either stuck (writers block) on one storyline or bored. I then switch to something else, bubbling away in my mind like rancid cabbages in a saucepan, only to return to the real task in hand later.

The more I work on 'Fekenham' the more I find myself giggling. Writing stories that are, to all intents and purposes a curious hybrid between 'Under Milk Wood,' and a 'Carry-On' meets Tintin seems odd. It is as if I have warped into another time or another dimension and have accidentally found a new world filled with fun and silliness. I really like it there but sometimes I need a break.
Bogus (working title only) is one of those ‘saucepans’ on the stove. It is very different to either ‘Fekenham’ or ‘The Wilful Walks.’ Far more serious, dark even, featuring as its main protagonist a paedophile who having murdered a child is on the run. With this novel there are no chapters. Nothing new In that Terry Pratchett never uses them nor did Cormac McCarthy in his book ‘The Road.’
The novel is not science fiction but is set in the future. Not the distant future though. It is perhaps forty years from now. There are subtle nuances that indicate the differences between now and then.
There are three characters in the story all of whom, unknown to each, is on the run. Each character has their own sub-sections within the narrative. These are White Worm; Black Serpent and Young Snake
The story is told in blocks of 500 words. Each sub-section will consist of perhaps 10,000 words.
I intend to present the unpleasant central character as being almost without conscience but at the same time reveal  how and what created him…

Above me the sky: sometimes blue, often grey. It offers no real shelter just a reference point for poet’s to dream on, for tower blocks to ascend, for birds and aeroplanes to cross. The sky hangs over cities, deserts, forests and oceans. Beneath it we primates build careers and homes neither of which amount to much in the scheme of things. To suggest the sky ‘looks down’ on us is a preposterous arrogance. The sky has no eyes, it is blind, it has no capacity to care one way or another for us anymore than it does the ants we crush beneath our feet. This conceit that the sky is some sort of ceiling rather than an impossibly vast vacuum only deceives mankind. It is a deception we readily accept in the same manner we believe we are somehow superior to our fellow animals. We are not.

Observations by man on nature are primitive. He has no understanding of what it is he is part of. Even with the advances made in science, medicine and technology he still insists on holding fast to the dogma of ages past, he still believes in faeries. His morals are decrepit, they are warped beyond understanding. Witch hunts are instigated for suspected paedophiles, pornography is frowned upon yet the police view internet sites so as to catch the perpetrators. It is as if they have some divine right to observe the same acts society declares vile yet not be guilty of pleasure, of enjoying them. The watchmen watch but remain unsullied.

Who makes these rules? Nature doesn’t that’s for sure. When a lion kills another he then assumes pride of place. He slaughters any offspring then mates with the lioness. It’s Tao, it is nature. It is right.

I have never understood the fragile precepts instigated then instilled into us. It is like faith teachings in school – brainwashing. It is a singularly depraved act. How dare any one religion have the audacity to inculcate their beliefs into the minds of children? How dare they? You have priests, all virtuous with bell book, candle and bible who extol the benefits of heaven while investing fear into the hearts of innocents; cassocks that rise too easily; nuns with hawkish demeanours who fondly wield the lash.

Religion has supplanted nature with a beguiling speciousness. There are no gods. There is just brute nature.

Societal indoctrination makes these realities appear distasteful, unpalatable but nonetheless they remain true.

Murder is natural as is rape. So is paedophilia. Paedophilia is an instinct. It is base, it is animal; it is what we are. It is what we do when the counterfeit culture our forebears have created crumbles revealing us as animals.

The streets around here are grim. I stand now near a council housing estate. The clouds release a downpour. Rain begins to fall, soft at first then heavy. I look about me seeing homes like boxes. I need to find somewhere to shelter. Somewhere innocuous that is hidden from view.

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all words and art are copyright © of Russell 'C.J' Duffy.To view my books on Amazon/Kindle go here: https://www.amazon.com/author/russellduffy -- For another side of CJ go here: sOMeThiNg For tHE wEeKeND, SiR?

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