Sunday, 17 January 2016

bloggers




sandra sat down.

the screen blushed into orchestrated life.

she tapped a code.

a sequence of numbers and letters.

a hieroglyphic secret of binary values and symbols.

sandra was twenty-eight and a blogger.

her site was called the miss tree deepens.

it made her laugh and that was all that mattered.

she was Miss Tree.

her blogs were bits of prose and poetry with a bit of a journal.

she enjoyed maintaining it.

she especially liked all the comments she got.

she settled down with a cup of coffee and a sheath of paper that contained her hand written notes.


the poem was entitled salad days and she wanted to blog it today.


tuesday.


the screen offered its bland perspective.


her fingers digit danced across the keyboard.

the unseen face hidden within the dark electronic depths had hollow black eye-pits and shallow cheeks

it had its own agenda.

it was studying her.


she didn't see it.


malicious.


baleful.


she typed on.


rhyme flew like music.


words spun like thread.


to her left the digital clock suddenly spat into spastic life.


numbers spinning in random chaos.

fast, manic and loud.

a series of clickety-clacks spinning at inhuman speeds.

bewildered she turned and stared at it in a confused silence.


unexpectedly the overhead light blinked on then off as though it were the bovine winking eye of a dull brute god.

the PC bled a pale shadow.


an ethereal wisp of tendril particles.

incorporeal and flimsy.

amorphous fingers.

a thing of shade.

sinister like fog on a heath.

something with scarlet eyes and a melanoid heart.

three tendrils wrapped themselves around her face.


before she had time to register what it was one tendril pierced her ear.

a thin trail of blood trickled down her face.

other tendrils entered her nostrils and mouth.

her eyes went dull, then blank.

vacant.

unseeing and sightless.

she died silently as all life was drained from her.


her bladder relaxed its control.

urine ran down her thighs splashing onto the floor.

her left leg did an epileptic idiot dance.

shaking violently she collapsed head first on the floor.

a sound of feet ascending the stairs then a voice.


"sandra? how's the blog coming?"


the thing had gone but it was still hungry.


it needed more.


it fled.


back into its cold womb.


back into the stark void.


back into the blogosphere.











1 comment:

Cara H said...

Meh, I'm not afraid. The shit I write will kill the Blog O Monster long before it kills me!