A Writer's Wonderland [PDF] - University of Portsmouth

Petals. Somebody, a woman, fat and repulsive, called me ‘petal’ last night. The Moors
club – we were in The Moors and she came over to Frank and me, licked the top of her bottle of
fizzy blue drink and asked ‘Can I have a dance, petal?’
She most certainly didn’t get a dance – but that doesn’t matter, because now I remember
where we went. The Moors nightclub, the dingiest, dirtiest place this side of the south coast, had
certainly been Frank’s idea. But this is where things get hazy, like a nightmare so terrible that
my subconscious is striving to conceal it from me lest it should turn my mind insane.
The pain in my racked body increases with almost every step until I am sure I will vomit
if I don’t stop. Kneeling over, I begin to retch but suddenly can’t. My stomach turns to steel. To
my left is an alleyway. That nightmare is beginning to break the boundaries set up by my
subconscious, seeping through like an unstoppable poison. I recognise this alleyway. I recognise
the streak of blood at its mouth.
Stepping forward ever so slowly, my brain starting to pulse in its bone prison, yearning
to break free from the confines if it, I approach the foot of the alley. Images from last night begin
to flash before me like strobe lights.
Leaving the Moors with Frank… Me leading Frank here… The smell of blood. The smell
of Frank’s blood. I know what I will find before I find it.
Frank’s body lies at the end of the dismal alleyway, lost to the reaches of the clawing
shadows. In the amber light of a streetlamp I can make out the devastation of his face; the skull
wrenched apart as if by a crowbar, its precious contents glistening on the concrete floor,
mingling with rain water. The rest of him is a crumpled mess; no more than a sack filled with
broken bones and ruptured organs, thankfully concealed by the darkness. I remember what
happened now – the look on his face as I changed, the screams – the sweet, sweet screams. What
I didn’t remember was to take my monthly injection yesterday; my immunisation against the
sickness.
Last night was, after all, a full moon.
I kneel down and snuffle greedily over the remains of last night’s dinner.
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