Issue Three

KATIE JONES
“I can’t believe you actually did it.” She
spoke softly, slightly awed by this.
“Well,” he paused before speaking
again, “I knew you wanted it, you’ve
always spoke of those two lovers. And
look,” his hand went underneath the
fabric of his shirt, revealing a ring
dangling on a chain from his neck.
Alice’s eyes bulged, reaching forward
she fingered the gold ring ever so gently
with the tips of her fingers. “Forever
lovers,” she whispered voice barely
audible.
Terry leaned forward, and his lips met
hers, gently caressing the soft, plump
flesh of her mouth. She kissed him
back, before finally pulling away, wide
eyes locking onto his face. “Thank you.”
The two parted, and Terry headed back
home, walking in the light provided by
the street lamps above and smiling to
himself. He went slowly, enjoying the
darkness and the stars, his lips still
curled into a grin as the kiss lingered
there. When he slid the key into the
lock of his door, he felt something
caress the back of his neck. Crying out,
he spun around, stray hairs freeing from
the tie in his hair and settling around his
shocked face.
There was nothing there. He reached
back to touch the flesh of his neck and
the skin was ice cold and slightly
wet. He brought his fingers back and
close to his face, studying the thin film of
moisture there. Frowning, eyebrows
drawn close together he turned around
and opened the door, locking it behind
him and switching on the lights. The
screen of his laptop was still on, and he
walked over, settling down into the chair
and focussing on the pictures of the two
in the grave, the comments were
endless. People were both impressed
and enraged. Terry grinned and began
to type furiously, hitting the keyboard
hard as he went. He looked down, and
noticed that there were flakes wedged
between the keys, between his fingers
he picked one out staring at it; it was dry
and crumpled from his touch. Ignoring
it, he typed on, before settling into bed,
mind fuzzy and still drunk.
He awoke a couple of hours later, and
rolled over and onto his stomach, but his
face was pressing into something
beneath him, it felt like crumbs on his
pillow. He reached out lethargically, and
switched on the lamp, only to discover
the little flakes were not crumbs, but
something else, transparent and light,
they covered his pillow case like
dandruff. He threw the pillow off the
bed, stood up and made his way to the
linen closet, grabbing another pillow
case and peeling the used one off it
before forcing the bulky pillow into its
cover. Sleep came almost suddenly,
and his slumber was peaceful.
Hours later the alarm buzzed in his
room, and he moved to turn it
off. Stepping out of bed and into the
shower, he stood there as the water fell
over him, wiping away at his body
blindly before stepping out and drying
himself off. As usual, he checked his