A dozen deaths every day

in literature •  5 months ago


The rational started out as a dress rehearsal to tempt the fates until the real stuff came through the curtains into the lights and began the knees-up and did a Spanish song as well that was quite good.

I lay back and took a sip of my drink and decided to give them a smashing clap of applause when they had finished.

And so, beaming away, I took them into my dreams and woke up after it all was over, and reaching for my head I looked around me and saw nothing but darkness in a dark room full of tables; so I clapped to see if it was real.

An echo came back and asked me what I wanted for dinner.

I thought about it for a little while, and then I gave my order: I’ll take whatever falls out of the tree and lands at my feet, little realising that my feet were abstractly larger than this.

I braced myself for whatever would come and wondered if my insurance policy was still active.

You’re not going to live much longer, are you, it said, when I’d finally found it. Maybe another three minutes, it said.

I growled, and went in search of a pub to have a beer; or two.


A little while later, I began to be lifted out of it by the aliens or god or something and so sang a song to celebrate my coming freedom.

Approaching the white light I put on my sun glasses and turned up the volume of the radio.

You’re a little early said the radio operator standing on his head again and counting numbers out of his ears just like a transposition that was going from here to there and hunting for a Stromboli sandwich with mustard.

The dips could not be accurate so a balance had to be found before I dove into the pond of surrender to it, or any other thing at all.

I was not above howling, I whispered, deep in my dark room where I lived forever.

Come this way then said that frustration.

I would not be a victim here, if you don’t mind.

If you do not believe in yourself you may not be real.

Hey, I’m human you know, I can handle it.

Yes, well; just for you then: all except the human shall board here for the next train home.

I hope I’m not selling myself short here, I said then.

You have had your wish sir; please exit the stage now, your chance is over.

Am I stinging myself with all this; because if I am then I am about to become speechless and appalled that I’ve sunk so low that I can’t find my way back up.

The conductor gave me a gentle nudge as a reminder and said: this is where you get off now.

I gave him a big hug in gratitude and made it somehow, all the way to the ground, where I wobbled a bit, for a while.

I just needed my bearings so I could find my way home. Now where was I?


Well, I was above ground, that’s a plus point, right?

And maybe home is close by so that I don’t have to stumble too long in the dark.

Pulling out my trusty radio I tuned it to the next soda fountain and let it drift me there as I tried to think beyond my apprehension to somewhere beyond where I did not belong, or where I did belong, whatever.

On the door of my reply to this distress I came across the mud dwellings of the ancients, belittling me with their stories that could never make it, and holding me back from moving onwards to boot.

Oh, do try to relax a bit in your troubles won’t you said a knock on the door that heralded the donut delivery person with many donuts on a tray that he offered to every one of my troubles for free.

I gave him a big kiss and hugged him for dear life.

What are you doing he asked.

To which my reply was: I will never be a topless waitress in any of your bars.

I don’t have any bars, he said.

And I’m not a topless waitress I said, and gave him an extra big hug and a wink.


Eleven months came and went like nothing ever happened, so I had a couple of pints of stout to calm my nerves that were growing out of the roots and asked him what his intentions were.

He didn’t say anything as he looked at me, but I knew what he was thinking, I was kind of psychic like that.

Well, you know, we were talking later, when he fell asleep. So I found my own way home and said to myself to give him the elbow tomorrow, or die a dozen deaths every day until I did.


Images from Pixabay

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You made my night with this fabulous writing that I'm sure you wrote from the deepest part of your being.


Thank you; it was heartfelt