December 23, 2007


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‘This is really good stuff, Evie,’ he said, eating with his mouth open, juice and pulpy bits dribbling down his chin.

Eve dismissed him with a wave and closed her eyes again. She concentrated on her sunbathing and sighed. Adam was a boring twat at the best of times. Every time he found something new he’d dance around like an idiot, demanding attention. The world would be better off without him. And that stupid thing hanging between his legs like some sort of rotting fruit, Je-sus. She wished he’d cover it up; it made her want to wretch. “Intelligent design”, my arse, she thought.

‘Try it,’ his voice boomed above her as Adam’s shadow moved to block out the sun. It was a little chilly.

Suddenly, weight pressed down on her stomach. Her eyes sprung open to see Adam sitting on her about to force the green fruit into her mouth.

She smacked the fruit away and shouted, ‘What is your problem? I totally, like, need my space.’ She motioned towards his groin with disgust. ‘Get that fucking thing off me.’

Adam didn’t budge. ‘This is really, really tasty. I want you to just take a bite, you’ll like it, I know you will. Go on, just for me, go on. Look, it’s either this or… my little monster here. And I know which one you’d prefer.’ He snorted with irritation.

She could sense the beast stirring, tossing about on her midriff. Oh God no.

‘Alright,’ she said, ‘just one fucking bite and then get you right off.’

Adam lowered the shiny, green fruit to her mouth and she took a bite. It was quite sweet, delicious really and the citric tang gave it a bit of oomph she hadn’t expected. The skin was a bit dry.

‘It’s okay, I suppose.’

‘Just okay?’ Adam sounded as if she’d just criticised a meal he’d spent fifteen hours preparing. It was just a bit of fruit, for God’s sakes. Hang… the fuck… on.

Eve asked, ‘Where did you get this from?’


‘Oh you shit, Adam, you twatty shi-’


Adam leapt up with amazing dexterity. ‘It wasn’t me, it was her.’ He dropped the apple as if it were hot.


Eve formulated a plan.

She pointed at the thing between Adam’s legs and said: ‘It was the snake. The snake made me do it.’

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 1918

November 13, 2007

Paragon’s People (9 of 11)

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The student realised the thinker didn’t understand at all. It was the very pure, bestial freedom that was being eroded and lost every day. Animals act on instinct. The more humans progressed, the more they second-guessed, worried, self-mutilated their minds over simple decisions. Mental self-harm. It was natural to outsource the worry to a higher authority. But that authority was not holy, it was human, with all its flaws and desires. Those who take up the mantle then besiege the confused, panicky population with dark slogans: Life is dread! Every waking moment a peril! Fear the freedom of others to do things to you, fear your own freedom to undo you! Donate your freewill to the higher cause – and our instructions will lead you to the Holy Grounds!

His friends seemed to fade into the background and he just let the sentences spill out of his mouth, unguarded and unashamed. ‘We’ve dragged ourselves out of the swamps and into the bright sunlight of intelligence. But we’re just frightened rabbits, right, in the sun’s headlights and we don’t know what good or evil mean any more, we don’t know what we’re supposed to do at all. All we seem to be really good at doing is finding out more and more and fucking up our brains. The puzzle gets bigger and more complicated. So much information to take on board, the internet drowns us and we scrabble for dry land, anything that can keep us afloat. Faced with the enormous complexity of life, nature, science, art – fucking everything – we feel like turning back, putting up our hands and resigning. But we can – we should – make our hands into fists and roar at the universe that we don’t give in that easily.’

He stood up, raised a fist at the air itself and shouted: ‘Fuck you, universe!’

His eyes watered as he hadn’t blinked throughout his little rant against the faulty human system. He glanced across his friends through a gauze of tears, and saw that his fellow anarchists had been stunned into silence. Were they impressed or just shocked? He sighed aloud, for he was still alone after all. There was potential in this group, but would the thinker prove to be an ally or a hindrance in the long-term?

But his girlfriend. She stared at him with an expression that was neither pitiful nor hateful, just intrigued. He didn’t understand why – did she get it now? Did she understand? The group hadn’t been happy to bring a zealot into their midst without some grooming… but he was hopeful she could be turned around. There was always an elegant consistency to her perspective; if he could puncture some of her views, then she might, just might, re-arrange everything to see things their way.

The athlete broke the silence with a sharp change of subject, saying, ‘You know, what’s really worrying are the current rumours about the Paladins-’

‘Holy moley moley!’ the musician shouted, who had been playing with her cell.

The thinker shouted, ‘Good God, enough shouting for this evening! Could everybody please stop shouting!’

‘TV, get the TV on right now. Any channel, any channel at all. You are not going to believe this.’

‘Believe what?’ said the thinker.

The musician was lost for words, gasping for something, stuck with just: ‘TV!’

The student hauled himself up off the floor, wandered over to the TV, switched it on, saw two words in bold, white lettering on its plasma display and felt his jaw drop.

‘Get out of the fucking way,’ yelled the poet, ‘we can’t see a bloody thing!’ The student jumped aside as ordered.

The thinker retorted, ‘Stop shouting for God’s sakes! Will you please stop the’ –he saw the same two words that had stunned the student– ‘oh you gotta be kidding.’

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 2224

July 18, 2007

Thy Peeping Tom Will Be Done

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Kasia looked upward, the bed pressing against her back and Douglas pressing against her front. Noontime sunshine leaked through a gap in the curtains, dappling the undulating sheets. She wanted to reach out and pull them shut, to hide what she was doing.

She tried to hold Douglas close, but he resisted, preferring to prop himself up on his hands as if on the starting blocks of a race. Ready to sprint away.

‘When will you leave her? When? Ohhh.’

Douglas was taking care of something else, staring at the wall above her. ‘Mood, Kass sweetheart darling angel, don’t droop my mood.’ He panted hot, garlic breath all over her face yet kept staring ahead as if he was having sex with the wall.

Metal scraped her side. ‘Couldn’t you have taken off the ring? I feel like she’s in bed with us. Ohhh.’ She shuddered. Mother said she shouldn’t have come to England.

A voice said, ‘Excuse me, darlings. Um, hello?’

Kasia screamed. Douglas whimpered as his mood drooped and his arms crumbled, his chest tumbling into hers. She grabbed him to shield her nudity from the probing eyes of the stranger – a spindly man wearing a black leotard was sitting on the opposite side of the room. He was perspiring as if fresh from a workout.

‘Out! Get out!’ Kasia shouted at the leotard man.

‘Ow Kass sweetheart angel, that’s my ear your shouting into. And you’re strangling me, if you don’t mind,’ Douglas said. Kasia did not relent.

‘Yes, sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to check if you two knew exactly what you were doing,’ said the camp, cheerful stranger.

‘Get out!’ Kasia screamed again. Douglas fought against his temporary imprisonment in her arms, but he was no match for her fight-or-flight response.

The stranger clicked his fingers and vanished.

‘He’s gone!’

Kasia released Douglas. He turned around, a little dazed, and asked, ‘Who was he? Who was there?’

‘Oh I’m still here,’ a voice echoed. The stranger then re-appeared sitting down again. ‘I’m the Man Upstairs.’

Kasia disappeared under the sheets with a squeak, just peering out over the top, trying to reach out sideways for her clothes. Unfortunately, they had been scattered far and wide. It was just Douglas and the sheets for now.

Douglas took it in his stride. ‘The what was that? The Upright Man? That’s a fictional character.’

‘Oh it’s a euphemism, dear.’ He clapped his hands, grinning. ‘I’m the Big Cheese. The Writer of All Things.’ He seemed like he was itching to burst into a dance routine any second. Not in our hotel room, begged Kasia.

‘You’re a writer from upstairs?’

He clicked his fingers and reappeared in the bed beside Kasia. Two gleaming rows of teeth two inches from her face said, ‘Call me Lordie!’

Kasia screamed again and the stranger transported back to the chair.

Douglas scratched his head. ‘Oh! You’re like, what, God? Prove it.’

Lordie seemed disappointed with that question, his mood also drooped. ‘Look, peo-ple, I just wanted to check whether you guys really knew what you were doing here. I mean, this is a sin, right? Tell me I’m wrong, go on, tell me.’

Kasia was staying put and staying silent. The sheets felt too thin and transparent.

Douglas said, ‘Well, it’s all perfectly natural, you know. What goes between a man and a woman is the most natural, beautiful thing in the world.’ He turned around to face Kasia and smiled, patting her head. What is this? I am a pet?

‘Yes,’ said Lordie, ‘that’s very, very interesting. But you belong, of course, to another?’

Douglas held out his hand, his wedding band having mysteriously disappeared. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, this is au naturale. This is love you see here, my friend.’ He patted Kasia again, but wasn’t looking at her this time and smacked her nose. ‘I am a free agent. Nothing to see here.’

Lordie creased up, emitting a staccato burst of giggles, animated as if tickled by some unseen force. ‘You, Mr. Douglas, sir, are what we call in the trade a jokester! Oh you are so silly!’ He clapped, but with his whole arms as if flapping hard enough to fly.

Kasia said, ‘Douglas, you idiot. He’s God. He can see everything.’

Lordie jumped out of his chair and thrust out a finger, pointing at Kasia. ‘Bingo! Oooh, she’s good! You’re marvellous, darling!’ He relaxed a little and continued, ‘Bon-jour? Of course I can see everything. Every time you meet in this, frankly, filthy room, I’m sitting over here watching. Waiting for you to, well, finish your business.’

‘Ugh,’ said Kasia, letting her lips emerge over the top of the sheet. ‘That’s… that’s horrible.’

‘But if you cats are knapsack happy with what you’re doing, please just continue. Keep up the good work, people. You happy?’

‘Yes!’ shouted Kasia before Douglas could get them into any more trouble.

‘Okay, darlings, carry on. Just pretend I’m not here.’ He returned to the chair, adopting a pretentious pensive pose. Then he started humming.

Douglas asked, ‘You’re just going to… sit there?’

Lordie did not respond, playing with the melody he was humming.

Kasia looked at her watch on the bedside cabinet. Lunch hour was almost up. This usually wasn’t an issue, due to Douglas’ skilful ability to cram lovemaking into an action-packed 38 seconds.

‘I’ve lost the mood,’ said Douglas, coughing.

Kasia stared at Douglas and then at Lordie. ‘Me too. Not really in the mood now.’

‘Oh for shame! Don’t let little old me, put you off,’ Lordie said. ‘I’m always here, whether you see me or not, darlings.’ His jovial smile revealed an edge of menace as he leaned forwards towards them. ‘I’m always here.’

That was when Kasia knew that she would never, ever have sex again.

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 1042

December 21, 2006

Paradise Tossed

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god, what is your bidding?


i understand this truth


i understand this


yes, lord, i understand


i am ready. please tell me the task that i am humbled to receive


i listen with open ears, an open heart, an open mind and a willing spirit, lord

:: whisper whisper hysterical chicken biscuits ::


:: GO NOW ::


:: YES ::

i am sorry, i do not understand. could you repeat the words for me, lord?


but the wording of the assignment was not as… clear… as i had expected


but, lord, i do not understand what the assignment is


my place in paradise?

:: OH DEAR :: A SHAME ::

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 1434

September 12, 2006


Thread: Uncategorized

YOU sculpt my wings so i can fly from you
with loving violence and caring torture
living in the shadow of your word
and its barbed-wire binding

MY perfect configuration for sin
forces me to survive on tattered moments
floating amongst your jigsaw pieces
on a seductive teleological sea

THUS: each time i rise to flight
i drown in the fearful silhouette of your word
and with familiar resignation i slow, i stop,
beneath the cold breath of your counterfeit love,
to taste the sweat of your knuckles anew

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 2100

January 22, 2006


Thread: Uncategorized

His followers had demanded his intervention. Darkness was rampant; the dispossessed roamed the streets seeking to vent their pain; a vast spider’s web of disinformation, spanning the globe, had ensnared thought itself. Even the project of faith had failed, culminating in an incomprehensible self-cannibalism of belief, where lives became currency used to purchase access to the empyrean.

And finally the anger overpowered the king of kings; he acted.

He aligned himself with a battered third world nation that had seen its share of misery and torment. He spoke through its citizens with words of violent disappointment to the gangster nations. Their poisoning of the earthly well would be endured no longer. With their foul propaganda and corrupt strategies they had attempted to put an end to free will, but his new people would stand against the advance of the war machines and the exploitative industries that followed in their wake.

Empowered by the divine light, his people killed the dark men in their thrones and tore down their false temples. When they were done, the name of the king was carved into the sky.

It was only then that the king realised the consequences of his single action, a gut-wrenching moment of clarity slicing through the rage that had possessed him.

The see had sawed and faith began to feast feverishly upon on its own flesh once again. Those who held the sharpest tongues and the sharpest swords embarked on bloody culls for their own definitions of religious purity. The king, having conferred his powers to a people now gone mad, was powerless to stop this tragic play from reaching its closing scene.

Not even his tears could rescue the world as it dissolved in a scalding nuclear bath, screaming his name in suicidal ecstasy.

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 0126

January 7, 2006

Family Planning

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He had watched them with the intensity that parental love demands. From their humble beginnings as blind single-celled organisms to structured societies with a mastery of the physical laws of the multiverse. Expectant faces gazing at the stars, they were ready to go beyond their planetary playroom and explore the dark void that He had built for them to explore and expand into.

He stepped back, mindful that His beautiful children would need a little room to seed the void, and His elbow knocked against something solid, hard.

Turning around majestically, He saw that He had nudged a hitherto unnoticed small blue planet into the fatal embrace of its bright yellow sun.

And God said, “What the fuck was that?”

Posted by: The Harbour Master @ 0139