The Strands of the Web Sever. By CpSingleton © 2014
The lights went out.
One by one.
Red, green and blue.
I looked from the squat box, the illumination usually blinks from, to the device in my hands…
All signs were hopeless.
It was the strangest feeling I had yet felt.
It wasn’t like the blackouts of the seventies, when dark adventures giddied the small boy.
I had things to do!
I waited an hour. It seemed like ten.
Outside the double-glazed window I could hear children screaming as they played in the street.
Cars passed in that Doppler high and low hum. Drunks swore at drunks.
It was Pigeon Street for a dead culture, or Camblewick Green for the Dystopian 21st Century.
In the cacophonous hurricane that danced like angry Millwall fans all around, my house was
the thick heavy silence of the eye of the storm.
How could something I could neither touch nor see affect all but the cooking of my food?
The silence becoming noisier and yet slightly hypnotic.
When I thought it would never alter, the coloured bulbs twinkled with life and
my mind awoke once more.