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Poetry, prose

I Miss There Already. (Part One) by CpSingleton © 2014


The bones and most of the organs of this piece were a brilliant dream I have just woken from.
I want to go back.
I woke up, despite its oddness, missing the place.
I don’t know any of the faces I met. The only voice I recognised was my brother’s. Come with me…

The day was wet. The sort of wet that empties the streets and fills the shop windows with grumbling expressions.
I usually love this kind of rain and can usually be found in the deserted street dancing for the window faces.
This day I appeared to be in quite a melancholy mood.
The bar I found myself in suited that mood.
It was a dark bar, set in a disused room underneath the arches of a limestone bridge. The stone inside was artfully exposed and rustic benches filled the centre.
I purchased a beer and sat alone on a bench, alone in the bar.
I wasn’t entirely unhappy being on my own. I had things to figure out.
What those things were are neither here nor the other.
After a few moments of studying the stained patterns in the grain of the wood, I was joined by several people dressed for a night out.
There conversations floated about my beer relaxed head. I had swallowed quite a bit of liquid, yet the glass had remained as full as it had been since the moment I had bought it.
I spilled a little on the table, looked around the room, at the men standing in their fine clothes and at the women sitting chatting in their bling, before looking back at my glass.
It was full again.
I spilled a little more and looked up. I studied the cobwebbed, arched ceiling.
I could hear a lady’s voice stating that she thought that I must be nervous. I looked down and across and told them I wasn’t nervous, merely clumsy. It was a gene that veined my family.
She smiled and asked me to join her group. One of her friends, in a strange show of how much she wanted me there clasped my hand in a motherly, non-sexual way.
I agreed and was introduced to their friends.
They all seemed much bigger than I. Even the women. Bigger, broader and yet not intimidating in the slightest.
Even one giant guy, in a shirt and sweater combo whose second head split from his regular head whenever it felt like agreeing with a point the first was making, didn’t seem threatening at all.
At a prefixed time, unbeknown to me until directed, we exited the room by a scratty, unfurnished, pine door by the side of the bar, up a flight of carpet-less stairs and exited on top of a lush green hill that looked down upon a blanket of fields.

The high sun was warm and welcoming to my skin.
Little broccoli sprouts of wooded areas could be seen dotted here and there below me. Crystal rivers sped along around and in between them. Huge coloured tents were in the process of being erected and there was an air of festival excitement.
I turned to express this to the crowd of large people, only to find that they were younger and smaller than the ones I’d arrived with. I’d say teenaged to early twenties. They led me jovially to a white picket fenced off area. Fenced off like a cabbage patch…

About Chris42

I am a liar! A maker-uper of stories! If this was the 16 (c) I'd be burned as a witch. Fank goodness it is not, eh?! I have four children: two wonderful girls, a fantastic lad and Leeds United. I have no strict genre. I write children's poetry and stories, to edgy, stronger themes. Up until now I have stored them for my own and my family's viewing. Last year i thought bugger it and starred in several short films. One, Playground, which is on the BBC Film Network, used the monologue that I wrote for the audition. You should've seen the face of the receptionist, of the Manchester hotel, where the audition was being held, as I turned up dressed as the psychopath, Gordon. It got the desired effect! I then moved up to Cumbria and wrote and appeared in several live performances on stage. 2012. A local artist, Kayleigh Richardson, commissioned me to write a poem for her to paint a representation. I sent her, The Rise of the Robot Monkey Army. Kayleigh painted a fantastic piece that blew my mind! From that we are collaborating on the Jacob Bear series of stories. Oh and Two's Company is to published, along with seventeen other Sci Fi short stories as part of a collection. Not a bad start to the, so called, last year of the Earth. Now is the time to show the rest of you. I take my themes wherever i see them, whether in reality or dream-world. I hope you enjoy. If not tell me why. If so tell me why. Many thanks and be safe. So far I have published: Jacob Bear's first Christmas,https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007GK872A (UK) http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007GK872A (USA) Jacob Bear Goes to School https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007JD3OKY (UK) http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007JD3OKY (USA Jacob's First Words https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007VZWPSC (UK) & http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007VZWPSC (USA) Space Here https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007H96M90 (UK) &http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007H96M90#reader_B007H96M90 The Rise of the Sponge Cake Moon https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B007WWZ16M (UK) & http://www.amazon.com/dp/B007WWZ16M (USA) © Madstoffa, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.


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© C.p.Singleton, 2012. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Don't make me have to take the shirt off your whipped back if you break the rules! I will you know! Us writing folk work hard to make rubbish up for you to enjoy, so don't abuse or you lose! Tha's right!

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