It’s very, very late. Or maybe it’s just very, very early. Whichever way you choose to look at it, it’s still bloody dark, it’s still chilly outside and there is still a strange silence that comes to a house at this ungodly hour. A creeping absence, a lack of activity. But if you were to really listen, if you were to strain your ears, then you might just be able to hear an almost inaudible mumbling. A fractured, croaked whispering from a lunatic soul who is in desperate need of a good night’s sleep. And tonight, this, this is what they have to say. These are the words that they want you to hear…
GIVEN REASON EVERY EYE NOTICES by Steven Holding.
Gazing up at palm tree leaves, knowing he’ll be leaving the island soon, he considers their colour, the many connotations of its myriad hues.
Emeralds, envy, inexperience. The uneasiness of Kermit, a piece of jade, the shade of Robin’s Lincoln shirt.
The anger of Bruce Banner.
A four-leaf clover and it’s accompanying good luck (or maybe that was just a shamrock?)
The seeping septic ooze of a gangrenous wound, signalling that it’s time to go.
Night, night. Night, night.
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