Aquitius

some people lament when it comes to that moment of the day or night when we fall to dreams and sleep. "such loss of time" they say, "i could be doing things" they cry. but i think that dreams are an adventure too. i can be a king in my dream, or a queen - a drag queen - as bold as anything! or a drag racer. i can even be a bunny or a cloud or a chef. most importantly though, i find, i get to not be me.

          It was only one in the afternoon and yet the snake was talking to me. At least, that was how it appeared: its words fell out from its maw clearly, its forked tongue slithering around each syllable as its head drifted back and forth hypnotically in the air. Two beady eyes rested on me and held my gaze as though I was paralysed and it was only after great effort that I was able to break from the stare and manage a glance to my watch. Four minutes past. Definitely not drunk yet, though there was still time. “Are you supposed to be talking?”          The reply was deep in tone with a sharp hissing noise tagged onto every

I think that, Perhaps, Language isn't needed. I think that perhaps algebra isn't needed either. I suppose we should pick one and focus on it. Make it good and competent. We can sew an angel with the words of a china doll, draped in lace, Or construct one with the double horns of a mathematical bull - You choose. But have you ever seen a paper match lit? Read the notes. MATH BULLETIN IN THE ANTHOLOGY: Both the chapters are parallel. Quick. Round up the oxen and the porcelain before they leave the pen (cil) Quick! Latin died and the maker wants the rest of civilisation. QUICK! Give it a second and you'll think it too,

        The surrounding landscape was indescribable as it did not exist. There was no landscape. Nonentity was the circumambiency. Was he floating or flying?... No, neither of those choices seemed right. There was nothing to float in and zero to fly through. Maxxie was alone.        But that was alright. Right now solitude was good. He had had enough of people for the immediate future – he just couldn't deal with them. All he needed was himself and his fully-charged Nintendo DS, which appeared to be best played whilst non-floating through his limbo-world. Flipping it open, his stylus at the ready, he selected the game and allowed the j

      The hospitals machines beeped and vibrated slowly. There was no breeze on the air, no spark in the cosmos. The room in the intensive care wing was dead and for Harry it felt like he had died too.      Time continued to pass for both of them; summer ended and changed into autumn, their universities came and went. Leaves fell from trees and were covered by snow.      A birthday.      Christmas.      The first of January, 2012.      The clock on the wall told the date as the 15th. Another birthday for the list of things missed from the chair by the bed. There was no sense of time here.      Harry was looking, staring, at his fr

"Ok guys. That's it, we're done." "Fucking A… Oi, bender! When you gonna email me those prints?"       Maxxie glanced up at Ben from the floor where he was kneeling, carefully dismantling his camera lens and putting it back in its protective casing. The captain of the year 12 rugby team was towering above him and being several years older it was an intimidating spectacle. Athletic and well-built, Maxxie found it hard to keep proper eye-contact with this potential high-class bachelor – a power he knew Ben enjoyed. He shifted his eyes back to his camera almost shamefully. "The weekend." "Oh dear… looks like we've got a bit o

      To describe the studio was a challenge for even the most well versed in the English language. Its long and curving corridors lined with only the finest of vintage chrome panelling seemed perfectly suited to that of a maze – a labyrinth; but yet, with each seminal turn and pivotal journey upwards in the indistinct-blue sleuth elevators, the passageways only got clearer. Declaring the building to have a consciousness that invaded the mind with subliminal directions would have been a cliché and factually incorrect – even a well experienced Alice would have had trouble finding her way through this particular rabbit-hole. None

Poetic, but shamefully bliss. A Greek lover for all the seasons Kept secret in a box for a house, Together and impassioned. Pleasure and hedonism, Mixed fervently. Emotional currents too fast for the bent hand. A rush for the aphrodisiac. The dream voices keep to themselves, subtle in their descent; He loves him. Domestic union. He loves him. Amorous compromise. They love.

      The school's library was its usual state of worthlessness, occupied by only a few smart-ass kids desperately studying for some exam after the lunch break. Harry hated being there. It was a place he tried exceedingly hard at to avoid, along with having no wish to spend time with people so undesirable. Nevertheless - as a fifteen year old – he had to listen to what his 'big brother Ben' wanted unless he wanted bruises. Today it turned out to be some kid in his year that was an ace at photography.      Harry couldn't remember the name; it might've been Matthew, could have been Max, maybe even Mark. He didn't know much about him eith