#WATTSOCCURRING NO.11
Somewhere over the graveyard…
Somewhere over the graveyard - A short dark blog write.
It was midnight. An alarm was going off. Lucien stopped writing and caught sight of his whale belly reflected in the broken mirror. He fought off waves of nausea as he rummaged around for drugs to counteract an impending eruption of bile. Lucien had been recently reading Burroughs. He didn’t have experience of opiates. Injecting or ingesting class-A drugs had always been Kryptonite to his super control freak nature.
It was raining as he looked down from his 4th floor window at the glistening graveyard which straggled both sides of the main road below. He thought about cremation and wrote, “There’s not enough space left for the living or the dead in the world today. How long before they plough the shoals of concrete and bones to make way for condos and tall glass buildings? Up on the hill nearer to heaven is no longer a guaranteed final resting place.”
Recently Lucien had lost far too many contemporaries. Though par for the course in bohemian circles, he never took their premature deaths for granted. All he could do was make light of the situation by putting a line through names in his address book or categorising friends as ‘dead’, ‘almost dead’ or ‘as good as’.
He found some Ars Alb tablets to wash down with Coke before retreating to his bed. He kept the light on, just as a precaution.