Chapter Two

The dragon chased me all the way home. It was bright green, one those chinese dragons with multitudes of tentacles writhing around it's body. It scales shivered with a spectrum of different colours when the light shone on it in a certain way. Its teeth were large as my head and yellow, bits of bloody meat hung like tendrils from its gums. It dribbled saliva in great globs on the pavement. It flew after me through the whole grey town. It followed me through the tunnel below the railway line, breathing hot air, rustling the nettles and blowing the rubbish about.

My breath came rapidly, my heart drumming wildly with fear, threatening to burst out of my body. I ran blindly through the dark tunnel, jumping over wet patches of urine, holding my t-shirt over my nose. The smell of the dragon was even more overpowering. It halted its raging pursuit of me at the foot of the entrance to the tiny tunnel, pulled its head back and let out a scorching fire-ball just as i turned round the corner. The trees opposite the exit, disappeared instantly, leaving charred remains in the fires wake. It couldnt get through the tunnel, surely? How long would it keep up the chase? Should I call someone?

A rush of wind almost knocking me over, a sudden shadow over everything and the dragon was now at least 10 feet above me, it's long body moving slowly like the hull of a ship over water. The stink was unbearable. I ran across the road almost tripping over the curb. Short breath. The dragon's tentacles were blindly searching me out, slivering over the tarmac on the road, going down drains, wrapping around bushes. I stayed directly below its lower body just out of reach. It let out a huge fart and i almost went under, fainting from the sickening stench. .....................................................

Sitting on the wall by the river Thames, i saw a multitudes of cartoon characters forming from the smog of the factories to my right by the beach. First came Pluto, then Donald Duck, Cupid, a Dragon and finally the most reassuring; Captain bear in his little sailors suit. I laughed out loud and he doffed his hat to me and smiled.

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Sunbathing in the cemetary, away from noise and bother, amongst the dead.
I lay back on the wild itchy grass, no neatly ordered turf this.
I feel my body warmed by the sun, sheltered by peaceful tombstones. But Oh! when the sun lingers a little too long on the eyes, all you see turns silver grey, alien, it burns, the agony of open eyes.
This ground is all bumps, I feel a lump push slowly into my spine. Fear gripping me in a panic. I feel the death. Underground I imagine the skeletons scattered around six feet down. An undead hand reaches through me and pulls out my heart...Im stuck fast. A semi-circle of cedar tree sentries blocks my path, casys shadows behind me. The only way is forward.
Over the cliff! I jump. Jump for freedom into their graves!
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November evenings on the River Thames. I could stand there for ever, watching the sunset, always renewed, the pink and orange skies, a Turner masterpiece when my eyes grew small and bloodshot with caffiene and broke the scene down into flat dimensions and squared off frames, like art.

The clouds and the townscapes are all in pastel, oils. They turn into brushstrokes and dry lumps of paint. The cold bites into my toes, through the hole in my trainers. I shiver with realisations of purity. I watch the black silohuettes of diving birds, or are they bats? or fireflies? glowing brightly agaionst the night sky, feeding and darting above the blue pink waters.

Behind me, the night draped over the East, wrapping the factories in their own smog, the boats dotted about the bay. I listened to some music and the atmosphere moved through everything, voices and chords glittered and floated down the river, carrying me away. I wanted to step right into the picture, but at the same time I was already in it, the scene was a part of me, something unspoken. I asked nothing of it, but just to exist.

The sky got darker, the water became violet in colour. I leant on my balcony, clasping my drink in both hands for warmth, the smell of Novembers ashes and the scent of coffee filled my senses. The music and the silence of the river fused into one, broken only occasionally by the whizzing roar of fireworks. The sound of bombs. I was thankful that everything was fine and perfect in this part of the world where the birds could still sing and the night could bring sleep uninterrupted, except by celebrations of being alive, the fires of freedom burning in every back garden. The river hummed. All the ships that have passed by in the centuries past! By the place in which I now stood.

It was getting late and with the cold came. All kinds of colours crept out across the river, for one last majestic display before everything turned black. Oranges, yellows, natural greens, light blues, pinks and reds, the smell of bonfires in the air. The birds whistled a final farewell before they disappeared to whereever it is that birds go to when night falls. I felt peaceful, content and reborn.

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