One Boy and His Dog (Part 3)

Mark hits a slight bend and is launched into free-fall, a hoarse scream bursting from him as he flies. Then he’s down again with a thud that makes his coccyx throb and sliding on his rear, his passage eased by the layer of slug-slime that  coats the bottom of the tunnel. It’s too dark to see so he closes his eyes; it makes him feel better, somehow.

Continue reading “One Boy and His Dog (Part 3)”

One Boy and his Dog (Part Two)

Mark wakes to find himself blind and deaf. He panics for a moment and then realises that his eyes and ears are gluey with drying slug-slime. His mouth is sealed too and he can only breathe through his left nostril. He tries to wipe his face but finds that his arm is stuck to the floor. He panics all over again and thrashes against the muck, panting through his nostril. At last his arm tears free and he digs his fingers into the mask of slime over his face and claws it away. He sucks in a huge breath of air and finds himself taking unexpected pleasure in the simple act of breathing. Continue reading “One Boy and his Dog (Part Two)”

One Boy and His Dog (Part One)

When he thinks about his life, Mark pictures his job as a giant grey toad. A toad with mottled, warty skin that squats in the middle of his life, crushing all the joy and creativity from it and leaving him feeling flat and slimy.

Although Mark is rather proud of that metaphor he prefers to avoid thinking about his life at all. Not only is such contemplation a rich source of depression, but second-guessing the series of decisions that led to his current circumstances drives him half-crazy. Continue reading “One Boy and His Dog (Part One)”