Saturday, April 1, 2017

Five from Stalker/Mark Young

The color of chalk

The television is off. He
reaches out his hand.

The door is stuck. It's
hard to see in the dark.

A breeze on his face. It
was all about the dog.

The engine starts with
the first turn of the key.

They eat in silence. A
sequence of numbers.

The service point

He's staring at the preacher
who's wearing a studded

collar. The old murder has
striking similarities. Pale

sunlight through the small
windows. She's staring at

the cars driving across the
bridge beneath them. Once

again the phone rings. "I'm
looking for a sick friend."

The knife is sharp

It is impossible to open
the window properly. The

glass shatters. It isn't
enough to bring things

into focus. The dog's legs
are still twitching. His back

is wet with sweat. A cell is
buzzing in his pocket. All

you have to do is listen to my
voice. Access is prohibited.

Dust is swirling

The driver's door opens
deep in the countryside.

His voice trembles. No-one
can understand the words

that come out. The little
light flashes again. A vase

of dried flowers falls but does
not break. Unlike his voice.

The suspect fled through
the bathroom window.

Men in military fatigues

The film comes to an end.
She switches the hotplate on.

He stares at the night sky.
Did you see the light, she asks.

Now they can hear a heli-
copter approaching. It makes

her body sway, gently at first
& then more jerkily as the vol-

ume increases. The landscape
is empty. Or soon will be.

No comments:

Post a Comment