Hey Ho, the Queen is dead, long live the Queen, thats how the saying goes, but how does the other saying go? When in Rome, kill me. Enough already, this week has been challenging, but sad, with the Queen’s death, but on the other hand there’s been absolutely no other news so things aren’t so bad… Thanks Rochelle for holding this together, while the whole of the United Kingdom goes completely insane. Thanks also to Trish Nankeville for the photo, its beautiful but I intend to use it for sinister means.
On My Marks…
A long time ago, further than I care to remember, there was an alchemist. His life’s work to create a splash, the ripples from which we still grieve.
A botanist of some repute.In his glasshouse he engineered an extraordinary plant; a plant which could cling on to anything it brushed against and bequeathed its pollen with every touch, no matter how inconsequential.
To create a microscopic virus with these properties could, would surely change the world for good.
The ventilator insufflated; his chest artificially aggrandised, his unseeing eyes milky blue underneath the rheum, fabricated from his guilt-ridden tears.
There we are, 100 words concerning a chap who created to do good, but ultimately paid the ultimate price. Hope you like it.