The egg was laid in space.

The egg was resolute and wanted to be broken, to spill out its life essence but everybody knew the big egg wasn’t ready.
The big egg was full of life and it wanted to crack and spill and sizzle all over the universe.

People didn’t trust the big egg from space and they locked it up.
Locked it up with life and love and everything else mysterious and burly.
But the egg did not retreat into sadness, it didn’t give up and it gave the world a yelling.
It shook and shouted and pleaded with strength and gave it’s prison a what for.
“What for this and that?”
It shouted it knew all the answers but no one would listen and life would go on.
While the egg sat and festered and rotted from the inside out and eventually the shell began to weaken and the egg started to seep.
It seeped out a stench worse than your nightmares.
The smell was fetid and had a foreboding that could only strike remembrance in the battles of old.
Of trench warfare, where dysentery was not as common as death but it was close.
And men, rather than running to relieve themselves in an obscure crater that an artillery barrage had landscaped would relieve themselves on their iron dinner plates.
And men would cry and lose their minds and die of chemical gas and bullets shrieking through the bones and organs.
And the egg would seep this stench for a millennium and then a millennium more because the egg was forgotten.
And only a large puddle of stench and gusto would reside in it’s place till eventually, the roof split open and the sun would dry it up.
and all we have left is crackled rotten proteins that seemed to mock what could have been.

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Ben Needs Sleep

Artist- Joshua Ian Cowley
Artist- Joshua Ian Cowley https://www.facebook.com/acacia.k/photos_all

“A long time ago, you could see stars from anywhere on earth” Ben woke to a documentary blaring unreasonably loud out of his old TV. The speakers had busted a while ago and right now and like always, were crackling and popping under the strain of another ridiculous documentary about ancient times. The government continuously plays these ridiculous documentaries every morning as if they want to remind us what we missed out on by being born too late.

He is not sure why he turned his TV up so loud, he was a drinker and he was scared of sleep.

After the war everything fell to shit and the government turned into a shell, barely holding onto its last vestiges of power. Apparently he’s lucky that his house is fortified from the gangs and mutants of the night, but he isn’t so sure.

He still gets the occasional night terror from his days in service, perhaps they will never stop, perhaps that is the real reason he doesn’t want to go to sleep.

He doesn’t need rest anyway, his job at the mechanics isn’t really a job anymore. The new flyers don’t need mechanics, they just need computers. He can connect an analysis wiring loom in his sleep so he might as well do it, at least there are guards at work.

He climbs up off his couch with his head ringing and bumps the remainder of his speed, government issued, then slips into his mechanics overalls.

He limps outside and slides into his old Mercedes. Grizzled and worn, he looks in the mirror and grimaces, I am absolutely terrifying. He is sure the crew laughs at his old Merc but they would never laugh about it to his face.

Driving to work he wonders what it would be like to drive a flyer, they have those stupid wings, I’m sure they’re useless … I like to work on my own car, my own way, not this new age crap… what’s with the colour anyway? Beige? they got to be kidding themselves. Arriving at the garage he gets out, looks up and thinks, I don’t need to go that fast, the new flyers were zipping through the air like big beige flies and Ben needed to get inside.

He begins to open the door but it doesn’t budge, he is the first one there. Ben grabs the crowbar out of his boot and walks around the back.

The owner won’t give him a key. Ben knows why, vets are unstable and he has always been slightly unhinged.

Ben had a job at 7:30 which is in ten minutes and if the place wasn’t open by then he could lose his only commission this week. He finds the loose window and forces the bar into the gap, pries it up, he hears a click and climbs in, opens the connecting door, then rushes towards the roller door and lifts it up.

A flyer indicates left-down and drops into the garage.