THE NOISE

Christine and I have a new post on Hijacked Amygdala.

hijacked amygdala

Chris R-0246 Image by Christine Renney

The noise coming from above has changed. I’m not sure how to describe the difference but it is louder, all the walking and talking, even the water rushing in the pipes sounds more urgent, more focused. And I don’t like it.
They arrived, an eruption of activity, and I suffered throughout the redecorating. All the hammering and the drilling and the scraping. The work is now complete and the noise is less frequent but when it comes it is in bursts, more eruptions. It seems that they are always in a hurry; forever readying for somewhere or something else.

I can hear their television but I doubt that they are sitting and watching. The music, when it comes through the ceiling, is a dense and muddy block. I suppose that in a club it would make sense but not here and, despite the volume, I can…

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THE ERASER #6

Chris R-0098 Image by Christine Renney

Tanner had often considered creating a pamphlet of his own, writing and distributing it anonymously. It would be a manual of sorts, offering advice on how to recognise the troublemakers, those challenging the system, but more importantly those who haven’t yet but who might.
Whenever he began putting it together in his head it always seemed absurd. The notion that people should be suspicious of others based on their haircut or the kind of clothes they wore, or which newspaper they took, the music they listened to, the books they read.
Just because someone visited the library and checked out a novel by a long ago formerly banned writer it didn’t necessarily mean that particular someone would become a conspirator. A pamphlet might help, yes, but really it would be little more than a list of traits and affectations, of mannerisms and possible signs and it wasn’t enough.

The Gangster’s Suit

Fictive Dream

by Mark Renney

The Gangster’s Wife had arranged to meet with an old friend in a park, close to the offices where she once worked. She hadn’t been in the city in a while, at least not during the day and on her own, without the Gangster and all that being with him entailed.

It was bright and sunny with shadows slicing the pavement. She could hardly see in front of herself but it felt good, getting lost in the crowd and looking in shop windows at all she could so easily afford, at all she already had.

She didn’t have any regrets, hadn’t ever doubted that she could be who she had become. They were clichés, she and the Gangster. She was all too aware of this. In their designer labels and with their fast cars and holidays in the sun. And she had hardened over the years, well…

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HIS NEIGHBOUR

Christine and I have a new post on Hijacked Amygdala.

hijacked amygdala

Chris R-0957 Image by Christine Renney

It struck Thomas as odd that he wasn’t repelled by his newest neighbour, who was very eccentric and extremely loud, the type of person Thomas had always gone out of his way to avoid. Strangely, he found himself drawn to the man and didn’t mind getting caught out on their communal landing or on the hard standing in front of the main entrance doors.
Thomas would happily stand alongside this man and talk, although he wasn’t required to do much of that. All he really needed to do was listen and nod along, getting the occasional word in whenever he could and often he would laugh because his neighbour was funny. Thomas had decided it wasn’t so much what the man said but how he said it. He had a gift for language, a way with words. It was as if he were reciting dialogue written…

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