Stories,Stickers and Stamps

   Here I am. Lying in bed. Collection of memories and experiences, a modern day relic.Left behind,underperforming,underpowered,left behind,forgotten.Discarded. Shell of a man. A shotgun shell loaded into the rusty old shotgun.Worn but true. Aimed,held high and shot far far away.I close my eyes and fly. Fly like the bullet to the moon. Fly far,fly fast,no looking back. Past the bright stars,past the noises and the lights. The further I go, the quieter it gets. Darker,colder,lonelier. Some stars look as bright as the sun while most are fading,dying as I leave them behind on my way.    I am on the moon. Cold,isolation,pure dark. Surrounded by the flags of yesteryear. The relics of mankind.The fading greatness of what once was. The flags are bright and slowly fight back the dark, which ultimately envelopes all around,in this dark space of mine. The darkness lulls me to sleep,it surrounds and embraces,it provides the comfort and tranquillity for the lost and weary...

   Night time. They say, that’s when all the monsters come out. That’s the tale we been told to as a kids and still it carries through into the adulthood with the grotesque stories of what people are capable of. This night was not particularly special but nevertheless, it was not quite the usual one either. The fog slowly descended on the sleepy small town. Embracing the houses in it’s hollow embrace and filling up the streets with its mundane disorienting greyness. Echoes of the summer’s day past resonated in the quiet.The streets were empty,silence. The people of the town were reliving their day through the magic and horror of dreams and nightmares. Light from the lampposts was bouncing from puddle to puddle and enjoying the freedom of the night,stillness of the streets, with no wandering feet to disturb the game it was playing. Peace. Seems like that was the mood of the street that night but not for long.    Solitary,shadowy figure emerged from the...