Aluna

The windows weren't stained but needed to be closed to keep out the unforgiving stench of ruptured bodies dressed in dried blood that lay outside gathering a foul following.

Anything still beating to its own tune and not cold was to be put in the vast frying pan and cooked anyway. The cooks had no training in buna but loved the smell of death. They loved the smell of fear even more and the chase was a dawdle for them for they had wheels and wings and batteries on 9G.

Hey! Come on! Join the Aluni. Give up the Aluna! The dream has been changed and reality can’t be Heaven.

Welcome to Normala. Teeth in Tact but Hearts ripped out.

It was only a matter of time; a time that sizzled on the sidewalk and gasped for air itself.

Call it the pavement and put all pain in a bottle marked progress.

Above the ground, in a room encased in grand architecture falling to bits sat Vollaire in almost darkness, cradling his ankles, as the walls around him tried to negotiate a truce with any untainted oxygen.

The smell was hell. So was his brain. And he could not imagine The Mighty.

Vollaire couldn't breathe. He prayed for rain; quarts and gallons and lashes of the stuff to flood the skies and wash away all aprons.

WASH ALL SKINS AND SHOW THE BATTERIES. UNCOVER THE BEAT THAT BANGS FOR BAVRON.

For, if the aprons were gone, maybe, maybe the cooks wouldn’t work.

He intoned and hummed a dry, deep, sound that he had learnt from his Grandmother -

Hala aba bo baaaaa Gaman da ro. Blackberries and Sticklebacks.

But the windows weren't scattered with anything close to droplets and he felt like he was suffocating. He still couldn't seek out his lungs, no matter how hard he tried to fight his shallow breathing.

Were they the next item on the list?

He felt dizzy. He wanted to cry. NO. He felt like he could vomit at any moment. He tried to stand up but was like a glass figurine shot for finding art when brutality was king. He crawled along the floor, slowly. He felt like a slug with a cardigan on. This led to a moment close to a smile.

But this had been banished.

He hauled himself up and tried to peer outside. Surely something that might be gentle and kind might hear his whispered cry and find its way into this room and slice this stale company.

He had to try, so he made his first attempt to lift up the partitions and unlock the window. It seemed stuck - jarred by concrete condensation. He tried again. It wouldn't budge and he feared he had lost all his strength in the fight just gone. It was only as he stretched out his leg to drag his left boot towards him that he looked up and realised that the latch was on. He felt the first kicks of a laugh but ignored it.

THAT WAS DEFINITELY SUICIDE.

He lifted it up and the window only needed a little shake to be pushed upwards and away from a sealing with the rest of the room. He saw a Rone and knew he had to be quick.

A mechanical CLANG.

He picked up his boot, the laces hauling the leather into levitation and wedged it in-between the ledge and the frame. A sickly warm breeze hesitantly stepped in whilst trickles of light conducting a survey of situation asked for entrance too so they could continue their proceedings for The Register on Life.

Vollaire stepped aside and let them both in. He was hiding from the grave.

Two choking fairies, knapsacks slung over shoulders held onto the dust and debris that roamed this new dwelling and whizzed past his cheeks as they crashed to the floor. They looked up at him, coughed up huge dollops of grime from their chests and keeled over one another in a slump.

A final twitch or two was the beginning and the end to their stay.

There was a note that read: All Dimensions of this Field are dying.

Vollaire commenced with the wake and looked at his wooden suit which was still hanging in the wardrobe behind him. It was all coming for him and he knew it.

Bavron bites beauty.

He sported the pallor of a moss green glaze and he needed more than just dry bread and tea to sustain him.

He moved back towards the bed, took off his clothes and knelt down to pray.

NAKED FOR THE CALL TO ALUNA.

He feared closing his eyes for he would see the dying. Bruised but bare he shut them.

His impatience had always failed him in navigating a true connection with a grace above and beyond but he begged for courage now to carry him forth. He got to his feet and sat on the edge of the bed feeling so utterly alone. He felt his chest but had forgotten how to speak with it.

He felt dismembered from himself as Nessa, further up the bed and kneading her nose into a pillow, stirred through a half-formed dream and grazed his naked back with her oddly shaped big toe.

He stared at the small hole of light seemingly holding up the window like a miniature Atlas and noticed how the curtains flirted with their new guest. Then the light noticed its audience and seemed to make a beeline straight for his chest. He realised he hadn't worried about breathing and wanted to chuckle but couldn’t. The Rone. Remember The Rone.

He turned to look at Nessa; naked and numb to his vicious roundabout of exits from this world.

She just lay there, covered with a thin layer of quilt, melting to a soft sleep snooze he couldn't replicate.

Hers was a more beautiful world and he hated his loss.

He felt his heart burn and kick and slam for unwinding. He shook his head and the pain got worse.

He wanted to feel but knew the Rone was near. He was scared.

He shook by the bed and Nessa stirred some more.

'It's ok Nessa, It's only me. Go back to sleep now.' Vollaire said, stifling the pain.

She gave out a collection of inaudible groans and then beckoned Vollaire to come her way and give her a cuddle. He declined. He was in no mood for such ancient pleasantries.

Nessa was having none of his grumpiness and ordered him to fulfil his duties to her with a physical connection. Flesh loves other flesh.

‘You’re in trouble otherwise.’ She confirmed.

Vollaire nodded and duly obliged. He crawled up towards her, knocking her knees to one side and punching his knuckles into the mattress uncoiling with its springs.

He was then finally at the head of the bed and Nessa lifted herself up so she could see his face. More light had danced its way in from cracks in the brickwork and were now galloping over towards them in all their mischief.

Nessa looked at the face she so adored but couldn't for the life of her see where he was.

'Where are you?’ She asked.

Vollaire couldn’t meet her eyes.

‘Hey?’

Vollaire’s lips trembled and he slapped his hand against his mouth. He looked angry.

He stretched his hand out to reveal crazy lips.

‘WHERE ARE YOU?’ He demanded.

Nessa smiled.

‘NO. No Nessa. The Rone is close. Don’t.’

Nessa shook her head. ‘No. I will. Because I am here and so are you.’

Vollaire looked incensed. ‘Yes. But how can you be here when out there everything is so FUCKING AWFUL. The people are face down. The Monitors exploded.’

Nessa nodded.

‘I know. I know. It’s so terrible. I want to weep for a thousand years. But I have to trust we will be ok.’

Vollaire clenched his fists till his fingers bore red in his palms.

‘How can you trust? What madness can you trust? The hearts are nearly gone. The hiding places are none. And the cooks want another feast.’

Empty the cups. Fill with song.

There in the doorway stood Rolando and he had no time for niceties.

He jumped straight in.

'Sorry to break up the party lovers but we have to move fast. Draw out a plan, arrange supplies and then leave as soon as possible. We can have tea and then we must go!' So come on please! Out of bed! The fight has only begun!'

Rolando then turned and raced back down the stairs as Vollaire and Nessa sat for a moment taking in the news. They finally kissed and then quickly jumped off the bed.

Vollaire lifted the window up a little higher to take his boot off the ledge and saw the bodies. The Monitors were crawling over their carcasses.

He put all his clothes on and grabbed his boots. Nessa fastened her dress with the tie to her side, slipped on her coat which was a size too big and then looked Vollaire's way.

‘Calm Rolando down. I think he's about to hit his frantic mood again.'

She watched him tie his laces together then slowly left the room as Vollaire stood up, picked up both their bags and boomed down the stairs into the biggest room on the third floor to find Rolando sloped all over an exquisite navy armchair. He stretched out his arms, kicked at a fallen cushion and yawned as Vollaire perched on the sofa beside him.

'Finally!' He sarcastically slipped out as Vollaire tried to make his position more comfortable.

'You took your time didn't you! No time to waste with all this mess. It's dragged on too long now. And for what?’

Vollaire seemed to be engaged. He seemed to be listening. But he wasn't. All he was able to see was the piano at the far end of the room. He saw the keys glistening and could hear music revealing itself. Someone was playing for him. The notes sank into his soul and left him swaying. He so wanted to smile but knew he was weak and the Rone would report him. If he could only close his eyes he would see the trees dancing.

A figure in the most dashing of tuxedos got up and walked towards him. He hugged Vollaire and whispered ‘don’t let this world die. I like to play sometimes.’

Rolando thought his speech was stirring so he continued with his spiel.

'Why can't any revolution be quiet hmmm? Not end with death and bloodshed?'

Vollaire wanted to cry but knew the Rone would seize him. Nothing human must depart from my body. Nothing human must shout out my location.

The hug and the player disappeared.

‘Anyway…’ Rolando uttered. ‘We have good news. The heart-shaped locket has been found. It has been opened. The Holy Grail has been read.’

Vollaire nodded.

‘Rumour in the mills and the pegs in the clouds is that the holder has a strange right toe and will tell all before the cooks sharpen knifes.’

Nessa bounced in. She was juggling tea in such a merry way, in such a way that one of the cups fell off the tray and rolled onto the floor. Luckily it was empty.

Rolando bent over to pick it up and noticed her feet. Her toe. Her toe on her right foot. It was shaped like a key.

Nessa laughed.

‘No Nessa please! The Rone!’ Vollaire pleaded.

‘Shhh Vollaire!’ Rolando said full of awe and curiosity.

Nessa smiled a smile so wide and wild the room lit up. The fire was love.

‘Those that have hearts will shine further light and the world will begin anew. Bavron has the Moon but the blood is temporary.’

Nessa sipped her tea as Rolando bowed his head and Vollaire finally had the courage to smile.

The piano began to play again.