A late summers day

The bathroom is grey white with cobwebs and mold in the corners. White tiles are held in place with a yellow grout. It was once white. Like the room. The toilet bowl: stained with hard fecal matter never cleaned off is brown orange.
A testament.
The ceramic sink. Scratched. Cracked. The dark brown lines are drawn towards the blistered chrome flange in circular twisted lines. The metal of the hole is a mix of blistering chrome and green. Hair waves about the sink flange’s circular holes. Fine hair. Blonde. The tap is stiff. One hard turn. It squeals like…like…no. NO! The water suddenly splatters. Spitting into the sink. Then stops. Then It gurgles and shudders through the pipes to explode out of the tap in orgasm spasms. A rusty ruddy brown that stinks. It runs off into the rotten hole and after a while finally goes a pale green. Unsafe to drink. Possibly unsafe to wash in. No choice. The sink plug does not fit. It does not matter the hair does the job and the tap constantly running helps maintain the fill. The squealing pipes never stop. The  fucking squealing  pipes. The water does not burn. It’s not hot enough for that.  The razor is new.  A rare find.  Even the battery works.   The soap is old.  Brown.  Dirty. Dirty hands wash in dirty water with dirty soap  to make clean the face in the mirror. The  silver on the back is blistered in the corners.  Bubbles of clear are seen ghosting the face.
The face: the face looks old, narrow, the mouth wide  the eyes green, the hair thinning grey.  The features: Malnourished.  Water less: thin, gaunt.  A smile:  the teeth are black lined and yellow.  A corpse. Yet the eyes glitter with fire. Soap is lathered unbeaten the fingers and onto the palms into a pale brown slime, then scrubbed into the dirty  face.
The eyes sting. The smarting pain! A towel is grasped its  rough and has the foul  scent of sour detergent  does not help. The pain remains and then pops.  The face is a mess of soap. The razor hums. It’s scraped along the skin it feels odd.
-Daddy look -what is it?
-my nail Daddy look its finally come  off!
-didn't’t I say that would happen?
-yes daddy…daddy
-yes?
-I love you daddy.
 ‘OH SHUT UP  JUST SHUT UP I LOVE YOU  BUT I CANNOT!’
The  Mirror  shows: The eyes are insane. Wild. The person looking in on me is not me.  Am I looking at me?  I don’t see me.  I don’t feel me. I hate God I hate him I despise him with a passion he  does exist and he mocks me  with his  actions  as  he derides me  with his cause   he fills me in this body and lets me rot I hate God I hate him and all he stands for his friends are my enemies his love is my hate his kindness is my servitude I despises his mission and loath his purpose making pawns  out of all of us he can go and fuck himself in his filthy prisons we built for him to dwell in- -Darling come here and look at the picture that Helen has done. -Oh that’s lovely  darling that’s so beautiful, I am so pr-
‘CAN’T YOU JUST  FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!’
The sink drains with its slow gagging gurgle. Bubbles arise to the surface and blister to pop.  The window is open. Behind the gurgles the magpies laugh. The clothes are on the chair by the pc  that does not work. Its plastic black screen is a testament to the ingenuity of the human race: and its facile  pointlessness.  The t. shirt is wrinkled soiled  with dirt sweat and grime. Outdoor clothes  are swapped for  indoor clothes later. Saves the washing. Can’t trust the rain.
Breakfast: the chipped bowl is taken from the broken cupboard and filled with dry oatmeal, then watered down uht milk is added, poured by a dirty brown hand into the grey cracked bowl.  The kettle on the portable gas stove boils.  The water is poured out into a cup the water grows dark brown. Coffee  fills the air.  The zing of coffee. The coffee hits the teeth causing pain, Then the throat before entering the stomach and firing up the brain.  The brain then fires into overdrive. The park today. Got to go to the park. Don't forget the knapsack or the gun.
-Daddy I love you -I love you so much.
 Ghostly dark eyes stare up at me.  
The face dissolves.
I fucking hate God he is a busted bastard  running to the tune of Benny Hill in pervy circles a seeming being an  insane bastard  that pisses on us all  worse he is a cunt the cunt of cunts  worse than a cunt Is there such a thing  A wankshitting  cunt that bleeds purple piss that’s what God is-
The door slams, the sound echoes down the road and round the corner. Crows caw caw caw the magpies mock. The sky rolls with wild dark cotton  clouds and blue sky. The sun makes all thing seem bright white. The dream persists: the moon coming closer, descending: filling the sky and turning green. A huge green mouth opens and devours.  It does not leave as I walk down the hill over the lush long grass of the verges. 
The city will be bad soon. Another month, then move on. -you’ave been saying that  for years, another month another month and another month passes the grass grows longer, withers and dies  and still  you stay, why do you do that? Why do you stay? There is no reason for it? none that I can  think of.
‘OH THERE WE ARE AGAIN THE VOICE, THE SAME UNCHANGING VOICE THAT NEVER STOPS TELLING ME THE FUCKING TRUTH!’
-Daddy?
-Yes darling?
-Don’t leave me Daddy don’t go.
-I will never leave you I promise I will never leave you ever!
-But you left me.
The tears are less but they sting as does the hole in my heart.
The trees are being blown by a soft southern wind, the leaves rustle. Below me and oft into the horizon is the city: Exeter, as old as the Celts. The cathedral: its roof a black gaping hole where a small line of smoke is rising. A tower block its windows smashed and black comes into view.
-Look daddy Granddad’s  work.
The city rises on the opposite bank of the Exe  and falls into weaving waves are the Hills of Devon.  Apt for the birth of the woolen industry.The walk down Cowick hill is a gentle forced fast walk each step down is steeper than the one taken. The body leans back.  Crows and gulls swarm; they sit bathing on tiled roofed houses testament to the nineteen fifties, sixties and seventies,  a childhood memory recalls prefabricated houses built out of slabs  of concrete placed one on top of the other. Grey and cold  and a bike riding  down a steep hill.  A man –My father- with bright blue crystal eyes and  coal black hair is beckoning me home. A place I never really wanted to be.  Exeter is not my home. But I have never felt more at home anywhere else.  The  city  is a silent husk and in August, very warm.  The smells  are stronger  in  the city than they are on  the doorstep.  The red brick  of St Thomas is everywhere. The Church spire is blood red rusted brick  the  bridge: the railway station, is dark red rusted brick. The colour of congealed blood. 
-Daddy are you okay daddy? 
-Daddy  I miss you Daddy I love you daddy
Daddy when are you coming home?
-Dad?  
Dad? 
-Darling  its me I love  you very much. 
God the unrelenting basted never sleeps  he quakes and We all tremble  he shouts a roar and we all quake he screams and we bow as supplicant servants  to the great I AM  the great creator the globe the builder of society and the being that lifts  this bloody soul what a cock he is what a waste of space those halls to him are, why not do something beautiful and special why not-
'WHY DON'T YOU ALL JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!' 
The ghosts stare from windows down upon  me  I can feel their judgment,  I can sense their mirthless ness  from their animal eyes.  The ghosts are everywhere. Even on a peaceful summer day like this.
The  park:  I come here, the energy still rests here despite the overgrown grass.  I sit here, on the old wooden sat and look at the metal climbing frames, painted  bawdy yellow and tan. Blue and Green. The Seesaw a blue pole at angle.
-Mum Dad watch me watch me as I play.
-Darling  love you so much. Jo my beautiful  equal and stares at me, her wide set green eyes  shine, her elfin chin, her slightly wide mouth parting between her top teeth, her voice gentle and comforting. Her natural blonde shaggy hippy style hair ruffled. I think of it. pulling it  caressing it, feeling it  and her.  The rise of her breast.  I dream her soft scent. 
-I love you too. 
Our warm lips touch I feel her I really feel her  touching me making me feel whole. making my muscle  in my jeans rise.  I feel a hand there. stroking me.  I weep 
'Oh I wish there was some way back.'
The ghosts fill the playground. They come and murmur they say this was the place where we were happy, this was the place where we belonged.  This is heaven. This is Heaven.  The sky is blue and ghost grey god the bastard lives up there looking  down on the world he gave us I wonder what he thinks I wonder if he cares that we fucked it up for profit before the virus came and the people left in the sky I don't deserve  to be here but then again perhaps I do one of the left behind forgotten ones one who is meant for judgment most foul for my villainous  sin fuelled  and futile  existence I, the man, the one left for the shadows to grab hold of  in this park where kid energy shines.
 he can of beer is warm, I drink slugging its fakery and yet I  feel its comfort.
The dizzy ness brings back memories of books, and of men: Jack the mighty Jack the strong jack  whose road was fucking long Jack be nimble Jack be quick jack type out a candlestick. A  fit of laugher echoes in the playground. the can is crumpled and thrown down next to a sign that says keep Devon clean.  
Another laugh. 
The swing -empty- moves in the breeze. -There is a chance that there are others you are not alone, you have  to try you have  to look you have to make the effort, they will be scared like  you, they will be in needed of comfort and solace, they miss people, you are not alone, you are not alone. 
'But I am can't you fucking see that?  the world didn't blow up, it just moved on, like the prophet King foretold, the world moved on and all that was left was us chickens, too scared to live to frightened to try, just simply sit and wait to die. fuck it all fuck it all, the long the short and the tall fuck all the fathers and all of their sons fuck all the money makers and their chums  fuck them all! FUCK THEM ALL!  THE LONG AND THE SHORT AND THE TALL! FUCK ALL THE PRIESTS  WHO FILL US WITH LIES FUCK ALL THE POLITICIANS WHO THEN SENT US TO DIE!' 
-No  on is listening you know, you can sing as aloud as yours like and no one will hear you, no one but us ghosts. 
The ground looks inviting. I soft warm plastic that pretends  to be concrete. Its designed to make people bounce well. No scars.  No scabs, no bruises. a safe  world made safer by the great gene discovery. And we all know where that led.  The world was getting darker. Time is fucking funny as you get older, an hour lasts  less than a minute. Where does all the time  go? far far away.  I look up. The shade  slowly comes out. from behind the line of trees. can see it. Its eyes  are not human, not anymore.  any hair it once had, any distinguishing features that made it human or gender specific are gone. Its bald, breathes too fast and stares at me  with black eyes from the shade.  It looks hungry, but they all are. With a hunger that never goes away,  this thirst, unlike mine is unquenchable. I stare at it directly. The shade and I. How many had I killed now? 
-Daddy,  Daddy don't leave Daddy  Daddy,  DADDY! DADDY!
I  upholster the gun and I point  it at our new  benefactor of the human race. This bald hungry animal, with sharpened teeth and black eyes. I point the gun and I strengthen the grip. Sill my hand waves and shudders,  weaving involuntarily  between the left and the right of the target being pulled by magnets. Always the same always the same -this is humane  this is humane you are doing a service  and you are protecting yourself you are doing Gods  will. God hah  pah  and fuck that Gods will was done by man there is no God just a made up lie  to keep us all in our place or there is one and he is a malign monstrous vile creature demanding  love  from a species only capable  of hate.  The shade weaves to the left and to the right, an animal caught in a trap it knows it cannot escape from I feel the weight of the gun  I hold my arm stiff  The shade waves he is  Looking.  his black eyes blinking  blinking. his teethe long  and pointed chomping. I allow my finger to  curl on the trigger. Time slows as I slowly squeeze. The explosion is loud: a huge crack. The recoil makes my arm quake  and move back,  I don't see the bullet but the shade drops down suddenly.  one second it was there and the next down a crumpled corpse.  the echo of the blast is still in my ears as I make my way across the playground  to the body lying on the floor.  I feel my breathing, my heart aches  with pain, I am getting old  too old and too tired for this. The body of the shade is at my feet, but I know that it won't be there  for long. Its already starting to dissolve, split into its particles of DNA. the skin cracks  first, then then the black mass of congealed milk spills out, liquefying the corpse  from the inside out, its a quick process,  that lasts less than five minutes, all that is left is a growth. I small purple  flower. Why a flower? I don't know? I never seem to know,  I never knew anything before the world moved on and I know less now. I know one thing  This park, This place is full of them. hundreds  of these  beautiful purple  flowers  that shine in the dark.  The shops are rancid, the tins are taken  shoved into my knapsack together with  good old jack. I turn  from them and make my way home. I don't want to be out before the dark comes, because when it does, then the shades have their fun and I am in a minority  of one.  The sun is setting. This trip is done.
-Its  time to move on. You know it is. there are too many ghosts here. too many shades, you need to be in a safe place that is easily protected.  I turn and see Jo.  The girls are there smiling and my son  is smiling  too.  I know I must be insane, the last of my kind in a world lost to all and none. But I stay. The reason I stay is because I want to think t that I matter, that this world and the humans who built it did not build something that was not meant to fall apart, it was built to last, oh how utterly vain  sound, how inane how banal. But its true. Humans err  they have always erred and they always... I pass  Cheers, an  off license, well its all off now, so I go and help myself to some more cans.  The hill is a hard climb, its always been a hard climb, I breath  heavy the backpack always  weighs more on  the way back.  I see the climbing tree, where the children  smile and look down at me, and  smile Jo invisibly takes my hand and I feel for a fleeting moment whole once more.  But then the epiphany decays to rise  and here is the breeze and the silence and the mocking birds. 
The door of the house is bolted twice, salt  by the doors, the generator is put on the lights  shine outside, the cupboards are filled I rise the stairs and look out of the lounge balcony.  The world has moved on. Perhaps I should move on with it? 
-Daddy? 
-yes my love? 
-I'm tired daddy. 
-is it bedtime? 
-Its time to go to bed daddy.
an invisible kiss to my cheek 
-I love  you so much daddy. 
-I love  you too pumpkin. 
I carry the invisible load to bed.
 I sing a lullaby  and then slowly leave the room making sure that I make no noise as I leave  the room. I then sit down close the curtains and drink.  I drink to God and to death before the green moon  finally  comes  to shine, blissfully shine  its light upon the  world of shades. I  then drink  to then hide behind the soft kiss and lie of isolation.