too many xrays....

If you were in the medical proffession and wanted to murder someone - quietly and without detection, in an orderly fashion, how mght you do it? This question haunted Mia for years, ever since her boyfriend had disapeared.

She saw him in her dreams, wnding his arms around her, his whole being strangely wet, his kisses urgent, his hands in her hair. The funerals in the village seemed quicker than ever - were others just old, or was something more dire and underhand going on? Nearly every month at one church, the man in funeral garb at the door, the once crowded carpark now almost empty. I presume the rest had passed away.

The cat had taken to going out - her hair coming off in patches, and her distress obvious.... She came in for cuddles; her back better when she stayed out.

The neighbours woke her up by running to the other end of the house, during the night, their voices, raucous as crows, laughter as soiled grime. They claimed to be dentists, doctors and nurses.

My hair usually almost african in frizziness and biggness began to flatten. I found hair on the carpets, I was tired, more than usual. I woke up my head in pain.

They claimed to have injured others in the same way. I considered again where in a medical setting would people move out of the way. The answer came: short and sweet: x-ray departments. How many times could someone take an x-ray?

Why would they do this? What had I been left to cause such anger? I certainly had nothing remarkable. I smoothed a hand over my forehead, I had twin cores of pain at the temples, the whole area was taut and sore, down across the nose where the eye was weeping, down to the chin where the line of pain seeped out. It was almost as if I'd had an alien encounter in my sleep.

The man next door started his morning annoucements on the radio, after a pause I heard him start to read a story - this story - how could that be?

Was he hacking my computer...