#Letters From The Ward – 1

[After reading Danielle’s “Write Drunk, Edit Sober” post, I offered to type up some scribbles I wrote while in hospital. These were the result of me trying to get back into writing by writing down my morphine-induced dreams, so they are quite weird. I have typed a few up for your viewing pleasure, exactly as I found them in my notebook. Some even had a few doodles attached, which I’ve spared myself the embarrassment of recreating…]

murphy is alone

The house seemed to crumble into itself, as though a whirlpool was drawing it from within. Even  so, the structural integrity within remained, so he was not crushed by falling beams and boulders. It just seemed to vanish, sinking into the ground like a magma rift. There was nothing left to suggest a structure used to be there, except a few pale stones in the infinite expanse that was the grass.

“It’s no use, ma’am,” soothed the old caretaker.

“But this is my home!” she screeched. “This is my house! And I hear his music still.”

“It’s just the wind, ma’am.”

“Don’t treat me like that,” she snapped, immediately bursting into tears. “I’m sorry.”

“A house does not just disappear,” the caretaker pointed out. Her mistress nodded, tears streaming down her face.

“But… I can hear our song! He played it so sweetly.”

 

Meanwhile, he crawled out from under the dining room table, dusting himself off. All the belongings they had packed lay in the pile they had sorted them. Only his ipad, which he’d abandoned in the scurry to safety, seemed to have gone astray. He scampered towards it curiously.

‘murphy is alone,’ it read.

The phrase filled him with an inexplicable sadness.

Who was Murphy? And how could they be helped?

His radio was playing their song: The boy with the Arab strap.*

murphy is alone; it rang in his head incessantly as he stumbled around trying to find a light. Soon though it became apparent there was nothing, and his thoughts turned to her. Belle and Sebastian. How they met; a pair of eyes passing each other in the vaults. Exchanges were quick and almost furious, but the job didn’t allow for much more.

[This is the song, in case you don’t know it:

Music was definitely one of the things keeping me remotely sane.]

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