No Cygnet for Sleep: 14
‘No Cygnet for Sleep’ contains strong language, sexual scenes, drug use, and gore.
And Gaslight (2)
By Jivan Ward
I wait to hear my fate.
Servers hum in dark. They under white light look staged. Ané stern concentration stand like Slavic statue, hand sit on Robyn shoulder. Robyn wasting apparition stolid to chair not sure if she look through bandages but feel she aware. Hair stand and skin prickle up body and cascade down back to feet. Wonder if eyes saturate blue or if they same colour as Suna’s. Wonder if they known each other at all. Suna must have been trying to find her.
Bland tone no sale pitch suasion, Ané say, Suna dragged you into something that you can’t really get out of, Kami, and believe me when I say that I’m sorry about what’s transpired, I feel responsible but I liked you and I didn’t know Suna knowingly ensnare an innocent person even if you were my lover.
She out little navy tub of pocket and pops it open.
She say, The Chairman gave me one option, I’m sure you can guess what that was.
She push down Robyn’s head and rub back of head and neck.
She say, But I persuaded them to change their mind so you have some decisions to make.
She begin unravel bandages.She look down at the fragile head and up to me, say, Convince Suna to come here and we’ll forget everything that’s happened, or don’t. The bandage fall to Robyn lap and full moon crater eyes blink and stare she smile ashen at me.
Ané say, Or we’ll have to think of something else for you to do.
I gasp air and canal murky brown look cool comfort. I trudge through sticky mud burp and bridge and road peek behind a corner through portholes between the leaves. My heart jump at freedom down road to high streets and suburbs and countryside and coastline and think of Suna and Robyn. Cast mind to few hours time when convince Suna to talk to give herself up to her sister’s captor. I know I pawn for larger game, I naïve and buses and cars shush on bridge above me and canal surface green mossy rubbish gloop smell like earthy piss. I stand still in bridge shadow close my eyes and think to books and apps and advice of mindful thought peace and meditation and try feel wind but there no breeze. Silence. Footsteps. Heel grind on the gravel and hand squeeze arm.
You ain’t going alone mate.
Jivan Ward was born and reared in London, where he learnt that there’s more to life than what surrounds you. Stumbling out of a tumultuous passion for music, into the corridors of libraries and the dank recesses of fiction, he began writing poetry and short stories before going to university to study the craft and art of writing. Tit led to tat and he works in retail and is currently writing a novel and running a blog. He believes the internet is a force of neutrality and that the publishing industry should invest more in its authors than its devices.
For more Information on this Series, Visit: No Cygnet for Sleep: An Introduction
To Follow the Entire Series, Visit: No Cygnet for Sleep: Jivan Ward