No Returns

100 words about marketing bullshit
image by Coralie Bickford-Smith 

Look at the star.

Focus on its movement.

I can tell if you take your eye off the star. I see its reflection in your iris, or, if you look elsewhere, I won’t see it. That’s how I’ll know.

Focus on the star. It’s all that matters. Trace its course across the sky. Wouldn’t it be marvellous to join it, watch it from a spacecraft? Yes, it would, wouldn’t it? Imagine yourself weightless, floating through zero G, waving at the moon.

You can. You know you want to. Sign here for a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Mars.

Look at the star.

Album Art

My brain’s gone mushy, I don’t remember his face. The photo he called album art’s no help.

I remember this: He neither took off his leather jacket nor put down his bass guitar until a girl gave him a reason. He loved playing the rockstar.

His act, I thought, was only that – an act. The right woman, meaning I, would tame him. But he grew bored, picked up the bass and the jacket and vanished. All I’ve left is the album art and the bump.

I wonder if the baby will look like him. I hope so. That’ll remind me.

(first published on Visual Verse where you’ll find the album art)

Coward That I Am

(c) Jordan McQueen

‘Spectacular, innit?’

She grins, then winces, touches her lip.

I suppose it is spectacular. I’m distracted by the purply-blue clouds – same shade as the bruises on her face. If I mentioned it, she’d laugh, tell me the other guy’s worse. Not that I need telling, I watched her go so berserk I pitied him even though he’d been about to do the same to me.

So I say nothing.

Like those clouds, the bruises threaten to ruin the beauty on display but somehow, they intensify it.

I tell myself I don’t try to kiss her because of her sore lip.


First published on Visual Verse (Vol. 02 – Chapter 09).