Ali Cargill
Winter: flawless, treacherous. Sleep will not come. The emperor rises, watches moonlit snow from his porcelain palaced chamber. He’s hugged in wide furs but the stench of wolf hangs about him and these pelts are streaked with the blood of fresh-kill. He throws open a window for the melt of snowflake on his tongue. Rough …
Empty carpark two flights of concrete steps set into the steep bank then more-than-head-high railings: the bridge reaches over brown-topped trees; dual carriageway. Thick concrete fingers poke the air then railings drop to waist height. Walkway one-way out over the shoreline. Look back: disused windmill armless, blackshocked with window-squares of white. Above, in traffic lanes …
Please note: this extract may contain language that some might find offensive. How do you see the north? Does it come to you redbrick-built, with satanic mills – vast edifices belching, roaring under hellish red-smoked skies? Regular churn and clatter of weaving looms – Spinning Jenny, Arkwright’s Water Frame – Arkwright! There’s a name! Where there’s …
Published by Gothic Nature Journal. Please note: this extract may contain language that some might find offensive. I’m out in it, I’m wetted, I’m soaked, I’ll rip myself in shreds across the sky, come pelting, shrieking in the wind I’m ancient modern I’ll sing the very last hymn number 666 or is it 111? …
Published by the Land Lines Project. To begin, an ending: I had a dog, Zola - a dark chocolate cocker spaniel, mad for flushing pheasants out of hedgerows. One fogged November walk she took off across field towards road. I whistled her back; she was coming – bless her! Last moment, another pheasant flew up …
Gothicity 