The news, by Jake Wild Hall

When the news came the sympathetic hum of the fridge was no more comfort than a ….plaster to a bullet wound.
There was an aggressive amount of condensation on the window sill and you could tell if ….it wasn’t cleaned it would turn to mould.
A butterfly came out of its cocoon only to be hit by the smile of a child’s aeroplane. How ….only one of life and laughter came out able to fly.
A man got drunk on the unusual taste of happiness, only to realise when the grey clouds ….returned he was much more at home there.
There was a crack in the wall and I was caught in its repetitive gaze, the noise it looked at ….you with was a cacophony of beeps.
There was a maelstrom that turned to pure white noise.
There was a gunshot that could be heard in the distance.
There was beauty in nothing because everything was a wilting flower.
The clock face was set to laconic only and all though we all breathed the same air only ….some of us were poisoned.
When the news came it didn’t stop coming until it had tattooed its feeling on to my lungs, ….made my hands forget the shape of a pen every time I wrote of it.

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