Sometimes I get dead scared living here. Mostly at night when I’ve woken up all of a sudden like some person in the dark has shouted right in my ear hole, and I fold up real quick wondering maybe it was Mum calling. I get out of bed and go to the window and look outside. The sky in the distance is grey but our cover above is slated in immense black punched with white dots of stars whose shine is dulled by the gnarled grey clouds scraping across them.
I listen and I hear all the noise of the town outside, and I realise that it’s just that again that has woken me. Just the reeling whirring noise of some distant wind travelled from somewhere far from here, somewhere that I’ve never been and will never go. It’s whistling through the streets dragging up the dust from the pavements and plastering it against the walls, so as the town becomes even more like a torrid spectre in some old film. Then I hold my breath for a moment listening loud to its oohing and ahhing, ’til it gets too close and I have to run and dive under the covers in case the dust blows out through the cracks in the walls, ingraining itself into my eyes or something.
Mum says it’s disgusting how quickly dust builds up.
From my ‘Monsters’ series.
Shot on expired PZ 600 Silver Shade film from The Impossible Project.