‘All truth is crooked, time itself is a circle.’

By | 1 November 2014

You’re diagnosed with an incurable illness. You meet someone at a support group. They teach you how to tango. You both undergo a miracle cure. They become a vampire. Your tests come back clear. You delete their photograph.

You change jobs. You and a colleague start off hating each other, but you get stuck together in a lift for hours and sort it out. You play a card game with them one dark and stormy night. A raven begins tapping at the window. You go on a driving holiday together and break down on a deserted outback road. They get kidnapped by a serial killer. You delete their photograph.

You go to your school reunion. You bump into someone you’ve had a crush on since you were fifteen, and admit it in a drunken outburst. They tell you they suffer from amnesia after having a terrible car accident. You delete their photograph.

You are set up on a blind date by a mutual friend. You spill your drink on them at a nightclub and end up kissing them in a back alley. They teach you how to swim. You go to yoga classes together. You get drunk and, in a text message, confess to something you didn’t do. They become possessed by a demon. You delete their photograph.

After a hard day at work, you receive a text from an unknown number. You respond and are thrown back in time to the Jurassic Period, alongside everyone who was with you in the street that night. One of them is someone you’ve had a crush on since university. You set up camp and fight over food. They decide to go hunting dinosaurs. You wait for their return. You delete their photograph with the remaining charge on your phone.

You are suddenly thrown forward into the Holocene, into your own time period again. After a hard day at work, you find someone’s wallet. You receive a text from a random number. It says: ‘You are possessed by a demon’. You delete the message and go shopping.

You’re diagnosed with another incurable illness. You become a vampire and acknowledge it in an angry outburst. You meet someone at a support group. It is a dark and stormy night. You wake up and it isn’t a dream. The birds begin acting strangely. You delete your photograph.


This entry was posted in 64: CONSTRAINT and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

Comments are closed.