Tag Archives: monologue by Ian D. Hall

The Memoirs Of The Invisible Anarchist.

 

She should have turned back. What was the point of this journey? In my mind I realised that she could have been anyone, she might have been telling me the truth from the moment I boarded the Greyhound bus in Cleveland, she could be on her way to Paris to study art by the Seine, to see the world in the same way he had desired, needed to do. The bus was certainly cheaper to get to Philadelphia where she said her sister lived, to pick up her tickets to fly to France and then go on to study the fine art she breathed whilst spending her free time underneath a bridge or two, perhaps sitting within a tossed baseball of the Eiffel Tower or sitting drinking coffee in one of the numerous cafés that lined the Parisian walkways.

The Memoirs Of The Invisible Anarchist. full post

(2480 words, estimated 9:55 mins reading time)

A Short, One Sided Conversation With The Dark.

….so here we sit in the gathering dark, the reveal is coming, the hero is played by you, shall we read on?

No one else can see you you know, you don’t exist to them, you are an empty space, the void in the background that they dismiss as easily as a walk to walk or a drive to the shops, however in the dimmed light, the blinds pulled almost across to the point where only the barest chink of light can make it through and the black-out curtains hide the deepest shadows in suspended grief, I see you, I can hear you breathe, you think you are silent, that as you sit there in the dark judging me, contemplating the best way in which to bring me over to your side, I hear your thoughts, whirring round like a Catherine Wheel, fizzing away, the whizzing along, racing round and round in circles…I hear them, each dark reflection, each deliberate opinion you wish to put upon me, I hear them and I reject them…just.

A Short, One Sided Conversation With The Dark. full post

(1593 words, estimated 6:22 mins reading time)

Beyond Rainbow Bridge.

It is easy to say goodbye, you just have to pack whatever it is that you cannot live without and then without looking back, walk out of the door, never slamming it, never displaying anger or rage, and stroll off in to the distance…it is easy to say goodbye in such a way, after all eventually you will be found again and perhaps all the hurt that you felt will have disappeared into the ether, lost in the maelstrom of emotional distress and misplaced resentment.

Beyond Rainbow Bridge. full post

(2789 words, estimated 11:09 mins reading time)

92.

I blame my dad…well initially I blame him. I also blame the man who should have become my husband and my best friend Jack. All three of them, the father, the turd and the holy spoke. It’s why I am here this evening, here freezing my backside off watching my team playing against Oxford United in the F.A Cup. My company as you can see, is a fairly warm pie, a Thermos flask and a rucksack containing a fairly well read and crossword attempted newspaper, a new note pad, envelope, pen and a diminishing book of stamps in which at some point I will write to the man who should have been my husband two and half years ago that I completed the challenge laid down before me. I shall write, much more kindly it has to be said, to my dad who decided to stay at home and watch some old tosh on the television rather than see me complete the task….that’s not fair as he went to quite a few games with me but a few weeks back he slipped over in the ice outside Wigan station and broke his leg, and I shall write with glee and pleasure to friend Jack and tell him he is not the only stupid arse to complete the ninety-two.

92. full post

(3173 words, estimated 12:42 mins reading time)