Jason Minty and I discussed possible ideas for starting a new plot: We wanted a plot that could involve a wide range of members, both Poets and Story writers.

The objective is to have some fun. The idea was to present the short story writers with an assignment or challenge – that would hopefully supply the poet with some ready-made inspiration

The ‘Prose ‘n’ Poetry’ plot has two distinct phases

Firstly a Story writer is invited to create a short cameo piece of fiction or a complete ‘flash fiction’ story in no more than 400 words (Please!) – The emphasis of the storyline is extreme human drama or emotional dilemma.

Poets are then invited write a piece from within that melodrama – using the short story above as motivation or inspiration for a (free format) poem – reflecting any aspect or sentiment of the situation portrayed within the drama or from the perspective of any of the characters involved.

To get this to run properly we need each new short to head up a new plot (under same general heading) but any number of poems can be posted beneath each story.

We have started with four simultaneous Prose ‘n’ Poetry plots – hopefully four writers will chip in with a ‘header’ story. If more than four writers want to contribute we can create more headers once number four header has a story posted. – Give it a go! – Cheers, Clive & Jason.

Legend tells of Prometheus bound to a rock for stirring up the gods. Sitting here now in the dirty kitchen I wonder whether Viv too has made some sort of transgression: so there's no rock in sight but she's been chained to this routine longer than I dare say.

Each morning a great, ferocious eagle came down upon Prometheus and pecked out his liver. Each night whatever was eaten grew back and the early dawn sped the eagle to start the torment all over again. Viv has no eagle to speak of but she does get stuck into her liver every day with a bottle or two of blue ruin.

It wasn't always this way. She was incandescent once, unshockable, able to walk and talk straight and not half so mean as now. Thinks I'm a cunt today. I always wanted to be like her, you know. So defiant and alive.

There was this look in her eyes sometimes like fire and it was like she was alight on the inside and that fire would pass into you and infect you too and you'd think to hell with the world and spend the whole night on the crest of a wave. Fuck 'em all, she'd say and you knew she just meant to hell with all the falseness and the rules and things. We were untouchable for a time. Then people died and John left her, and her girl went bad: lives down the smack flats now with her brown teeth and her grey flesh and her lies.

There are still glimpses of the old Viv but few and far between. Like when love goes cold and all the things you remember liking fall away one by one. Dead leaves. You end up two five ten years down the line looking at someone you don't know. And more's the point don't really want to know.

Trouble is she still drives and running out of gin just isn't an option and I can't always be here to go down the shop. Still drives. Some days she won't even let me go for her. Christine, she slurs, back in a minute. Ignores my offer, bounces off the hallway walls, slams the door. School's kicking out round about now. Might end her if she got caught. Might not. Never did want blood on my hands. Maybe it's time to make the call.

Christ I feel so dead inside

And yet I used to feel alive

I try to see where things went wrong

I want to know who flicked the switch

That turned my life to what it is

A nothingness, a baron wasteland

No reason to care for such a space

It’s a mess anyway so why save face?

It feels so empty just like the bottle

Only that can be refilled, renewed

Replenished resurrected restored

I can’t

I’m passed the point of no return

Gravity is relentless it pulls me further

And all I can do is numb the senses

So the eventual bump doesn’t hurt so much

Someday we all have to face the bump

But I can see it coming and that’s the difference

You people live in ignorance

Turning your eyes from the blinding light

Which if you took the time to see

You’d hit the bottle just like me

There’s nobody left for me now

Nobody here that cares

Nobody to breach the never ending emptiness

Those around me offer platitudes

They think they help

They need help they just don’t see

They’re clueless if they think they can save me

BACK TO THE SCREAM FIELDS

BACK TO THE LEAD PIPE

BACK TO THE DANK SKY OVERHEAD

BACK TO THE EMPTY

BACK TO THE BROKEN

BACK TO THE DREAMLAND TWISTED THREAD

BACK FROM THE VOID NOW

BACK TO THE VOID NOW

BACK DOWN THE TAPERED VAPOURED NECK

BACK IN THE DRINK NOW

BACK FROM THE THINK NOW

BACK TO THE DARKNESS SILENT WRECK.