Oops!… We Did It Again (cease fire)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

GUEST POST // Ripe fruit by Candice Louisa Daquin

The body
Is a soft pomegranate
Shiny seeds spilling out
Soft offering proffers
Sell by date
Arbitrary or fated circles within circles
Once, you bled
The same crimson as a dress you wore to fireworks night
Until invisible hands
Ushered away the urge to bring
Life wriggling on flat earth
Straining you heard
A primal cry
It was you
Half covered with sweat
Shaking off
The emptiness of the day
Your belly full
Of hours

by CANDICE LOUISA DAQUIN
© All rights reserved 2018

DARWINIAN // Woke at the Coalface

‘Eat. Sleep. Sprint. Repeat.’

At no other time in history could I wear this summation of existence on an article of clothing and not be thought of as odd. But nearly everyone’s doing it nowadays, so I guess that makes me somewhat normal — or at least someone somewhere’s definition of ‘normal’. It’s funny how society bolted from the t-shirt as an undergarment in the nineteenth century to being worn as outerwear in the mid-twentieth century. Quite the transition, no? We shrugged from ‘shock of the new’ territory into the realm of blind acceptance in one quick, easy, costume change.

So, what does this actually mean? It means that t-shirts are in. It means that catchy sayings in bold typeface beneath cartoon pics of hollow, burnt up earths with factory stacks belching out poison are in. And it means that the combination of all these things is in. I guess the t-shirt is what society now deems ‘social convention’. Yup. And the only constant is change.

Frankly, I’ve never understood the appeal of t-shirts. To me they’re just walking billboards littered with guache advertising for untruths mixed with half-truths dressed up as ‘The Truth’ that you absolutely cannot live without… so buy today. And I happen to live at the fraying edge of all of that. Oh, damn, I don’t know what to do! Should I wear this shirt and risk exposing my unmanly physique for all to snort in derision at? I’m barely hanging on here, trying not to be the wonky thread that makes my carefully insulated life come undone. My face is already unacceptable by society’s standards. Now my body too?

Is this irony? The fact that I can be shamed for my pear-shaped body rather than the trite maxim on my overstretched top doesn’t seem right to me. Maybe I’m overthinking this. Maybe I shouldn’t be perturbed that not only is this the uniform that must be worn if I want to be part of society’s cabal of acceptance but that I can also be rejected if I fail to squeeze into it in the prescribed manner. No, I should just push these thoughts out of my mind…

The earth coughs up flowers for no one to notice.  The mighty dig past said flowers for coal to burn to make loot. Said mighty diligently practice their brand of self care, amassing said loot to the neglect of everyone else. And here I am, trying to decide whether what I’m feeling is mere vanity or the emergence of some awful realisation.

God. What possessed me to buy this stupid shirt anyway?

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

Oops!… We Did It Again (ladder to heaven)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2018

THE ABCs OF A PECULIAR LIFE // D is for Dugongs & Decidophobia

Little Dugong was very talented. He actually was, and not only because his Mommy Dugong thought so. (Every mom thinks their baby is the best. I once even heard a holbrookia boasting that her daughter had an exquisite ear for music, but I preferred to break no squares with another quixotic mommy.) Anyway, let’s return to our muttons… or, rather, dugongs.

Yes, Little Dugong was very talented. He painted with watercolors in the Biedermeier style. He painted an ocean, ships, topless sea-maids and sunken treasures. His forelimb was free and easy, his eye was sharp, and his imagination went above and beyond. Little Dugong would have a great future as an artist.

This year Mommy Dugong decided to prepare something really special for Little Dugong’s birthday. She woke up very early, quickly supped up morning kissel, put on her best tilt-bonnet, gave a peck on Little Dugong’s nose, and went to the city. In a few hours she was back with a big package; it was gift wrapped with starfish and chamomiles. Little Dugong was bursting with curiosity as to what this could be, but he knew he would have to wait until the festive dinner.

Finally, that long-awaited moment was upon him. Little Dugong impatiently droned, “Many happy returns!” then snuffed out the candles and with bated breath unfolded his precious gift. Holy mackerel! It was a drawing book!

It was covered with smooth emerald-green leather and had acid-free cold-pressed pages with a pleasant ivory hue. There was even a wide elastic band to keep the book securely closed to the nosy beaks of curious gulls and the beady eyes of elephant fish! It was the best drawing book in the whole world!

Happy Little Dugong fussed over the drawing book for the entire evening. He was opening and closing it, caressing its flawless sheets, sniffing its sweet-smelling leather. He even licked it once or twice while Mommy Dugong was busy with the dirty dishes. When Little Dugong got between the blankets later that night, the drawing book rested cozily beneath his pillow.

As soon as the next day broke, Little Dugong hurried to the shoals, climbed onto a big stone, and opened his treasure. He imagined all the beautiful things that he would paint, and this sent his heart fluttering with delight and joy. Little Dugong decided to start with a charming mermaid that he had met a day or two ago near some random rock.

However, once he raised his limb to a pristine sheet, a wormling of doubt started to gnaw inside his mind. After all, the mermaid wasn’t so youthful; her breasts were a bit faded and the pearls in her hair were kind of wishy washy. No! She wasn’t worthy to be in these pages! Little Dugong decided to paint something else.

An ocean! He would paint the illimitable ocean. It was deep, green, and full of mysteries and lost ships. Then Little Dugong dropped his eyes and saw a white plastic bag swaying on the waves. Yuck! No, he couldn’t spoil his flawless drawing book with such an imperfect thing as an ocean! He simply had to pick something else, something ultimate and picture-perfect.

The time ticked by… Little Dugong was still sitting on his stone with his untouched drawing book. He didn’t hear his Mommy Dugong calling him for midday meal, he ignored his friends who ran off to play hurlbat, and even disregarded a youthful sea cow who gave him a playful wink. Of course, he hadn’t even noticed a sea gull who sat not too far away and was looking at Little Dugong with malevolent curiosity.

The sea gull got off the ground and made a slow circle. Then another one… and another one… then it hovered right above Little Dugong… and shat all over the drawing book with much relish.

What happened next? Of course, Little Dugong howled like a jackal and ran to his Mommy Dugong. He was just a child after all (though he weighed more than a metric centner). The spoiled drawing book stayed on the stone and its smooth emerald-green leather gently shimmered in the late afternoon sunlight.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2017