Fists clenched like iron demolishing balls. Eyes reddened through lack of sleep. Elephants rampaging through death tinted nightmares. The cars fizzing upon the road. Confused as to whether this is the afterlife; purgatory or normal, waking torture. The promise of the final heartbeat the only comfort. Stomach churning. Nobody, ever, never. Hands shake for no reason. Raw, cracking mind slowed only by drugs. A painting of dead animals. Nerves snapping at the small of the back. The heart twinge, the pin prick pains of strain. Heaven rains new demons down to fester on the surface. Dark days of assault and exhaustion. No home. Uncertainty and no kind, warm hand. The invisible man makes his way to work. Walking through walls, doors, hello’s and goodbye’s. His brow etched with frown from a life of grim haunting. Faces talk at him, through him. Ridiculously, he nods. He exists to exist. For him the only triumph is not to die. The room blurs. A cloud of booze enters his lungs as he sips on his water. His life force flickers like a tiny flame in a hurricane. A boot stuffs into his jaw, soon to be joined by a fist to his gut.
The water laps at his toes. A dog walker found him, talking gibberish and blue and shuddering, they said. The early morning air flickers blue with the ambulance lights. ‘Can you hear me, mate?’ a voice says. ‘Do you know where you are?’
A hand touches his. The invisible man smiles; he can see his scrawny, purple wrists as well as they can now. ‘Pulse very weak,’ another voice says, ‘we need to get a move on.’
His body bounces on the stretcher. One of the dogs walkers cups her mouth with her hand.
Seagulls shriek, circling the sky above him.