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Heart of the House
cc&d, v323 (the July 2022 issue)

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The Heart of the House

Charles Eades

And who drew the sea, in this time capsule?
Long nights in primordial stillness
Gone are the days of adventure
Like frightened children
We huddle from the dark
Dream of happier times
Why hope for better
The light will not penetrate
Where the door is closed
The black cat in the window
Has not moved for twenty-eight years
Owls shriek in the darkness
Naïve, we think we keep the world at bay
An illusion of control
The universe is huge and full of terror
Life ends
Too swiftly
In pain and despair

I can remember aged nine
Hiding in the bathroom one night
Afraid to go back to my dark bedroom
For fear of what I might see
As adults we still fear the dark
We chase it away with electric light
Because we know deep down
The power will not last
And when the lights go out
All we will have is ourselves
Along with the real monsters
Within our minds

A storm that melted the Earth
Fireworks out the window
Visiting my grandfather shortly after he died
Evil spirits haunting my school
A naked girl in the water
Monsters in the corner shop
A meteor from the far side of the universe
The family cat coming to see me
Months after we buried her
A dinosaur watching me
The wolf in the hall
The king materialising through the floor
A room where many died violently
Dead babies in a stagnant pool
A slight detour into a war zone
The spider that could fly
A brief glimpse of heaven

The first time I put pen to paper
I wrote of superheroes
We grow out of such things
A thug in a cape no longer holds much appeal
Yet we still think of heroes
As athletic men with super strength
Tight suits
Mostly white
Who never seem to get hurt
Who always triumph in the end
Why does it seem patronising
To say the real heroes wear uniforms
Dry tears
Hold spoons
Grow crops
Teach children
Without reward, thanks or praise
In a society that doesn’t care

Looking back on games I played as a child
I wonder how the toys might have felt
Recurring violent death and endless conflict
Could be wearying
If you had the sentience
To understand what was happening
But then my characters have gone through worse
I never stopped to think how they might feel

Where were you the day the world ended?
I was in a classroom
Wondering what was for dinner

Is there anything more magical than a kitchen radio?
Here I can listen to the planet burn
As I drink my morning coffee
Music drives away the terror
Bruce Springsteen reminds me of home
Smell of bacon frying brings comfort
Life is short but not without pleasure

I can remember
Sitting on the sofa
Listening to my dad
Read about lions, witches and wardrobes
I have never felt as safe
Or as happy

A child goes down to the cellar
Only a candle to light her way
The stairs creak underfoot
Shadows flicker on the walls
Rats scurry beneath the floor
A black cat watches in the gloom
A voice whispers from the darkness
She reaches for the bucket of coal
The handle coated with slime
Something crawls over her foot
A claw gently brushes her face
Laughter echoes all around
She drops the bucket
Turns to flee
A hand grabs her ankle
She falls
Struggles
Screams for help
None can hear
Tomorrow another child will come down to the cellar
There’s always another
The cellar can wait

In pain and despair
Too swiftly
Life ends
The universe is huge and full of terror
An illusion of control
Naïve, we think we keep the world at bay
Owls shriek in the darkness
For twenty-eight years, the black cat in the window has not moved
Where the door is closed
The light will not penetrate
Why hope for better
Dream of happier times
We huddle from the dark
Like frightened children
Gone are the days of adventure
Long nights in primordial stillness
And in this time capsule, who drew the sea?



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