Remembering my Grandpa James Wilson Cowan who died at sea in World War Two. Never forgotten.
I have written a piece of flash fiction that I felt fitting to include here. He was quite the actor and creative soul I believe so I hope he would appreciate my attempt:
“A battle is raging. The lines that stretch between reality and insanity are taught. Pulled so tight they are at breaking point. Plucking at them are the soldiers of thought. Their weapons are not of convention, they pluck and flick and niggle with annoying irritation. Their violence is subtle and suffocating and it is a destruction of the mind that is the casualty. A battle that is not fought in the open, but in secret buy doxycycline medication online passageways. Down dark alleys and in bleak and desolate corners. And each battle meets abrupt and angry dead ends. It is a maze of false roads. Doors are fake, offering glimpses of a truce, but sneering behind their truth. They don’t lead anywhere new at all. Instead they merely open access to new skirmishes. And the sides are not clear-it is a muddy mess of contradiction. An angry torrent of emotion incessantly rushing as if always a river in full flow. The raging is not heard and yet felt and the screams are silent cries of an excruciating agony. An exhausting battle that seems as if it will never end.”