The Screaming of the Shuttle

"We are not saved. It had been in there, what i had glimpsed, tried so hard to ignore," says Rosa as she recalls the night her friend died. The cupboard door where roses puzzles live isn't stuck any more and instead it flaps loose into the draught. When i open it, threads of fabric spin away from my fingers almost faster than i can flinch away from them. They settle again inanimate. But the etal walls of the space are deeply gouged, the tattered remnants of books fluttering about the bottom. Some ancient thing to be appeased. We had brought it with us."

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