The town’s aslumber, or else cowering behind dreams. It stalks through the night, rocking the filaments in the streetlights, pressing itself between the rough houses and the small streets. Tarmac squeezes under its reptilian feet and cars are pushed aside with careless ease. What we see, from behind thin curtains, are the briefest glimpses of its hulking form, as it passes by our bedroom windows. A maw that extends the full circumference of its head, the top of its skull impossibly suspended above two rows of cutting teeth. It grumbles as it tastes the air, ever hungry.
Paddy Dobson
3rd January 2021