2
" Hiki Komori stirred Aurora away from the orgy and handed her a clean napkin.
‘Sorry about them. It’s the Rhapsody. To them, the real world is something akin to a cardboard reality.’
‘Why do it at all?’ she pouted, trying to wipe her shoe with the napkin. ‘Why take the damn drug?’
‘To escape their mortality, naturally. The great curtain call frightens them, so they avoid the applause. More so, they perform badly, spitting their lines out in spite. They are embittered and hungry and will no doubt eat your child.
'Yes, the soul of humanity will end in two days. But we’ve buried its body fifty decades before, wouldn’t you think? Come, Miss Aurora,’ he beckoned, ‘the lair of the Dragon runs deeper still. "
― Louise Blackwick , 5 Stars
15
" And right now, some affiliates of the promiscuous persuasion were beckoning, urging the women to join their huge orgy.
‘Come have a go, ladyships!’ said one of the strumpets. Stella mustered a look so disapproving it made steel feel guilty for being hard. Unabated, the prostitute lit herself a cigarette and winked suggestively.
‘Will make it worth your while and no trouble.’
‘Er.’
The strumpet sucked on her cigarette with gusto and hastily turned to Aurora. Under the heavy theatrical greasepaint, she saw a hint of black stubble.
‘What about you, hon? Ever swallowed a sword with its sheath?’
‘Once,’ said Aurora through a wooden expression. ‘It didn’t end too well for the sword.’
‘Oh leave ‘em be, Kevin,’ another strumpet butted in, as she adjusted the apples in her corset. She had a tall voice, coarse, rugged and edged; the sort of edge you cut protons on. ‘Doncha see they ‘av a lil’un with ‘em?’
‘And I’ve a wife. What’s your point, Steve?’ the drag queen retorted.
‘Yer wife’s a corpse, mate.’
‘Guess that makes me a necromancer. "
― Louise Blackwick , 5 Stars
16
" THE ANTHEM OF HOPE
Tiny footprints in mud, metal scraps among thistles
Child who ambles barefooted through humanity’s war
An Elderflower in mud, landmines hidden in bristles
Blood clings to your feet, your wee hands stiff and sore
You who walk among trenches, midst our filth and our gore
Box of crayons in hand, your tears tumble like crystals
Gentle, scared little boy, at the heel of Hope Valley,
The grassy heel of Hope Valley.
And the bombs fall-fall-fall
Down the slopes of Hope Valley
Bayonets cut-cut-cut
Through the ranks of Hope Valley
Napalm clouds burn-burn-burn
All who fight in Hope Valley,
All who fall in Hope Valley.
Bullets fly past your shoulder, fireflies light the sky
Child who digs through the trenches for his long sleeping father
You plant a kiss on his forehead, and you whisper goodbye
Vain corpses, brave soldiers, offered as cannon fodder
Nothing is left but a wall; near its pallor you gather
Crayon ready, you draw: the memory of a lie
Kind, sad little boy, sketching your dream of Hope Valley
Your little dream of Hope Valley.
Missiles fly-fly-fly
Over the fields of Hope Valley
Carabines shoot-shoot-shoot
The brave souls of Hope Valley
And the tanks shell-shell-shell
Those who toiled for Hope Valley,
Those who died for Hope Valley.
In the light of gunfire, the little child draws the valley
Every trench is a creek; every bloodstain a flower
No battlefield, but a garden with large fields ripe with barley
Ideations of peace in his dark, final hour
And so the child drew his future, on the wall of that tower
Memories of times past; your tiny village lush alley
Great, brave little boy, the future hope of Hope Valley
The only hope of Hope Valley.
And the grass grows-grows-grows
On the knolls of Hope Valley
Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom
Across the hills of Hope Valley
The midday sun shines-shines-shines
On the folk of Hope Valley
On the dead of Hope Valley
From his Aerodyne fleet
The soldier faces the carnage
Uttering words to the fallen
He commends their great courage
Across a wrecked, tower wall
A child’s hand limns the valley
And this drawing speaks volumes
Words of hope, not of bally
He wipes his tears and marvels
The miracle of Hope Valley
The only miracle of Hope Valley
And the grass grows-grows-grows
Midst all the dead of Hope Valley
Daffodils bloom-bloom-bloom
For all the dead of Hope Valley
The evening sun sets-sets-sets
On the miracle of Hope Valley
The only miracle of Hope Valley
(lyrics to "the Anthem of Hope", a fictional song featured in Louise Blackwick's Neon Science-Fiction novel "5 Stars". "
― Louise Blackwick , 5 Stars
