Robert C. Day's Blog, page 28

A Thrust for a Thrust

As the blade began to enter his flesh, my mind was again drawn to when it began. It had been a perfect day – the kind where you could stroll in the fields and want for nothing but a cooling draught of water. Perfect, except for the clash of steel against shield – except for the roars and screams as my family died one by one.

The first to fall was my father, who fought to his very last drop of blood, followed seconds later by Fisk – my dear brother and protector throughout all of my short li...

A Study of how Time Effects a Novel

I present to you Best Served Cold by Joe Abercrombie, which is set on the fictionalisland of Styria.

The events of the novel take place between the years 579 and 580 AU (After the Union), so the time span is about a year.

The book is all in the past tense but, because it is set in a fictional universe, it is not appropriate to say whether it was set in the past, present or future. If it was set in this universe, the setting would be rather similar to renaissance Italy, but it’s not, so it’s n...

Mostly Sugar

I was just thinking about my experience at school. I used to get the same stomach cramps and headaches. I also had various other issues too, like mood swings and feelings of anger and a lack of desire to be with people.

It wasn’t until I was 25 that I realised what it was.

At that point, I had a life full of being tired all the time. And I was so tired of being tired. So I did a detox. I stopped taking in all the things I could think of that could possibly be making me feel that way – sugar,...

Reflection on Moscow

(continues from Leaving Moscowand Beyond Moscow)

Jack’s personalitycan be summed up in afew word: ‘on the look-out for a quick buck, an easy fuck and a violent ruck‘. In view of this, I thought that it would be illuminating to take Jack out of his comfort zone and place him, along with his mate Barry, in Communist Russia – specifically Moscow Yaroslavskaya railway station, just to see what he made of it. And what a jolly jape arose!

It’s useful to establish a couple of things here. Firstly...

Beyond Moscow

(continues from Leaving Moscowand Mother & Child)

‘Where the fuck is that chump?’ Jack looked around the mausoleum that was Moscow Central Railway Station and shook his head. Being ripped out of a cushy life in England and slung more than sixty years into the past, along with his mate Barry, stank. No money, and so no food and no warm place to kip was a like a thirteen day old bowl of cabbage soup. Barry vanishing like this was like bird-shit landing, plop, straight in the middle. Funnily en...

Worms as Words

Because sometimes,I don’t have enoughwords.

Iceland

I just came back from Iceland. This is what it looks like:

If you look closely, you can see a sliver of blue sky. Yeah, you have to look closer than that.

I did see the sun briefly on the first day, for about 7seconds. I didn’t take a photograph because I thought, like, that I would see it again. Lots. I didn’t. Ever.

Another thing I didn’t see in Iceland was a smile. Not one Icelandic person smiled. Not even once. I saw a tourist smile. Once. I should have taken a photograph.

It costs 40 fo...

Leaving Moscow

To say that every corner reeked of cabbage that must havetraversed the human digestive system at least once, it was surprisingly difficult to find a secluded placeto use as a toilet in the vastness of the Moscow railway station. Guards, with beards that seemed to be saving fragments of lunch for later, and eyes that had spent their humour long ago, lurked in every cranny. The number of times I hobbled, crossed-legged towards a likely hidey-hole was always matched by the tally of carbine-carr...

It’s Okay

I’m happy, it’s okay. I’ve always admired the lovely shade of lilac at Aunty Freda’s house and the smell of chrysanthemums isn’t sickly at all. They’ve dressed me really nice and although I feel a bit stiff in my best clothes, they’re getting me all the attention I could ever want. Not sure what everyone’s crying for, though. I put it down to the buns. She never did get the hang of buns.

Cheese

I have words
But none thatare any good
For me.

The train speeds on through the dark

The rock speaks
But it might as well be as dumb
As me.

The gathering sound of wheel on track

We don’t fight
There’s nothing left to say
To me.

And you know how the train whistle goes.