Got the news this week that Bristol Zoo is closing. A hard blow. Not sure if this is Clifton trying to keep hold of me, or an acceptance that I am going. Mix in the rules of tier 3, and my departure gobbles my spare time..
Either way I know the creatures will survive in the location of the zoo. After my nighttime visit I know that you can try to build flats in the crocodile house, but they will still snap at you from another dimension.
This news of closure seems to have riled up the spirits. I woke up in the night to get a glass of water, and a huge eye stared through the window. At first I thought it was one of the giants. But blue scales formed a protective ring around the sclera. An equally scaly body slithered after, ending in a flick of fin like tail.
Clifton was once the open ocean. Maybe this beast lived here. Or maybe someone had a dream about watching that tail swish past their bedroom.
By the time I got my water a gang of teenagers were running down the street. From the stiff collars I would guess they lived around the 1940s. One of the schools nearby had the prefects patrol the schools during the blitz. Are these the children who scanned the sky for bombs? Did they survive? Are some of them still around?
If you watched long enough, would you spot yourself?
I always thought I had mastered the geography of Clifton. That this area had a solid foundation, and an identity that I knew so well. But a million different versions slide in one spot. I lie in a soup, and can go up or down, left and right. This is both a tropical paradise, and a home of wet Sunday afternoons.
The Butter Mouse was correct. Use this place as rocket fuel. Launch from this magical land into somewhere else entirely. And when you use rocket fuel, there will always be damage alongside the propulsion.
Time to go.
Next week will be the last extract from The Butter Mouse’s book. I hope you have enjoyed these tasks, and found them useful. Then in a break in the rhythm, my piece of flash fiction will appear the week after.
And then my final message. My final goodbye to the Butter Mouse.
