Gloomy Sunday (7/8) By Joe Hakim

(1/8), (2/8), (3/8), (4/8), (5/8), (6/8), (7/8), (8/8).

"I'm having some time off," I drawled, "leave me the fuck alone, Craig." "Haven't you seen the news? Turn the telly on now." Slowly, I sat up, reached over and flicked the telly on. "What's this about?" "Put the local news on," he barked. I flicked through the channels until I found it. "Oh my God," I said, and I dropped the receiver. I moved towards the screen. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The camera pointed towards the foreshore near the Humber Bridge.

People lined the beach jostling for a view. As the camera panned, the full extent of it was revealed. Laid neatly, as though they'd been deliberately placed by a giant hand, the bodies of hundreds of whales of all different sizes covered the beach. It was spectacularly awful in its scope; the crowd stood open-mouthed, shocked and unable to comprehend what was in front of them, as the reporter's doom-laden voice commented on the tragedy. I knew then that something terrible was about to happen.

I'm on the beach now There's no use in running. The shape behind me has taken form. It's a person now And they're after me But I'm tired Tired of running, So I turn around And I look And I see a face That I haven't seen in years And the mouth opens And tells me

That It's Nearly All Over...

I woke up feeling strangely calm. I had got to a point where the dreams didn't scare me anymore. I wanted them now, wanted to exist in them. The waking world was constructed out of pain and suffering. I only felt terrified when I was awake, watching the world slowly crumble - falling away one piece at a time. As I flicked through the TV channels, I saw all the wars, the famines, the misery; the weather was out of control, due in part to the damage we had caused with our chemicals and waste; people were killing each other for oil and the dogma of the things that they believed in. The human race was not only destroying itself, but the planet it lived on, eating up its own environment like a caterpillar devouring the leaf on which it lives. The horror of it all consumed me.

And I wasn't alone. The suicide rate in Hull had trebled almost overnight. Fences had to be erected on either side of the Humber Bridge to try and dissuade jumpers, but people found other ways. The council were unable to remove all the dead whales, and every morning fresh piles of clothes were found on the foreshore next to the rotting bodies. Car accidents and murders were also increasing exponentially. There was a real sense of chaos breaking out. Classes and workshops were hastily organised to help people; announcements were made on the television to appeal for calm.

Continued...Next Page (8/8)

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