I saw the Gothic Trumpeter tonight. I think he’s been laying low. Still he looked happy enough in the dark. A plane flew low over us. He pointed to the sky and said something I couldn’t hear. He might have been surprised by the jet. Or he might have saying “It’s night time. It’s my time” and laughing demonically. I hurried in and double-locked all the doors and windows.
© Carlton Reeve 2008
Blogs I Read
- 1 step beyond
- A beautiful revolution
- Blatant Optimism
- Edvard Moonke
- Girl Dates London
- Girl on a Train
- itisi
- JonnyB's private secret diary
- Lunarchy
- No Rock And Roll Fun
- Nothing for you here...
- Only a Game
- Rob Bevan
- the allotment underground
- The Boy Who Likes To…
- Things To Say
- Things What I Wrote
- This Is This
- tim wright
Recent Posts
April 2009
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | |||
| 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |
| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |
| 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 |
| 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
A gothic trumpeter does soud very spooky indeed. Maybe he is stuck between that seasonal bit between Christmas and Halloween
Posted by: the boy who likes to | Friday, 08 December 2006 at 11:22 AM