Wednesday, 10 December 2014


by John Xero

Brian sank into black.

Pain thrummed in white bursts: throbbing flashes of light writ bright across his consciousness.

And between, black claimed him. Swallowed and suffocated him.

While white cracks splintered outwards, sharp shining knives of searing pain.

And black devoured him. Consumed him utterly, until he thought he could not rise again.

Until he was dragged upwards, torn out into white agony.

And down again, deeper into endless black.

Surfacing in hurt and white and light and a face he ought to know. And words.

“Dad. Please. Wake up. Please.”

Black drew him down.

White blossomed.

Black loomed.


Author bio: John Xero wonders where all the time has gone. He used to have so much. Almost his entire working life has been spent amongst books, and one day he will finish writing his own.
He has a twitter (@xeroverse) and a blog (, and he really should use them.

Pulse is part of 101 Fiction issue 6.

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