You say they had a thing like a drill?

Yes and pushed it into the side of my head

Like if I take my cordless model and do this?

Yes but the tone was more organic, this hurts like hell

Theirs did not?

No, could I have a towel for the blood?

Of course

It was more like a tongue flicking into my brain

So it was attached to the creature?

Of course 

And did you understand it?

I sensed it, trusted it

Was it a language?

More of a purring 

And you felt safe?

Yes

You know that I am going to shoot you now 

Of course, that is what I was led to expect.

——-

After living in a Moscow and London John Porter is now in Gloucestershire, UK. He has degrees in Russian and Law and when not juggling his two small sons he writes poems, usually on trains. His work had appeared in publications including The Stinging Fly, Prole and Strix. Twitter: @John_A_Porter

Banner image by James Knight

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