dover 16072017 6 (3)‘Rainbows End’ by Zoolon

Stella was addicted to breathing, so you can image how pissed off she was when the world ran out of fresh air.

A few nights earlier, by candlelight, she had plugged in her Les Paul only to discover there was no power. No power = no music. She took a look out of her bedroom window and all she could see was a black nothingness. No power also meant her electric cooker wasn’t working either. Stella opened a can of Heinz Baked Beans and ate them cold, straight from the tin.

Until recently she was chasing the rainbow’s end. Not to find a pot of gold or anything like that. She just wanted to know what the end of a rainbow looked like.

She remembered that I lived in an eco-friendly recyclable plastic bubble moored up on the Medway near the Docks, so she came over to my place and asked if she could have a fix of fresh air and maybe, if I didn’t mind, live with me in my bubble. She promised not to be a nuisance. I said OK, but felt I it only fair to tell her that I only had enough fresh air left for about two hours. She was good with that.

When we did finally run out of both fresh and stale air Stella held her breath. I forgot to do that, but didn’t forget to blow her a kiss and wave goodbye.

Before there was no air left for us to breathe the last thing I remember was Stella singing me her version of this song.

She had a sweet voice.

Copyright © 2017 Zoolon Audio.  All rights reserved.  Unauthorised copying, reproduction, hiring, lending, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.





26 thoughts on “STELLA & THE RAINBOW

    1. Thanks, Anne. I wonder what the planet would look like without people. Which ones would be top of the food chain? Wild horses would be a great start ~ George


  1. I can imagine the world around her as she walks to your place: the stray grit upon the streets. The newspapers glued to the pavement by old slush and forgotten sodas. The haze too fat to mosey away from the land, so it squats upon the town’s houses. And the crunch of her boots, worn without socks, as she walks with a cardigan half-on, knickerbockers muddy from forgotten splashes in the rain, as she walks to your bubble.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Loving your words. Last chapter – ‘End times unread in print for a socialist tabloid all the poor people used to read, now for sale in empty street corners no one gets to visit because they all died of lack of breath.’ Brilliant – not my last bit, but your penultimate bit.

      Liked by 1 person

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