Beyond the Sphere

                       Grab the broom
                  And dust the sky
  Sprinkle magic from up high                
Scream and laugh by the Moon           
      The Moon. The MOON.
Cackle through the windswept hair
Feel the elements
          Up there. Up there.
                               Fly. Just FLY
                                                And feel alive.
                                    And sigh.
                       And cry
The Moon                            
The Moon
                        The Moon

It appears that silly season isn’t quite over yet, as I had incorrectly stated in my recent Reflections Letters to the Universe post. Ah well. Can’t be helped, I suppose, with a mind like mine!

My photo entry for this week’s One Word Sunday theme of Upright almost but not quite hits the mark. It’s an old Selfie of me, but one I instantly thought of when I saw the theme. My hair doesn’t look like that now, I hasten to add.

Visit Debbie’s site to see more (sensible) takes on this, and last, week’s theme.

Another blast from the past, this one, and fortunately a blast not caused by 2012 BX34. 2012 BX34? What’s 2012 BX34? You may well ask. Read on, and you may stumble across the answer…

Oh, and by the way… wording in italics have been added since the post was written back in 2012. It would appear very dated without the additions.

Who would’ve thought something from 2012 as ‘dated’?


The date: 27th January 2012. I remember it like it was yesterday.

The time: 01.28am That is important.

The place: Cheshire, North West England.

<Clickerty Clack…Clackerty Click> (Imagine the sound of typewriters)
<OoOOOoooOoOOOOoooOOOh> (Imagine eerie sounding music)
(I’ve just realised those sound effects also look like a train, but never mind) I never managed to get sound effects to appear right in my posts.

I was fast asleep in bed. I’d gone to bed at around 11.30pm (or thereabouts) and was so tired, I think that I drifted off to the land of nod straight away. I wanted a good night’s sleep as I had to get up very early the following morning as I had to run quite a few errands before starting work.

At 1.28 something woke me suddenly. I looked at the time – I have a clock beside by bed where I press a button, and the time is beamed across my ceiling in great big bold red figures. The date and the temperature is also there too, but I was only interested in the time at that time.

As soon as I knew the time, I realised what it was that woke me. A smell. A strong smell. A very strong smell. A very strong burning smell. A very strong burning metal smell. A close very strong burning metal smell. A very close very strong burning metal smell.

I have a radiator next to my bed – well, actually over on the other side of the Bedroom – on the opposite side to where the clock is. I touched it, in case it was that creating this strange odour that had aroused me from my slumber. It wasn’t.

I got up, and investigated all of the other rooms in the Mansion, and there was nothing to be found anywhere.

Someone earlier in the day had been doing some work with a circular saw in the Grinds at the back of the Mansion (I know, everything seems to go on back there!), so I looked out of the window, to see if they were perhaps now soldering something (yes, I know it seems unlikely that someone would be soldering something at 1.30 in the morning, but I had to look… The Grinds can be a hive of activity at times… It’s like those movies where the person hears a noise in the middle of the night and they have to go out and investigate it – only I just looked out of the window). There was nobody there.

I returned to bed, and the strong burning metal smell had vanished.

My alarm woke me at 6am. I got up, and walked out of the Bedroom, and across the vast Landing to the Bathroom (Yep, the very same Bathroom that occasionally develops a strange occurrence!). I had an extremely itchy right ear, for some reason. I had a quick bath and washed my hair (which did not look like it had when I went to bed the night before! And yes, my hair occasionally has strange occurrences as well!) but the itch remained. In the end, I had to itch it with a piece of tissue, which did stop the itch. But, on the tissue, there was blood. A tiny speck of blood, from inside of my ear.

I grabbed another tissue, and there was another speck of blood, not as much as the first time. I continued to get dressed, and as the itch had now gone, I set about thinking of the possible things that could have happened to me during the night.

Thing One.
I had been kidnapped by aliens, and subjected to tiny microscopic ear examinations whilst hurtling at super-speed around Sirius at 1.30 in the morning. With me being woken by the strong burning smell – which could have been sulphur (which, incidentally, is associated with extra-terrestrial activity) rather than burning metal. I could have been hypnotised into thinking that I was looking around the Mansion and out of the window, when in fact I was in a large white room with miniature probes stuck here, there and everywhere.

Thing Two.
I was dreaming. Which is possible, but I have never bled from the ear from a dream before.

Thing Three.
I hadn’t been kidnapped by aliens, and someone had been soldering in the Grinds, but they had been disturbed by the light from my clock when I checked the time, and put everything away before I looked out for them. They probably knew that I’d be checking the Mansion first.

Thing Four.
I hadn’t been kidnapped by aliens, or had been dreaming, but had been bitten inside my ear by some miniscule insect with a venomous bite that causes hallucinations at 1.30 in the morning.

Thing Five.
A tiny fragment of the latest asteroid to come within a hair’s breadth of the Earth (named 2012 BX34, it passed within about 60,000km of Earth – less than a fifth of the distance to the Moon at 4pm UK time today (This was 27th January 2012, remember!). Experts weren’t expecting any damage) had shot ahead of the rest of the asteroid. Instead of being burned up by the Earth’s atmosphere, it was super-charged, and shot into my Bedroom through one of the tiny gaps in the vents in the window. It then embedded itself inside my ear, where it did eventually burn up. And it was the smell of it burning that woke me up. And the burning itself!

Thing Six.
I hadn’t been kidnapped or hit by a passing asteroid shard or bitten by a venomous insect. No-one was soldering at 1.30 in the morning, and I wasn’t dreaming. I simply woke up because I couldn’t sleep, and then went back to sleep, thinking that I was investigating the Mansion. And, my terrible hair this morning was due to the tossing and turning as I tried to sleep, knowing that I had to get up early.

And, Thing Six-A.
The red speck on the tissue wasn’t blood, but a red speck on the tissue. However, as the tissues are plain white, this seems unlikely.

Whatever happened at 1.28 that morning is certainly a mystery. And, it looks as though I may have been thinking maybe a little too deeply into things as well… Me thinking too deeply? Moi???


This post ended with me asking if you had noticed anything unusual at 01:28 on 27th January 2012, but it seems a little silly in keeping that line in now, after all these years. Although you MAY remember something – you never know…

For #WorldWatercolorGroup.

Today’s Natural Beauty prompt is fruits. I gave myself fifteen minutes to clobber together a pineapple, just using the paints, no pencil sketching beforehand. The leaves remind me a little of my hair at times, but they are meant to be leaves in this instance. And the pineapple looks kind of pineapple-ish, so I’m happy with the results.


He was annoyed. Ooh, was he annoyed. He was so annoyed you couldn’t shake a stick at it. He was that annoyed.

He’d passed through death without the dying part. He was undead without becoming dead in the first place. His life as he knew it had ended, yet it carried on.

He was still here.


He found it odd doing that without breathing, Not breathing had its ups and downs. He could pretend to be dead and startle people in the mortuary by sitting up. He chuckled inwardly as they turned a shade paler than he was. He then had to profusely apologise and explain it had all been a joke set up by one of their friends, although he could never remember their name. That’s what he told them. They were in such a state of shock they always believed him.

He liked it when he dropped his keys in the canal and could spend hours looking for them, always finding them. Being this side of life gave him great night vision, and this also helped in the murky, cloudy, and putrid waters of the canal. He even liked the taste. After about a hundred times of deliberately losing his keys, he’d had enough. He wanted more to do.

Walking through the shopping centre, he began to notice more and more people were avoiding him. Dashing into shops; crossing to the other side of the mall in a hurry; hastily talking on their mobile phone whilst scratching away at a speck of ‘something’ on their shoulder. Even the lady by the flower cart started to close early. She’d closed for lunch five times one day, he noticed.

He’d decided to try to improve himself.

Money was no object, and as nobody knew that he hadn’t literally died, nobody gathered to share his fortune between them. He was happy nobody bothered with him.

He’d bought an on-line university course in self improvement, and the first part focussed on image. Hair was the first chapter.

He’d washed, and cleared away most of the smell from the canal. He bathed in disinfectant, floral fresh, to make doubly sure. He slicked his hair back, and after building up his confidence, he’d walked across the shopping centre to the Elite Hair Management salon, kindly acknowledging all who avoided him.

The salon was open, so he walked in and up to the desk.

“Good morning, madam,” he rasped. His speech was a little rusty. “I’d like a hair cut.”

The girl on the desk giggled, and an older, stern looking woman dashed over and ushered her away. “We’re fully booked”. She said, sternly.

He looked around the salon, empty chairs everywhere, some staff filing their nails, others brushing clean floors.

“Madam,” he rasped once more.

“No!” she bellowed. “Fully booked.” She started to walk away, so he grabbed her arm, gently. Unfortunately, his hand touched the skin on her arm just beneath her silk sleeve, causing her to sizzle instantly.

Guttural sounds came from her throat next, and her eyes rolled over and over. She frothed at her mouth.

Her skin became the same shade as his, as she crossed over to his domain.

“Ah. Sorry,” He meant it.

“What have you done to me?” She rasped, staring at her reflection in one of the salon’s mirrors. Her ‘hairdresser’s elegance’ hanging on by a mere thread, just like three of her false eyelashes. Her black hairpiece hung limply like floppy coal over her left shoulder. Her tight-fitting silk blouse now just a saggy rag around her shrunken frame. “Get OUT of my shop!!!” She bellowed. She shooed him out, and he watched as she chased her staff out almost immediately afterwards. She slammed the door shut, pulled down the closed sign, and sat herself in front of one of the mirrors.

He looked at the young girl who he first spoke to when he entered the shop, who was standing beside him, shaking. She looked at him, fear etched across her face.

“I’m never coming here again.” He told her. “Your customer service skills leave a lot to be desired.”