Wolverton wishes he’d never left university. Actually, he wishes he hadn’t met Lisa.  They’d hooked up at the party of a mutual acquaintance where they found common ground in the music of The Clash; proving again it’s not who you are, but what you like that matters.

She wasn’t a part of the secret world, not really; she flittered around its edges like a moth around a lightbulb.  Her loft apartment was filled with bric-a-brac and gewgaws, cheap copies of old texts and occult paraphernalia.  The truth escapes Lisa, but amongst it all, the mathematician in Wolverton sees patterns.



~ by Electro-mechanical Man on November 2, 2010.

2 Responses to “Wolverton”

  1. I read that as “she FITTED around its edges like a MOUTH around a lightbulb” at first. And loved it.

  2. Now I wish I’d written it that way! It’s descriptive yet disturbing; perfect for this as yet unnamed genre.

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