Ray Wilson
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The hitch hiker
By Ray Wilson We finished our work early. “Do you fancy a trip to the Elephant house—the weather is nice—we can pick up the items for Sally en route,” I suggest. “Alright, let’s go,” the missus replies. “I’ll grab the hound and meet you out front.” I say We decide to take the car for…
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The reductive friction of fear
By Ray Wilson After leaving the A303, our road to the sun is narrower and calmer, more indicative of earlier times—more suited to a horse and cart rather than a motorised vehicle. Our motorcycle combination purrs along the lanes, weaving through the picturesque countryside as we soak in the peaceful surroundings. We are staying in…
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Walking in the woods one day
By Ray Wilson “I think I’ve got chemtrail sniffles,” my missus tells me. “You had better start…” I begin. “On the Suramin, every hour on the hour, I know I started on it,” she interjects. I leave the missus to recuperate. It’s dank; a cloying greyness hangs over the forest. My hound sniffs at the…
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Monkey Business
By Ray Wilson It is quiet on the Ashdown forest path—sandstone rocks jut out at awkward angles. The rainfall of millennia has softened the edges of the rocks, creating a smooth and almost ethereal atmosphere as the mist settles over the ancient trail. A quietude: I instinctively reach out and place my hand on the…
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A Not-So-United State of Affairs
By Ray Wilson The flash floods of Thursday washed debris—dirt, twigs, and leaves down the road; it has been shoved to one side by passing vehicles over a couple of days. We swerve slightly to avoid the now tinder dry piles. The heat of the sun has burned through the clouds of the morning, providing…
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Fooled Again
By Ray Wilson The late afternoon sun illuminates the garden; beyond the paved courtyard, there is a fishpond. Beyond those manicured lawns and formal flower beds, there is shrubbery on the far borders. “Watch him on the paving slabs with his walker, won’t you?” my missus says. Frohike is adept at using his frame, and…
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Event 202
By Ray Wilson My hound is getting animated as we eventually leave the riverside path; she tugs excitedly on her lead as we near the town centre. I am meeting up with my missus at her friend’s shop. “Hello, lovely girl,” Debbie says as my hound propels herself at warp speed across the wooden shop…
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Something Is Intentionally Dropped On Us From Above
By Ray Wilson “Power will gravitate into the hands of those who control information. This will encourage tendencies through the next several decades towards a technotronic era dictatorship, leaving even less room for political procedures as we know them. Finally, looking ahead to the end of the century, the possibility of biochemical mind control and…
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I Prefer to Stay in my Cabin in the Woods, Away From all the Electromagnetic Frequencies
By Ray Wilson Echoes of a Laundromat It is getting late, and we are on the run-down edge of town, where broken streetlights flicker and the paint on the buildings looks lacklustre, peeling away in long, mournful strips. “What do you think happened—to Frohike, I mean?” I ask the missus. “I don’t know—maybe he got…
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A Multi-Dimensional War on Humanity Is Enabled by Corrupt Governments
By Ray Wilson Distractions Flaming June is far from boiling; there is no hint of fiery red flames on the horizon. After walking the lake paths, I started coughing. Geoengineering has once again turned the early blue skies into a tepid grey. The chemicals in the air are aggravating my respiratory system. My hound looks…