{"id":335,"date":"2020-02-25T12:45:35","date_gmt":"2020-02-25T12:45:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/?p=335"},"modified":"2020-02-25T13:11:42","modified_gmt":"2020-02-25T13:11:42","slug":"the-island-of-the-damned","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/the-island-of-the-damned\/335\/","title":{"rendered":"The island of the damned"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Daniel was surprised to find he was dead. Not the fact of his death, because that was sure given the certainties of gravity, and the distance between the nineteenth floor of his apartment block and the concrete courtyard directly below his balcony. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

No, his surprise was more like, \u201cWow! Continued existence\u201d.   <\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhere in hell am I?\u201d Daniel asked himself assuming he would\nnot get to heaven. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked around. He was stood at a crossroads with a sign\npointing to \u201cThe Village\u201d.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Following the sign past fields of rotting fruit and unpicked cabbages as the lane wound down into a valley at the bottom of which stood a clump of buildings, he had no idea how long it took, his watch had stopped and the sun was unmoving. It was almost as if time was standing still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The village was a vision of traditional England; ivy\nfestooned cottages, a corner shop, a church and a country pub\u2026 except it was\nshabbier and grey. There was no apparent life, so Daniel decided to look\naround.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The shop\u2019s interior was almost empty, as were its shelves,\nbereft of any goods except tins of Spam. The cottages appeared to be empty too and\nthe church was locked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, the pub it is,\u201d he said. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

When he opened the door he was greeted by a curious scene: grey-clad\npeople sitting hunched over tables, silently clutching half-filled glasses. In\nthe corner stood a jukebox playing fifties music and behind the bar was a stern-faced\nman, watching him with suspicious eyes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019ll it be?\u201d The barman growled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cA pint of lager, please.\u201d Daniel replied.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe only serve ale,\u201d he stated, \u201cBritish ale.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Daniel nodded and the barman placed a pint glass on the bar.\n<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks,\u201d Daniel handed the man a note, which he squirreled\naway into his pocket. No change was forthcoming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ale was tasteless, but Daniel was thirsty, so he downed\nit quickly and asked for another.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRationing,\u201d said the barman. \u201cOnly one allowed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI see,\u201d said Daniel. \u201cAnd does rationing include snacks?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMeat pies,\u201d the barman replied, \u201cor crisps. Not both.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll have a pie.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTen pounds,\u201d came the reply. Daniel handed over a note and\nwas rewarded with a lump of pastry, gravy bubbles dripping from its side. He\nbit into the pie and like the pint it was virtually tasteless, but his hunger,\nwhich had until now gone unnoticed, gnawed at him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs there anywhere that rents rooms?\u201d Daniel asked. \u201cI\u2019ve\nonly just arrived and I\u2019m a bit lost\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe are all lost,\u201d said the barman. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re ALL lost?\u201d Daniel exclaimed. Unexpectedly, a chorus\ncame from the previously silent figures hunched over the tables.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe are all lost\u201d, they said in unison. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, we are lost here,\u201d said the barman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd where,\u201d Daniel paused for emphasis, \u201cexactly is \u2018here\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHere is where we are,\u201d he said. \u201cThis is where we have\narrived: Brexit Britain. The Island of the Damned.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was hell after all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Daniel screamed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Daniel was surprised to find he was dead. Not the fact of his death, because that was sure given the certainties of gravity, and the distance between the nineteenth floor of his apartment block and the concrete courtyard directly below his balcony. No, his surprise was more like, \u201cWow! Continued existence\u201d.   <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"initial","rop_publish_now_accounts":{"facebook_10158782359051062_103813597863211":"","twitter_1225722811282530305_1225722811282530305":""},"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[121,185],"tags":[187,186],"class_list":["post-335","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-121","category-the-island","tag-damned","tag-island"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbrNJE-5p","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/335","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=335"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/335\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":341,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/335\/revisions\/341"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=335"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=335"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=335"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}