Instalment One Hundred and Fourteen

The speed of light is 299,792,458 metres per second.

The speed of sound at sea level is 340.29 metres per second.

The speed of grief is that of a glacier, grinding slow and languid, gouging gaping trails of scarring in its wake.

The speed of insanity is erratic and creeping.

The speed of insanity through a crowd is rapid and wild. Contagious, it consumes reason as tinder in its wildfire.

The speed of time is variable and is dependent on levels of happiness or sadness. Happiness does not have a speed as it is an accelerant. Similarly sadness is a retardant. They act upon time as the pedals of a motorcar act upon an engine, you however are not the driver, merely the gearbox, often ground down as time is roughly shifted between these two competing forces.

The speed of regret is exponential, as is its weight.

The speed of laughter arcs and crashes as a wave, all froth and foam, then scuttles away like the tide.

The speed of life is an equation of an individual’s exposure of the all these measures, as subtracted from an unknown constant X.

The speed of death is an endless and unbroken stroll.

Instalment One Hundred and Thirteen

The Earth one day, through no fault of its own, fell in love with the Sun. A shiny, blond beacon with fire in its belly and a glint it its eye, the Sun’s warmth was like a siren song to the cold and lonely Earth. Like all those in love, hopeless, unrequited love, the Earth coyly circled the object of its affection from afar. If the Sun was there, the Earth was likely caught in its orbit, hoping to be noticed, hoping the Sun would shine some affection down on it. What the Earth would have given for a beaming smile, or even just a simple nod, that would nourish the earth down to its very core.

Like a little lost dog the Earth followed the Sun around, and around, and around. Until one day the Earth noticed there were others, others fighting for the Sun’s affections too, some bigger and better looking. The Earth spun widely out of control.

The poor Moon, as far gone for the Earth as the Earth was for the Sun, could only reflect the Sun’s brilliance, a pale ghostly imitation that won it no favour, was left alone to moon over its lost love.

Instalment One Hundred and Twelve

“Mistakes are good as long as they don’t kill you.”

Those words rung in my ears. I was always finding Mistakes where there had been none previously, but they were all small, little things. Sure a Mistake might have tripped me up and left me scared, a red mark or two, but ultimately I had learnt something. They made me the man I am.

Mostly though I kept my head down, worked hard and did my best to avoid Mistakes.

But this Mistake, the one directly in front of me now, was the biggest Mistake I had ever seen, mean looking too.

I had rounded a blind corner down an alleyway late at night and found it standing there, waiting for me.

It grinned.

I stepped back.

’Ello, it said.

Whatever you want, I won’t do it, I said.

You already ’ave, it said, You missed all the good stuff.

What tonight? No I am a bit tired is all so I am calling it a night, I replied.

In your life, it laughed, you worked too hard, you missed all the fun.

I thought I was meant to, I stammered, I didn’t want to… I was afraid of Mistakes.