Aerial Fragment: ‘crackle’



Ghost Codes 009

Grey light. Fading moon. Dixie on slow walkabout, Break at her side. Other collectors were seen, working the streets. Let them be.

Break started to tremble. His skin was picking up traces, buzzing with sparks: evidence of spirit activity, serious measure.

He led Dixie to Hive 7, the worst of the blocks. Off limits. Unsafe. Stories of demon songs haunting the rooms. A passageway beckoned.

Dixie moved closer, alone. Into darkness. Silence. And then the crackle of melody, sparklenotes fluttering in minor key colours.

Listen now: held by rusty guitar strings, a woman’s voice. Old, pitched low, a black moan. Murder ballad style. Dixie shivered.

She set the ghost trap and waited. The spirit flickered, sighed in darkness. Icy, blue, fevered: something touched at Dixie’s face.

 

[:REMIX:]



20110917 by temp_user9





Ghost Codes 010

Ghost trap components: contact mics, sugar cube, matches, loudspeaker cone, glowbug (female), cassette tape, AA batteries (leaky), perfume.

Operation: place glowbug in speaker cone. Arrange mics in approximate circle. Set speaker to vibrate. Spray perfume on sugar: ignite.

The scent arouses the insect, causing the bug’s abdomen to light up. Play cassette. Observe: the ghost will crackle and dance in time.

All such fragments dream of being whole once more, of being a song on a lover’s lips, conjured from a tongue: verse, chorus and coda.

With such desire, the ghost is drawn towards the trap. Now softly, softly… close the…

Break dragged Dixie screaming from the tunnel. Her eyes wide, mouth bloody. Words of drawn-out breath: “Find it. Don’t let it get away!”



20110923 by temp_user9





Ghost Codes 016

The dance floor was half empty, people still waiting for take-off. Break stood at the centre of the room, looking up at the lights…

I was a broken soul stranded on the last day of the world, skin aflame in a shopping mall. Blacking out, dying of digital fever.

He still felt weird inside at the work they had done today, the way that Dixie had treated the ghost, the wounded ghost. And yet…

Only Dixie had reached out to me. She lifted me up and dragged me home and worked on my body like I was one of her crazy machines.

Plugged me in analogue style and set up circuits to keep my system alive. In my delirium I heard wings beating, silver and gold.

I rose from my bed shrouded by sparks, crackling at the edges. Strange apparitions flickered around me, creatures of dust and light.

He could see them now in the club, all these stray sparkles that no one else could notice. His skull flared with colour and noise.

And then Dixie played the new tune…



20111028 by temp_user9