The connections grew tenuous with age. The universe yawned with studied disinterest while easch of us danced towards the exit. There was no music...the last few notes hung in the air...a pretty memory..a poignant miasma of a living world. The generations would continue into the greedy void but there would be no welcoming parade...no moving words to keep the stars shinning. The numbers grew less and less and the light slowly dimmed.
The heat did funny things to their memories. Some melted clean away,
while she struggled to put the fires out. Others inched towards the
arctic region of her brain. The rest slumbered obliviously in ohoto
albums unaware of the carnage going on.
The exorcism was about to begin. Nobody knew where the demons came from. They were born early one morning on a blue day. It was now a red letter day and time to move them on. Demons have an uncanny ability for spotting receptive hosts; they look for short memories and central heating.