The Corridor

The corridor for old men. the turnstile could be heard clicking and turning on it’s own after processing the last batch. The halls were empty and echoes enjoyed the etheric freedom for some time.

Days went by the clock between arch columns had a drag in their pedantic tick, a technical time. Monday arrived along with the juntas collator a thousand shuffling feet could be heard, a few protested with meek mouthing. The collator made the junta declaration . “We the dictatorship have decided in appropriate policy of non democracy and one tongue, that the ageing masses are no longer productive, are no longer going to be supported by our regime. You will therefore head for the turnstile at terminus seven and from there on you will proceed and be of dust from that point you will be reformed from your genetic dust to forms a new.  We require seven of you to make one new life form. Deputies thereafter will reset the turnstile.

Author: Mason Cult Poet

Mason Cult Poet was born in Westmorland in the Lake District in a farming engineering community. On one side of the family many portions of nobility mainly the Stuarts. Mason Cult did as the herd does and went through the education process. attended drama school and ran small businesses. The stigma of mental health issues blighted him as it does with all creative people, was diagnosed in 2011 with a form of Asperger’s Syndrome which can impair executive function however it has given him a higher sense to see what others do not and from this ability he concludes the world is controlled by esoteric forces and that other interventions operate steering the world we know ro a new beginning.. What we witness we are forced to challenge and the work of Mason Cult assists this View all posts by Mason Cult Poet