ANDY TEE

‘Tony, where are we ?’  Sue whispered.

No answer came. She just swung up and down to the rhythm of her bearers and 
the night sky slid over her. Her arm fell from her side and her knuckles 
scraped dust. It felt good. A small white hand collected it and placed it 
across her chest. It’s touch felt bad. Now she could hear soft padding feet 
in the dust and beyond that, light breaths being taken.

‘Tony, where are you ?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t know.’ Tony’s words rose and fell too, wishing him 
away.

Sue didn’t think about responding. She was happy for a moment. Happy that 
Tony was alive and close by, happy under a night sky filled with stars and 
the memories of childhood. But the calming, padding noise suddenly sharpened, 
became a volley of bright slaps and the happy moment passed. Her anxiety 
built and her ghost train returned, laden with nightmares. Its thick black 
smoke smothered the sky and she screamed.

‘Tony ! Tony !’ 

Her cries rattled back from the stone walls that had come to surround her. 
She was in a tunnel and the only light now was a sinister, white glow that 
oozed from the backs and arms of the small figures that were carrying her. 
She screamed again and a small fist punched her cheek.

‘Sue, are you OK ?’ 

Sue wouldn’t speak. She remembered flashes of discipline dealt a billion 
years ago by a similar small white hand, one that had smashed her jaw and 
nose into hard black steel. So she just whimpered a little and lifted her arm 
into the air. Now her knuckles scraped on a cold coarse ceiling and it felt 
bad. She dropped her arm and laid it across her nose and eyes. She felt safe 
behind her arm, seeing nothing, smelling only her own, clammy flesh. The 
regular sound of her breathing soothed and she began to calm once more. She 
was almost dosing when a new noise, deep and dreadful, ripped her shield away 
and extinguished the sparking footsteps which were carrying her. 

‘Tony, can you hear it ? Tell me you can hear it Tony and that it isn’t in my 
head. Tell me that I’m not going mad. I don’t want this noise in my head 
Tony, I don’t want…..’ 

Another white fist silenced her babble and this time she did sleep, concussed 
by the blow.



Sighing Suns by Andy Tee

Available at http://www.nospine.net/d.asp?T=0044-00314-001 for less than the 
price of a pint......or email the author at baretill@fsmail.net. 

Careful though, my kids use the account too.