The Art of Drowning -Episode 2.6

The Fume of Sighs – by Jac Forsyth

The fall from heaven isn’t measured in rage. It’s measured in last steps. Begged and crawled, each one of them, blade down to bone.

So it was that death and dominion were lit from the same match. And those who had followed me saw the artillery of rage, and took it for my heart. They didn’t know that I was lost, trapped in the distance between one breath and the next. And I tried, my love, I tried. To tell them how it was the fall that held me. So small in its claws and teeth. And my tears tight to its chest in lullaby. Hell may have taken my soul in retribution, but for all its circles of torture, it still brought me more comfort than a star-sky of unanswered prayers.

I don’t remember the arc of that first dying. Just the world as it cleared in dream and scream. And those who walked then, staring at the sun with their lidless eyes. So many faces and I still see them, cold as fire. Waiting at the edges. Building the weapons for a man who would be king.

A strange shadow is tied to the footsteps of those who have sheltered behind the tattooed doors and endless corridors. But the taste of innocent blood is still cankerous, more so it seems in these times of fishless nets and moonless satellites. And once again I have seen the contaminated landscapes of holocaust sitting hunched on street corners. Folding father and son with the truthfinders and transmissions of slaughter. Whispers so others will speak the poison of my name. Willing the warriors of Anjou to rise again.

But in all the growing of their cancerous dynasty they have forgotten that this was always about love. Some days still curl the perfume touch of your skin through my mind. And there is nowhere left to fall when even hell has cast me out.

The Art of Drowning – An Ethereal Mystery

3 writers, no destination – What could go wrong?

Ash N. Finn  The Perilous Reading Society  & Not Very Deep Thoughts


Published by

Phil Huston

9 thoughts on “The Art of Drowning -Episode 2.6”

  1. “They didn’t know that I was lost, trapped in the distance between one breath and the next. ..” Wow. What a space to trapped in…not much time between one breath and the next, but we all know time is an illusion anyway. These type of lines, and the poetry of your post above, is what makes you the “must read” blog on my list!!


  2. Cast out of hell… That’s hard core 😀 Great piece, Jac. Very nice setting. I might be missing out on the connection between the different pieces of The Art of Drowning I suspect. How connected are they?


    1. All of the TAoD are related. To get the true gist a reader needs to start at the beginning. The story follows three different perspectives (3 different authors) of lives intertwined around a 1917 shipwreck off the jagged West Coast of England. Fugitif (Jac) is the sole survivor of the “shipwreck” and a government cover up of a weaponized gas experiment gone wrong. He’s going on 130 years old. Evelyn (Ash N Finn) is empathectically tied to Fugitif as well as another character. The cut-out detective fiction characters (me) are the straights trying to figure the whole 100 year old cover up and power play that has been leaving bodies strewn around for that same length of time. It’s impossible to drop a lot of back story in an internet novel because of the net attention span. We hope the resultant book from this experiment will be more a more satisfying read in that respect.

      The second thing is that pieces appear on The Perilous Reading Society  first. I’m in charge of re-runs. I add a B&W image and chapter titles, but it’s the same content.


      1. Thanks! I see it clearer now. I have been following on The Perilious Reading Society, and it’s very interesting. I was a bit lost on the connection between the stories, though. It helped to get the basics down 🙂


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