The Archfornicator of Canterbury

1 The Bulimian plains

The sky was the colour of a television tuned to a Las Vegas three-ring circus extravaganza. Muted colours gave way to iridescent swirls; marshmallow clouds fused together in sweet harmony only to tear themselves violently apart a moment later. Between the clouds, the sky was covered in enormous pulsating geometric shapes, ones that looked like they were constructed from infinitely thin neon tubes which glowed in a myriad of bright day-glo shades.

A casual observer would not necessarily have been able to observe any of the iridescence. Jack Back, however, had had enough foresight not to attempt crossing the vast plains of Bulimia without a heady supply of CIA-grade psychedelics. That same casual observer would have been able to determine, with a not insignificant degree of certainty, that Jack was a man on a mission. His muscular frame was clad in black from head to toe, and his eyes were protected by a pair of vintage sunglasses. It was quite obvious that he was not going to waste time by stopping and smelling the roses.

Not that there would have been any roses to smell, at any rate. Rural Bulimia was not exactly known for its multitude of garlands. The plains were almost as barren as the surface of the Moon, with only patches of sunburnt grass here and there to give the impression of a place that was almost but not quite entirely incapable of sustaining life.

Jack strode on without paying much attention to the landscape around him, possibly because it had not changed at all for the past few days. Every now and then he would take a swig from his pocket flask, which presumably contained some space-age concoction designed to provide sustenance in extreme conditions. Judging by his grimace after each swig, delicious flavour had not been one of the design goals.

The Archfornicator of Canterbury by Olli-Pekka Rinta-Koski
is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Australia License.