I haven’t been given much time. A day either side of midnight, New Year’s Eve. But I milk it for all it’s worth. Wouldn’t you, if that’s all the egg-timer you have? A year of New Year’s … can you imagine? More than anyone experiences in their life-time. Well, imagine a century of New Year’s Eve’s… An aeon. I’m no longer certain how old I am – and I’m not just being vain. How can you tell, when you don’t have birth certificate, when you’re not sure of your birthday? I guess it has to be New Year’s, but it gets kind of lost in all the celebrations, a fact I’ve often resented. Nobody gets me cards or bothers with presents! But I make the most of it. See each celebration as somehow connected to the modest fact of my existence. Let the world rejoice!
It’s a consoling fiction.
(1 of 12 connected flash fictions written by Kevan Manwaring, dedicated to David Bowie 1947-2016, and published here to mark the first anniversary of the passing of a visionary starman & much-missed musical genius. ‘Look up here, I’m in Heaven…’).
Copyright © Kevan Manwaring 2016