Now That's What I Call Alternative Literature


volume 1
volume 2


'A Breeze Blows Through the Forest' by Socrates Adams

There is a pair of neon tits dancing in front of his eyes. It’s raining on the tits. They are shining through the rain, the colour of bright poached rhubarb. Covered in a layer of slick fluid, zapping on and off. He isn’t interested in the tits.

There is a card for a transsexual prostitute or sex line on the ground. He picks it up and looks at the lady on the card. She is a pre-op beauty. She is a little masculine and wears a tight little pair of knickers. She is topless. She is holding a phone and there is a large number printed underneath her. He isn’t interested in the number, or her, or her knickers.

There is a high resolution, medically clear photograph of a human anus on a pamphlet being handed out near a tube station. He picks up a pamphlet and looks at the odd, dark, velvet folds of the sphincter. It is squashed between two plump little buttocks, ready to be penetrated by anything. A hint of vagina is just visible on the edge of the photograph. Is it even there, he thinks, is it something else?

He is totally uninterested or aroused by the little anus. He doesn’t care.

He thinks about where he is going.

He feels sweat drops forming on his brow. His hands shake a little bit. Blood floods his penis. Lust curls around his brain. He is rendered idiotic by his feelings. He can see it, see the building up ahead.

The post office. He works here.

He settles himself into his seat, with a luscious erection that no one can see. He serves people all day long. He loves it. He imagines flinging himself down in front of the people who come in and letting them trample all over his back, chafing his face on the carpet. He wants to personally hand-deliver all of their post. He wants to give them all his money. He is programmed to surrender himself to everyone he meets.

He is a xylem cell in a tree, passing water and minerals from the roots up into the leaves, not aware of how he works, or why; not through a choice, but because of an unstoppable physical process.

Every time the wind blows, he ejaculates.

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Socrates Adams lives in Manchester. his first novel, everything’s fine, is out now. his second, a modern family, will be available in July through Bluemoose books.