Achromatic Landcsape #4 - Flash Fiction




The pylons stretching back like a forlorn wedding arch awaiting for Gog and Magog to breast them triumphantly. 
The slack skipping ropes of their sagging cables, since the escarpment chalk giants are off elsewhere playing hopscotch. 
A mesh of Babel towers all connected up to deliver the illumination for humans to generate their own blaze, glare and incandescence of incomprehensible communication.
Standing like Christmas trees stripped of their needles and baubles in bleakest January, still broadcasting their proudly erect posture but generating only barrenness.
A column of ramrod straightbacked corps disarmed by the ordinance to cats cradle their copulas. 
Multi-limbed blights snarled in the gossamer silk offered by their antecessor as a way out of this never-ending green labyrinth.