The Northern Crack 1st April, 2021.
Exclusive Interview Reveals All:
Were they really Sirens?
I was driving home after night shift at Wick General.
The sun was rising and it was quiet on Cliff Road.
I approached the roundabout at 15 mph. Visibility
was poor. A whisky mist hovered over the river.
At first I thought they were new road signs
but then I saw wings. So I thought maybe pelicans
or those big birds with fancy feathers, ostriches?
Perhaps they’d escaped from a zoo? But then I saw
the bare chests (in April!) chiselled, bronzed
and sleek like Chippendales and I thought they must
be three guys letting rip on a stag night or hungry
patients on the run looking for a cooked breakfast.
They had long blonde hair like the Angel Gabriel
and one of them strummed a guitar. I forgot to keep
left or look right and never saw the red Fiesta crash
into the wall of Mackay’s Hotel or the Transit van
fall off the bridge. The old lady with the cocker
spaniel walked right in front of me. It was too late
to stop. I’ll never forget her torn face and the blood.
I could see the three of them in my mirror peeling
her skin like gold foil from a chocolate Easter
bunny. I was listening to AC/DC’s Highway to Hell
full blast to stay awake so I never heard them singing.
That’s why I’m still here, I suppose…