Alex Mcloughlin - My Dinner Party

Deep within the mind of an ancient alien creature, upon a high cliff overlooking a vast ocean, stands a simple stone table. Time is coming to an end and all will soon be erased, even from the cavernous memory of the nameless watchers. Two empty chairs stand at either end of the table, a third lies overturned like a broken promise. The spirit of a long-dead poet stands to one side, gazing sadly downwards to the viscous waves, which lap lovingly against the crumbling rocks. A young woman approaches the table, glancing at the jug of wine and single silver goblet that rest upon a dusty leather-bound book, her eyes sardonic as she chides me with a shake of her head. You expected to find nourishment here? she seems to ask. What purpose could that possibly serve? A solitary gull sounds a plaintive cry in the distance and then all is silent. The poet looks longingly towards the woman, as she casts the book from the cliff, before his form slowly evaporates in the dying lilac sunlight. I reach for the wine but as I begin to fill the goblet, it starts to rain…