James Goss - Almost Perfect

1. The woman is looking at her burning hands. And shes screaming. And Ianto sees what she sees.

2. Its like being inside a giant washing machine. The back of the ferry is wide open and water is pouring in. And the waters cold and filthy and the loading bay is turning, and Ianto is suddenly looking at a lorry. One of them is upside down. And then suddenly, it doesnt matter.

3. The man is sat at a table in the restaurant. Its got a lovely view of Cardiff Bay. The food is laid out before him. The champagne is fizzing in the glass. He sits there, immaculately dressed. He is a skeleton.

4. Ianto thought he wouldnt see anything more disturbing at the club. But then who paints their walls the colour of blood? And then he leans against it and realises the wall is breathing.

5. Its Monday morning. The alarm goes off. Ianto wanders into the bathroom, switches on the light and

* in no particular order

Rhys was delighted. Look, Gwen, Ive found you an alien!

Gwen looked up from a crap jewellery stand. Towering over them was a street performer, covered in metal plate and body armour. Silver tendrils spilled out of the top of his head. Yes, love, she said. If only it was that easy.

A crowd was watching the alien, who must have been almost three metres tall. There was a grim nobility about the performance a stern refusal to move or even acknowledge the shoppers. The alien had a pitch on Queen Street, just away from a man singing into a traffic cone, a cluster of mobile phone shops and some students handing out free samples of a new cereal bar.

A man rolled up next to the alien and opened up his stall of ties, watches and sunglasses. The crowds attention wandered slightly. Ever professional, the alien shifted its weight subtly, a mass of heaving tendrils drifting across from behind its head. A small child shrieked, which aroused some oohs.

Rhys was entranced. Gwen giggled. What are you like?

Rhys shrugged. Well, yeah but hes very good isnt he? Way better than the Chaplin that used to be here. I know hes made those flappy things out of an old mop, but hes done it well, hasnt he?

Suppose, Gwens eye was caught by one of the suited children working at a mobile shop. He was edging closer with leaflets and a smile. She shuddered and started to steer Rhys away by the elbow.

Funny, isnt it? said Rhys, not quite moving with her. This was the start of a little routine with him, as ritual as the way he licked his knife after buttering toast. If he were a real alien, wed all run screaming. But here he is, and were all you know interested but a bit bored. Not scared.

Yeah yeah its an integration scheme run by the Tourist Board. Now lets go stretch a pound.

Rhys finally moved away. And as they went, Gwen glanced back at the alien.

It winked.

Emma Webster is still looking for love.

Emma Webster is watching Desperate Housewives (again!!!!)

Emma Webster is looking forward to Friday.

Emma Webster is going out again!!!

Emma Webster is recovering.

Emma Webster is hating Monday.

Emma Webster is fancying the new boy.

Emma Webster is flirting.

Emma Webster is getting somewhere.

Emma Webster is going for a drink with the new boy!

Emma Webster isnt the type to kiss and tell.

Emma Webster is going for a long walk in the sunshine.

Emma Webster is all excited.

Emma Webster is seeing him again.

Emma Webster is unable to remember what the film was about.

Emma Webster is going out for a drink with the girls.

Emma Webster is buying a little black dress.

Emma Webster isnt sure what happened there.

Emma Webster is forgetting about the diet.

Emma Webster is avoiding him.

Emma Webster is grateful for the calls.

Emma Webster is not going to text him.

Emma Webster is thinking of getting a cat.

Emma Webster is staying in.

Emma Webster is home to the folks.

Emma Webster is bored out of her mind.

Emma Webster is sick of why cant you settle down like your sister?

Emma Webster isnt afraid of the big three-oh.

Emma Webster is making a change.

Emma was out jogging. Like most new plans in Emmas life it had required shopping. Shopping for lovely trainers, a nice sports bra and the dinkiest music player on the market. In pink, of course. Shed set off late, but managed to make it from Grangetown down through the Bay and off towards Penarth. It was dark, she was out of breath, her feet hurt, she kept having little breaks, and she was sweating like an old tea bag. But she had Girls Aloud in her ears and she was convinced the fat was melting off her thighs.

And that was when Emma saw the body on the beach. The street lights were bad, but it was unmistakeable. Lying on the rocks was the most beautiful woman shed ever seen. Emma scrambled over, her music still playing as she stood over the body. Emma had never been good with dead animals. One of her earliest memories was of the cat leaping onto her bed with a dead vole. Her reaction was similar now she just stood there, whimpering a little. She breathed really deeply, knelt down and, screwing her eyes shut, reached out to touch the corpse. Oh god, oh god, oh my god It felt normal. A bit cold and a lot wet, but normal. Emma opened one eye. There was a chance the body wasnt dead.

Emma stood up and screamed for help, but it was Sunday night and no one was around. She didnt have her mobile it was just her, a body, and the tinny sound of Something Kinda Oooh leaking from her headphones.

Emma felt for a pulse there was one. Gentle, quiet, and faint. She ran her fingers up and down the womans neck, distracted for just a second by how perfect it was. She struggled to remember how to do CPR. It was something to do with pressing down on the chest several times and then giving the kiss of life. But how many times to do each thing? She remembered practising at work on a dummy a weird old thing that whiffed of TCP and made a noise like a creaking bed when you pressed down on it. This was different. No noise. Just a strange wet feeling as she pushed the chest. When she tilted back the head and tried to breathe into it, a small trickle of water came out. Kissing her felt funny and must have seemed bloody weird to anyone watching. But Emma kept on pushing on the chest and breathing into those full, dead lips.

It was actually quite dull, despite her rising feeling of oh god-oh god panic. She was convinced shed done it for hours, but when she checked her watch it turned out to be a couple of minutes. And no sign of life. On TV, some hunky doctor would be brushing her out of the way, yelling Clear! and applying the shock pads. But this was just Emma. Alone.

With nothing but the beach and the woman, Emma started to notice things. Like the fact that the woman was wearing mans clothes. Quite a good suit, soaked through, though. She carried on pushing down on the really firm chest. It all felt weird. Those cold, cold lips, kissing a corpse. How had the woman even got here? All that beauty and here she was, poor thing, dead on a beach. She could only be in her mid twenties.

Eventually, she spread the woman out and sat back on her heels, exhausted. Shed tried to save a life and shed failed. The wind was getting up, and the waves were slapping at the rocks around them. Everything smelt of oil and rotting seaweed. Emma felt colder than shed ever felt before.

It was then that she noticed the object clutched in the womans hand. About the size of an iPod, but like a flat snowglobe, glowing slightly. Curious, Emma took it from the womans grasp and held it up to the light it was filled with a liquid that was a complicated blue that formed dancing shapes. As she looked into the globe she realised the shapes were straight lines and right angles and knotted cubes and so many shapes and colours and more shapes and-