It was an ordinary acid storm.

Every child and every adult ran for shelter, driven by years of training and memories of water that burns their skin and blinds the eye.

It was an ordinary acid storm.

The winds from the middle of Specific Ocean dumped their payload of plastic sludge onto our beaches, along the streets, into our gardens. Bottles and bags and wrappings and rags: Mother Nature building the monuments of human legacy.

It was an ordinary acid storm.

Or perhaps it wasn’t. For in one of those bottles under one of those rags, wrapped in a wrapping inside a bag there was … a letter. A plea for help from a place called Wastelands. A message that was read and passed around and pondered … and finally discarded as a hoax. There was no such place as Wastelands.

It was an ordinary acid storm.


This piece was inspired by Wastelands, a Vancouver Fringe play by Savanna Harvey: “Wastelands is an apocalyptic comedy about garbage and the pieces of trash who produce it.”