Parked

It had been a light bulb moment. She was 13, sitting at the little wooden desk in the high vaulted Victorian classroom at the Grammar School.

“Who, what, where, when, how and why? Always ask these questions when reading or writing any text , no matter how asinine. It will improve your comprehension and make your stories slightly less tedious to read” Miss Hill, the English Mistress, had a voice that was both booming and shrill.

Betty decided to take on board this advice, but also to take it a step further and apply it to life….

…

The Notebook

…He cradles it, fondles it, caresses the smoothness of it’s cover. He turns it over in his hand, his strong masculine hand.

His mouth has a cruel downward tilt as he assures her it’s nothing, just lists of things to do, nothing interesting, nothing to do with her….

…She stares at his now empty seat and spots it… It’s there in the crease of the chair provoking her, daring her. Has she time?…

Black Dog Bothy

….The bedrooms in the former single storey bothy were located in the roof space; the walls, floors, windows and furniture had all been hewn from the same light-devouring wood. I pulled myself up onto the bed and quickly fell into sleep’s inky embrace.

I couldn’t quite register if the sensation of moving was real or a dream. Cold licked at my feet. Water…water? I woke with a start. The cottage was heaving and creaking like a galleon on the high seas. Something was seeping along the floor. Was it water or smoke?…

Knight of the Road

The knight of the road sank back into his duvet of leaves. He was listening to his mother’s singing. His senses encapsulated by the sounds, smells and soft light of his childhood family kitchen. He smiled as he felt his mother’s hand in his. His heart bled with the warmth of her maternal love and then…stopped.

…

Set to Spin

I am sure the washing machine is spying on me. It is unplugged, it is disconnected, it is isolated, yet still that small red light blinks.

I haven’t talked, I didn’t go to the press, I did everything the nicely spoken man told me to do, there is no reason to…spy.

I walk to the window to try and muffle my thoughts by watching. I like to watch, I am not a weirdo or a pervert, I am a voyeur. I watch people like people watch t.v. I like to walk and watch, at night. I am invisible to most being neither attractive nor impressive…

A Cut Rose

…Her face had a dewy radiance, expensive make up…or…I felt my arms, my face…was I the ghost? No. I was alive. Good had overcome evil. I had always been the good one…

It had been easy. I talked to her about my life, my poor, unhappy, unfulfilled life then fired three shots into her chest…

I wondered how she was going to be remembered ;- as an artist, a business woman, or…thief? The blood started to boil in my veins…

I looked across the platforms and noticed a familiar figure…

Freddy

Freddy felt his face burning up in embarrassment.

“What do you mean there’s a size difference?”

His mum was shouting at the sales assistant as if she was to blame….

“Freak” she spat as she sat down next to him…

She didn’t talk to him all the way home. She just sat and stared out the filthy number 89 windows. She was having one of her quiet moods which would either end in a smile and a quick hug or storm clouds would gather and all hell would break loose as soon as she was out of earshot of the neighbours. Freddy was hoping for a hug.