Midnight. When the sky is pitch black and all is dead silent. A time when everyone hides away in their bed, letting sleep protect them. As the moon’s dull light embraced the silent houses and the stars luminous shine promised a brighter tomorrow. No one dared wake from their slumber. No one dared open their eyes. No one dared move from their bed. No one… … Continue reading The Forest
Breathing the cold morning air at the station. The taste of coffee turning foul in my mouth. Anxiously awaiting the silence of your touch and the conversation of your lips on mine giving life back to my body. A train arrives. People moving in squirming masses through the metal barricade that is still separating us. I see you. There in the crowd. I see you … Continue reading Lov
“He’s got to leave the cabin soon. Right?” asked Casper. He glanced uneasily at the door to the captain’s cabin and shivered. The rest of the crew was keeping a careful distance from it – and the guest within. “Surely he’s got to come and help us at some point?” The two men leaned on the railing of the ship, facing the field of ice … Continue reading Breaker
I stand in the corner of the room with my mum, polystyrene cups in hand, and five minutes late. When we got here we situated ourselves in the corner, hoping to ignore the loud and enthusiastic chatter between parents, children, and tutors. But other than participating there’s not much to do but watch, so I do; listening as people talk openly about their writing, or … Continue reading Selling Myself
The little black line keeps winking at me. One. Two. One. Two. It’s annoyingly slow, like I’d expect it to be quicker, more impatient, more demanding. I’d expect it to match my current anxiety. Instead it takes its time. One. Two. One. Two. Calculating. Menacing. What is it even called? I google it. “what is that annoying black line on the word document called?”. “T … Continue reading Writer’s Block
St Pancras Station, walking to, and you’re already late, or on the verge of being it. You approach the entrance, hurriedly, but in the corner of your eye you see a woman sprawled on the ground. The station beyond is at once glittery and austere; it pulls people in and churns people out – an endless flurry of bodies, giddy and frenetic, like molecules around … Continue reading Mandala
Alice stumbled across the rocks, stepping on the dry stone and slipping on the wet green seaweed freshly soaked with sea water. The sharp edges dug into the balls of her feet, her flip flops a distant memory away on the sand with her friends. Ten minutes ago, she was lying next to them (the flip flops and the friends), hat placed over her closed … Continue reading The View From The Rocks
The train took me alone down south to meet you. You were already there at the station as I stepped onto the platform, and it was almost—but not quite—like I never left. All the force as you hugged me, so I nearly overbalanced with the weight from my backpack, but you anchored my feet to the ground and I knew I was safe.
On Sundays, I am sad. My toaster breaks on Sundays and I must scrape the burn into the bin before I lather my toast in Lurpack’s best. Throughout the week, my floor-drobe grows into a mountain of spoiled evenings and rushed coffee breaks and by Sunday I must tackle the problem head on. Continue reading “On Sundays, I am Sad”
“We only get to see one side of the moon,” I tell my daughter, pressing her fingers into two tiny fists and circling one around the other. We are sitting cross-legged together in the front garden, sky still dark, where Sheila would normally drive up and take her to school. We watch the moon’s last minutes above the tree line as the dampness of the grass begins to seep through my jeans.