Captured

I hear the shutter click from behind me and flinch. It’s a reflex, I can’t help it. Every time I hear that tell tale sound my muscles contract and my jaw clenches. It’s like a survival response, telling me I’m under threat. Fifty, sixty, seventy times a day it happens. Click. Flinch. Click. Flinch. MyContinue reading “Captured”

Raspberry delight

A pelting rain slated Mickey as he waited for the bus and watched the worm. Big droplets splashed and plopped against his raincoat, seeping into it, dampening his shirt underneath. Mickey shivered, folded his arms and bowed into the wind. He angrily wished there was a proper bus shelter to wait in.  The worm, totallyContinue reading “Raspberry delight”

The in-between

The cancer ward was on the ground floor and that was a problem. I was about to be checked-in for six weeks of treatment, placing my life in suspension, while I attempted to fight the tumour growing inside me. It was a brief adjournment between this life and the next, but the jury was stillContinue reading “The in-between”

The locked door

Gemma arrived home just as the red sky marked the end of another winter’s day. Juggling her purse, gym gear and phone in one hand, she stood at her doorstep and plunged her free hand in the gaping stomach of her backpack. After a moment of rummaging, her fingers grazed against the cold, pointed metalContinue reading “The locked door”

Grief is not an ocean

Have you ever noticed that when we talk about grief, people will mention the ocean? If you listen carefully, especially when the mourner is reeling, that expansive body of water is practically guaranteed to get a mention. It usually goes something like this:  The bereaved will start by describing an idyllic scene. They’ll be standingContinue reading “Grief is not an ocean”

The stone in my pocket

You know the stone I carry around in my pocket? The one that looks like any old boring piece of rock? Small, smooth and round, it sits comfortably in the palm of my hand; weighing just as much as a stone should weigh. It’s unremarkable, grey, and there’s nothing about it that would make youContinue reading “The stone in my pocket”

A bad day at the office

The monotony is loathsome. I slather it on my dry toast each morning and swallow it down with a wash of bitter coffee. I’m down to rationing one measly teaspoon of sugar per cup and it doesn’t make the morning any sweeter.  I don’t even really know what day of the week it is butContinue reading “A bad day at the office”

Finding Memory Lane

Mr. Tomlinson is a man who spends too much time on Memory Lane. That’s what Mum says anyway. But I’ve been watching him for weeks now and I swear he never leaves the house.  He sits in his living room most days, in an old armchair, surrounded by dusty books and faded drapes. He sitsContinue reading “Finding Memory Lane”