‘Why aren’t the lights changing Mum?!’ The whine in Maisy’s voice is reaching new levels. I don’t have an answer. ‘I need a wee!’ she shrieks. ‘I know love, you’ve told me that already haven’t you?’ Amazingly, I’m still in full calm-parent mode. My heart’s bouncing around in my chest with the stress of it… Continue reading Writing Wednesday: Seeing Red by Anna Rymer
It had nothing to do with the dog. Yeah, it was sweet, sitting in the window of the old Bennett house as I’d waited at the bus stop. Its doleful eyes peering out at me, relentless. I’d watched it barking incessantly as the bus pulled away. Silent barks, I’d heard all the way into town. … Continue reading It Had Nothing To Do With the Dog
‘Be careful what you wish for’ my mum always warned. She was a textbook pessimist, always on hand to point out the potentially bad outcome. My brother very quickly morphed into her mini me. I took to calling him ‘Worst Case Scenario Boy’ and enjoyed pushing his limits a little too far. That day he… Continue reading Friday Flash: If Only
I like to pretend I am the conductor of an orchestra, like the ones Pa took me to see when I was small. We'd sneak in at the interval and hide within the shadows, until it was safe to choose our seats. Now on the cold days, my hands become my baton, like I’m Nadia Boulanger conducting… Continue reading Urban Symphony (Friday Fictioneers)
The Whispering Woods They told me not to go in there. Into the woods where the you-know-whats lurk. Huge hulks of brown fury, all claws and teeth and menace. They said terrible things would happen to me if I did. I weaved a finger into my locks as I listened, smiled and nodded. "No mama, no… Continue reading The Whispering Woods & Let Me Go – The Sirens Call – Issue 42, Dec 2018
I remember the time you stepped on a shell and your big toe burst open all bloody. 'That's your fault' you spat at me, as Mum bent to nurse your wound. 'I'm sorry' I said, confused. You said it again with a mouthful of teeth, your bike strewn on the pavement behind you. 'I'm sorry'… Continue reading Chalk It Down (Friday Fictioneers)
I remember peering around the doorway watching each plate shatter, splintering into a ceramic snowstorm at the hands of my mother. For some reason my memory has omitted the sound. I see her mouth open wide, her eyes and nose dripping. I see the droplets merging with the flying debris as she furiously throws her… Continue reading Shatter the Silence – the Same Online Journal – Issue 12.1, August 2018
Her green eyes close and sleep follows. Her favourite time of day, or rather night. At night she escapes her diagnosis, her ageing bones and the tang of disinfectant that pervades this ‘home’. At night she prowls the rocky terrain of her mind and inhabits it wholly. She likes to sleep more now. In sleep… Continue reading Status: Vulnerable – the Same Online Journal – Issue 10.2, June 2018
PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot Eva stopped for a moment, leaning back against the cool stone of a vast pillar. Droplets of sweat tickled at her temples as they began their descent down her cheeks. She sucked air into her aching chest, her thoughts racing like the beating of her heart. Mere seconds and she… Continue reading Quite the Exhibition
My heart seemed to stop, up high in my rib-cage where it had leapt and then frozen. I grasped desperately at the air, as the intricate glass bowl plummeted beyond my reach toward the harsh tiles of the kitchen floor. The sound rang out like a million tiny bells tolling, calling out into the silent… Continue reading Hush Now (Friday Fictioneers)
Mighty Wren 