short story

Slate

Inside I sit, desk piled high with papers, I don’t want to read, don’t want to see, don’t want at all. I stare solemnly, watch slate skies dissolve. Like Newtons cradle the rain falls in rhythm. Soft ball bearings knocking at the door. I welcome the distraction. Watch the rain run, making decisions, changing it’s course. How I wish I could change this. Change what happened. Change us.

Cutting floor

Envelopes. Paper. Painted with letters, woven with words. I sit. Scissors in hand. Feel their weight. The solid steel. Lift the first letter from the pile. Place the blades gently around it. Slowly squeeze the handles. Smile at the satisfying snip and slice of cutting paper. That crisp crunch of the blades biting. A metal smile hiding teeth within. 

In a blink

Thinking back it seemed to last an age. My memory reel playing in slow motion. Recounting frame by frame an event that lasted less than ten seconds. That’s how long it took for the world to change. Just ten seconds. A fall, a dull thud and then silence. Heavy silence. Winded by inaction. I couldn’t get to you. Couldnd’t cry. Sirens wailed, a seagull screamed, an arm on my shoulder, steering away from the scene. Away from you.

A distant memory

Sunlight cuts through horizontal blinds. Yellow white so bright it’s blinding. A momentary distraction from this day. A  brief escape from the humdrum, the tip tapping, clitter clatter of working life. In that moment, when I can’t quite see, I’m with you. Warm sun basking. Waves lapping. Sharing a secret. Not yet forgotten.

His Cold Caress

Winter is hungry, again. He coats the town in silver, a glisten as he bares his teeth. His cruel wind biting at hands, turning, chasing, snapping wildly. He sees you walking through the morning frost. Welcomes you with an unforgiving slap in the face. Pinching, pulling, grasping with his savage hold. Head down you power on. Slipping on his silver, dancing to his song. He is strong. He is power. Each step is hard. Each step is fierce. Bitter cold. The sun gleams. Weak in the winter. The sun gleams. Pastel powder breaking slowly. Breaking. Slowly.

Heart break at the Zoo

I got challenged to write a story including the word Rhinoceros

The rain drizzled half-heartedly. Soaking my jacket, without even trying. I was walking alone. I’m not sure when I let go of his hand. I think it was near the rhinoceros enclosure though it might have been before. I didn’t notice the loss. Didn’t notice his absence. I think I knew it was over. I turned to look back. He was stood reading about the rhino. Endangered. Extinct. Time for goodbye.

No Entry

Heavy skies, rain threatened. The bitter wind embraced her. Swept her sideward as she pushed forwards. Walking past the park the roundabout revolved, spiralling the ghost of lost children. The empty swings cried out. She wouldn’t look. Wouldn’t turn. Pressed on. The wind accelerated, spinning her ungainly. She fell at the gates. Paint flaking, colours fading. The padlock clamped tight. She gripped the railing, fingers white. Icy tears brimmed. Reaching through, she felt his small hand. Traced his fingers with her own. Tried to hold on.