I saw her in the confectionery aisle, the one between Dried Goods to the left and Hot Beverages to the right. She had long brown hair and a short red jacket and knelt on one knee, peering at white chocolate mice and thin strawberry laces.
She watched, trembling, as he put his purchases on the counter and took his wallet from his trousers, gave the woman a crisp five pound note. He had green apples, a tin of ham, fresh milk, chocolate digestives, and a jar of something. The jar had a cream sticker on its front: a picture of … Continue reading Death by Fruit.
Outside her front door, lay a bouquet of flowers. She had nearly stepped on their bright green stems in her fancy new shoes: bright red with a pointed toe, and sky high heels. Normally she'd wear something more demure for work, but that morning, pulling on her dark navy suit, dry cleaned the week before … Continue reading Red Shoes
I'm over at the Depression Army today talking about depression. http://www.depressionarmy.com/ourblog/2017/7/16/memories-of-depression
I opened my eyes onto red brick. Long since I had opened them onto anything more. I pulled myself upright, which was somewhat difficult and stared across the road at galvanised steel. Nothing. A spider with a body like a tiny black pin prick whispered across the grey, concrete step and disappeared into a hole. … Continue reading Shadow Lives
He lived with me. No contract had been signed. I didn't ask for a lodger. I had asked on multiple occasions for him to leave. When it became obvious he wouldn't leave without a prompt, I packed a polythene bag full of sandwiches and threw it up the garden, where it smashed into my lame … Continue reading The House Guest
I didn't hear anyone. I had been playing with my doll, putting a new pink dress on her. It was a cheap doll and its body was hollow, not rubbery like a Barbie. They couldn't afford expensive toys, not now daddy had lost his job. A person grabbed my arm and I threw the doll … Continue reading Surplus
‘Mornin!’ Isla threw her woven shopping bag to the floor and quickly untied her headscarf. ‘Mornin,’ Alick shouted from behind the counter, bent down, picking up an array of books donated by a young woman earlier that morning. It had been such a large pile they had collapsed and fallen to the floor, scattered themselves … Continue reading The Village – A Story About The Consequences Of War
My latest post about adoption over at Psych Central. https://blogs.psychcentral.com/adoption/2017/06/10-things-not-to-say-to-an-adoptee/