Grayson Clayton
Bio
'02 | he/they | UK
Stories (5/0)
When Did We Last See Each Other?
Pulling into a space alongside the pavement, I kill the engine and slump in my seat. I was told about this less than a fortnight ago. I put everything on hold to be here, to support my family, and I find myself sincerely regretting that decision. What did they ever do for me? What do I owe them? The last time I’d seen any of them was at the last wedding and I don’t like to talk about that.
By Grayson Clayton3 years ago in Fiction
The Sky At Night
Why can we never see the stars at night in the city? I know the scientific reason. Lights from the intersections full of night-time road trippers, the “baby, I’ll be right over”s and “sorry I’ll be late home”ers polluting the skies. Windows with the curtains drawn right back let rays of artificial electricity into the night to stop us seeing natures light. But why does this have to be? I love the stars. I love the moon. I want them back.
By Grayson Clayton3 years ago in Fiction
Driving
Metres and metres of tarmac shot under the tires as we cruised down country roads. With my big brother driving and our two best friends in the backseat, life couldn't be better. Everything that had troubled me in the last week was left behind us. Windows rolled down, I found myself singing along to the blaring radio, something I hadn’t had it in me to do for a while.
By Grayson Clayton3 years ago in Fiction
Faultlines
There’s a crack in the ice now, come all at once and splitting the mirrored surface like a frozen fault line. I am frustrated. I’ve been enjoying the reflections of the stormy sky, admiring them for hours and hours as they waltzed with one another. They flirted constantly, flashing all their blues and their greens; colours you wouldn’t notice if you did not pay them enough attention, merely glancing as others would. They were exhibitionists and confident in their beauty, rewarding you if you admired them for long enough, if you were willing to look gormless as you stared. They were rewarding me most of all, producing flakes of snow like tears of gratitude.
By Grayson Clayton3 years ago in Psyche