A mum, a friend to many and I love to explore dark themes and taboos in my writing. I am an optimist with a dark side...
Hope you enjoy! I appreciate all likes, comments - and please share if you'd like more people to see my work.
A new version of life
Since the pandemic struck, life was now a series of circles. These circles were a mandatory and enforceable part of everyday life, and seemed to represent the circles of life itself, of life, and death. To some, it was like Dante’s nine circles of Hell. They were in purgatory.
An inconvenient apocalypse
The blood splashed all over the side of my face, ran down my neck and dripped onto my shoulder. I was nearly sick then and there, but I had to get moving. I didn't have any clothes on, you see, and I had to find something quickly so that I could get out of here pronto. All around me was chaos and screaming, but I had no time to get scared. I needed clothing fast, and a weapon; whatever I could get my hands on quickest.
Stan didn’t remember getting the invitation, which was strange, because the yellowing piece of paper was what he had restlessly been playing with on his way to the party. Where exactly? His body seemed to know, so he just let his feet take him, through alleyways and subways, and down staircases. He folded the invitation this way and that, between fingers which rarely kept still. Strong knuckles on clean hands. Neither could be said for his conscience or character. Stan had not lived a kind life. He liked to look out for himself, above all else. The invitation was pleasingly tactile to the touch, though he couldn’t place why. A slight shine, and a strangely soft feel to the paper. At least, he assumed it was paper. How could it be anything else?
The lady of the moon
She bathed alone in the lake, in the light of the moon, basking in its glow. The power it gave her was not something that you or I would ever be able to explain or understand. This power enlivened her, invigorated her, made her strong. It made her fearless, able to do what she craved every time the moon was at its fullest and brightest.
Swingers and roundabouts
The party is in full swing. Well, as full swing as this kind of swinger's house party is likely to get, you think to yourself. You take another swig of your vodka and coke, and survey the room with your eyes, noticing everything, missing nothing. It is lively enough. Just the usual imbalance - as usual - of men and women. Many more single men than anyone else, prowling around, or hanging back shyly at the edges of the large main room. You clock the host, a well-dressed, attractive man who offers you a smile and a raise of his glass, to which you offer one in return.
Living the dream
Carole finished her essay and breathed out, puffing out her cheeks. She swigged the last of her cold coffee and rested her forehead on her hands, pulling her unwashed hair away from her face. She was utterly exhausted. But the essay was done, finally.
"We need to talk"
"I'll see you later. We need to talk." How can four little words instil such fear and trepidation? It's astonishing really. He feels the sweat gathering, creating a sheen around his neck and face. He claws at his collar and loosens his tie; the world feels very tight, all of a sudden.