Karl J. Claridge
Stories (2/0)
Swan Song
“Betty?...Betty?” The words of the man’s gently, questioning voice echoed softly, not only, in the old woman’s ears but, easily throughout her mind. The moment felt distinctly familiar to her, but it wasn't here it was somewhere else and had happened…somewhere else? Try as she might she couldn't put her finger on it. Where was it she was thinking of again…? Was it a few weeks... or a few years ago? She couldn’t ‘quite’ remember. How frustrating to find the specific chronology temporarily eluding her, skirting along the tip of her tongue, in addition to around the corridors of her memory, much like Theseus, using his ball of yarn, slowly negotiating his way around the Minotaur's labyrinth. All she had to do, to remember, she reminded herself was to untangle the wool. This was in complete contrast as to how she actually felt though, which was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, as fresh and as clear to her now, as it was, whenever that was, that she’d felt these things before.
By Karl J. Claridge3 years ago in Humans
Time For Love
David was, it would be fair to say, that which many might consider to be, a surprisingly unremarkable man. In fact, some might go as far to state that he was the kind of man who you could meet at least half a dozen times before finally recalling that you’d ‘quite possibly’ met him once before.
By Karl J. Claridge3 years ago in Humans