The last of the golden leaves had fallen. The sun cruelly shone golden, piercing Mari’s eyes with no warmth to penetrate her fleece layers as she hiked up to her cottage on the hill. Blinded she shielded her eyes with her worn fleece sleeve as she turned the key in the lock. The air within her home burned her face with a chilly sting so she hurriedly slammed the door and pulled matches from her pocket. She always enjoyed the making of her fire and it was not long before the room became warm. Having once been a farmer’s croft, Mari’s home was small and snug with low ceilings and thick sturdy walls. “Bijoux” her sister would have sarcastically said, and likened it to a hovel but for Mari it was haven. She enjoyed solitude.
Agent 9 wakens to the sharp, blue ocean that is Mimi’s unblinking eyes and the rolling wave of vibrating sound designed by nature to hypnotise. Trance like, Agent 9 lifts herself out of bed to the sound of a joyful meow and the pad of determined feet as she makes her way to the kitchen. While preparing breakfast she thinks about how much she loves Mimi, her only companion and her only family. An affiliation diligently constructed to protect herself and the life that she has chosen.
It was the end of me but strangely too, the beginning of my story. As people stood around me, the mist lay low encircling their feet, but it did not lie as low as me.
Jane still felt like the new starter after six months in her job. Her lack of experience was telling when she began her work practice. Jane had spent her twenties cleaning various hotel bedrooms around her region always moving on to find better work conditions. Now approaching her forties Jane had through a bereavement, undertaken voluntary work in the Samaritan organisation to give back to them, a thank you, for their support when she was grieving. After which she went to college to study to become a trained counsellor.
This is my story of a teenage friendship that only took place on the way to school. Unlikely really given it was thirty minutes a day at the most and it was between the beautiful girl and the plain Jane. Like fish and cake a weird concept to put together yet surprisingly it worked.
It was just a feeling, not even a thought that I was aware of. Just a feeling that started to physically determine itself in long nights that attacked my ability to sleep and relax. With each turn of my shoulder, each smarting, blink of my eyes, and a little less sleep one thought would be followed by another and then another until my head was full of uncontrollable pictures of the past and of the future.