Thursday, 29 April 2010

Jump

How many times had she done this? She wrapped her arms around her body, and huddled in the darkness. But at least it was warm in here, comforting and safe. She’d been out to the edge again and peered over, but she couldn’t see. She’d leaned right over, clinging to tufts of dead grass to stop her from falling, and looked, really looked, but she still couldn’t see. But she could smell, and the air smelled cold and fresh and she wanted to be in it, filling her lungs and shaking out her hair. But it was warm in the dark and her friends lived there. She could hear them calling to her, begging her to come back, ordering her to safety. So she did as she was told. That’s right, they said; you belong here. But she couldn’t forget the smell of the air, and her eyes kept slipping away, wanting to look, wanting to see beyond the edge of her world.

How many times? But this time she didn’t wait for them to talk her down. She didn’t tell them she was going. She got to her feet and began to run. And she ran and ran with her heart pumping and her feet pounding, and she threw herself over the edge and into whatever lay beyond.

Sometimes you’ve got to jump.

Monday, 26 April 2010

Exasperation

Just a little one after what has been a very busy and emotional week...

Exasperation

The fairy said,

"I have been listening to all your weeping and I will grant your wish. Your naughty children will disappear."

Pouff!

"There. Oh, and good luck explaining to everyone where they've gone."


This isn't one of my better efforts, but I promise, really, really promise to have a story later on this week.

Monday, 19 April 2010

Is it just me....

...who finds it really disturbing that my local DIY shop has a shelf of axes anyone can mess with? I picked one up and swung it around my head in the hope that someone would say something. And no one did. Very worrying...

The Axe-man Cometh

I’m telling you, there’s no reason why. It was just another day, that’s all. I woke up, got up, had my breakfast. What? Oh, all right; bacon butties. I always have bacon butties on a Saturday. Mops up the ale from the night before, if you see what I mean. Not that I’d had much. I went down The Horse as usual, but it was boring. Tommy was in there, Tommy Halliday. Fancies himself, does Tommy. Thinks he’s the ‘Alan Sugar’ of Ormskirk, he does. He was giving it yack about some job he’s doing, but I’ve heard it all before, me. So I went back to The Windmill, had a couple, and then went home. Oh yeah, and I went home on me own, before you ask.

Anyway, where’d I get to? Oh yeah, breakfast. Well, I had my breakfast and read the paper like, then I thought I’d better nip and get them nails I need for that job I’m doing for me Mam. Yeah, I’m putting a fence up; yeah. I went down the shop and wandered round, minding my own business like, then I saw this shelf with all these axes on it. And I thought; one of them might come in handy. So I picked one up. And I gave it a little swing, just to see.

And I saw this man, this fat baldy in his trackies waddling past. He was arguing with his missus. He was all red faced and sweaty. He had a right cob on. And his head was very round, very shiny. And I wondered what it would look like. And I wondered what it would feel like, so I raised the axe and smashed his head. It went red and pink with mashed-up bone, his brains like blubber spilling over his shoulders.

Yeah, that’s why I did it; to see how it would look. It’s not my fault, it’s the shop’s. They shouldn’t put things like that out on display. It’s just asking for trouble.

Thursday, 15 April 2010

And another one...

Back again after another eight week long confidence crisis! Here's another flash which didn't win, but hats off to the one that did, it made me laugh! Read it in the current issue of 'Mslexia', it's very, very good x

Harness

My husband loves this harness. He spent ages choosing it. It’s black and patent with silver buckles and pointy studs. When he puts it on, he says “who’s gonna be a good girl now?” as he tightens the strap around my neck. I button my coat up to my chin and follow him to the car, my rubber basque squeaking as I move.
Yes, he loves this harness. He loves to hold it and I have to shuffle round on all fours. This club of his, it’s just a bit of fun, he says. It’s good to be open-minded.
It’s just a bit of fun, and now it’s my turn. I put the strap around his neck. I laughed out loud as I tightened and tightened. His eyes bulged. And just look at the colour of his asphyxiated face. Actually, it isn’t fun; it’s art.
It’s good to be open-minded.
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