Watch me soar into my wooden overcoat before you screw it shut.
Don’t let me fly away. Tie my legs together if you must. With double knots. To be safe.
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The ring had slowly cut into her finger several times over the last thirty years. Each time weary grey skin had reached across that seemingly impassable silver river corrupted by long red threads that seeped past her knuckles.
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I cry for the girl in the pictures on my walls, made of sunshine, who danced among poppy flower fields, finding magic in every heart-shaped rock she would find for her mother.
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It is only when time comes to a standstill that your world begins to move.
A lift, a selfie, a jolt. The lights falter, and darkness saunters in. Amidst the chaos of the everyday, life has paused.
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It started as a challenge to form a habit, but now it has become much more. My morning walks keep me grounded. While I walk, I float in the spectrum of colours that surround me. Most of the elements of my daily existence have seen a major shift, but the silence of the mornings has travelled with me across boundaries.
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Dear Santa,
This Christmas is colder than last time. I heard you give the naughty children coal but I would like some too if you can. The fireplace has not been used in a while and it will help with warming Gran. She is very poorly and does not like all the blankets we put on her.
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I can see them now, deep brown, rich chocolate swirled in an effervescence of golden delicate honey liquid tones the two black dots float daintily, static, in the pools of my universe.
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There is a black hole. It swallows and grumbles and demands attention. But you cannot cave. Staring into the darkness will get you nowhere – it cannot relinquish what was taken, cannot give gifts.
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‘I don’t want much,’ she says as she takes your hand, runs her thumb over your knuckles, weaves magic into your skin, ‘I just want –’
But she stops, blushes. The radio crackles, Dusty Springfield’s voice replacing hers.
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Beneath Charlie’s dreadlocks and tie dye lurked something unusual, though few ever noticed. He would smile, smoke a joint and mess about, but he spent lots of time alone, rather than with the others…
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In a diner of debatable standing, a guy says he caught a fish.
‘That ain’t real. Mine’s bigger,’ says the owner.
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No one seemed to care that the girl ran off with the dragon egg washed up by the shore. It’s not that I think it was wrong, but if I’d known no one would mind I might have nicked it for myself.
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As you gaze at the starlit night, the stars and their history overwhelm you. These are the same stars that have watched empires crumble. The stars that have guided countless wayfarers back home.
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Butterfly eyelids flutter open as a faint breeze caresses my cheeks. Iridescent spirits ride the wind, soaring through spring meadows, skimming wildflowers with pointed toes. I lie on my back amongst the swaying, tall grass in this blessed, abundant landscape, prospering in nature’s rebirth.
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The shed, though now charmingly overgrown, no longer functions as a shed. But at one time it certainly did…
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