Part 1 & Part 2 "Thank you, I'll be okay." She reassured the woman by her side. "This happens sometimes. I shouldn't have been standing in the middle of the aisle like that. Honestly, it's fine." The kind lady's frown relaxed into a smile and she took the fallen woman's hands to help her up … Continue reading Platforms & aisles (3)
Part 1 "Oh, sorry!" The wayward wheels of a trolley plunged into her ankles, causing her to stumble; shattering the isolation she had enclosed herself within. Pain seared up her shins and her thighs. - An alarm blared. Red lights swung lucidly, signalling a breach on the track. If the delays were not bad enough, … Continue reading Platforms & aisles (2)
The station was rammed with impatient thoughts commuting to and from every nerve ending in my body. Colossal screens blinkered with new information every two minutes or so; the fluorescent orange text stinging my retinas. Several delays had been announced and the transport centre was yet to decide when normal service would be up and … Continue reading Platforms & aisles (1)
I recognise the girl in the mirror. Her flaws, regrets and wishes. How negative thoughts precede and follow the good ones. She thinks and breathes in breezes, gales, thunderstorms and tsunamis. She blinks and echoes of sunlight fill her misty eyes - crystal spots of sight, the light at the end of every tunnel. Every … Continue reading Unfinished tunnels
If I could I would register myself as two people, if there was a register for such things. A register of people who do not always know themselves; the person in the mirror looks the same but uses a different name. They never tell you this name so you would have to register them as … Continue reading Unknown and I
Small and feral. Green knees and knotty hair, Nanny’s little devil; bumbling without a care along the concrete stones with mossy edges and busy ant homes. How she longed to be feather light, paper transparent and magical within and without. To blink and merge with vivid climbers scaling varnished heights. Her tissue paper skin grazed … Continue reading The Fairy Garden
The fourth most liked piece in 2018 on My Screaming Twenties A Recovery Letter Dear You, I am writing this for the both of us. Not because I am not yet on the other side of the darkness but because there is no other side or quick fix. Your recovery is a journey. The … Continue reading A Recovery Letter [Top 5 of 2018]
One Boxing Day I wrote about a father and son visiting a grave. I hoped with my words I could manifest enough love or tape to fix the hurt they no doubt felt. Since then, I’ve learnt the holes in human hearts cannot be darned like socks. The holes we make are not always perfect … Continue reading Without Strings
After failing to heed my therapist’s advice not to open them all at once, I stopped. I cleared away the mess ‘Friendship’, ‘Love’ and ‘Work’ had made and left ‘Childhood’ on the table. It stayed like that for days; like a baby elephant in the room with all of the gold edges becoming unstuck. A … Continue reading Four Boxes: Childhood
There were two boxes left. I was surrounded by layers of paper, glitter crumpled candy canes and velvet red. The mess which is left you when endeavour to delve a little deeper. ‘Work’ and ‘Childhood’ remained. The snowflaked blue box is cold to touch and the ink on the label is smudged. This box frightens … Continue reading Four Boxes: Work
