And she was. She was a modern woman, and you’re not sure how you felt about it. She didn’t come over anymore, early in the morning, her hair pulled back tightly in a ponytail on the back of her head, ready to play whatever silly games you and the rest of gang concocted. No, she didn’t even cross Kimball Street anymore, going through her backyard and out onto Haden Avenue when leaving the neighborhood. You would wave to her, sometimes, when she would be getting the mail or helping her mom in the garden, and she wouldn’t wave back. Her face would drop to the ground pretending not to see you, or she would hide behind her mom or even… Continue >>
Gaze at my eyes. What do you see? The sunny amounts of happiness will first warm your heart. But then, you’ll be able to tell. Because only time will tell, shedding layers of my fake life. The dark, deep midnight of the core of my soul can be seen from where I see. Every day, I speak closer and closer to my secret and past that I’ve tried so desperately to hide. Tossing away such events isn’t so easy. When someone asks me, “how was your day?”, I smile broadly — a fake smile — and state the lie, ‘fine.’ Fibbing through my teeth. A tear drops. Falling silently to the ground. The lost pictures stare at me, glaring through… Continue >>
The smell of frying bacon was coming from the kitchen, but Sam stayed where he was. He glanced at his face in the mirror over the fireplace as if seeing it for the first time. Then he looked at the rest of the room, over his reflection’s shoulder; the two old armchairs, the long dining table and the sideboard, upon which rested the big mahogany wireless. Sam liked everything about that wireless. He liked its solid chunkiness, the big wooden dials and the window with its red needle, which lit up when you turned the set on. He thought of the programmes he listened to in the evening, sometimes with Keith, sometimes with all the family. There was ‘Dick Barton,… Continue >>
Such a shame, a brilliant mind like that. So sad he’ll never talk again. What a grand life he led, full of promise – until the accident. Damn fools. All of them. Accident indeed! Had but one of them truly paid attention, he would have known that nothing I do is by chance, just as I choose my silence now. If only one of them proved worthy of my words, I would speak. But I have you loyal little fellas now. You listen, don’t judge, understand. Morning Jenkins, Orville, Maximus. The weathered gnomes – now almost completely shrouded by the onslaught of weeds – do not move. I stroke Orville’s once snow-white beard: top to bottom, gently, slowly, over and… Continue >>