The carer arrive promptly, on the hour. On crossing the threshold she shoulders my duties for the afternoon. She drops her bulging handbag at Mum’s slippered feet. “Hello, luv,” she says to the tiny figure corralled by the zimmer frame….
Making Moves
Image by Jörg Peter from Pixabay Snatches of the Isley Brothers filter through the cafe’s open door. Sitting with her Americano, ‘Who’s That Lady?’ stealthily absorbs her mind conjuring discos, heat and heartache. Sixth-form disco, twelve-thirty. Hall curtains closed against the strong summer…
A Summer Retirement, Maybe
Image by Jörg Peter from Pixabay When a witch decides to hang up her broom, it is best she does so quietly and disappears. Else she will find she is disappeared and her broom stolen. And nobody was doing that to Griselda. She…
Blossom
I sat in the huddle with the others around the desk. Bleary-eyed and mind elsewhere, I nearly missed the ward sister’s instruction. “… and staff nurse will supervise when you dress the wound.” Her voice was clipped. Perfunctory. My pulse…
The Eccentric Tourist
My gaoler reminds me of Odette. She smiles a little. Sometimes. For the thousandth time I ask her where I am. “I’ll tell you that when you tell us who you work for.” Her voice isn’t harsh anymore, just tired….
Hands and Rings and Other Things
I stare at the back of my hand, so sun-damaged, resembling stained parchment. It is the same but different. It is mine, but I don’t want to own it. The veins peek out, trailing blue rivulets and my once-slim fingers…
