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Push the envelope.

17 Aug

Go to the Espy.

15 Aug

The Espy was here, the music was here, he was here….but SHIT it felt different. Jesus. Where was Ross? Neil? The chick behind the bar he liked? The punter next to him smelled like soap, for fuck’s sake.

The band wasn’t too bad though. Everyone around him was taller…no joke, so he couldn’t see as well as he used to. Christ maybe he was shrinking. Ha ha.

Boom! There was Neil after all. Pissed as a fart as usual.

OY, GAZ mate“, slap hands. Neil smelled like roll-yer-owns, bless him.

“Didn’t know you was out. Wanna go for a smoke?”

“Yeahmate”, Gaz led the way out. The carpet was still sticky under his boots. All good.



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Get comfy.

13 Aug


Come up for air.

4 Aug

He liked to pretend he was dead. In the deep end, he’d blow the air out of his lungs and sink slowly to the bottom. His toes would touch first, then his knees, and finally his hands. He never sank any further but remained poised, as if ready to spring.

As if springing into the abyss.

So far nobody had seen him do this,  at least no-one had tried to save him. Perhaps they had seen, but had chosen to look away. He saved himself, pushing upwards to break the surface with a rush of intake, the second, third and fourth breaths bringing him to a state close to happiness. Uplifting, literally.

It was a shame he couldn’t share his trick with the family.

Kill only what you eat.

2 Aug

It was a huge day for everyone. Being the youngest, she had to crawl under scrub to pull out a couple of the dead birds. The the red clay dust clogged her nose and coloured her skin.

The river bed was dry, but Wallace said he could smell the rains coming. They’d have to shift camp to higher ground before dark. This news was received stoically by the men, but not by Violet.

“I badly need a wash and a stiff gin before dinner” she said, “I’m drawing flies”.

The future is unwritten.

28 Jul

Oh she was happy, and full of anticipation for her life ahead. The joy welled up in her so suddenly that she could barely breathe. How fortunate I am, she thought.

It was the warm Spring of 1914 and she was fourteen today. The new century was young and Bessie was young, and they were both absolutely perfect. She made a promise to herself to remember forever how she felt today.


Lighten up.

27 Jul

There” she said, “that looks perfect with your minimal colour palette”. She tilted her head to one side, narrowing her eyes. “Actually…you know I think you could go a shade lighter”.

Emma bent double to reach the Dior sample under the counter. “Try this”, she straightened up, “Scarlet is so on-trend”.

Why didn’t these people wear colour, she wondered. There’s so much black here you’d swear someone had died.

Take a step back.

20 Jul

Damn…he’d done it again.

He tried giving the problem his whole attention, going over it again and again until he was dizzy. His situation was getting worse, if anything. He felt immobilised, frozen.

Where did he go wrong? How did he get here? If he could go back and start again…what would he do differently?

Stop the self-talk.

16 Jul

There she was again.

If he pulled up would she freak and run? Maybe she’d smile…even stop and chat for a bit. What does it take before a chick knows you’ve made it big time? The car?…the cashmere?…the Rolex? Maybe never; she was always up herself at school.

“Stuck up bitch”, whispered Amal as the light turned green.

Praise the saints among us.

15 Jul

Sometimes at night, between three and four she called out. The city was dark and mostly silent…empty. “OY!” she’d yell, “GOTHAM CITY”, and “I KNOW WHERE THE ANGELS ARE”.

There were halos around the lights, and someone sang a song for her nearby. God bless, God bless us all.