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Birdsong

The music almost kills me today.

It is a childhood memory. The song that would play as my father hunted and brought local wildlife to the garage. It would play as I cried for my mother, begging her not to go to work. Terrified of spending time with this hulk of a man.

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The Sands of Time

Time is catching up with us once more.

We run towards the safety of the hills, another time-stop due any minute. All around us we see plants no longer wavering in the breeze, clouds rolling to a halt, footsteps now silent as we run.

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The Path of Lights

Something outside the tent wakes her.

Her boyfriend is asleep and immovable, despite the music still playing outside. She clambers over him to find a string of lights outside their tent, weaving across the festival field and out into the woods beyond.

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Say it with Flowers

The flowers are delivered without a message or recipient.

The husband immediately accuses his wife of having an affair, and in turn she accuses him of having the very same. Before long it has escalated into a vicious argument, where years of unsaid truths are hurled at each other in unison, culminating in him wanting a divorce, further culminating in her also wanting a divorce.

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Enjoy the Silence

For two years the noises are inside my head, an inescapable ringing and buzzing that the consultants are unable to correct. Test results show the condition to be slowly worsening, and my days are spent craving a silence, an escape from the internal ringing that keeps me awake and unable to function.

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Pack Your Bags

They argue over everything, especially when it comes to packing the car.

Her approach is to plan ahead and pack methodically, whereas he grabs items on sight and packs with brute force.
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Downhill all the Way

As children my brother and I would go cycling together, hoping to discover the infinite downhill loop that was rumoured to be hidden within the country roads of our childhood.

We knew it to be impossible – a route that was downhill all the way, bringing you back to the start without an uphill stretch. An urban legend of the countryside, a geographical impossibility. Still we searched, happy with our own company and the goal we knew to be impossible.
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The Observers

We watch her from the safety of the forest.

Every morning she wanders out into her yard, placing the cups on the three fence posts before returning back inside. Here they remain untouched until nightfall. No animal ever comes to drink from them, and no human ever visits the cottage where they are placed.

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The Urge

Approaching the edge of the rooftop, I experience an urge to jump off.

It is a common sensation for me, especially when scavenging the upper floors of the abandoned hotels. It is referred to as high place phenomenon, typified by the healthy desire to jump whenever close to an edge. This urge is a result of contradictory signals generated by the brain – the backing away from an edge, which in turn reinforces the conclusion that you were possibly going to jump.

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The Human Arcade

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The amusement arcade is at the far end of the pier, a remnant facing the sea, paintwork
windswept and faded.

Despite it being summer season the building is deserted, the air inside like stale bread. Arcade cabinets line the walls, tightly packed and arranged in a maze-like formation. Some are still operational and fill the room with colour, with multiple jingles competing against each other.

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