One of my stories has made its way over to The Drabble. It’s always very exciting to have something published on another site.
During low tide we search for remnants of the conflict.
Every day brings with it a new surprise, gifts from the battle upstream. Metallic objects washing up on the shore, many of them unfamiliar and no longer of use. Military uniforms floating by like leaves. Body parts settling in oily reflections.
Continue reading “Low Tide”
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.
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.
The change of season approaches. Colours fade and make way for the new. A chill now strokes at our skin.
Continue reading “Harvest”
Approaching the edge of the rooftop, I experience an urge to jump off.
It is a common sensation, 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.
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.