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Her Father’s Garden

She will set fire to the garden, to bring her father back.

It is day sixteen of the heatwave. The lawn is a tinderbox ready to spark. Shrivelled flowerbeds are perfect kindling.
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Monsters in the Closet

We spend our days playing in the closet.

In our imagination it is a spaceship, a doorway to other worlds, a portal that can travel through time. In the darkness we act out our fantasies, constructing the characters of our narrative. We play with the treasures that surround us – costumes in boxes, paperwork on shelves, trinkets that remind us of our parents.

We play all day in the closet, waiting for the door to be unlocked once more.
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Fancy Dress

A timid knock at the door.

Trick or Treat!

I open the door to find two Triffids standing on the doorstep. Costumes of incredible detail. Textures organic. Flower heads glistening under pumpkin lanterns.

Trick or Treat! they repeat.
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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 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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