The message wakes him with a start, glaring at him like some terrible urban legend.
On his bedside table is a slate mug, and on it a message written in chalk. Normally the message is written by his wife as she leaves for work, something for him to wake up to and keep for the rest of the day.
Continue reading “Wake-up call”
The search for Natasha lasts for three days.
On the third night we gather on the beach for a service of remembrance. Symbolic ashes are cast into the ocean as we sing the old songs of the sea. A prayer of thanks is said for the volunteers who protect us from the uncertain waters.
Continue reading “The Shallows”
We reach the next signpost and find our initials carved into the wood, confirming our suspicion that we have been walking round in circles, despite taking instruction from the signs.
Continue reading “Labyrinth”
It is late in the day at the playground. I sit under the shadow of wooden statues and metallic structures.
Continue reading “A Question of Parenting”