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The Human Condition – Chapter Two

The underground is dark, dank and chaotic. It has a distinctive smell of stone and moss which is hard to ignore; a dirty, earthy smell that makes me miss being above ground. I miss running barefoot and lying down in the sunlight, climbing trees and swimming in the river. This particular room smells of damp, but that’s no surprise, the underground is always damp. But it’s home and we’re safe here.

This room has water trickling down the rock face, splashing into a rock pool below. It’s a kind of therapeutic sound, a sound that used to keep me up at night. Today it keeps my mind off the fact that it’s freezing in here and my arms are more goosebumps than skin. It’s colder in here than most rooms, but it’s private and it’s far enough away from the others that we won’t wake them.

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The Human Condition – Chapter One

There are two certainties in my life: One that everything in the New Order is perfect and two, that everything isn’t real.

It is the same structured start to the same beautiful day. Just like yesterday was and just like the days to come will be. This I am sure of. This I am confident is the truth. I have witnessed this same day almost like a deja vu, every day since I can remember, it is constant, unfaltering, all of it so reliable and yet somehow, so unfamiliar.

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The Black Planet

‘Indefinitely discharged’ the form read, its red letters printed with a finality that burnt the sentence fiercely into the iris of my eyes. What a mess; I read the words back again as though they were likely to have been mistaken the first two times. I fingered the release and shipment papers I’d been handed, turning them over in my hands. The papers were ironically a task I used to handle myself. Unnecessary they were to us now, as they would be of no value where we were heading. I straightened and flattened the sheets uneasily, my hands unaccustomed to being shackled together.

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The Gypsy Curse

A woman approaches me. She is a solid creation; a prided member of these supposed travellers. The kind we are warned about and told to avoid. We keep our children close and our hands on our purses; we warn our sons about their daughters, these beautiful enchantresses and warn our own daughters not to believe the ‘mystic’ ramblings of such delirious old folk. This woman is one of them. She is a gypsy woman.

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The Time In-between – Chapter Four

The props were being cleared out. Alex would have offered a hand, but the large muscular men didn’t appear to be struggling with the heavy stage equipment. Plus in all honesty, she really did enjoy watching them lift. Instead she made her way through the back and to the centre of the operation where her father stood reading over what she could only assume were blueprints.

        “I bought you a coffee” she said, leaning over and kissing him on the cheek, her eyes dropping to the fresh cup he was already holding in his hand. She sat it down on the table.

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Shreds of Satin

“It’s just too complicated.”

Amid a pile of folders and loose sheets of paper Claire pops her head up from the floor, just visible above the desk she throws a wad of pages on top of an already well papered surface.

“Uh-huh, yep,” Anna is absent from the conversation.

Claire knocks over a stack of catalogues.

“Sorry what is?” Anna concerned with her own task of untangling a batch of sample ribbons, glances over towards her desk, which now looks like a filing cabinet has exploded on it. She spots a familiar document on the table. “Oh no, not the white lily order? It was supposed to be in Wednesday, it’s got to have four days notice-”

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Extraordinary Little Cough

I finally re-joined the group after what could only be described as the most awkward walk ever, I settled myself next to Peggy who right now couldn’t keep her eyes of Sidney. She had gone all eyelash-fluttering and appeared to be finding everything Sidney had to say extremely hilarious. Laughter is a must to show a guy you’re into them. Just then Brazell had got up from where he was sitting and came and sat down on my left.

“What about a bit of fire?” Brazell said in his deep husky voice. Swoon.

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A heavy brow upon her face
Her expression like plaster is frozen still,
Vulnerable, she has no place here to hide
She has decided not to.

Murky oils trickle down around her
She is swallowed up by the encroaching darkness,
She shields herself from you
Yet will not be intimidated.

Her jaw will tremble not an inch
As she sits there in her natural form,
She does not shy away
And will not.

She knows who she is.


Here’s a moist black stone
out of place
and company,
a stranded
upturned little pebble

From last night’s sudden rainfall;
it’s shell dew-like,
onyx like your Grandmother’s oval ring
just sitting,
in December’s frost laden garden.

Continue reading “Beetle”

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