Everytime I took the Color Quiz I got the same results even though my life changed so much over the months since I first tried it. Self absorbed, seeking sexual satisfaction, emotionally distant, needing approval, always in relationships yet unconnected and vulnerable. This didn't make any sense.
I was happily married (three years) everyone said I was a really kind hearted generous woman, very friendly and open with friends and strangers alike.
After our anniversary meal, Tom wiped his mouth on the linen napkin and sighed. I liked to see he enjoyed all the hours I spend in a small,...
Lola, she was a dancer... something about flowers in her hair or was it her underwear? He couldn't actually remember the lyrics to the song or who sang it, but the melody pounded in his brain like a ballpeen hammer. What the hell was he going to do? Lola was a crappy name anyway. What the hell did it stand for? Lolita? Margola? Or some sort of anagram, or whatever the hell it was when you smushed the first letters of a bunch of words together for the sake of brevity. All he knew was that Lola, whatever it stood...
The old woman was lying on the park bench underneath layers of musty old coats, pink v-sweaters (four) and thermal underwear, not only yellowed but stained. It was hard to discern if she was skinny beneath all that or fat as her head was covered with a stripey blue and yellow scarf so only two black eyes were visible when we shook her awake.
She didn't show any emotion or even interest when she viewed the photograph. Her family were waiting in the car, giving her some time and space to take in they had been looking for her all...
“Pob lwc.” the elder of Saint Joseph’s had wished me, after his strange warning. I presumed he meant for my first Mass to be held, as traditional, at Midnight on Christmas Eve. It went well, the service, with a fuller than expected attendance, to see the ‘new man’, I presumed.
Later, sat still in just the candle light, I sighed, thinking I’d found a final home. It was then that the Bwgan Fawr sighed too. A man of middling years, he seemed, from one of the middling centuries, but as translucent as chip paper fat.
He pointed at the great...
The episodes were getting more frequent. I'd forget where I was. Friends looking at me strangely as I carried on conversations finished ten minutes ago. Losing my new phone. Girlfriend called off our holiday, fed up of getting ignored. The tests showed it wasn't epilepsy. I felt strangely calm as though it was meant to be.
During my time away I lived a different life, on a different plane. Soon I knew it would be my permanent home.
I could hear dad's voice at a distance, feel mom's hand on mine. Fear.
I was slipping away in the hospital bed....
The mail box never had anything I wanted so I went onto the next home. Usually I picked up a few interesting pieces from No 6, it was a busy household. But no 4 only ever contained a thin airmail so I knew there wasn't any cash. Until last Sunday that is. Brown envelope, thick. Tore it open around the corner of the block, $2,000.
I never realised the significance of what I'd done, not that day, nor that week. But first week in February I knew I was in trouble. The house had been under surveillance. Not by the...
The writers club - writer's club? writers' club? - started amicably enough. Geoff (Murder Mysteries and Historical romps) had searched his family tree back to the 1500s. Seranne (interesting name. A story there...) was nervious that we'd fit round the long raised table, with laptops and notepads, etc, and threw the odd curt look at the young couple inhabiting the corner, uninvited, and unaware. Jen set to work, with numerous hand written notes, while Rachel tapped discreetly away on her duck egg blue Huddl; only the second I'd ever seen not forlornly sat on a Tesco back shelf. Non-fiction and...
It was rather like being a ghost. Vicarious snooping. A social media haunting (stalking?). The only way to keep in touch with the untouchable children, who were no longer part of life. Maybe, the FaceBook groups should have been diplomatically UNLIKEd, given that they were only there because of previous parental responsibilities. Or the Messenger App blocked, due to ocassional earthquake requests, unsettling and unfooting in their simple, direct, but untimely demands.
Finding out a once was daughter has the lead in her drama group's next production, via accidental browsing of a stream. Realising another was home from university, only...
The conversation lasted two words: "Too much." Too much pain? Too much regret? Too much suffering. And who's? From twenty nine hour a day parenting to none, in the space of one brief, bitter phone call. "We don't want to live with you, Dad. We want to live with Mam, fulltime." And then a long overdue pause of a pregnancy, waiting for the response. Not sure if it would be explosive rage, reprisals and recriminations, or sad acceptance. All that came was the dialing tone. It spoke more eloquently than any words would have done. One more abandonment, in a...
Puck looked at the watch and pondered on the nature of time.
It was almost as fickle as he was.
What marriage - or a good binding spell brought on by too many intoxicants and a serious lack of judgement - had bound together, time would tear asunder. At least it would if Puck had anything to do with it. Robin Goodfellow was not a fairy that would remain tied by one woman for long, no matter how fun that bondage might be.
Buttercup lay frozen on the bed, a beautific smile lightened features that would otherwise have appeared harsh...