The discourse of a mistake
This world, the world enclosed within these walls, not the world beyond the window, just the world within these walls, is a ballroom. Its people are gaudily dressed, horribly mismatched dancers.The orchestra is unseen but its power is unyielding. With the beat of a drum, the stacatto rhythym of an otherly trumpet, dancers are brought together from across a crowded room. Close enough to lace your hand through his hair, near enough to hear her heart’s whisper. Strangers too are soon friends. Hands and feet shimmy together, eyes shine with laughter, hearts weigh heavily the happiness...
Read MoreSundry Sunday Thought
There are no signs pointing out happiness on this road. This road is made up as I go along. It’s not here, not there. I’ve tried to find it in a map book; they’re still scrambling to update their latest edition, or so they say. It’s a gravel road. The pebbles crunch beneath my feet. The sun beats down unrelentingly but the way ahead is unlit. There’s a speed limit but there’s no one crouched in the bushes monitoring it. I’m a little behind on it. Okay, I’m a lot behind on the speed limit. But no one’s watching. It’s a gravel road...
Read MoreWaiting- A Free Writing Challenge
>Parasputin made up the rules: a) choose a topic b) set a timer for 5 minutes c) switch off your monitor to reduce the temptation to edit d) write continuously, no edits I obliged: a) I chose a topic by consulting The Writer’s Block, a little book of ideas interspersed with bits of literary nonsense designed to ‘jumpstart the imagination’. I eventually settled on: b) I set a timer and dug in: The order in the pharmacy irritated me; neatly metred rows of cosmetics, aspirin, Dutch medicine, bandages… Everything was neatly stacked, nothing out of place. And...
Read MoreAll the games we play
They walk toward each other outside the town’s dingy station. It’s five after midnight. The raspy wind nips at them gratuitously, forcing them deeper into their coats. She steels herself, breathing deeply. He still looks like a mischievous boy, she thinks nervously. He draws nearer and she stops, wordlessly prompting him to come towards her. She really has changed, he thinks, a smile tugging at his lips. It’s been too long. He extends his hand invitingly, the tiny specks of amber in his green eyes glinting fiercely, like embers of a banked fire. He knew she knew. She...
Read More"It is beneath human dignity to lose one’s individuality and become a mere cog in the machine." Gandhi
Rebel- The surly,ungroomed, tobacco chewing biker on a road to nowhere with scruffy boots and matted clothes that are a narrative of otherness in a world of people rushing blindly towards a plateau of sameness. But there’s another rebel, softer, a more subtle version, the person who forces their way past boundaries, who challenges socialisation practices, who battles the fiercest opposition from those who mean well but essentially, mean otherwise, these rebels must duck, dive, swim with fish, and find more empathy from hibernating bears and yet trudge through, searching for an...
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