All Stories

Ignoring the world, I walk, head down, straight through a puddle. 

Cold, rain water soaks my trainers, because I couldn’t find my boots. I also forgot my best friend’s present, ruined a cake, missed the first train and probably left something on that’ll burn down the house.

Today, I’m out of sync with the universe.

When the next train arrives late, the window offers me a reflection that looks like a wet poodle.

The doors hiss open, people gather around but rather than bumping me, someone steps aside.

I look up.

A strangers smiling face nudges me back in sync.

A traveller stands still in a rushing crowd, like a stone in a river, forcing people to go around them.

Looking up at the departures board, the traveller considers where to go. North to the wild mountains, South to the rolling downs, East to the continent, or West to the open sea.

But every time the traveller envisages getting on the train, feeling the surge of adrenaline as it moves off to an unknown land, the traveller is overwhelmed by the thought of home.

But no train can take the traveller home.

The traveller must wait for home to arrive.

Hearing the rush of water, I walk to the stony edge. The black river plunges down the valley, racing toward the sea. Toward you.

Why can’t I go where the waters rush, under the dark sky? Why can’t I let fate carry me, like the current carries that leaf? I’d float round the bends, searching for your smile.

The waters race on nearly as desperate to reach you as I am.

Maybe you’re listening to the river too. Maybe you’ll catch these thoughts as they sail by. Maybe I’ll commandeer a boat and escape downstream.

But are you even there?

The moment when a phone call ends, you don’t want to finish, but life cuts in.

He says, “Bye.”  

You say, “Bye.”

Then there’s this pause.

The moment when the train arrives, the doors hiss open. She gets up to leave and you hug her goodbye a little longer than normal.

She says, “Bye.” 

You say “Bye.”

Then there’s this pause.

You meet a friend on the bus, but too soon it’s their stop.

They say “Bye.” 

You say, “Bye.”

Then there’s this pause. A silent infinity, filled with everything unsaid, when time has run out and words aren’t enough.

Getting away from the grey pavements and the close streets, I stomp through wide-open fields and empty hedgerows, under a vast, blue sky.

I feel lonely, but free.

The cold morning creates a magical world. My breath hangs in the air, like dragon’s breath. The pale grass is still frosted from last night. In the sun it glistens like sparkling pixies skating on ice. 

But of course, it’s all an illusion. The frost will melt, the pixie lights extinguish, the clouds return, and the freedom of the wide-open space will be limited by the next place I have to be.

The Good Fairy sends three and a half brothers on a quest for a party.

She drops them at a magical door that opens to reveal a tunnel. Daring to traverse it, the brothers find a cavernous room; at the centre is a chest.

Little Scamp and Half-Giant, sort through the treasures, whilst the Eldest and Middle, venture further on.  

In the heat of the dragon’s lair, they rescue a friendly witch, liberate food and a cake and return to the cavern.

Little Scamp and Half-Giant have hung the treasures just in time for the party to begin.

Quest accomplished.

The Message Tree squats like a heavy-weight lifter. In its wide, scabby trunk is a hollow, where the inhabitants of the Forest drop their letters. Replies grow like fruit.

Posting your third unanswered message, you sigh. You’ve been waiting days and walking through the clearing every few hours, just to check.

You know he cares, but maybe not enough. Giving into the weight in your gut, you sink down.  

Maybe something’s happened! No. He’s just too busy running his Kingdom.

Life carries on outside the Forest. Still, you wait; for him to care enough or for you to care less.

You fall for his smile, but he doesn’t even stumble. Something squeezes your chest, tightening every time you think of him.

It’s like an elastic band is wrapped round your heart.

With time the elastic loosens, and other things seem important again. But then you see him. All it takes is, “Hey,” and, “I’ll see you tomorrow”. You hold your breath. The elastic tightens.

But you don’t see him tomorrow, or the next day. The elastic loosens, because it’s not tied to him, it’s only wrapped round you.

Maybe one day it’ll slip off completely, but not whilst you hold on.

An accident forces me to take the scenic route. Over roller-coaster, country roads, a sleek, black pickup follows too close.  

We’re stopped at unmanned road works. The temporary lights stuck on red. Tapping fingers on the steering wheel, I expect the pickup to overtake. But it doesn’t.

The lights eventually turn green.

But round the next bend a mountain of hay trundles at 20mph. The pickup still follows.

It’s like a stray dog, unwelcome at first, but now part of this silly adventure. But at the next round-about we part ways never to know, even if we do meet again.

In a crow-black sky hangs a white-sun. A face made from shadow calls to me. Wide fluffy stairs, the colour of driven snow, descend to earth, like the steps of St Paul’s. They invite me up to a world of absolute beauty, of black and white.

But when I get there, I find a cold place. Still beautiful, but empty. Empty except for a million silver pinpricks moving away like friends once loved, now lost.

The white-sun is only a mirror, reflecting the yellow one I left below.  It’s heart, is a grey rock that, has forgotten how to love.