Twas A Christmas Before Christmas!

Hey every one hope you are well!

This might be hideously early to say, but as I am not usually one to be excited for Christmas, I’m going to say it anyway:

I am looking forward to Christmas!

I have set up my little Christmas tree and have completed my Christmas shopping (early for once!)

My Nutcracker Son

I have been with my partner for coming on 5 years, and we have never spent Christmas Day together. Mainly because, I don’t see my family as much as I used to, so I would feel disgustingly guilty all day if I were to spend it with my partner and his family. The same goes for him. He spends every boxing day with his family of which the holidays are the only time in the year they all get together. Same goes for me and my family traditions on boxing day.

My Other Nutcracker Son

Although I have managed some years to do both, but that involves travelling from one side of London to the other which is a bit of a pain in the jingle bells.

Anyway, this year we had an overwhelming brainwave. Why not have our own “Christmas Day” together? We looked at eachother as if to say, WHY HAVE WE NEVER THOUGH OF THIS BEFORE?

I love my family, but I always miss my partner on the big day. But this year, we have planned our own! I have bought plates, crackers, napkins, candy canes and more Christmassy things. We will be spending the day watching Christmas movies, drinking Bailey’s and playing Cluedo!

My Fluffy Penguin Son

I feel so blessed to say I will be enjoying the festive season with everyone I love and I am so grateful that I am in a position to do so, for the first time.

I usually suffer with depressive episodes during Christmas and other holidays in which ‘happiness’ is almost expected. It makes me feel guilty, as if I’m doing it wrong, which of course sounds mental.

Anyway, I do hope everyone has a blessed and happy holiday season! I feel so grateful.

Signed,

Jen x

Lost Love: A Short Story

Authors Note: Hello everyone, long time no see! I hope you enjoy this new short story. I do suggest if you don’t enjoy dark stories, maybe give this one a miss. If you do, and you enjoy it, let me know your thoughts and feelings in the comments.

(15 min read)

My knuckles sting as I punch the wall again and again. Blood is seeping into the patterned cream wallpaper. The crimson liquid follows a swirl in the design and for a moment, I am memorised. I stop punching the wall and allow a memory to envelope me. It’s her. She’s sitting on the mini Barbie chair, the one I bought for her 2nd birthday. She looks so beautiful. Her curly blonde mane frames her round face perfectly. Her grey eyes glimmer as she raises her head to look at me. I expect her to smile and giggle as she usually would, but instead her eyes brim with tears and she screams an awful scream. It pierces my heart and shatters the image of her. I try to hold onto the pieces as they scatter around me, but they are too swift and disappear from my reach.

I return my gaze to my bloodied and bruised hand. It’s swollen but I can’t feel a thing. I prodd the open cuts on my knuckles and am disappointed when I feel nothing. After all the blood and effort, I am still numb.

I stiffen as I hear the front door open and close. I wasn’t expecting him back today. I curse myself for not bolting the chain, it would have given me more time to clean the wall and myself. I have no time to hide the empty wine bottles, overflowing ashtray and sort out the sour smell that’s permeating throughout the small living room.

“Andrea? You in?” Lewis calls down the short hallway. I can hear him taking off his jacket and hanging it in the coat cupboard. I silently appreciate him for doing so, he usually throws it over the banister. I try to hide every empty bottle I can find and dump the ashtray out the sliding door that’s still slightly open. I thought I would have time to light a candle or two but Lewis now stands in the doorway, his kind brown eyes fixated on my hand.

“What the… Andi what did you do?” He says as he rushes towards me, taking my hand gently in his. I snatch it away and divert my gaze to the sock laying on the floor. It’s frilly and pink and staring right at me. Lewis is trying to tend to my cuts but I ignore him completely. I’m too busy wondering how the sock got there. Did it fall off her foot as I carried her through to the garden? Or did I just drop it while putting away the washing? Lewis is staring at me and I fear he may somehow see into my mind.

“Nothing, I’m fine. I cut it on…” The lies don’t come easily and for a second that drags on too long, I’m speechless. My mind is thick with cloudy thoughts and broken memories, making it impossible to speak.

“I’ve punched enough walls to know that’s what you’ve done.” He says, placing the palm of his hand against my puffy cheeks. He always knows exactly what I’m up to. But this time, I need to be smart. I consider telling him most of the truth. They say stick as close to the truth as possible, it’s easier to remember the lies that way.

He’s pushing me to tell him why I did it, but I still cant bring myself to say. Instead I close my eyes to block him out, but a rogue tear escapes and he’s quick to wipe it away. His kindness softens me slightly, so I look up into his worried eyes and allow him to embrace me. I feel so safe in his arms. Our bodies have always fit together perfectly, like we were designed for eachother. But Lewis doesn’t know what’s happened. A stab of guilt forces me out of the comfort of his arms, it’s a comfort I no longer deserve. I feel the rift between us widen and I fear the events that occurred this morning will send us hurtling in opposite directions, with no chance of any future reunion.

“Andi, what is the matter? You’re not… surely you can’t be drunk right now can you?” His voice cracks as he spots an empty wine bottle sticking out from the bottom of the sofa. Shit. I need to compose myself. This is going to be absolutely brutal. I take a breath and turn away from him. I’m not strong enough to see his heart break.

“I am drunk. Yes alright I have been drinking and thought I could stop myself after one glass, but clearly I couldn’t. But that…” I pause, I can feel his glare searing into my back.

“That’s not important…”

“That’s not important?!” He booms as he swings me around to face him. His usually gentle hands are now tightly gripped onto my shoulders.

“Do you realise what you’ve done Andrea? Do you? Because I don’t think you do. You’ve just thrown away 6 years of sobriety.” He releases me and walks to the other side of the room. I’m shaking now because this side of him scares me, but I know it’s about to be a million times worse.

“I realise that Lew. I do. I need to tell you something, okay? I need you to sit down. Please.” His eyes flash with worry as he does what I ask. He can sense the urgency in my voice and I can sense the fear in his heart.

“What is it? Is it about one of the girls?” He stands up as the thought of something happening to one of his little girls sends him hurtling towards their room. I struggle to stop him opening the door but he overpowers me easily. It’s empty.

“Where are they?” Lewis asks calmly. I can tell he’s trying so hard to not grab me and shake me until I give him answers. I open my mouth to speak but the words retreat back into my throat. He pushes me hard and I fall to the floor. I don’t blame him. I would burn the city to the ground to find my babies. Especially if my recovering alcoholic Wife relapsed and they were no where in sight.

I decide he’s too angry to tell him here. Lewis is now looking in our bedroom so I take the opportunity to run into the bathroom and lock the door. Within seconds he is pounding on it, demanding to know what I’ve done with our children. I fight the screams that are threatening to erupt and slide down to the floor.

“Lewis, please. I’ll tell you, just please stop shouting at me. I can’t think when you’re shouting.” I hear him take a deep breath and he also slides onto the floor.

“Where is Lilly and Bella?”

The sound of their names transports me to the past. Like the day Bella was born, Lilly was so excited to be a big sister. That was until she realised it now meant Bella would get most of the attention. We tried to include her in everything. Feeding time, bath time and even reading time before bed. But Lilly showed no interest in her. That all changed though, once Bella was old enough to talk. Lilly would ask her baby sister: “Can I have your cookie? Say yes.” Sure enough, she said yes and since that day, Lilly realised there could be benefits to being a big sister.

“Lilly’s at my mum’s. My sister brought the girls down so she wanted to go too.” I feel the air thin a little and I find I can breathe again, but it’s short lived as Lewis asks the real question.

“So where’s Bella?”

My sweet girl. When she was born she had the thickest black hair. But of course, it all fell out and in its place grew the most beautiful blonde curls. She cried as she was born but almost never cried again. When she was hungry she made a bit of fuss but we didn’t have to endure hours of endless crying. She was a perfect baby. The thought of her makes my heart swell, until reality sticks in a pin and it deflates once more.

“She’s. She’s in the garden.” The panic sets in quickly as I realise I need to be blunt. He can’t go out there and find her like that.

“Lewis, she died. She…She was just… I just, snapped. She was crying about something and she wouldnt stop. I tried everything but she just wouldn’t stop. We were sat on Lilly’s bed, the top bunk and she was standing up. I was right there, but I shouted at her and…” I stop. The memory is like a kick in the teeth.

“She jumped, and fell backwards off the bed. The sound… It was a loud crunch and she wasn’t moving Lewis, she didn’t move. Lilly was in the bathroom at the time so she didn’t see anything. I kept her out and called my mum.” I realise after I finish saying the words, I sound monotone. Devoid of emotion yet manic at the same time. Have I said the right thing? Lewis says nothing but then I hear him running to the garden. I imagine him seeing our little girl, wrapped up in her favourite blanket. Thinking now with a clearer, less drunk mind, I don’t know why I put her there. I had already had 2 bottles of wine before I made the decision. I have bought countless bottles of wine over the years. When I feel tempted, I buy one and pour a glass. Though once in front of me, I think of my girls and pour it away. I wish I could say I was strong enough to pour the whole bottle too. Instead, I hid them in the Christmas section of the loft. Somehow it made me feel better if I knew there was alcohol somewhere. Two bottles later, I decided she needed to be out of this house. Away from where she died. I don’t know why I thought she deserved to be dumped in the garden like a bag of rubbish. That’s my baby.

“Bella?! Bella?” Lewis screams. He’s trying to hold onto that tiny piece of hope. The hope that I might be wrong. The hope that I was too drunk to realise she isn’t dead, she’s just been knocked out. But he didn’t see her. He didn’t see the way her bones bent in ways they never should. When that piece of hope finally disappears and is replaced with sheer heartbreak, Lewis violently bangs on the door; like a rat trying to escape a trap.

“You killed my daughter! How could you? Why didn’t you call an ambulance? Why couldn’t you take her to the hospital? Because you were too smashed out your head to even notice!” His anger is close to boiling point now, he’s banging on the door so hard, I scramble to the other side of the bathroom. A part of me wants to open the door and let him kill me. The pain is too much to bare and I don’t think I’m strong enough to live with this. But at least he’s spared of some pain, he would lose it completely if he knew the whole story. But he can never know, this is how it has to be.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry, she was my daughter too. I just…”

The door swings open but the man standing there is not my Lewis, but a tormented and heartbroken version. I expect him to grab me and beat me until I’m just as dead as our baby. But he doesn’t. He sinks to his knees and cries. The tears come thick and fast and all I want to do his cradle him in my arms. But I daren’t. I have successfully ruined this man’s life, for good this time. The first was when I nearly drunk myself to death. Way before the girls were even thought of, yet Lewis stayed by my side. Now, I have lost him forever.

“What are we gunna do Andi?” Lewis manages to say, through the painful groans and the tsunami of tears. I wish I knew.

“I’m going to the Police station. I need to confess.” I say, once again noting the absence of emotion in my voice. Before Lewis could say anything, the house phone rings. I motion for him to ignore it but he answers anyway.

“Hello you o-” I can hear the screaming from here. My heart sinks as the worst thought invades my mind. Adrenalin infects my veins as Lewis tries to understand what’s being said to him.

“What?! Are you sure it was Lilly?” I’m sure my heart has stopped. I feel the colour draining from my face and bile and alcohol bubbles in my throat.

“Is an ambulance there? The police?! Wh-What…” I turn to look at him and find he is already staring at me. The penny has dropped and it’s destroyed him. He tells my mum he’s on his way and puts the phone down. It takes him a few seconds to organise his thoughts, but once he does he walks towards me and sits down. I know what he’s going to say and I shake my head in rebellion.

“No. No. Don’t say anything. Please.” I plead with my eyes for him to spare me. I can’t hear it, but I know it’s coming.

“Heidi has fallen from the top floor window. Your mum said she saw…” He chokes before he could get the words out. But I already know.

“Lilly did it.” I say, the words feel like betrayal. I gave birth to her and swore to always protect her. I tried to get her to believe it was an accident. But I knew it wasn’t. I’ve stopped her from hurting Bella since she was born. We thought she would grow out of it, but instead she seemed to grow into it.

“She saw Lilly push her. She thought they were too quiet and as she opened the door, she shoved Heidi. Lilly said, that her mummy would protect her.” I fold myself into him and let it all out. I wanted to protect my baby. I tried to protect Lilly.

“It was an accident, you didn’t mean it. You wouldn’t hurt her on purpose like that? No. Of course not. Oh my God. Oh my…” Through the tears I saw Lilly’s face. She looked almost, proud.

“If we push daddy too it will be just me and you mummy” She said, smiling a sinister smile. It’s a moment I’ve tried to forget but not even four bottles of wine could erase that image. Nothing ever will.


By Jenny L.K

Forever Waiting: A Poem

I dont want you to go
But you do anyway
I want to come with you
But you don’t want me there
I don’t want to be here alone
But here I am
I want to be with you
But you chose others over me
I don’t want to make you feel bad
But why should I feel worthless and lonely?
I want to be with you every second
But I realise thats not possible
I don’t want to feel so alone
But all I do is count the hours til I see you
I want the count to be at zero
But you reset the clock
So I wait


Signed,

Jen X

Saving You Saved Me: A Short Story

Authors Note: Hello everyone! Here is a new short story I’ve been working on. It isn’t the one I discussed in my previous post about adapting short stories, that one is still in the works. It is a lot longer than my previous stories on this blog, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!

(14-18 minute read)

When you make promises to somebody, you should go to the ends of the Earth to honour them. If somebody treats you right, puts you before themselves and never allows anybody to exploit you, you must do the same for them. Even if it means you go hungry. Even if it means you sacrifice your own warmth for theirs. Loyalty is everything. I am and always will be loyal to Harry.

Harry ‘s my brother and my best friend. He rescued me from those horrible men who ripped me from my mother’s womb and tried their hardest to force me to fight. They starved me, beat me and locked me in a cage. Harry was there but he would sometimes sneak me scraps of food, that I could smell had been taken out of a bin. On rare occasions he would half a sandwich he’d managed to get hold of ,though these luxuries were far and few between. I knew he wanted to help me, but those men, who stank of stale sweat and thick alcohol, had imprisoned him like they had me. They forced him to steal others like me from people who loved them. They forced him to watch the atrocities they committed and through it all, Harry stayed true to who he was. He refused to partake in the abuse, and would be beaten himself as a punishment.

“I’m sorry little one,” Harry said to me one day after a particularly bad beating, “I’m gonna get you out of here. I can’t right now but when the time’s right, we’re out of here!” I don’t know why but I believed him. I could see it in his eyes every time he was forced to witness the beatings. That look was there when they taunted me with food and then cruelly took it away. Every time I was confronted with a new competitor, Harry apologised with his eyes, reminding me of his promise. Somehow, he knew I only killed them to survive. My initial instinct upon meeting my latest challenger was not to kill them. Nor was it to bite and rip and gnaw at them until there was nothing but blood and flesh in every direction. I hated the taste of their blood in my mouth, their cries and the sound of their lungs exhaling their final breaths. I didn’t want to kill them but I had to . I did it to stay alive long enough for Harry to take me away from it.

Finally, the day came. Harry’s not a very big man. He’s actually quite short, boyish and dangerously thin. His dirty tracksuit bottoms hang so loosely around his waist, he has to use a hair tie to keep them from falling to his ankles. But that day he came to rescue me, he looked like some kind of God that finally decided to intervene. That day, I was alone in the garage, tied up and locked in a cage so small I couldn’t stand up not to mention I hadn’t eaten in a week and was ravenous. The sound of the garage doors opening sent shockwaves of fear through my body. Although I couldn’t stand, I could feel my legs shaking uncontrollably. That was until I saw Harry’s shock of black hair and those kind brown eyes looking down on me. That was the first time I had ever smelled alcohol on him. The scent was so strong for an awful moment, I thought they had finally broken him. I thought he had become one of them. I searched his face for answers, but he was frantically trying to unlock the cage.

“Hello boy! We need to be super quiet okay?” He said as the lock finally clicked, and the door swung open. It was always a struggle getting out of the cage. I stretched my front two legs in front of me and then shuffled the rest of the way. I could see Harry was terrified because every second he was looking out for the demons that were intent on destroying us. He took a piece of rope, tied a loop and put it around my neck. At first, I couldn’t walk at all. I was so weak my legs refused to cooperate. Harry saw I was struggling and scooped me into his arms. The pain was unbearable and a low growl managed to escape my throat.

“Shhh boy, I know. I know them fuckers have hurt you but…” he hesitated as he swallowed his rage, “We have to be quiet okay, I don’t know when they’re coming back. I’m getting us out.” He rubbed my head so gently, the love I already had for him doubled. That was the moment I knew, once I was able to, I needed to protect him at all costs.

He ran as fast as he could, through the estate, through the park and he kept on running until it was dark. The day had left and an uncertain night had taken its place. Harry scanned every street, every alley way and every shop entrance until he found one he deemed suitable. That was the best night of my life. Harry never left me alone. He carried me until I had the strength to stand. He rummaged through shop bins giving me every piece of food he found. Luckily for us, Harry bumped into someone who was dressed similarly to him. She smelled awful but I could tell she was kind. She gave him one of her duvets and a bottle of clear alcohol.

“That’ll keep you warm,” she said to Harry. He accepted, thanked her and set up our bed for the night. It was a very quiet street but almost every shop entrance had people sleeping there. Others had small groups of people, men and women, talking and drinking. Some huddled up close to protect each other from another chilly night. Harry laid the duvet down on the ground and we both sat on top of it. I laid down as close to him as I could, hoping to radiate enough warmth to stop him from shaking. He took long swigs of that drink he was given and stroked me until he fell asleep still sitting up.

That was our life. We moved around a lot, almost every day. That was the one and only time we slept at night. Harry told me it’s much safer to sleep for most of the day and then move on during the night. For a while, it was fine. Some days Harry collected enough money from strangers to be able to buy proper food for me to eat. Harry’s so good like that. He’d happily go without so I could eat.

“I need you to be big and strong so you can protect us, don’t I? You’re the best dog ever boy!” He would say after feeding me as much as he could. To this day, I’m not sure if boy is my name but it’s the only thing Harry has ever referred to me as. So, it must be. Up until recently, we had not run into much trouble. Here and there a few people would tell Harry to fuck off, or they tell him how horrible it is to use me to gain sympathy. I would scream and shout at them, but they never seemed to understand, he saved me. He wasn’t like the other men. The ones I see sharing the same guardian. The ones who don’t care for them like Harry cares for me. Harry would never react how I did. He would always stay calm, apologise and move on if he needed to.

I don’t know how long we lived on the streets, but after what felt like a lifetime, Harry was given a room to live in. It was a tiny room, but it was better than a cold stairwell. For a while life was better than ever. Harry stopped drinking, he ate more food than I ever saw before, and we had a warm bed to cuddle up in. Of course, I never really felt 100% safe. Something inside of me told me to always keep an ear out. I’d never let myself get too comfortable, I would tell myself to sleep with one eye open.

On a day like any other, there was a light knock on the door. Harry opened to door, probably expecting it to be a delivery. Standing in the doorway, was a giant man, not dissimilar to the men who kept us prisoner. He was broad, large and bald. Why are they always bald?

“Hello, I’m looking for Harry? I’m here to serve an eviction notice. I need to inform you that the landlord has decided he wants to redo the bedsits and make them into bigger flats for more rent. Once the renovations are done, he is stopping accepting housing benefit so unfortunately you need to move out.” The man at the door didn’t notice me that day. Harry already told me not to shout every time the door went, or every time a letter was posted through the letterbox.

“How long till I have to leave then?” Harry asked, defeated. He wasn’t one for confrontation, that’s what I was there for.

“30 days, I’m giving you this to show I have served the eviction notice.” With that, he handed him the paper and walked away. Harry closed the door and just stood there for a while, reading it again and again. He eventually slumped down onto the ground with his head hanging low. I went straight over to him and nestled my snout into his neck. I could smell the salt in his tears that were now falling thick and fast. I placed myself in between his legs and looked straight at him. I wanted so badly to tell him it was okay. That we were going to be okay.

“You are too good for this Earth boy. You are too good for it.” He held me for a long while, before grabbing him phone and making a call. He seemed to be avoiding me all day until that evening. Harry put two tins in my bowl and for the first time, he left me inside on my own.

“I’ll be back soon, just need to pop out,” he said but as he did, I let out a low whimper to show my dissatisfaction. He smiled at me with such love, I started licking his face until I was on top of him. His laughter echoed through the tiny room and my heart was entirely full. Although I hate being alone, I knew there must have been a reason. He would never leave me unless he had to.

Before he left, he came over to where I was laying, kissed my head and stroked me. That was not out of the ordinary, as he usually made time for me every single day. He stood up while still looking at me and said,

“Saving you really did save me boy. I love you.”

Once the door clicked behind him, I found my comfy spot on the end of the bed and let sleep caress me. I woke up a while later and the room was dark. Too dark. I cried and cried until I eventually fell back asleep. When I opened my eyes once more, Harry was back. But he was acting odd. He was on the floor, reeking of alcohol and his eyes were rolling back in his head. I go straight for him and lick his face. He didn’t say hello boy, he didn’t stroke me. He didn’t even look at me at all.

The night turned to day and then day back to night and Harry was still on the ground. I didn’t leave his side once. I didn’t leave to relieve myself, I didn’t leave to grab the last bit of food in my bowl. I just stayed with him, with my head resting on his leg. I tried so many times to wake him up. I licked his face. I screamed and shouted until my throat hurt. I even nibbled at his fingers and toes like I used to when I wanted his attention. Nothing. Once again, my only escape was the comfortable nothing of sleep. I felt like I had been sleeping for way too long, when a knock on the door woke me up. It began as a polite three taps but then progressed into angry thuds that shook the door in its hinges.

“Hello, Harry Roberts? Hello sir, we are here to repossess the property if you could open the door please?” Said a man through the letter box. I remembered what Harry had told me and stayed put. I thought they had finally given up when a loud bang announced the entrance of three big men in black uniforms. I peeled my eyes off them and onto Harry.

“Fucking hell” said the bald man who was standing the closest to us. He pulled a piece of tissue out of his trouser pocket and used it to cover his nose and mouth. The other two men followed suit. One of them looked to be about the same age as Harry and he was using the end of his tie rather than a piece of tissue. The other one looked almost sickly, very pale, very slim and he didn’t look very steady on his feet.

“Jesus. He’s not… He ain’t… He’s…” The young one blurted to the bald one. I saw them scanning the room, but they still didn’t seem to notice me.

“Got another tissue?” The pale one asked. He used it to pick something up off the kitchen side.

“Look fellas, needles all over the sink area.” Their faces, as if in unison, dropped to the ground. Usually I would have reacted to them touching Harry’s things, just like those times people would try to take our sleeping bags or the money he’d managed to collect. But I couldn’t leave Harry, even if I tried.

“Poor guy. He’s only about 20, look at him.” The man named Bill said to the room. He rubbed his shiny head and I saw his brown eyes flash with tears.

“And the poor dog as well.” Finally, I thought, they noticed me. For a fleeting moment, I thought we were going to be okay. These men would help Harry wake up and we could go back to how it was. Bill, still covering his face with the tissue, leant down closer to me.

“He never left his owners side.” He was looking at me, but it felt more like he was looking through me.  After a reflective moment, someone finally said

“How long you think they’ve been dead for?”


Signed,

Jen X

Why I Haven’t Been Reading

Hello everyone,

I haven’t written a post just having a chat in a little while. I have been in writing mode for a while and have enjoyed getting my creative juices flowing.

However, I’ve found that it is proving very hard to read AND write at the same time. You see, I have been working on 3 short stories as well as my current WIP recently. This has come after having a break from writing as I had a lot of Uni work on. But somehow I still managed to read quite a few books and short stories while still doing uni work. I’m not sure how to balance both?

I’ve picked up a few books and read the first few chapters and each time proceeded to slam it down with frustration. Nothing is gripping me and I’m wondering if that is due to me being so invested in my own stories. It’s as though everything else doesn’t quite evoke the same feelings as my own.

I would like to think this is a good thing, but I miss reading. Yet I can’t bring myself to power through more than a couple of chapters.

I have been reading a lot of short stories here on WordPress, does that count?

I also quickly wanted to mention the current mismatched style of my blog. As I still consider myself a newbie blogger, I feel like I’m experimenting with what I want to post. I still love everything I’ve shared and hope the eclectic style is not distracting or off putting.

Anyway, ramble over. If you have any tips on how to balance writing with reading, please leave a comment!

Signed,

Jen X

Time To Go: A Short Story

I have been here for what seems like one hundred years. The trees have grown unbelievably tall and the cars now require no human intervention. People keep taking pictures of me as they go about their days. Some of them say hello. Most of them walk past without a second glance. I understand though.

Until today, I have never felt the urge to leave this place. I have been quite content with my home and the exotic wildlife who visit me everyday. Today though, I want to leave. I want to see what lies beyond this place. I want to explore and meet new species of birds, other than pigeons and the mutated seagulls that dominate the skies. Today, I believe it is time to go.

My legs ache as I will them to take a step. They refuse. I try for hours to move even the smallest muscle but every joint feels too stiff, it is proving very difficult to leave. Every time somebody passes me, I try to tell them. I try to ask for their help but thus far nobody has offered their services. Somebody is coming my way now. I clear my throat and wait for them to become close enough to talk. It is a little girl, no older than six or seven. Her mother strolls not far behind her. The young girl spots me and runs straight for me. My heart soars as I see her bright eyes studying me.

“Hello Mrs. Hayes” the young girl says to me with a curtsey. Such manners. If I wasn’t already smiling, I would beam with delight. However that joy is soon overshadowed once again when I ask her to help me and we are instead interrupted by the child’s’ mother. Her eyes are studious as she comes closer.

“Lydie, would you like me to take a picture of you next to Mrs. Hayes?” The tall woman says kindly.

“No, she’s asking me for help.” I take in a sharp breath and almost refuse to believe it. This child has heard me. She heard me.

“Yes, yes. Good child and lady, I’m stuck and would like very much to leave this place” I continue, I let my eyes fall upon the woman standing before me, but her eyes are glued to her daughter.

“What are you on about?” She says, her eyes are drowning in worry. “Stop messing around, you’ve seen that before. You know better than to make things up.”

“Didn’t you just hear her? She wants to leave, she’s stuck. Mum we need to he-“

“Enough! Your imagination is too much Lydie. Do you really expect me to believe that?”

The girl walks slowly towards me. I can feel my heart breaking as my eyes fill with tears.

“Look mum, see? She’s crying. You’re horrible mum.” For a moment, the woman looked almost, sad. She took a long look at me and then up at the sky.

“No Lydie. Look. It’s just started to rain. That’s just a statue darling, they can’t speak or cry silly girl” the softening lady says reassuringly “the lady who it’s made to look like died a long time ago, she can’t talk”. She leads her daughter to me and knocks three times on my shoulder. The young girl wrinkles her nose and mimics her mother’s actions. The sound is like an echo chamber, every knock sending more and more ripples of sound that roll through my body. They turn around and in moments they are gone.

They are free to leave while I am imprisoned within this metal cage. It is certainly time to go now.


Let me know what you think of this short story! I have planned countless stories and haven’t finished them. This is something I came up with last night and have basically “pantsed” the entire short.

Hope it proved an interesting read.

Signed,

Jen X