Poetry

Social Noise

The camera flash flashes away my sight of you,

aided by the hovering, caterwauling middle-agers,

parents of rushing children, despite their own failure

to reel in their mouths, and yet your words still

paint themselves in my mind, sponsored by your unwavering image.

The reason is the pouring of your heart, cogs, springs

and fate line into my lap so I can cradle each one

in reason and warmth, judgement free.

Alas, the world wants to block you from my ears,

so to quiet we must go, where my attention

can blanket you fully.

Poetry

Orange tongues

Fire. A blaze in my hands that I can craft into any shape I wish. It is my passion, my flame to share. You may call me arrogant. You may call me rash. I don’t care. Of course I don’t. I can wrap my fiery rope around you and change your opinion with little more than an ember of my will. Just give me the fuel.

Extracts/ Flash Fiction

Merry Weather

At first, I didn’t see her. She was caught between two bushes, tangled up in cobwebs, spindly branches and the lacy trim of her silvery blue cape. I did hear her, though. Cursing so much that I thought a group of drunken sailors had strolled around the corner from the pub in town.

But no. All the swearing was emanating from a tiny fairy, red in the face from her efforts to untangle herself.

If it wasn’t for the fact that she saw me and gave such a scowl that my legs automatically wanted to run for the hills, I might have laughed. Instead, I mumbled an offer of assistance while pulling my most solemn expression, and stepped forwards to help. My fingers slipped in my attempt to de-cobweb her and I ended up jabbing her in the head. She bit me for that. Straight through the skin, so that a bead of blood rose from the puncture wound and stained her clothes. I winced, but her long frenzy of expletives detailing every inch of my incompetence drowned it out. Then she wept, equally as loud, about the state of her clothes and how they were positively ruined.

I think it was supposed to make me feel sorry for her, but in actuality it made her terrifying hold on me weaken enough to simply pinch her roughly out of the tangled mess, tearing her cloak completely. She wailed even more. I pointed out, bluntly, that she was free and if she hadn’t have been wearing the ridiculous thing, she probably wouldn’t have ended up in that state in the first place. In answer, she took a small stick from the top of one boot and jabbed it at my nose. Hot sparks shot out the end, singeing my nostril hairs. I let her go in disgust and watched her zoom away, emitting the wettest raspberry I’d ever heard. At least, I hope it was a raspberry…