When you held out a hand to stop me, I protested. I wanted to get away from the taunts and jeers as quickly as possible and panicked when you not only ignored my protests, but grabbed my shoulder and turned me around to face my tormentors.
I don’t remember much about that morning, because I was only six years old. I do remember that the lady policewoman gave me a lollipop, an orange flavoured one, to distract me from the fact that mother couldn’t stop crying.
It was the kind of day where the sky cannot make up its mind, when nervous clouds try to stand up to the weakened midwinter sun but still struggle against his inate might, when finally their prayers were answered.
Another Wednesday and another piece from the universe I’m trying to create 🙂
This one isn’t as slick as I’d hoped, could do with some more tweaking, but see what you think! Continue reading
I regret that evening every single day. If I could turn back the clock, I would, of course I would. The look on your face when I turned away for the final time, to follow my new, cool ‘friends’ to the party is forever etched in my memory.
The below should have come out on Wednesday – apologies!
More from the universe of my own creation 🙂 Continue reading
I still remember the first time I visited the little library in my small home town. At six years old, I felt that it was a vast treasure-filled cave, and as I sat in the carpeted children’s corner with the rest of my class, I spent much of my time simply gazing around, slack-jawed and starry eyed.
There was no grandeur as such, the building being a modern, average ceilinged, purpose built affair. But it had several rows, filled with all kinds of books, which I noted when wandering around were labelled things like ‘historical fiction’ and ‘cookery’ and ‘art’…almost immediately the idea of growing up and being able to understand the contents of these sacred shelves, especially those bearing fictional works, became cemented as a primary goal of my existence. Continue reading