Tag Family

Head in the Clouds – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

freyathewriter 12 Comments

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - Kattermonran

Copyright – Kattermonran

– Head in the Clouds –

Sitting here in my eyrie, buffeted by wind and rain as it barrels in from the sea, I imagine myself in a tiny boat, storm-tossed and battered, far out in the oceans on the other side of the world.

I am alone, but not lonely.

At nights, I lie on the deck, bathed by moonlight, washed by showers of shooting stars. I lace my fingers behind my head, feeling the varnished boards still radiating the day’s heat.

As dawn breaks, clouds scud across the face of the sun. I remember with fondness the people of my past; family, friends and strangers who I have met on my journeys. I see them, living their lives in the sky above.

I pick up my pen, and begin to write.

Bushido – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

freyathewriter 8 Comments

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - Kattermonran

Copyright – Kattermonran

– Bushido – 

Wakamura-san released a sigh, not so gently as he had imagined.

“Dad? What’s wrong now? I haven’t got time for this. The removal firm will be here in an hour.”

He could feel his daughter’s frustration roll towards him. She never seemed to understand that a tranquil state of mind required hard work and commitment, like anything else. She was never still, never in the moment.

She shoved a small wooden box in his lap then wrapped his soft, dry fingers around it more gently, patting his hands.

“Here, Dad, hold on to these, keep them safe. I know they are important to you.”

He opened the box and stroked the small swords nestled within.

“At least you know that much. Be busy, make your calls, organise and plan. I will still be here, when you remember to be still.”

He felt his daughter kiss the top of his head and pause, just for a moment.

She knew. She just needed to work at it.

Redacted

freyathewriter 8 Comments

It’s beginning to feel as if life has always been this way. Most days, I forget the months and years of Before. We took all that for granted. We complained about endless summer holiday boredom. What I wouldn’t give to be bored, right now.

Water needs to be collected from the standpipe two streets away. Little Sarah has taken on that thankless task, balancing a container on her head and carrying it ‘like the African ladies’, so she tells me. She thinks it’s fun.

Davina deals with our washing. She found the twin tub in the shed, got Lance to drag it out for her. Thank goodness it still had the mangle attached. We turn the rollers by hand and squeeze the water out of our clothes. Nothing is really clean, but we manage a sight better than most. The kids down the road – the two Underwood boys and a couple of other strays – are filthy and stink to high heaven. They make me feel sick. I’m not sorry for them.

I’m glad we hadn’t moved to the countryside. What about the farm animals, broken loose and roaming half-feral and starving across the overgrown fields? How would I know what was safe to eat? At least we can take tins from the warehouses by the docks and know what’s inside. Lance finds our food – he’s quick, strong and knows all the shortcuts, away from the empty main streets, away from the danger.

They had said we should leave, that it wouldn’t be safe in the city. But we’ll be OK for a bit, at least until the next Collection. And we know the hiding places – They don’t.

“Lucy, Lucy.”

Sarah is tugging on my sleeve.

“Yes, sweetheart, what is it?”

“When’s Daddy and Mummy coming back?”

My heart creases. The pain is as sharp and overwhelming as ever. She hasn’t forgotten them either. I had hoped she would be saved from that, at least.

“Never, honey. I’m sorry.”

She hugs me, hard, locking her fingers together behind my back, squeezing the breath out of me. “And how long is never?”

Too long.