Submarine – VisDare

August 17, 2014August 17, 2014freyathewriter 2 Comments

I am used to going unnoticed.

I can’t recall all the different streets that I have walked down, the shops, the bars, the hotels that I have passed through where my presence has barely warranted even the tiniest flicker of interest.

It is as if I don’t exist.

Some days, I prefer it that way. Those days are the ones when I desperately want it to remain so, I want anonymity so much I can feel it in the sweaty grip of my palms, the constant turn, turn, turn of the lighter in my trouser pocket, the slight shake of my hands as I light yet another cigarette.

Other times, I have to fight the urge to scream, to roar lion-like, to rip the air in two with my hunger for attention.

There is no easy middle ground. With me, it is all, or nothing.

——

Here’s my latest entry to the lovely Angela’s VisDare. What an inspiring photo! I’m not sure where my imagination unearthed this story from, but hey, at least writer’s block isn’t hauting me!

I hope you enjoy this week’s entry- and please do visit VisDare for amazing poetry and prose!

Paix – Magpie Tales

August 10, 2014freyathewriter 6 Comments

My father is staring at me, hard.

It has been years since we spent any time alone. I had been a judgmental daughter, belligerent, unable to accommodate the shades of grey in a life that I was convinced could only consist of black or white, right or wrong

I had grown into an adult, still believing my teenage views.

The past few months had ripped the rug from underneath my feet.

“Not a traitor? Not a traitor?”

I see him with new eyes. He is just a man. Just a human being like the rest of us. He is not a monster, just like my mother was not a traitor. They had paid high prices for living through times when making the right decision depended on so many inconceivable and unimaginable horrors.

And I had judged them both with hindsight.

“No. Not a traitor.”

His body sags. I can’t tell if this is with relief, or despair.

He reaches out a hand, an old hand. He has aged since we last met. I take his hand and my index finger caresses the thin gold wedding band he still wears despite everything.

“Thank you for telling me, Celine. It will never bring her back and you may never forgive me for taking your mother away so brutally, but at least she never betrayed us.”

Semantics, I think. It is all but semantics.

——

Here’s my latest entry to Magpie Tales. This is the finale in my six part story which began in the midst of World War Two. Here are the fiveprevious instalments in order, if you want to indulge! Croix de Guerre, Collborateur, Oubliette, Verité and Honneur.

I hope you enjoy this week’s entry- and please do visit Magpie Tales for amazing poetry and prose!

Schadenfreude

August 10, 2014freyathewriter 4 Comments

My twin sister Lucy was the exact opposite to me in her approach to life – it’s like she was sprinkled with glittering fairy dust when she was a baby, whilst I just had dust chucked in my face.

She only had to smile and she got the boyfriend, the engagement ring, the wedding, the perfect children – everything has been handed to her on a plate.

But now, well, it’s become plain that my somewhat pessimistic approach to life has finally paid off, although please understand that I don’t find any satisfaction in vindication – honestly.

They warned us that the new species of magnolia had mutated, that poison lurked in its pollen and on no account should we even think about sniffing the flowers and their glorious, alluring scent.

She couldn’t believe that something so beautiful could be a killer – those were her very, last words.

—–

Here’s my latest entry into VisDare this week, the prompt run by the lovely Angela. I have no idea where I got this tale of sinister tale of envy from… I’m not even feeling particularly dark today! Please do pop over to her blog and read the other submissions – no two will be alike!