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Redshifted – Magpie Tales
Self-obsession is everywhere.
I cannot walk down the street, visit a coffee shop, buy a newspaper without the evidence of this burning shadows on my retinas.
If it is not preening in mirrors, it is magazines using sex to sell themselves and the products they advertise.
I try so hard to let it go, let it go, let it go, I try to breathe it away but I cannot resist The Calling any more.
Eradication is the only option.
People only see of me what they want to see.
No, correction, they don’t see me at all.
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Self-portrait Vivian Maier
Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales. There is a theme running through my weekly writings once again. If you want to know more about the person behind these thoughts, please read my Five Sentence Fiction and Three Word Wednesday entries.
Dark times, dark thoughts…
Anchor – Magpie Tales
Yell Sound, Shetland, 2014, by R.A.D. Stainforth
I am finding it hard to watch. My ship is pulling away, not from the shore, but from its sister ship pitching and yawing as it heads out of the mouth of the bay and into the open sea.
There is no protection out there, no place to hide from either the gale force winds, or the waves as high and hard as mountains. The battering will be relentless.
I turn away, feeling a rush of betrayal. My betrayal of him as I turn my back, and his betrayal of me as he has once again refused my pleas to stop, to stay on board with me in the safety of the harbour.
It is complex, our relationship. Built on shaky foundations – built on none at all, some would say, those who are sticklers for truth, those who are pedants. Ships do not have foundations. Only hollow hulls.
I whip round, face out to sea once more. I lift the binoculars, blinking as the ship fills my vision. A solitary figure is standing on the deck, binoculars trained on me.
I wave.
He waves in return.
I wait for his return. There is nothing else that I can do.
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Freya Writes... 