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Showing posts from November, 2013

Dear James

An air of desolation turned the world to grey. From inside her car, Sarah sat in silence not ready to venture out.
"Coward!" she berated herself.
It was a year since she was robbed of him, and it took her a year to get this far. She had made it to the foot of the hill before; then to the edge of the cemetery from where she could make out the tops of the tombstones. And on one particularly sunny and brave day, she made it all the way to the gate, peered inside; and with a faltering heart, drove away never having set foot outside her car.

Driving to to the parking lot on the 1st anniversary of his death, wasn't easy.  It was dismal out, almost as dark and dreary as the place where her heart used to beat. The tears welled up and she was no longer able to muster up numb. The scene before her became blurrier still, and she was glad for the tears as it faded out the concrete signs of death standing tall among grass and trees.
"Dear God!" she said out loud. "Oh,…


The water hit her squarely on the buttocks.
Snaking down it ran red between her toes; crimson pooling around tiny toes lined up like people in a bank queue.
"Damn bony ankles," Lily cussed as droplets of blood from the tiny nick at her ankle clouded the water at her feet.
She dabbed at the spot with a sponge, enjoying the tingle, wishing the cut went deeper, burnt more.
She stepped out of the stall dripping water and blood onto her clothes left scattered on the floor where she stepped out of it.
The flickering fluorescent lights casting shadows over her caramel skin, hummed gently in the quiet house. She bent down (tendrils clinging to her cheeks, her neck and her shoulders) grabbing a newer, sharper blade out of the bathroom cupboard.
She made her way across the tiled floor, slippery in places, clutching her familiar friend. Shivering she got back into the shower, welcoming the warm spray on cooled skin.
She let the water lull her and she stood swaying; dreaming of vacation…


The city could be unforgiving, especially in Winter when her streets were battered & windswept. Danny cowered then, in alleyways and bus shelters, squeezing into corners, hiding out from her fearsomeness; sucking on tar between coughs.

From his position outside the Car Hire place, he had a great view of the trendy restaurants across the road. This area had recently become In and the regulars were used to bounding over bodies strewn across pavements and doorways. They rarely gave him a sideways glance, but they gladly parted with their change; their fortune weighing heavily on them at the sight of this miserable soul. He milked their discomfort; played on their sympathy; he was a master of deception; his skills honed at  The Little Theatre, UCT in the days when he could pretend that his brilliance as Macbeth was performance art, and not dug out from the depths of his own tragic life.

Danny's eyes darted when he saw the young couple swaying his way, their bodies joined together …