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Ben (5)

Ben woke up, grogginess clinging to him  like a overly possessive mother. Stretching out his legs, he uncovered his torso, kicking at the white cotton sheet moving it down exposing his crotch. He scratched, shifting balls and settled back in.
His hand hit flesh.
He glanced over peering at a white shoulder with the word "Hope" tattooed across the edge of it.
"Candy?"
"Or maybe Sundae?"
He couldn't remember. Daph would've had a good laugh: "Sounds like a tart," she'd have said back in the day when she still laughed.
"Hey, you!" he prodded the body next to him. He remembered thinking she looked like Penelope Cruz in Vicky Cristina Barcelona when he saw her at HQ last night sucking on a cigarette - 6 drinks in and every girl in the club looked like a film star.
Her black curls swayed as she moved her head and he nodded to himself, "maybe, hey?"
He thought back to his dodgy morning-after in Bangkok shortly after Daph l…

Auriel (4)

Sand shifted underfoot as Auriel made her way to the edge of the sea. Water cold as ice ebbed at her tiny feet, alabster white, speckled with grains coarse against her soft skin. 
She wriggled tiny toes together enjoying the feel of the sand. The quiet descended on her like a sledgehammer and she fell back letting the water wash over her filling her ears, her nose and her mouth with it salty goodness.

Her pink dress ballooned around her and she giggled as she thumped thumped with her arms trying to get it to stay down. She welcomed the gray of the overcast day, enjoyed it's soft glow just before dusk. The beach was deserted; it always was, the cove hidden at the end of a treacherous path which only a handful of locals knew well enough to venture down, and seldom at sunset. It took her an hour to get there by train, and another hour's walk to reach the deserted shore.

Auriel made the journey once a week.
Auriel made the trip without fail.
Usually on a Monday.

It was Friday.
The day Au…

Small things (3)

Daph came home to an empty house, the light streaming in from bare windows hurting her eyes; she squinted, scrunching up her face till her nose wrinkled.
Still lugging her carrier bags, she dashed to the offending windows and with a swift motion; the blinds came crashing down.
"Ahhhhh," a sigh escaped her pursed lips as she closed off the outside world and cast the load off her arms onto the gleaming counter tops.
Mary was such a gem!
Baby cabbages and green peppers rolled out onto the counter top.
There was a  whiff of grilled cheese lingering in the kitchen and Daph sniffed in deeply allowing the scent to conjure up ghosts.
"Ben," his name escape her lips like a sigh.

She shook her head furiously trying to loosen memories clinging to her like cobwebs.
"Settle down woman!" she scolded.
Rushing out of the kitchen with it's offending knack for reminding her of pleasures past, she kicked off her strappy sandals in haste: one landed with a plonk in the s…

11:11 (2)

The jingle of Daph’s keys was drowned out by a taxi speeding past - the doof-doof of the stereo could be heard from a mile away, Drake mumbling something about “Started from the bottom now we here…
She could hear someone rapping along, “...now the whole f#&!* team here…” as the door slid open to let passengers in or out.
She didn’t get the penchant for swearing, and tut-tutted as the offending noise drove off in the direction of the highway...

11:11.
The sequence of 1’s caught Mary’s eye as the light flashed on her Samsung; some institution asking if she had sufficient funeral cover.
“Umph, the nerve!”
She fumbled with her phone, struggling with the keypad, her touchscreen unresponsive.
“Block! Block!” she yelled pushing down the offending keys to spam it immediately; Mary had a thing about death. Not wishing to invite it in, she crossed herself, and crossed again for good measure saying a silent prayer to be spared death’s sickle.
“Brrrr…” she said standing in the hallway…

35 (1)

An unnerving calm settled over Walmer Estate, neighbours having cleared out of the residential area fast and the shrieking wind having died down just as the blush of dawn caressed the peaks of Cape Town.

Daphne had woken up with a massive migraine.
She had also woken up thinking it was Friday.
"Arghh, Thursday, you tease!"
The week had been particularly troublesome. It was the kind of week that kicked ass and left scars, scrapes, bumps and bruises. Daphne was in no mood, swearing as she stumbled out of bed tripping over Uggs and empty water bottles, making a beeline for the loo.
Getting old sucked; there was nothing pretty about menopause:
Hot & cold.
Thirsty & dry...
Daph sat on the loo in the dark, barely making it there, her bladder full and heavy.
"My days are stolen!"
This irrational thought popped into her head as the warmth of sleep left her body. She scratched her head, snagged fingers in knots; tearing through it with unforgiving fingers.
Her hea…