I love her Russian velvet, a dark forest spanning the Ural mountains,
Let me ski, dear devushka, on those white slopes of yours,
Falling into a dark crevice,
A gulag of the soul.
Let me wander along your Nevsky Prospekt,
Smetana on the pavement.
Showing posts with label LATE ENTRY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label LATE ENTRY. Show all posts
Friday, 18 May 2012
Saturday, 12 May 2012
LATE ENTRY Sticky Fingers by Matthew Tomlin
“Jeanette?”
“Yes mummy?”
“Why does my blackberry pie have a hole in it?”
“I don’t know…”
Jeanette held her hands tightly behind her back.
“Daddy’s at work, so who does that leave?”
“Me and you.” Jeanette looked up at her mother, unaware of her mother’s knowledge on the matter.
“I wouldn’t stick a finger into my own pie, would I?”
“I don’t know mummy. Maybe you needed to check how hot it was?”
“Well, my fingers aren’t sticky.” Jeanette’s mother flashed her hands clearly for her daughter to see; berry free. “So, who does that leave?”
“Me.” The girl lowered her head so her fringe protected her from her mother’s stare.
“Can I see your hands, Jeanette?”
“… No.”
“Why not?”
“Because… Because…” Jeanette fidgeted on the spot, her young mind desperate to find a way out of this predicament. “Because Freddie told me to do it. If you see my sticky fingers, it’ll look like my fault. It’s not fair that I get in trouble instead of Freddie.”
The feline in question was fast asleep on a barstool tucked under the kitchen counter. Jeanette’s mother looked over at the cat before turning back to her daughter.
“Go and wash your hands.”
“But mummy-“
“Don’t do it again Jeanette. That’s all I’m going to say.”
Skipping cautiously to the kitchen door while keeping her hands in front of her, Jeanette left the room, dumbfounded by how her mother had figured her out so easily.
“Yes mummy?”
“Why does my blackberry pie have a hole in it?”
“I don’t know…”
Jeanette held her hands tightly behind her back.
“Daddy’s at work, so who does that leave?”
“Me and you.” Jeanette looked up at her mother, unaware of her mother’s knowledge on the matter.
“I wouldn’t stick a finger into my own pie, would I?”
“I don’t know mummy. Maybe you needed to check how hot it was?”
“Well, my fingers aren’t sticky.” Jeanette’s mother flashed her hands clearly for her daughter to see; berry free. “So, who does that leave?”
“Me.” The girl lowered her head so her fringe protected her from her mother’s stare.
“Can I see your hands, Jeanette?”
“… No.”
“Why not?”
“Because… Because…” Jeanette fidgeted on the spot, her young mind desperate to find a way out of this predicament. “Because Freddie told me to do it. If you see my sticky fingers, it’ll look like my fault. It’s not fair that I get in trouble instead of Freddie.”
The feline in question was fast asleep on a barstool tucked under the kitchen counter. Jeanette’s mother looked over at the cat before turning back to her daughter.
“Go and wash your hands.”
“But mummy-“
“Don’t do it again Jeanette. That’s all I’m going to say.”
Skipping cautiously to the kitchen door while keeping her hands in front of her, Jeanette left the room, dumbfounded by how her mother had figured her out so easily.
Saturday, 5 May 2012
LATE ENTRY Luna Landscape by Matthew Tomlin
“I really wish you’d stop calling me that.” Alice rolled her eyes, a tell-tale sigh drifting from her lips.
“But you look just like her.” Mark laughed, moving to poke her in the arm but being repelled by the swat of her hand.
“Literally speaking, that’s not the actresses’ real name. How ridiculous you’re being, I mean really.” Alice drabbled on for a while longer, but Mark wasn’t paying attention.
“It’s your night tonight.” He jeered, pulling her closer.
“Lunar eclipse, yes, how amusing.”
The forest was oddly quiet, even for the middle of the night. Mark kept his eye trained on his lover, waiting for her cold demeanour to break.
“I really wish you would show some maturity.” Alice kept her arms folded around her mid-section, refusing to reciprocate.
“You’re getting pretty high maintenance; all these wishes.”
“I’m being serious.” She turned to meet his gaze. Mark still couldn’t supress his smile. “I’m sure your parents are waiting for the day when you’ll show a bit of sophistication.”
Anyone else would have been hurt. Mark would sometimes be put off by comments like that. He was enjoying himself too much this time. He stopped, while Alice continued on for a few paces. He stretched his arms out as she turned around.
“Listen.”
Listen she did, but she could hear nothing.
“Look.”
Mark gestured towards himself. Alice was confused.
“All we can see, all we can hear is each other. What’s with the serious?” He walked towards her, the forest floor crunching beneath his steps.
“There’s not often time in the real world for silliness-“Alice began, but was silenced with some annoyance by Mark’s finger pressed to her lips.
“We’re not in the real world right now. You’re here, with me, in mine.”
For the first time that evening, Alice found herself unable to process a comeback. She understood what he was trying to say.
“Are you saying that I’m too serious?”
“Yes.”
Alice stood in silence for a moment, unable to tear her eyes away from Mark’s. She couldn’t tell him he was right. That just wouldn’t do.
She jumped. They fell. They kissed.
“But you look just like her.” Mark laughed, moving to poke her in the arm but being repelled by the swat of her hand.
“Literally speaking, that’s not the actresses’ real name. How ridiculous you’re being, I mean really.” Alice drabbled on for a while longer, but Mark wasn’t paying attention.
“It’s your night tonight.” He jeered, pulling her closer.
“Lunar eclipse, yes, how amusing.”
The forest was oddly quiet, even for the middle of the night. Mark kept his eye trained on his lover, waiting for her cold demeanour to break.
“I really wish you would show some maturity.” Alice kept her arms folded around her mid-section, refusing to reciprocate.
“You’re getting pretty high maintenance; all these wishes.”
“I’m being serious.” She turned to meet his gaze. Mark still couldn’t supress his smile. “I’m sure your parents are waiting for the day when you’ll show a bit of sophistication.”
Anyone else would have been hurt. Mark would sometimes be put off by comments like that. He was enjoying himself too much this time. He stopped, while Alice continued on for a few paces. He stretched his arms out as she turned around.
“Listen.”
Listen she did, but she could hear nothing.
“Look.”
Mark gestured towards himself. Alice was confused.
“All we can see, all we can hear is each other. What’s with the serious?” He walked towards her, the forest floor crunching beneath his steps.
“There’s not often time in the real world for silliness-“Alice began, but was silenced with some annoyance by Mark’s finger pressed to her lips.
“We’re not in the real world right now. You’re here, with me, in mine.”
For the first time that evening, Alice found herself unable to process a comeback. She understood what he was trying to say.
“Are you saying that I’m too serious?”
“Yes.”
Alice stood in silence for a moment, unable to tear her eyes away from Mark’s. She couldn’t tell him he was right. That just wouldn’t do.
She jumped. They fell. They kissed.
Friday, 4 May 2012
LATE ENTRY Fireside by Matt Tomlin
Jane could smell burning. It wasn’t the beef casserole she was slaving over, she was sure of it. A quick inspection of the kitchen showed no signs of burning foodstuffs. Paul had said something about lighting the fire. In a frenzy, Jane abandoned her kitchen utensils, sprinting to the living room as fast as the obstructing furniture would allow. Images of the cream carpet ablaze and streaks of fire assailing the walls entered her head. Even her daughter Emily, lulled to sleep by the strangling fumes, lying motionless, surrounded by flames.
Flying into the living room, with her hands holding her to the doorframe, Jane gasped.
The room wasn’t ablaze. It took a moment for the adrenaline to fade, for the panic to subside before Jane could instil a calming breath.
“Mummy?” Came the innocent voice of Emily. Little Emily, breathing, alive.
“I can smell burning; honey, are you alright?”
“Yes. It’s smelly though.”
“What is, darling?”
“Percy is.” Emily stated simply, pointing to the fire. Jane walked into the room, her eyes fixed on the fireplace.
“Emily!” Jane cried, throwing herself down onto the carpet.
“But he’s an ugly teddy!” She justified with her brutal, yet honest reasoning.
Ugly he might have been, but Percy is, was an old bear, Jane thought as she watched the teddy crumple under the weight of the flames. Not from her mother, nor her grandmother, but her great, great grandmother. That was three corpses that would be turning in their coffins tonight.
“Stefanie told me too. She didn’t want to catch his ugliness.” Emily said. Jane eyed the pink furred teddy huddled in her daughter’s lap. She couldn’t return her gaze to the fire. Percy was gone, after all those years. All those tempestuous nights with Percy snuggled beneath the bed sheets to keep the generations safe from the scary weather. Never again.
“Mummy?” Emily asked as Jane stared into space. “Don’t let dinner burn!”
Flying into the living room, with her hands holding her to the doorframe, Jane gasped.
The room wasn’t ablaze. It took a moment for the adrenaline to fade, for the panic to subside before Jane could instil a calming breath.
“Mummy?” Came the innocent voice of Emily. Little Emily, breathing, alive.
“I can smell burning; honey, are you alright?”
“Yes. It’s smelly though.”
“What is, darling?”
“Percy is.” Emily stated simply, pointing to the fire. Jane walked into the room, her eyes fixed on the fireplace.
“Emily!” Jane cried, throwing herself down onto the carpet.
“But he’s an ugly teddy!” She justified with her brutal, yet honest reasoning.
Ugly he might have been, but Percy is, was an old bear, Jane thought as she watched the teddy crumple under the weight of the flames. Not from her mother, nor her grandmother, but her great, great grandmother. That was three corpses that would be turning in their coffins tonight.
“Stefanie told me too. She didn’t want to catch his ugliness.” Emily said. Jane eyed the pink furred teddy huddled in her daughter’s lap. She couldn’t return her gaze to the fire. Percy was gone, after all those years. All those tempestuous nights with Percy snuggled beneath the bed sheets to keep the generations safe from the scary weather. Never again.
“Mummy?” Emily asked as Jane stared into space. “Don’t let dinner burn!”
LATE ENTRY Fireside by Nick Trussler
The fire roared and cracked as the old man poked it absentmindedly. He coughed and spat a dark spittle of phlegm onto the hearth. He smoked too much. People said it was good for your health, cleared the lungs and body of ill humours but he had seen enough men coughing, being blinded by the smoke on a far distant battlefield, to know that it was nonsense. Still, out of habit, his hand reached his tobacco pouch. Empty. It had been empty for a long time now as had his belly. He poked the fire some more. Each stab into the crackling wood was replayed in his mind as some enemy now long dead, but who still returned nightly to haunt his dreams. He would not sleep tonight. It was not just the hunger keeping him awake. All the glory had gone, if indeed there had ever been any. And now he just sat here, a shell of who he used to be. He sighed. He could not even remember what he had looked like in his youth. He could not afford to be painted, like some gentleman. Not even a rough sketch of him was ever made. It was all vanity anyway.
The fires of hell would come for him, he knew, to punish him for all his wickedness in youth. He had laughed in the face of the evangelical then, but now he knew he was damned. He could face the devil fighting but what was the point? In a way he welcomed death. There was nothing for him here anymore. He poked the fire more vigorously now, each strike sending a wave of sparks that grew perilously close to catching his clothes on fire. He grinned and poked some more.
Later as the hours of night slowly drew back and let dark blue morning slowly reveal itself the fire had already spread to the lower part of the house. From a fluttering ember landing on a table cloth it had grown and roared into life as it ate the possessions of one person’s life.
Now the smoke choked the night air.
The old man lay in bed and did not open his eyes. Hell had come for him at last. As the smoke filled his lungs, he welcomed the pain. Breathing deeply, trying to hold the coughs that were now ravishing his chest he wore a sardonic grin. Let the devil come, he thought, let the devil come.
The fires of hell would come for him, he knew, to punish him for all his wickedness in youth. He had laughed in the face of the evangelical then, but now he knew he was damned. He could face the devil fighting but what was the point? In a way he welcomed death. There was nothing for him here anymore. He poked the fire more vigorously now, each strike sending a wave of sparks that grew perilously close to catching his clothes on fire. He grinned and poked some more.
Later as the hours of night slowly drew back and let dark blue morning slowly reveal itself the fire had already spread to the lower part of the house. From a fluttering ember landing on a table cloth it had grown and roared into life as it ate the possessions of one person’s life.
Now the smoke choked the night air.
The old man lay in bed and did not open his eyes. Hell had come for him at last. As the smoke filled his lungs, he welcomed the pain. Breathing deeply, trying to hold the coughs that were now ravishing his chest he wore a sardonic grin. Let the devil come, he thought, let the devil come.
LATE ENTRY Fireside by Ben Hayward
“See this oak here son, it stood in our village for a thousand years. It was here when William the Conq beat ol’ Harold. It was here during the Blitz. It was here when Ollie Crom taught that toff Charlie who's boss.”
Dad’s head sunk while he was trying to make the next statement. Carefully I liberated his hand of the block of wood, and placed it on the floor beside his chair, so as not to damage the well-finished flooring. I decided that it was best to leave him in his chair beside the fire to keep him warm. If I were to move him he wouldn’t get back to sleep. Not to mention the fact that he’d continue to rant about that blasted tree. I’d only taken a branch off.
Dad’s head sunk while he was trying to make the next statement. Carefully I liberated his hand of the block of wood, and placed it on the floor beside his chair, so as not to damage the well-finished flooring. I decided that it was best to leave him in his chair beside the fire to keep him warm. If I were to move him he wouldn’t get back to sleep. Not to mention the fact that he’d continue to rant about that blasted tree. I’d only taken a branch off.
I let the dog in to nestle against his leg. In the absence of electricity he proved to be a useful alarm system. I hope the power comes back soon so I don’t have to dismember the rest of that tree. I’ll never hear the end of it.
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