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Introspection.

Introduction to Introspection This poem came to me in the stillness of an early March morning in 2019. We have all experienced those long, sleepless hours when your internal voice is loudest and, in the pitch black and silence of the bedroom, a peaceful night of unbroken sleep is impossible. In the wake of a 26-year marriage ending, I found myself questioning my decision and my past actions, remembering who I once was, and wondering who I would become. Yet as the darkness began to fade, and light began to filter in through the window of my rented flat, so too did a shift in my perspective. Introspection traces the journey from my quiet unrest to the simple, surprising realisation of new dawn. INTROSPECTION  Why am I awake at three am? Looking through the darkness, searching through the silence, for signs I'm not alone, Listening to the bad thoughts,  as they jostle out the good thoughts in my mind. Why am I awake at four o'clock? Contemplating friendships, musing on mis-jud...
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Effing Tomatoes

The following prose titled "Effing Tomatoes" has been written for my Dad, who is currently in hospital with a life changing condition. Thankfully, his condition is improving. and though he still has hurdles to overcome, he now hopes to come home soon.  My Dad is a keen gardner. He does things 'his way' which is always the 'right way' and always to glorious effect. Home grown produce and an attractive, colour filled garden for us to play in, are amongst the happier memories of the childhood that my sisters and I shared. This piece of writing began in the early, confusing, emotional time of Dad's illness. For a long time we didn't know whether we were in imminent danger of losing him.  During this time, my Dads main concern was for his "bloody tomatoes!" I found this infuriating and was resentful that this was what he worried about above all else. My sisters were equally bemused.  Powerless to help Dad in any real way however, our focus became ...
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Equilibrium - A Short Story

Hello, and welcome to the latest post on my blog. Due to family illness, life has been ‘full’ since I last wrote, and although I have several new posts in various states of completion, I must admit that I’m currently struggling to find the right words to finish them.  So, instead, I thought I’d share a short piece originally written in 2014.  " Equilibrium " was later published on my previous blog, " Just Stuff",  in August 2018.  I hope you enjoy this brief snapshot of time, which first came alive in my imagination almost twelve years ago. EQUILIBRIUM  "Those who love me do not know that, silently, I love you. Those who see my smile do not see the sadness of unspoken words. Those who share my life do not know that part of my heart is kept for you. But it’s there – and you will never know." She placed the well chewed pen down on her desk and looked through silent tears at the verse she had scribbled absentmindedly onto a piece of scrap paper. Her mind wa...
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Part Three. The Meeting

Introduction Welcome to final of three short stories about a friendship and unrequited love. It is a universal story. Perhaps you have experienced the feeling of loving someone who could not love you? Perhaps you are the one that was loved and could not love back? Either way, you are changed. Perhaps stronger somehow - certainly wiser? Or perhaps not?   If you have arrived at 'The Meeting' without having first read Parts One and Two, please take some time to catch up on Matthew's and Rachel's stories first. THE MEETING  Escaping from the cold wet November evening, Matthew entered the Little Pub on the Corner. The sultry, melancholic voice of Nina Simone was playing through the speaker by the door, intermingling with the buzz of quiet conversation. Logs crackled in a fire that was blazing in the hearth and, feeling the heat from the flames, he took off his coat and wandered to the bar.  He felt so tired, it had not been a hard day at the office, but he was preoccupied...
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Part Two. Rachel’s story

Introduction This is the second of three short stories about friendship and unrequited love. If you have arrived at Rachel's story without having first read Part One, please can I recommend that you leave this page for a while and visit Matthew's Story before continuing. Thank you. RACHEL'S STORY Rachel was awake. Lying on her side facing the window, she watched as the orange glow of the streetlight danced on the half closed blind. She listened to the sound of Matthew's breathing, letting its steady rhythm comfort her. Moments like this felt perfect - moments when she could almost believe that he might feel the same way she did, but she knew now that he did not. "I love you," she whispered, not meaning for him to hear. But he did hear. She felt him tense beside her and braced herself for his response, knowing what he would say but still hoping for something different. "I like you very much," he said softly, his tone steady and controlled. Rachel swal...
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Part One. Matthew's story

Introduction This is the first of three short stories about a friendship and unrequited love. Rather than using first person narration, I have chosen the voice of an omniscient narrator to try to offer a more detached perspective. I hope you enjoy it. MATTHEW'S STORY. Unable to sleep, Matthew lay on his back, staring at the ceiling of his dimly lit bedroom. The soft orange glow of the streetlight outside filtered in between the slats of the half-closed blinds, casting faint, criss-crossed shadows on the walls. Beside him, Rachel stirred, turning toward him with a contented sigh. Her fingers grazed his arm, and he could feel her smile even without looking. "I love you," she whispered, her voice soft and sincere.  Matthew's stomach tightened. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to push away the guilt that threatened to rise inside him. This wasn't the first time she had said those words. Each time she said them, it stung a little more, a reminder of a bounda...
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The Philosofly

This story was born on a cold Sunday evening in late February. It was the end of a quiet, unproductive weekend, spent alone, doing nothing but watching tv, reading, eating. You know those kind of days - we all have them - idle pointless days.  This particular evening I was joined in my night time ablutions by a fly. It was restless, trapped and seemed to me to be in distress. Taking pity on the little insect, I climbed out of the bath, carefully trapped it under a glass and let it out of the window. As I settled back under the bubbles I found myself wondering what it would be like to have a chat with a fly. The story, which follows, is how I envisage my the conversation would have gone on that wet, empty evening.  THE PHILOSOFLY  I am sure that the fly didnt mean to end up in my bathroom that evening, but I was genuinely happy to have it's company. It had been a long and empty winter day and, other than droplets of rain running down the window panes, the fly was the firs...
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