I am a late riser. I sleep like a log all night and the alarm clock goes ignored each morning without fail. I tried putting it on snooze. I tried placing it away from the bed so that I have to untangle myself from my covers and thread across the cold tiles to make the banshee cry stop. I tried setting more than one alarm and have them go off at different times. All failed. The only thing that gets me out of bed is the panicked shrill coming from the hallway, “It’s 7.30. Get up already!” and that would be my mother hassling that I’ll be late for work. Continue reading
For many months no one realised that Earth was under attack. Humanity continued as it was. Alarms went off in the morning. Coffee was brewed. Children were taxied around to ballet, football and school. Continue reading
A young woman is slumped on an armchair. Grey bags sprout under her eyes by the second. In a hoarse voice she hollers sentences to the elder woman sitting next to her. The older woman sits propped on a chair, her behind at the very edge of the seat, her head is cocked to one side, pushing her ears as close as they would go to the monitor standing on a low table before them, albeit the fact that the speaker is on a chair on the opposite side of the table. Continue reading
Miss Theresa Bell is on her way home after visiting the Misses Ferrels when she crosses paths with Mr Stone. He is in his usual bold attire, highly unfashionable and utterly inappropriate. He is indeed handsome however, and Miss Theresa cannot help but steal a stealthy peek at him from underneath her bonnet. It is then that Miss Theresa notices that Mr Stone has paused and is now standing at the end of the street looking straight at her. Continue reading
How do you hide a secret? How do you stop your body from betraying what your mind knows? When your husband asks you directly if you’re having an affair, how do you stop your eyes from batting that one flicker too many? How do you halt your blood from rushing to your face; keep your breath from catching in your throat, making you choke? How do you negate his accusations with a steady voice; with a flowing stream of words following each other comprehensibly, sensibly, logically? Continue reading
The lights in the hall switch off. Darkness consumes the space. She runs with arms outstretched. Her fingers encounter wood. She fumbles for the lock. Finds it and opens the door in a panic. She jumps onto the threshold.
Exhale. The street lamps bring momentary relief. But the street is deserted. She is alone. Continue reading
‘Tis the time of heart palpitations and declarations of overt love, and yet, despite my four-year old relationship with my man the things that make my heart skip a beat are not what one would probably expect.
So what makes my heart flutter, and miss that periodic thump? Continue reading