Air (Elements 1 of 4)

light blue sky

‘Hurry, hurry,’ feathers rustling, we ride the winds, ‘higher, higher,’ disappearing and reappearing from the clouds as if flitting in and out of reality. The moisture is torn from us by our speed.

Drumbeats pushing up through the air warned us of the danger. When the sun sets it might lend us colour, but we will let nothing paint us permanently. They won’t catch us. Forever colourless, our wings will carry us to a new place, where we will live a new life.

We are not sure where we are going, but it doesn’t matter.

We shan’t be here when it begins.



Mark’s shoulders slumped, when he noticed Jake slouching along on his long thin legs on the other side of the road. With a sigh, Mark put up a hand and put his phone into his pocket without pressing send.

‘Hey,’ he said. Jake saw him, smiled and crossed the road.

‘How are you?’ Jake gave him a high-five.

‘Fine, you?’

‘Great,’ said Jake, ‘just coming from Wendy’s. It was a hot night, I can tell you. Whoo.’ Jake fanned himself with his coat collar.

Mark stood with his hands in his pockets and looked back the way he came.

‘Mac-attack?’ asked Jake.

‘Had too much junk food this week.’

‘A box of fries never hurt anyone,’ Jake only ate a single meal a day, but it was triple size of what Mark had ever seen anyone else eat.

‘Nah,’ said Mark, ‘you go, I have stuff to do.’

‘Alright,’ Jake shrugged and strolled down the street, ‘I’ll eat a cheeseburger for you,’ he said over his shoulder.

‘I hope you choke on it,’ mumbled Mark, clenching his phone and the unsent message to Wendy in his pocket.

An End



I kept Orion company and breathed the cool fragrances of the night. I watched the owl bring a mouse to her fluffy muppets. Distracted by their bobbing heads when their mother left, I did not notice the rose tinge on the horizon and the light blue seeping into the sky. Only when the first searing ray struck the top of the tree in front of me, was I reminded of how much earlier the sun rose each day.

I ran from his terrible face, crushing anemones, torn by brambles, my lungs burning in my chest reminding me what the sun could do to my flesh. Even though I strained my legs, the light strolled closer and my cave was still too far away. Sobbing, I raked my cheeks, why could the sun not sleep all year long?

Then I remembered an old badger’s den nearby. I turned and dashed towards it while the light crept towards the top of my head. I dived into the den, as the sun peeked over the hill and saw my left foot still outside. My foot burned and withered and I screamed and scrambled into the den as far as I could go. Whimpering, I pushed more dirt into the opening. Having blocked out the beautiful glare of the sun, I curled into a ball, trembling, and mourned the end of winter.

A Beginning

Credit: Jerry D. Greer,

Credit: Jerry D. Greer,

Shivering with loneliness, I looked away from the dark open sky punctured with stars. I half feared that it would draw me into it, into the cold void to be torn apart by the emptiness. My fears deafened me to the first twittering in the branches, but when a chorus began in the bush beside me, I looked up and there on the tip of the nearest hill the grass was smouldering. Something surged within me, and I wished I could sing with the birds. Letting the feeling engulf me, I hardly noticed when something blundered right past me through the undergrowth.

At last, the first rays spread their warmth in me, and I felt like my whole being expanded, already growing. Welcome, my love! I wanted to shout, as I imagined myself growing tall and strong, soon leaving my neighbours far behind, growing right up to kiss his burning face. And I wanted to praise spring with all my being and thank her for giving my love back the strength I had missed for so long.

Life After the Apocalypse

(Credit: Vladimir Manyuhin aka mvn78)

(Credit: Vladimir Manyuhin aka mvn78)

A new beginning, with fresh air and light greens. With summer dresses and the kind of music he had always wanted to enjoy from a large brass band.

And dancing.

He would learn the steps of interactions between equals.

And then he would whistle as he walked home through the woods to a small cottage. And there would be no one in that cottage to welcome him, except perhaps a blue budgerigar to remind him of the sky on rainy days. And the vines would crawl up under the eaves without ever being torn down by clumsy fingers searching for a way in. And there would be no crying at night from people he could not comfort. And every Sunday he would go out to the seaside and sing to waves which might carry seaweed and whales to the shore, but never bodies,




Today is Friday, right?

I said that I would begin updating Wednesdays and Fridays, but then this Friday my friend convinced me to take just a single drink down at the student bar and then suddenly I forgot all about blogs until yesterday night when I was on my way home from a writing course.

I had also planned to do an extra post yesterday, since it was Pi-day which means something to me since I’m studying to become a Master of Mathemagics. And it was not just any Pi-day; at 3/14-15, 9:26:53 it was as Pi as it gets in our lifetime.

For more fun with Pi, see Numberphile:

The upside is that since I spent all of yesterday at a writing course, I got a lot of inspiration and new tools to help me write.

So let us just pretend that this next post was posted Friday and I’ll try remembering the weekdays from now on.

See you around!

Did I Just Refer to Myself in Third Person?


In my previous post?

Sort of…

It worked for Tim Minchin, and I have wanted to write something silly and zombie-like for a while, so I thought my return to updating this blog was a perfect opportunity.

All in all, the message is that I am going to begin updating again every Wednesday and Friday (That’s the plan anyway) and I hope you can all forgive my sudden and rather long silence.

Hopefully, I’ll see you around.

Have a nice day!

Back From The Dead


A half moon looks down on the graveyard which would be quiet if a tomcat had not chosen the top of the surrounding brick wall as the stage to serenade his mate from. A cold breeze makes a clump of pines shudder as it makes its way into the graveyard. It races over a wreath of Red Tinted Sunflowers, then a vase of wilted Lilies, but looses momentum at it strikes a black lump of stone set in a bare patch of earth. There is no scratch of explanation on the stone, just a smooth blank surface reflecting the moonlight.

The tomcat’s song reaches a crescendo and a hand thrusts up through the earth, clawing at the dirt, pushing it aside, making way for another hand and soon a head and torso. Crawling from the grave, she smiles.

She has returned.

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