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Viewpoint

Viewpoint

As his footsteps thundered down the stairs, she took up her seat by the window. Upright, back straight, hands in her lap worrying at the cloth wound tight between her fingers. She stared, unseeing, across the field and waited. The slam of the door, though expected, made her flinch. A ragged sigh escaped her lips and her fingers gradually released their stranglehold on the cloth. Her body sagged into the cushioned chair. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing the tight knot inside her to loosen. When she finally opened her eyes, they were clear and focussed, steadily taking in the view across the field. Nothing. No-one. No children screeching in the school yard, no yapping dogs chasing sticks across the green. The scene was perfectly empty, the only discernible movement that of the dark clouds drifting towards the horizon.

Picture  ©James Procopis

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Vengeance

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In the distance sulky clouds hung over the harbour. At the top of the hill, the wind shrilled between the cars. Tessa stood waiting, watching, listening to its icy whine. How appropriately Hardyesque, she thought. The house door, blue as a summer sky, swept open and a figure sauntered out into the street. Carefully, deliberately, Tessa released the handbrake, and stepped back from his car. The first raindrops, black as blood, spattered on the pavement.

Wind

Blades sweep in silent
swooping curves, slicing softly.
Lives enlightened.
 
 
 

Soaring

Gliding in silence
circling high on thermal air
silver flash on blue.
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