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Signs of Life

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Signs of Life. He bumbled and grumped through his morning routine. Bedroom drawers rumbled open with no clack of closure. Water spattered from taps. Downstairs, doors clumped shut, cutlery crackled against crockery. The kettle clicked into rumbling action. She waited, quiet, listening. How loud it all was. These noises intruded, silencing her thoughts, quashing her dreams, tethering her to this life. Their life, his life, only partly hers. Later, she would make noises of her own.

I found this in an email from way back in 2014. It was a submission to Paragraph Planet. I can’t remember if it was accepted.


Four things

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He needed four things, he said. “You, me, a bed and a day.” It sounded simple, but she knew better. Even if they could find a day, there would be no bed. And she wasn’t fooling herself. They could barely manage an hour together before he was called away. A whole day was a pipe dream. Still, it was a lovely dream, so she allowed herself to believe in it, just for a little while.


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She watched as the jets leapt skyward. They didn’t reach the sky. They stopped far short and spattered back to the ground.  She wondered if the water felt anything. Did it hope to touch the clouds? Was it disappointed not to? Did it wish that it could stop this perpetual stretching for the impossible? Did it ever just want to settle in a pool and rest, allowing its glassy surface to reflect the sky instead. That was as good as touching the clouds, wasn’t it? A reflected sky was beautiful and anyone could see and enjoy it. 

The jets flew upwards again.  She felt their determination mocking her. 

Weekly Photo Challenge


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Tiredness pulls at us,
scratching our eyes and taunting
with promises of dreams.
Yet sleep eludes us still.

(18th May, 2012)

In the Arts Centre

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Depictions of dreams
Shout from the walls
Bold and Brassy
Screaming with confidence.
Others, more shyly scribed
Whisper their hopes
Quiet and calm
But no less certain.


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