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Tag Archives: fear


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It was difficult, starting over. Re-doing it all from scratch. Everything was a struggle. They queried everything. Questioned her every move. Where had she come from? When had she left? How would she live? And worst of all, why? Why had she left, why had she come here? Why should they help her? Why? Why? Why? She had no answers. She only knew that she had had to leave, had to get away. She had to start again, take a different path, make a new life. She hadn’t thought it would be so hard.



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Ink drips word drops
That seep, bloodred,
Into paper.
Oozing half formed
Thoughts that spread
And stain.

Revealing more than
I fail the inkblot test.

Ten Days

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Ten days after the storm the strangers came. They stood, silent and still, in the town square. The people watched from behind shuttered windows. After two days the first brave souls ventured out into the streets. The strangers stared ahead. They showed no sign that they saw or heard anyone. Next day the strangers were gone. The people gathered silently in the square staring after them. Ten days after the strangers left, the sickness came. Jan 9th 2016


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There was so much to say.
Her heart was so full that the words caught in her throat.
She swallowed and smiled. There was too much to say.


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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

The Caller

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The phone rings, the shrillness making me jump, though I have been waiting for the sound for an eternity. I mustn’t answer too quickly. He’ll be expecting that. My mouth is dry. I count, heart thudding like a death knock against my ribs. One. Thud. Two. Thud. Wait. Wait. I lift the receiver, hand shaking, breathe out slowly, faking calm. “Hello?” Nothing. Then, at the end of the line, I hear the low, mocking laughter.


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In my head
Words jostle
Clammering to be chosen
to be writ large,
typed true.
They fight and scuffle,
elbowing and pushing,
Brilliant, bright, bedazzling.
At my fingertip
Uncertainty looms.
At the nib of my pen,
their confidence fails.
They baulk at the sight
Of a bright, white page,
and skulk and crawl away.

Wordle: Writer's Block

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