Karen looked down at the total devastation in the lounge. How was it possible that a two-year-old could create such a mess in two hours. Lego, toy trains, dolls and that damn nesting doll were scattered everywhere. Emily had finally crashed half an hour ago, after five stories and two bottles of milk. Having a child was the hardest thing Karen had ever done. Doing it on her own, for the last year, had made it impossible. A tear escaped her eye and ran down her cheek. She wiped it away, angry at herself. Not now, she had things to do. With a sigh of exhaustion, she started to bend down and pick up all the toys, scattered on the floor. She looked down at the several different halves of the nesting dolls. God, how she hated their horrible smiling faces. All of them perfectly identical, getting smaller. As a child they had been her favourite, now she plain hated them. She would have thrown them away months ago if Emily hadn’t clung to them so much. Almost as if she realised they were the last part of her father.
Tommy lay on his bed watching the fan dancing shadows across the ceiling. The gentle thump of the blades so familiar. Today was his birthday, he was 30 years old. He stared at the fan and remembered back to another birthday when he had been 16. He was 16 when he finally learnt the secret of his existence. Ever since his father had walked out on his eighth birthday, he had known he needed the truth.
I remember receiving the box of my father’s things when I was 25. Shortly after he died I received a phone call to collect his effects from the mental hospital. They say after 15 years of incarceration, his brain finally gave in and let him pass. My family told me he hadn’t always been insane, it was a slow deterioration over many years. I don’t remember him being anything other than raving, violent and dangerous. Photos exist of us together when I was a toddler. It’s a time I don’t remember or want to. I took the box to my car, marvelling at how small it was. A small box, no bigger than a standard order from Amazon. A handful of things collected over a lifetime. I threw the box in the back of my car. I cared less about it than I did my father and that was saying something. As I pulled up to the house I left the box in the car and went in. Swinging my toddler into my arms, feeling his arms wrap around my neck. How could my father leave me at the same age?
This is the prologue, to my work in progress. At present, the book has the working title of Hidden Feelings, but I am sure this may change. I welcome any feedback you have. He sat there crouching down in the wet grass, waiting for his dad to say go. A bead of sweat ran down his back. He followed it in his mind, it made its way between his shoulder blades and down the small of his back. Finally coming to rest at the top of his boxer shorts. Another bead started following the same path down his spine. He legs felt numb from sitting in the same position for so long. He tried to move his knees to regain some feeling in them, as he felt the damp grass soaking through. Everything over the last 16 years had led to this one moment and the anticipation was killing him.
After the miscarriage, Sarah and Simon’s marriage struggles to survive Sarah sat and watched him. He had clinically laid the table a minute ago. Making sure all the knives and forks were exactly the same distance away. Placing the pot stand, exactly in the centre of the table. Simon walked over to the table, placing the pan exactly on the pot stand. Not a millimetre off the centre. Things had been tough for the last year in the Parker house. Ever since they had lost the baby the pair had been on a different page. It started with a quick niggle at each other. A few cross words had grown into a full-scale war. The arguments lasting for hours. Always resulting in one of them spending the night on the sofa. Two weeks ago they had faced the final decision. Go their separate ways or make their marriage work. It hadn’t always been like this. Before pregnancy, they had been happy. Constantly in the bedroom, only wanting to spend time with each other.
Part Three of Tommy’s Life Tommy sniffed the sweet sea air. He loved how fresh everything smelt on the beach. He licked his lips and tasted the salt. The small dog he had recently rescued from the shelter, ran by his side. Everyone stopped to talk to the guy with the cute dog. The wind blew the sand around his feet as he took another deep breath. The first relaxing breath he had been able to take for two weeks. Ever since he had been stopped in the subway by the policeman, after the Facebook challenge. His act of pretending to be the first aider, whilst killing his victims was over. This time Tommy had managed to escape the suspicions of the police. He knew he would not be that lucky next time. One more incident of Tommy being found at a murder scene and his mission would be over for good.
It’s dark I feel around me and can’t find it. Where has it gone, why has it left me alone? I’m going to cry I have been left with nothing. Everything I held dear, has left me. Left me alone to stumble around in this dark cage. The fear rises in my chest. I can’t … Continue reading The Dark – Microfiction