Category Archives: Based on a true story

Mots ne sont pas assez

My pen rests on the paper. Ready to write but entirely motionless, before falling lifelessly to the page.

Thankful that I still can , I breathe as my mind races. My eyes trace the newspaper strewn on the bench before closing to pray, ‘My Lord?”
A tear wells, drops and forms the first, and  last, mark.

Dedicated to all those who lost their lives in the #ParisAttacks – words aren’t enough

“Sit wherever you like” she said, as if I actually wanted to be there.

“Thanks for coming today. Your opinions are…” her words faded with my concentration.

The painting on the wall morphed from a nondescript pattern into a sailboat into a small child reading a tattered book under a tree. Her hair was gently swaying under a spring breeze, her bare feet shifted softly through luscious green grass beside her now discarded shoes and the corner of her mouth subtly lifted to a smile.

“A or B?” she demanded more than asked.

“I’m sorry, the hour has passed.” I stood up quickly before picking up my bag. “Can I have my incentive now?”

Ignoring the shocked look on her face, I took the envelope and left the room. Focus groups have never excited me but the money is easy.

Sunshine’s inevitable disappointment

She loomed on the horizon, a lone figure full of fear. Her body was sharp with loaded weaponry on her bow.

The clouds highlighted her movements, as if they too were closing in on my inevitable fate. Boardshorts for trousers and sunshine for florescent light. I stared to sea wishing summer holidays didn’t have to end.

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Someday reign

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Somedays start with a mix of rain and squeals. Those days are long.

There’ll be unappreciated Lego, inconsistent baking, paint spills and bed sheet cubby houses that they’ll prefer destructing over constructing. There will be tears.

These days are caffeine fuelled and frustration filled. Dad tries hard but I struggle to reign with Sunday rain.

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Boardroom to bullets

Pray4ParisThe chair rolled back from the table and he rose to his feet. With the margins filled with sketches and strained eyes from staring at the clock, that meeting couldn’t have finished soon enough.

But from clock to barrel of a gun, he suddenly longed to be gathered around the boardroom table.

Pray for Paris

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MONDAYITUS: What’s at the foot of the problem?

socksRude and intrusive … the alarm was far from welcome.

My shirt scrapped harshly across my back and I began my first to do list for the year. “Buy fabric softener.”

With this attitude my first day back was going to be hard. Soft and welcoming, my outlook changed in an instant; brand new socks.

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Beautiful struggle

mumiReturning to the lounge, the crying subdued. Emotionally drained and physically exhausted, we sat in silence.

“Being a parenting is going to be greatest part of my life” she said, “it’ll also be the hardest”.

It was then, despite giving birth to my daughter two weeks ago, that I knew my wife was a mother.

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY

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Why write?

penFingers hover and my mind strains. There’s no movement. The world is melting pot of stories and I can’t find one! I only need fifty five words, it cannot be that hard.

An alert arrives; a happy reader, inspiration at last.

Fingers chase my rushing mind. I’ve remembered the smiles, the true reason I write.

Daily prompt: Writerly reflections

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Held

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She holds on because she’s told to 

and because she feels secure 

Dad holds on because he fears 

and because of his love for her 

He fears the day she says goodbye 

“I don’t need ten hugs a day” 

She doesn’t see past sundown 

He envies her in this way

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Comforting pain

Looking right, my neck strains. It’s 3pm and I’m hunched over my desk

“Don’t sleep on the hardwood floors” the lingering pain reminds.

Despite this, I look at the photo frame to my right – she brings relief.

“I’m scared Daddy, can you sleep beside my bed?” It was 3am but I couldn’t say no.

Daily prompt: inanimate object 

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