The sky grew dark as night drew close.
The day faded from view.
Above, amidst the haze and black,
a pinprick light shone through.
The earthly sight of a billion miles,
bold and bright in the blue.
And while our bodies slept at night,
our souls in dreams, they flew.
Lindsey climbed the last few steep steps before pausing to catch her breath. She furrowed her brow and put her hand to her eyes to take in the view from the Great Wall. It was her second week in China and her third month spent travelling. Around her, tourists bustled and took clumsy photos; silhouettes in the blinding sun. She took in the clean air and snapped a quick shot of the great, green mountains and valleys, carving out the ridges that bore the wall like a majestic crown of stone and cloud.
The weather was dry. Mellow. Five thousand…
Between the stand-up phone calls
and across the office floor,
you wave to folk you hardly know
except in these four walls.
By overcrowded kitchen sinks
we share a laugh or two.
Awkward small talk, Monday mornings
“Yea, I’m good, and you?”
We sit in groups and chat at lunch
about the week we’ve had,
and Netflix shows you’ve got to see
once you’ve finished Breaking Bad.
Through every boring meeting
and biannual corporate do,
forced friendships soon turn genuine,
the falseness becomes true.
These strangers who surrounded us,
now irreplaceable friends.
We go for drinks…
It is short. A fleeting lifespan in which a beating heart tremors, organs pump and the electricity of life undulates through tiny receptors and the cells which comprise them. On feeble wings of glass, she emerges from her paper shell. Thin bodied; long and brown with dancing legs on pinprick feet. With no time to assess, she flaps and hopes that instinct will carry her body upwards. It does. On the breeze she tumbles across the lake, dropping and ascending with the currents until she harnesses the strength in her tiny wings and flies a more stable flight.
A chilly southerly wind blew strong against my jacket as I took a seat at the bus stop. It had been raining all night and the ground was a blotched blanket of puddles and wet leaves. I shuffled my boots in the murky water beneath the metal bench and thought of my grandfather.
When I was a child, I hated the rain because it meant I couldn’t play outside. I’d sulk and grumble, watching the rainfall from the attic window of my grandparent’s home in Dorset while my grandmother attempted to cheer me up with home baking and hand-crafted puppets…
Here’s to us lucky few
We knew what we wanted to do
We won the race
And knew our place
Inside out and through and through
Here’s to us popular folk
People listened when we spoke
Our egos they awoke
Here’s to us who figured out
What this world is all about
We’re making money
‘Cos the weather’s sunny
For those unafraid to shout
Here’s to us who’ve got it made
Sunshine basking throwing shade
On all our lowly peers
Chained by mortal fears
And paying prices we never paid
Here’s to us who know ourselves
Trophies fill our crowded shelves
We’ve got it together
And will have forever
Into success we’ve delved
Here’s to us, the lucky few
We do what we were born to do
But here’s the twist
We don’t exist
We’re merely an illusion to you
This morning I learned what a ‘Banana roll’ is. No, unfortunately it’s not a dessert — it’s a part of the body which is considered undesirable in the eyes of modern media and consequentially to many women too. A banana roll is a build-up of fat below the buttocks on the upper hamstring and is considered highly problematic. It’s near impossible to get rid of and is caused largely by genetics. …
(Parody of James Joyce’s Molly Bloom monologue from his novel Ulysses)
When you have those days when you just can’t stop eating and you know you shouldn’t have bought £7 worth of Turkish Delight from the man at Spitalfields, yes, but you couldn’t resist and now you’re regretting it because you’re so full and your heart is beating faster from the sugar and yes you’re pretty sure that your body composition is now 70% Turkish Delight but you still can’t stop because it taste so good and you’re very aware that you haven’t been watching your diet recently and you’re…
Hiding behind a Honda Civic, Icarus and Daedalus watched the exit of Ikea with bated breath. The high pitched yelp of a woman had been heard from within the store and both father and son hoped sincerely that it wasn’t Daedalus’s ex-girlfriend Nigella. If she had seen them and followed them out, the potential for things to turn seriously ugly and sad was dangerously high.
Icarus sat in quiet dread remembering his previous encounters with Nigella’s daughter Melissa, who’d surely try to engage him in conversation. Last time she tried to impress Icarus she had pretended that she smoked. Upon…
“Damn that rotten shop!” grumbled Daedalus as he staggered out of Ikea, blinded by the light of the sun. “Icarus!?” Panicked and dazed, he spun around and fumbled towards the dark void beyond the automatic doors. He could have sworn his son was right behind him. The boy’s angry breaking voice sounded from nearby, “I’m coming! For God’s sake dad. People were staring at us.” A pale, angular face marked with acne scars and hidden in part by a heavy fringe, appeared from inside the mouth of the store. …
Creative Copywriter, UK. Probably knows more Simpsons jokes than you.