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Busy Head

Oh look. I did it again. I haven’t posted anything for months!

Well, here I haven’t. There have been other things afoot so this has been neglected somewhat. Been working on some other blogs (covertly shhhhh) and doing some writing and wonky thinking and stuff.

I have this problem with an over busy head – there are so many things I want to do I usually end up doing none of them very well!

I thought about sharing some of my short stories here but haven’t yet because:

  1. I honestly don’t think they’re very good,
  2. I don’t want to look stupid(er),
  3. They’re mine and I don’t care if people think they’re good or stupid…. ooh wait. Did I just contradict myself already?!

Well, maybe I will share. Maybe I won’t. Maybe you don’t care either! 😉

Oh what the heck, go on then. Don’t get over-excited 😉

Best Friend

She cradled the lighter in the palm of her hand, her fingers lightly encasing it, as she slowly flipped it over with her thumb. Over and over and over. Over. That word that had changed her life completely. Over.

The silver Zippo felt heavy and cold in her palm, her thumb gently stroking the floral engraved surface with each turn, it drew warmth from her gentle embrace as she flipped it. Over. She knew the map of it’s dents and scratches as well as she knew her own scarred and ravaged face.

She stared blankly into the dimly lit room, her eyes seeing but her brain choosing not to process the dismal images it was receiving. She knew every putrid inch of these malevolent walls and had no more need to bother with the ugliness of it all. Over. And over.

She blinked. Eyes which had seen so many tears had become dry, gritty and sore. Her cracked, bleeding lips gave life to the longest of warm sighs. She inhaled deeply through her nose and the smell from the petrol lighter burned her nostrils and throat, yet seemed to sooth her being. All. Over.

A detached observer may not have noticed that more than the smell of lighter fluid tainted the fetid, stale air in the room that she had made her own dank cell since he left several days earlier. Much more. But she knew. Finally. Over.

She closed her eyes and felt the comforting heaviness of the now warm lighter. She felt as one with this old friend now as she gently popped back the lid. A tiny metallic stopper clicked back against the lid like a hammer, causing an almost imperceptible, yet sustained and perfect chime as the hinged lid rang like the minutest of bells. Her thumb rested on the rough wheel which she knew from long experience would always reliably spark and bear flame on the first flick. They’d been through a lot together, her and her lighter. It was the one thing in her life she could rely on. Over. Everything.

Her lips curled gently into an easy smile as she turned the wheel with a steady thumb. In that split second she felt every serration on the trusty wheel playfully cut into her flesh a little. It was the last thing she allowed herself to feel.

Over.

Best Friend

She cradled the lighter in the palm of her hand, her fingers lightly encasing it, as she slowly flipped it over with her thumb. Over and over and over. Over. That word that had changed her life completely. Over.

The silver Zippo felt heavy and cold in her palm, her thumb gently stroking the floral engraved surface with each turn, it drew warmth from her gentle embrace as she flipped it. Over. She knew the map of it’s dents and scratches as well as she knew her own scarred and ravaged face.

She stared blankly into the dimly lit room, her eyes seeing but her brain choosing not to process the dismal images it was receiving. She knew every putrid inch of these malevolent walls and had no more need to bother with the ugliness of it all. Over. And over.

She blinked. Eyes which had seen so many tears had become dry, gritty and sore. Her cracked, bleeding lips gave life to the longest of warm sighs. She inhaled deeply through her nose and the smell from the petrol lighter burned her nostrils and throat, yet seemed to sooth her being. All. Over.

A detached observer may not have noticed that more than the smell of lighter fluid tainted the fetid, stale air in the room that she had made her own dank cell since he left several days earlier. Much more. But she knew. Finally. Over.

She closed her eyes and felt the comforting heaviness of the now warm lighter. She felt as one with this old friend now as she gently popped back the lid. A tiny metallic stopper clicked back against the lid like a hammer, causing an almost imperceptible, yet sustained and perfect chime as the hinged lid rang like the minutest of bells. Her thumb rested on the rough wheel which she knew from long experience would always reliably spark and bear flame on the first flick. They’d been through a lot together, her and her lighter. It was the one thing in her life she could rely on. Over. Everything.

Her lips curled gently into an easy smile as she turned the wheel with a steady thumb. In that split second she felt every serration on the trusty wheel playfully cut into her flesh a little. It was the last thing she allowed herself to feel.

Over.