the hideout

for the first five years she tries to build herself a hideout, tries to hollow out space in a tree for a shed to hide; tries to slip into the depths of the forest and blend into the scenery. none of it ever works, she never feels quite right in the hidey-spaces she's stealing from …

crescendo

she's watchful of the night sky, waiting for it to arrive before she slips out under a cloak of her own making. outside, the city hums, content with the work from the rest of the day, and people are few and far between. tonight she's tempted to take a glass to the roof, fill it …

wonderland

Flash Fiction July, 30 There's a forest tucked away on the outskirts of the city. She doesn't go there often; only in winter, when it frosts over and she has to wear thick-soled hiking boots lined with extra socks and haphazardly-stitched in knitted linings. She pretends it's for the sheer beauty of the place, but it's …

invisible girl

the invisible girl draws a thin coat around herself. it's been raining, and it would be cold if it weren't for the fact that the sun now beats down on the ground. if she looks hard enough, she'd almost swear that she can see the shimmer of water evaporating. water doesn't shimmer when it evaporates, she chides …

tea kettle

water drips down the side of the tea kettle as it fills under the tap, making a quick hissing  sound as it's placed on the stove-top to boil. the condensation forms fast, tiny water drops spilling over and slicing ribbons through the sheen of water. in the next room, she's talking. she hisses an emphasis …

in the kitchen

i'm working through the kitchen cupboards, piling the tables high with ingredients and sifting through them to find the right combination. it was originally intended as a birthday cake, but then i realized i had got the month wrong - now, it's going to be a "just because" cake. actually, on reflection, cupcakes might work …

circuitous

The letter skims through the slot in the door, drifts to the ground with barely a whisper. It'll stay there all day, and easily for the rest of the night; its intended recipient is out, working late and then going on out to dinner. This is where things have come to: letters sent from a …

caught

Here we are. We are a moment trapped in time, a dream given life. (The dream has yet to become reality.) This is a standoff, not yet the battle of wills it could be, and we are a developing memory. The world moves on around us, taking us with it.