Long Since Gone – Friday Fictioneers

‘They keep the weeds under control,’ Emile explained when Hannah asked why goats were roaming the graveyard.

‘But don’t they eat the flowers?’

‘People don’t leave flowers here anymore. No one’s been buried here for a hundred years.’ He stooped to avoid a low branch and waited for Hannah on the other side. ‘People can’t be bother with the long since departed. We only see your kind these days.’

‘My kind?’

‘Yeah, history nuts who prefer the dead to the living.’

‘Oh I don’t-’

‘Makes a change at least. It’s nice to have a little warmth amongst all this stone.’

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In A Parallel Life

‘With a little effort, I wonder if I could do that?’

I stared at the screen until Marlow’s snapping finger’s brought me back to the table.

‘Eyrie? You with us?’ He rapped the blueprints with his knuckles. ‘No fuck ups this time Eyrie. No getting fancy, just get through.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ My eyes started wandering back towards the T.V in the corner, the picture hazy on the old set but clear enough to see the Irish girl hammer home the landing on her last set of tumbles.

‘This ain’t the Olympics,’ growled Marlow. ‘Even if you’re going for gold.’

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Date Night

‘Smooth moves baby,’ he hummed, nose pressed against her ear. She smirked and glanced at the tally board, her row of perfect strikes lined up above his row of not-so-perfect spares.

‘You’re turn,’ she said and handed him the purple ball from the rack.

He took it and kissed her on the nose.

‘Just you watch,’ he said. ‘One of these days I’m going to whoop your ass at this and there won’t be anythin’ you can do about it.’

Still grinning he turned and let loose, shooting wide.

Four skittles she counted.

Yeah, he wasn’t winning any time soon.

http://www.velvetverbosity.com/
http://www.velvetverbosity.com/

Stand Off

Your Grandmother lived in this blocked of flats with no elevator, and when she turned sixty your mum tried to make her move out. She stood there, biscuit tin in hand, holding a photo of your Granddad as if your mum was a demon and he was the bible.

‘This is my home!’ she said, and in the end your mother gave up. We cheered. Back then it was easy to side with the little old lady who told us stories and fed us cake.

We didn’t see the grizzly side of getting old. That bit sneaks up on you.

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April

April brings storms

that rattle and shudder

against windows

with winds

that howl and whip

past the trees.

Pressed close enough

cheeks can feel fingertips

of something, someone

not quite there.

Pattering and scampering

outside

along the whirls in the glass

traced on the lazy afternoons.

In this room,

in this house,

all gods are welcome.

With hands around latches

there is no need of prayers

to call them here.

In the morning

the carpets will be spongy,

damp beneath feet,

and the curtains slick

to the touch.

Tonight however,

calls for bare faces

turned upwards

open

to the skies.

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