Lockdown Crazy

Lolly started it all by catching my eye.  Normally when you cat-watch in the garden, though, you don’t see it disappear and reappear.  I thought I was going lockdown crazy.  Little did I know.  

He had come over the fence, lolled about a bit, gone under the trampoline and disappeared into the long grass and shadows before dropping once more from the fence.  This time he didn’t stay, heading straight home by avoiding the trampoline, giving its underside a scowl and a rough purr as he passed.

Intrigued, I got up, slowly, awkwardly, and went to take a look.  The whole garden from the trampoline onwards - the swing set, the playhouse - had not been touched since the first days, since.. 

Weeks alone had taken their toll.  I was breathing heavily, a strange feeling filling my mind, had it ever been this hard to walk down the garden before?  

There were certainly never the shadows before.  Every step made my head buzz with memories of the parties, play, games, laughter that had occurred once, before I restricted my view almost entirely to the patio.

I bent down, chest complaining, brow pouring, and began to crawl under the trampoline where the cat had been.  

I saw them and crawled forward, not quite reaching before returning to the start.  

I saw them and crawled forward, not quite reaching before returning to the start.  

I saw them and crawled forward, not quite reaching before returning to the start.  

I saw them and crawled forward  

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Written for and entered into the Bridport Prize in 2020.  Forgotten about until today.

100 Words: A basic sketch

I first saw you distorted through a glass - primary colours creating a basic, idealised sketch of you.  A picture in my mind formed before ever trying to discover a person full of intricate details.

Some part of me always knew this but it kept quiet.  That’s why I never listened or took an interest.  That’s why I never asked you out.  I loved an idea of you but never actually tried to know you.

I saw you with your family today, undistorted for the first time; remembered things, realised how incompatible we were.  And I smiled the happiest of smiles.

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Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

100 Words: In Delphi

Standing by a rock marking the world’s centre, I say, “If I were Paris, I’d have given you the apple.”  “With or without bribery?” you ask, smiling.  

Later, in the hotel, we make love as a mist rises to create a bubble around us.

Afterwards you bite into an apple, your hand rising to halt the juice flow.  I wonder if I’m in paradise, you say the whiteness of the room suggests so.

We wish to stay forever but we know it’s too expensive.  Our thoughts return to the rock and we agree this is the centre, our little bubble.

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Written for Friday Fictioneers from the following picture prompt (see here for other stories): 

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Note: The picture reminded me of a poem I wrote and I thought I would adapt it for Friday Fictioneers.  Turns out it is 20 years to the day exactly since I started to write that first piece, which follows here:

"Standing by a rock marking the centre of the world"

Standing by a rock marking the centre of the world,

Each of us representing diff’rent centres ourselves.

"My love for you would fill the valley."

You look down and point out the valley’s not so big.

I smile and say I would have given you the apple.

We kiss.

Later, in the hotel, we make love as the

Rain rhythmically falls against our window,

Trying to disturb us and failing miserably,

It instead creates a waterfall from our balcony.

Afterwards we lay in each other’s arms,

Our hearts and lungs having come to rest,

We stare at the ceiling recollecting our thoughts.

The clouds set in but it’s OK because

It will create our own bubble and we have

Each other’s body to keep us warm.

You reach over for the apple and take a bite:

The crisp crunch and spray, your hand rising

To your chin to stop the juice flowing too far.

I wonder if I’m in paradise- you say the whiteness

Of the walls and sheets might just suggest so.

As always I want to stay just like this but

We both know it would get a bit too expensive.

Our thoughts return to the rock and we agree

This is the true centre, especially with the mist.

23/3, 18-20/9/2002, 15, 17/1/2003