Category: Writing

I wake up, my eyes wet with tears. It’s dark and the place feels unfamiliar, but I am alive. Another day, the same nightmare. I stretch my limbs and look up from my cot. The ceiling is low and grey, patches of rust and soot marking it here and there. I get up and grab…

At first it wasn’t clear if they were “little green men.” They sure weren’t green. Everyone believed they were not human – everyone knew it – but media did not get hold of much scientific information. The point was, I think, that not much scientific information was circulating. Since when they had landed in a…

I don my overcoat and go outside in the fog, leaving the warmth of the pub behind. My high heels tock-tock on the pavement and the typical smell of moisture mixed with city envelopes me, not entirely pleasant but familiar. Soothing. The trees along the street have already begun to scatter their dead leaves around, large…

She was there for me. She has always been there for me, even when I wasn’t there for myself. Even now. I’ve never been good at talking. I’ve known that all along. I’m a good listener and bad talker. Bad talker, yeah, that’s something, isn’t it? At least I’m good at being bad at something.…