by Helen Ivory | Oct 25, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Fathers’ Day Just for a moment there you had me. Fathers’ Day, and I suddenly thought, I’ll give you a ring, that’ll surprise you. Well, it would have done: you’d been dead sixteen years and were never that keen on calls anyway. You had me going...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 24, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Knuckle In front of the hyena enclosure I want to hold your hand. I don’t care about your other family watching. I stand alongside, stoop slightly to your eight year old height so the back of my hand contacts yours. I can’t do the rest though. I...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 23, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Hamelin I never meant to be so singular. One day the Pied Piper came and led all the other children away but left me here with my defective soul and my callipered heart infesting the streets with my aloneness never quite shaking off the sense that people...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 22, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
A Very Small Kingdom Once there was a queen who reigned alone over a very small kingdom, three children, a sack of potatoes waiting to be peeled, a sack of smelly garbage waiting to be carried out, a broom, useless for sweeping and even more...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 21, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Background Noise in the Aquarium Along the carriage a range of headsets and earplugs with bright wires, each one connected to some piece of electronic equipment hidden beneath the supra-epidermal layers of these creatures who are also travelling...
by Helen Ivory | Oct 20, 2014 | Prose & Poetry
Ink There was always the urge to continue the writing, to add to the seemingly endless plot of my fictionalized existence. To slit my cerebral wrists and spill the ink onto the page relieved the daily stress of the physical reality. To write...
