moment 23

i left the house. needed to get away. on my ten speed, blue with silver. through the quiet traffic. across town. anywhere. just not there. down the path by the red brick youth club. stream running nearby. follow the stream. across the bridge over the weir. a moment to watch the water tumble and fall. a froth of white turbulence. across I went. no cycles allowed. on-wards into the park with the river running through it. i came upon my stepfather and friend. fishing. watching the bobbing of the float cause ripples on the water. enticing. i took the fishing rod, metallic blue, bottom of the range. a finger resting, watching the line. waiting. the fluorescent float bobbed. then disappeared. up again. then down. a fish biting. a hook cutting in. i wound the reel, pulling occasionally. wound him in. the line straight and taught, heavy. i pulled and wound, pulled and wound. the hook caught. up to the bank. up into the air. the fish thrashing, twisting, spinning on the line. i brought it into shore, on the grass of the bank. its rainbow colours hinted of deep magical places in the sunlight. of freedom in the green reeds, along the beds of the river. the caress of the current on scales as it ran along the body. a never-ending world. i watched as the fish gasped for freedom. its mouth opening and closing in the air. too much oxygen. open. close. open. close. hook through lip. i bent down and carefully removed the hook. carried the fish, in the sun, gleaming, to the sparkle of the river. lay it down on the water. watched it swim free. i left the rod on the bank, said my goodbye to my stepfather and friend. cycled slowly home. through the sleepy traffic of the town. up the hill past the tin topped house. to my door. i opened it quietly. went into the lounge. the rabbit was dead.

moment 20

Featured | Posted by theworddoodler

there was a break in the clouds as the rain changed from torrential hard and heavy to torrential light. they sat in the car chatting as mum, the driver, followed the voice of the SATNAV. they discussed the merits of square crisps. the SATNAV points to a pass with dire warnings of not suitable for lorries and avoid at winter. but they are city folk. they sat sipping prosecco as the carpet shop burned in the nights and youths ran from shops with bags of rice. they sat reading books as the drug gangs stabbed each other over a postcode. they sat sipping tea as buses exploded and bombs went off on the underground. the next day they shopped in town. how bad could it be? the road wound its way through green rocky hills, sheep crossing their path. grey stone in green with the littering of white forms too focused on the ground to give way to a car. the road narrowed into one. twisting L-shapes with occasional space where another could pass. maybe. please don’t let another car come. please leave the road free. high in the heart of cumbria they stopped to take a moment on her back. to admire the curves of her body. the rise and fall of many limbs that receded into the horizon. a photo opportunity with a sheep then onwards down a spiral of road, each turning a fall. they passed on the way the fallen travellers to potholes. hoping, wishing, begging they did not join them. they passed on the way pensioners in small cars going in the opposite direction they had been. if only they could call to them. if only they could cry a warning: don’t do it! but too late, they were gone. and so the road continued to twist, curling its form around the tyres, flicking its tongue at their wheels. just as they thought: this is it. the narrow winding pass came to an end and they saw a road.

moment 14

Featured | Posted by theworddoodler

a room of grey and white walls littered with splodges of colour. different shaped but carefully placed. white chalk splashes on grey softened floor. and the silence of perspiration and concentration. a striped adventurer looks up, rubbing her hand. today blue. an arm stretches up, fingers feeling, testing for the right spot. experience says it can’t be done but that doesn’t deter. she is full of the optimism of this time. a right foot goes up, finds a place, then a push. the other arm stretches, feeling the path, over the holes and bumps until it reaches blue. fingers clasp the hold, left foot, push. a disadvantaged spider clinging to a wall. right hand up. up. come on. just. too. far. a slip. a fall. a soft landing. a smile.