Hungry

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He sat at a table in the food court of the shopping mall, trying to blend in. Around him, people were talking and eating a range of fast foods and he could smell the hot grease, salt and mixed aromas of meals.

He looked down at his hands and waited. He couldn’t bear to watch people eating or breathe in the smells anymore. His stomach was growling loudly and twinging with pains.

Two young Muslin women at the table next to him got up and left, chattering in a different language.

He eyed their left tray, piled with rubbish. Slowly, he got up, picked up the tray and sat back down with it at his own table.

He had been seen, of course, too many eyes around but he didn’t care.

He opened the first box and saw the remains of chicken thighs inside. He took out a piece and eat what he could, nibbling the bone.

There were no fries, just a pot of gravy. He’d never been a fan and the pot felt cold when he picked it up. Placing it back, he got up and left.

He felt eyes on him once more and questions on lips, but no one stopped him.

I don’t care, he thought.

He walked around the food court. Looking at the rubbish left on the tables. Sometimes he reached out and touched something to see if there was anything left inside. He moved on to more tables, aiming for ones recently left where the food might still be warm. He ate whatever scraps were left trying to hide his actions out of habit but it was still impossible in such a busy place.

He found a quarter of a taco in a discarded wrapper and swallowed it. The cup beside had water from melted ice cubes at the bottom which he gulped down.

He found another table with children’s box meals stacked up. He sat down and looked through each box. He found an unopened bag of fruit and slipped it into his pocket for later. Desperate his starvation now, he knew the important of saving something for another day.

At the bottom of another box was a few cold fries. He ate them then found a small bottle of orange juice with some left inside which he drink.

He felt into other box and pulled out a plastic wrapped toy. He sighed but unwrapped the toy car anyway. He ran the car across the table, remembering another time.

He become aware of two people flanking him. He looked up and saw security guards of the mall staring down at him.

‘You need to leave,’ one of them said.

He thought about arguing; I’m was just sitting here, what’s the harm in that?

There was no point.

He got up and security walked him to the exit only stairs. He knew people were watching and whispering, what had he done?  

I just wanted some food.

He went down the steps and out on to the snowy, icy streets. Snowflakes melted on his warm skin and busy shoppers hurried by eager to get back to their homes.

He hunched his shoulders against the wind and walked back to his things tucked into the doorway of a closed down shop. There he huddled against the cold, abandoned by the world.

(Partly based on a real story).

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Punk #3LineTales

three line tales, week 160: protesters meet riot police

The big wigs said we couldn’t stand up, we were too small and not important but they were wrong because our belief was more then they could ever imagine.

Filling the streets, marching to the beat, demanding voices heard, we were seen as a disturbance, a trouble that needed to be controlled by the blues and yellows with their riot gear.

We didn’t want a fight, we the silent wanted to be come the spoken but emotions ran wild, battles broke out and we lost that day, however people heard our words and we shall come back stronger.

 

(Inspired by; https://only100words.xyz/2019/02/21/three-line-tales-week-160/ with thanks).

 

 

People Watching #TwitteringTales

When inspiration didn’t come for her novels, Darcy would go to Corner Cafe and people watch whilst she sipped a latte. Sometimes little dramas would play out which Darcy could use and other times just daydreaming about the lives around her helped.

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2019/01/22/twittering-tales-120-22-january-2019/ with thanks).

The Town That Was Lost To Time

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The small mining town had been built by hard working men for themselves and their families. Prosperity filled the buildings, laughter filled the streets and everything was just like any other town for many years. Then the coal and money began to run out, forcing people to find work else where and leave their homes.

With time, all the buildings become empty. For years, they sat alone until explorers came to see them. The new people found things pretty much as they had been left, as if the owners had just gone on holiday. Though, it was clear those people were never coming back.

The explorers’ photos and word of mouth spread and more people came to view the abandoned town. Things long untouched gotten taken, people left their different marks and the buildings deteriorated further. That though just made interested parties visit more often but they too added to the destruction.

At last, the ghost town crumbled and nature reclaimed the land. Visitors stopped coming and what little reminded of the buildings was left alone. And where once a happy, working town had stood there become nothing but the passage of time.

Dear Diary #36

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Dear Diary,

I’ve lost the inspiration and motivation again. It’s like there’s a light bulb above my head that burns bright for a few days then dims and dims till it goes out. Turning it back on is so hard. And I swear each time it takes longer and gets more difficult.

I know what people say; ‘you shouldn’t wait for inspiration,’ ‘find your own motivation,’ ‘just keep going and working through no matter what you feel that day.’

But they are not me.

Someone of them are more successful and they use that to conquer the bad days. Others, have to do it because otherwise they won’t survive so they can’t give up. The rest are chasing their dream, the knowledge of one day getting there seeing them through.

I’m in between all of that; successful but not, surviving just, wanting the dream but also boarder line living it.

Everyday I see people moving on with their lives; getting married, having kids, getting a house, getting a better job, a new car, holidays and celebrations. Getting divorced, losing everything, maybe living on the streets for awhile but then rising back up like a phoenix and going through it all again.

Whilst, I feel trapped. I’m living through the characters I write about, seeing the world and problems through them, feeling their emotions. Some say that’s living better then anyone else, for why would you actually want to go through that?

You know what I call it? Fake living.

I can go to the park and watch the children playing and the parents talking and instead of thinking about my own life, I’m thinking about theirs’. What would happen if a child went suddenly missing? Or if that mum told that mum that she had slept with her husband? Why is that dad alone this afternoon? Is the man with the cap covering his face and trying to look normal really up to something bad?

Those thoughts can’t be helped. I try to stop the flow, to think of things I believe normal people think about; have a left the stove on? When are my library books due back? What happened to that girl I swapped numbers with at the bar last weekend? My life would be easier if that was the only stuff in my head.

I don’t know what to do about this lack of motivation again. I should maybe take a holiday, go some place new. Meet some new people too. Have a life again. It’s all well and good to live in your own fantasy world all the time, but sooner or later, you realise that it’s just not the real world no matter how hard you try.

 

Wings #writephoto

They circled as one giant black mass. Blocking the sky and the sun out, causing darkness to fall. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up in wonder. Then the birds began dropping like stones. Their lifeless bodies hitting roofs, cars, pavements and people.

Panic raged across the country. Everyone hurried to find shelter, whilst grabbing phones to take photos, footage and to call others. Cats and dogs went crazy trying to catch the dead birds but soon even other animals realised that something was very wrong.

Hours later, the bodies of all the world’s birds lay piled up on the ground. All countries had declared an emergence and everyone was either being told to stay home or if they were needed to come in right away.

No one could work out what had happened but one thing was for sure Earth was now in great peril.

 

(Inspired from; https://scvincent.com/2017/06/08/thursday-photo-prompt-wings-writephoto/ with thanks)

Hot

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It had been warm for awhile now but today the sun had decided to blaze in the sky, so everywhere was hot.

People gathered outside, hurrying to the shops to by water and BBQ food. Others took to their gardens and basked in the glory.

I went into my cellar and sat there in the dark coldness, praying for winter to arrive early.

Storm Doris

Lighting Strike

England braced itself for the worst storm of the winter. Heavy rain fell, causing fast flowing streams to run down the side of the road. Large puddles gathered and formed mini lakes. The wind whipped up into a gale and swept up everything it could. In the higher lands, snow fell thickly.

People battled through the elements. Driving their cars out into the storm named as Doris, determined not to let ‘a little rain,’ halt their day. Soon though they had no choice as the wind swept the rain in sheets and caused all the coastlines to become tidal pools. Cars were turned about and those people who had walked hurried back home.

Reports came flying in about people being injured, public transports being cancelled, delayed and the traffic at a stand still. It was an all day storm and people should stay at home. Instead though, those that could, hurried to the shops and brought everything possible. Full shelves suddenly became empty and cupboards became full.

The wind roared, making the sea hit the wave breaking walls and wash up and over into the seaside towns. People gathered to see the waves but were driven back by the strong winds and spraying water. They retreated to the safety of their homes and watched storm Doris rage.

 

Christmas Day

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All around the world today people are gathering together.

They are swapping presents, eating feasts and celebrating.

It’s a time for happiness and to see the magic of tradition.

Faceless

anonymous, bokeh, creepy

I have dreams every night of a crowd of faceless people. The dreams began the same way. I am walking on the street in the middle of a busy city. There are people all around me and I can hear voices, but not words. I come to the end of the street and stop to wait at the lights. It is there I notice that the people around me are faceless. Where there should be faces are just black, empty spaces. As I try to figure out why this is, the lights change. The people move off. I should go with them, but I can’t. All I can think about is why. Then I wake up.

I lie in bed and think about it. What does this dream mean? Why are the people faceless? It fades and I get up. I go about my day and don’t think about it anymore. When I go to bed though, it returns. Once again, I’m in the city. I walk down the street and around me are all these people. I can hear them talking, but can’t fully make out the words. The street ends and I wait for the lights to change. I look at the people close by me. They are faceless. Where the faces should be are black spaces. I wonder about this as the lights change and the people move off. I wake up soon after.

In the morning, I lie there and instead of thinking about the missing faces, I wonder why I keep having this dream. What is it trying to tell me? Good job, it’s a Sunday morning. I internet search the dream to get answers. Dreaming of faceless people could be associated with identity and the loss or inability of accepting that person. Also, linked to the desire to deepen your knowledge of someone’s personality.   

No, it did help. I looked more, but don’t find much difference. Of course, if I could figure out who these people might be that would help. There are sub-headings like faceless lover, you being faceless, blurring out face of person you know. I tell myself next time I sleep to try hard to look at the people and put more into memory.

I go to bed early, but when I wake up, my dreams were totally different.