Not feeling it

black-and-white, person, woman

I’m just not feeling it today. I woke up too tried and wanting to just stay in bed. The sun was pouring through my window, looking warm and inviting, but I couldn’t muster the strength to move. Listening, I heard the sound of voices and a car engine, I tired to make out the conversion, but couldn’t. Those people were so close to me and yet so far, as if they were in another timeline from my own.

Rolling over, I try to go back to sleep, but it wouldn’t come and I need the bathroom. I could just go in the bed, it’s no big deal. Getting up takes all of the energy I’d gotten from minutes of dozing off before. The coldness of the room wraps around me, awaking me more whilst at the same time driving me back to bed. I grab a blanket, drape myself in it and go to the door.

I open it and look into the living room-kitchen combo of my tiny flat. It’s practically empty as if no one lives here. Taking a few steps down, I arrive at the bathroom and go in. I do what I have to do whilst my mind wonders how I came to be me. Of late, it’s a question that keeps coming up a lot. Why am I me? How did my mind and body become one? Why couldn’t I have been someone else?

I decide to shower. It’s safer then taking a bath, though I long to be surrounded by water again, but I don’t trust myself. Those dark thoughts are forever looming like shadows that play on the walls at night. They call to me often, inviting me to be with them, to become one with the darkness and not have to think anymore.

The hot water helps. I stand under the shower, letting it pour down around me and take everything away. I find a sponge and some lime shower gel which I wash with carefully. I try not to think, but just listen to the sounds of the water hitting me and the bathtub. I wash my hair too because that sometimes helps.

Turning, I stand there for awhile, just letting the water cascade off me. I feel sleepy suddenly, dizzy and drifting as if my mind has been called away. A loud ringing starts up in my ears, covering up every other sound. I switch the shower off, get out and sit on the loo, head down, eyes shut. The faint passes without me going out. Still though, I feel it lingering.

Putting a dressing gown on, I go into the kitchen and make some peppermint tea. I also grab a breakfast bar as I wait. Then I take everything to the sofa and put the TV on to try and dispel some of the loneliness. I sip my tea, tasting comforting mint. I feel better, but now I don’t want to move.

This is my today.


The Song Of My Soul


All I want to do today is sit by the window and watch the rain falling outside. I want to listen to the patter of the drops as they hit the roof tops, cars, road and plants. Each sound to it’s own, but all together forming a rhythm that raises above all noise. I want to see the raindrops tumbling from leaves and dripping off. The motion so smooth that it captivates me and my eyes can not turn away. Upon the ground, the rain becomes one again like it was in the clouds. Forming stretching puddles of water that reflect the world. I witness the death of so many raindrops that I feel saddened, but in my soul I know they will soon come again.

Bye Bye Baby

Empty Crib

She sat in the rocking chair with him all wrapped up in the blanket. She hummed softly then began singing the lullaby even though he was quiet all ready. Clutching him tighter to her breasts, she touched his short curly black hair, feeling the softness of it. She muttered that he was a good boy.

Getting up slowly, she went and placed him down in the crib. Resting her hands on the cool wood, she shut eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, she looked down. A bundle of empty blankets meet her sad eyes and in that moment she remembered her baby had been dead for years.


Post It Note #23

She sat down in the toilet cubical but before she could start crying, she noticed all the writing on the once white walls. In curly blue letters, someone had written; you’re amazing, no matter what happens.  


Christmas, Advent, Christmas Flower Arrangement, Candle

The smell of the candle reminded him of Christmas. Tears came to his eyes and he let them fall silently.


Door, Knob, Vintage, Antique, House

Shutting the door she had created in her mind, Amber told herself she’d never go back again. She imaged letting go of the brass doorknob and slotting the golden skeleton key quickly inside. Pressing a hand to what she thought of as cold wood, she sighed deeply. For a few seconds, she pictured the memories cluttering the dreamed up room. Removing her hand, she told herself it was the right thing to do. Amber locked the door and slipped the key out. She glanced at the other doors that lined this part of her mind then she walked away. The grief and heartache locked safely away forever.

The Lost Unopened Letter

Treadwell Heights



My Dear Love,

I do not know how to write all that I must say to you. Too many times I have started writing and thrown the paper away. My quill has flown from my hand and left ink upon my desk. I have further upset the poor surface by my scattered things. It has all been in vain though, because I have failed in my given task!

My head and heart are in battle and I cannot note either one’s thoughts down. There is too much left to be said and the hourglass has run down. Alas, I still try even though the autumn sky grows darker and rain taps its mournful song against the windows. The servants bring the lamps and lit the fires, causing glows as colourful as the falling leaves against the walls.

You should know that I’ve walked Treadwell’s many corridors all day in the deepest of agonies. I have packed and unpacked my things many times. The maids whisper behind the doors and twice the groom has asked me if he stood prepare a carriage.

So, here it is my Love. I cannot be with you. My heart breaks to write such! It has not been an easy choice and though I yearn for adventures, my place is here. I cannot remove the shackles as you once called them. What will I do without these dusty empty halls and rooms? If I leave Treadwell will be shut forever and surely lost!

I picture you reading this and my heart breaks further. I image you standing on the merry ship’s deck as she leaves the docks and the fading cries of well-wishers. Rain falls softly on the paper like my tears causing the ink to run. Oh, read on my brave lion, I have further confessions to make.

It is not just Treadwell that binds me. Lord Cumberland has asked for my hand and I have decided to accept it. He will restore my beloved home and I shall be an orphan no longer. He and I shall never had what we had, but it will be content enough.

I pray that you do not return, for it will be too late. I hope you have many adventures and never forget me.

For I will never forget you, my one true love, my lion.


Post It Note #14


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Rocky Robin

She glanced up at the window as a strange tapping and flapping of wings rattled against the glass. There was a flurry of brown feathers and a flash of red reflected beneath the curtain. She got up from her bed and went to see what had happened. Drawing the curtains, she saw the branches of the birch tree that grew in her back garden and nestled on the closest branch was a small bird.

Puzzled, she stared hard at the robin, who appeared to be staring back at her. Then she went to her bedside table. As her finger reached out to switch the radio on, the tapping and flapping started up again. She turned quickly and caught the robin struggling against the window. It seemed the small bird was in desperation to break through the glass and enter her bedroom. After a few seconds the robin gave up once more and jumped back on to the branch.

‘What’s up with you? Silly thing.’ she tutted.

She turned on the radio then went over to her wardrobe. She began pulling out clothes and tossing them on her bed. The song on the radio finished and there was a quick news report.

‘What to wear…?’ she placed her hands on her hips and stared at the clothes before her.

The tapping cut through her thoughts and looking at the window she saw the robin was back again. Sighing, she went over to the window and opened it. The robin darted away, moving to the other side of the tree.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ She called, ‘there’s nothing for you here.’

She left the window open, but drew the curtains. She began to get dressed as the song on the radio changed. She hummed the first few notes then stopped as the voice broke through the music and began singing.

‘How strange.’ she muttered as her room filled with the dancing music.

As the chores came in, she picked up the words as she finished putting on her blouse and skirt. She went over to the window and as she drew back the curtain, she saw the robin sitting on the window sill, his head on one side as if he was listening to her.

‘Oh, wow, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you?’

The robin took flight and moved back to his branch.

‘This song is about you,’ she began then a memory hit her…

The last notes of Rockin’ Robin drifted out of the window and her mind wondered with it…..

‘….But Jane, you must come!’

She paused in eating her fruit salad, ‘it’s not my scene.’

‘Nothing ever is your scene, Jane. You’re such a workaholic!’

‘It’s just silly, Becky,’ she answered and put an apple slice in her mouth.

Becky sighed and began to fidget with her short blonde hair. The kettle clicked and Becky poured the hot water into six mugs on a tray.

‘I’m busy that night anyway,’ Jane picked up.

‘Of course you are,’ Becky replied coldly.

‘I’ve nothing to wear either. The whole thing is pointless!’

‘It’s the Christmas do….’

Jane snorted and turned her head away. Becky muttered something under her breath then left the kitchen with the tray. Jane went back to her desk and was busy typing up account information, when there was a knock at her door.

‘Come in,’ she called.

The door opened and the noise of the office flood in. She glanced up as a young man shuffled towards her desk. He looked out of place with his torn jeans and long t-shirt. In his hand he clutched a parcel and some letters. She stared at him, wondering if he was lost or if she should call security.

‘Hi, I’ve some things for Mr. Quagmire.’

She didn’t reply.

‘Erm….I’m new here. Downstairs, I mean. In the post room.’

‘Oh?’ she said and took her finger off the security button, ‘I’ll take them then.’

He placed the parcel and letters on her desk, ‘I’m Robin Sands.’

‘Miss Coy,’ she replied coldly. She stood up from her desk and gathered the letters and parcel.


She tutted, ‘Excuse me.’

She walked out and towards the other door. She knocked then entered her boss’s room.

‘Well…it was nice to meet you too,’ Robin said cheerily and left.


‘This is going to be so much fun! You’ll see,’ Becky chatted away as Jane put on her makeup.

‘Remind me again, why am I doing this?’

‘Because we need to let our hair down and you look so great! All colourful and Christmassy.’

Jane studied herself in the mirror, ‘I have to agree with you….but still, I look awful in anything but black, white and grey.’

Becky sighed and pulled Jane to her feet, ‘This red really suits you though.’

Jane cast her eye down the short red dress.

‘Can I put the tinsel in your hair now?’


‘Come on, Jane, lighten up.’

‘But tinsel is trashy and my hair’s fine like this.’

Becky giggled, ‘You’ll stand out a mile, if I don’t…’

‘Oh, all right then, but don’t make me look silly.’

Jane sat down once more at her dresser and Becky quickly set to work with the tinsel.

At the party, Jane stood in the corner, sipping from her plastic cup of fruit punch and watching the office staff dancing around the desks. Christmas music flowed out of the CD player and voices rose in song to the familiar music. Jane looked out of the window. The city lights sparkled against the night sky and flashing Christmas decorations stood out on the sides of buildings.

‘Hi. Miss Coy, right?’

She turned and frowned at him.

‘We meet a few days ago. Robin? Remember?’

‘Not really….’ she turned back to the window.

‘I was delivering things to your boss? I just started working here.’

‘Yes, I think I remember now.’

‘Good. So do you want a drink?’

‘I’m fine thanks,’ she faked smiled.

Robin had his hands in his pockets, he glanced over his shoulder then back at her.

‘Want to dance?’


The song changed and drunken voices rose out of tune to the music.

‘Well, I’m going to then,’ Robin answered and walked away.

‘Jane! Jane! Come join in!” Becky shouted across the room, fighting her away over.

‘I’m good here, thanks,’ she said quickly.

Becky grabbed her hand, ‘come on, they’re going to make a conga line now.’

‘Really, I’m fine.’

‘Who were you talking to?’

‘No one,’ Jane replied and finished off her drink.

‘He looked cute.’

‘I’ve no idea what you’re going on about. You’re drunk, Becky.’

‘So is everyone else. Now come and dance!’

‘What? To Santa Claus is coming to town? I don’t think so….’

‘They’ll change it to rockin’ around the Christmas tree in a minute, come on, sour puss.’

‘You’re not going to let me get out of this are you, B?’

‘No,’ Becky laughed loudly.

Jane set her empty cup down on a computer and let Becky led her into an empty space.

‘Hey, I thought you didn’t dance?’

She turned at the sound of voice and found Robin standing behind her.

‘She doesn’t,’ Becky cut in, ‘I’m forcing her too.’

They both laughed.

‘Do you know each other?’ Jane shouted over the music.

‘Yes,’ Becky replied, ‘he’s the new message boy.’

Someone cut the song off and put another on, much to the compliant of a number of voices.

‘Oh no,’ Robin sudden cried out and grabbed Jane’s hands.

‘What’s wrong, Rob?’ Becky said quickly.

‘This song…..I can’t stand it.’

‘Why not?’ Jane sniffed, snatching her hands back.

‘It’s Rockin’ Robin.’

‘Of course,’ Becky burst into laughter, ‘And you’re Robin!’

‘Quick, we must leave!’ Robin grabbed Jane’s hand and pulled her away.

‘Hold on a minute!’

‘No, they’ll start on me any second! Look at her.’

Jane glanced at Becky, who was now doubled over with laughter.

‘She’s just drunk.’

‘They all are!’ Robin yelled in her ear, ‘Come on.’ He dragged her out of the room.

‘But where are we going?’

‘Anywhere, but here!’

They were running through the street, laughing loudly, like children set loose in a park. Jane stopped and took her high heels off.

‘What are you doing?’ Robin called from the street corner.

‘What’s it look like?’

‘You’ll get holes in your stockings.’

‘So?’ Jane called as she skipped to his side, ‘I’ll just buy new ones.’

He laughed and bent his head to kiss her.

She ducked out of his way and stepped across the road, ‘Do you drink wine?’

‘Sometimes,’ he said following her.

Jane walked backwards across the road; swing her shoes in her hand.

‘Come back to mine then. I have a few bottles.’

‘Don’t you think you’ve drunk enough?’

‘I had two cups of that punch and I can handle my drink.’

‘I bet you can,’ he laughed.

‘To mine then,’ she smiled and linked arms with him, ‘Tell me about the post room.’


Jane rolled over and began to try and detangle herself from the bed sheets. She groaned loudly then climbed out of the bed. She ran a hand through her hair and yawned. Suddenly the mist of sleep vanished from her eyes and she looked down.

Crying out, she dived for her wardrobe and quickly pulled her dressing gown on. She fastened the belt and looked at the bed. A still form was curled up on the other side.

‘Oh no….’ she breathed and looked down at the floor.

Her clothes and his were mixed together and scattered around the bed. She began to pick up her crumbled things.

‘Can I have a coffee?’ a muffled voice asked.

She glanced through the wooden end board of the bed at him.

‘No,’ she snapped.

‘I’ll make it myself then….’

As Robin began to get out of the bed Jane threw his shirt at him. ‘Get out!’

Robin froze, ‘What?’

‘Get out! This is my house and I want you to leave right now!’

Robin frowned and pulled on his shirt, ‘But why? What about last night?’

‘That was last night! Now leave before I phone the police!’

‘All right, All right.’

Jane stormed out of the room, leaving him to get dressed.

‘I’ll just go shall I?’ Robin called from the front door.

‘Yes,’ Jane yelled back.

Robin left, slamming the door closed behind him.


‘You did what?’

Becky’s voice echoed in her ears as Jane cried over the phone to her.

‘I don’t know,’ she gushed, ‘I can’t remember anything.’

‘Well, where is he now?’

‘Gone….I kicked him out.’

‘Oh, Jane, I’m sorry. Do you want me to come over?’

‘No, no, I’ll be fine.’

‘I still can’t believe you. He’s only eighteen, you know.’

‘What?’ Jane stopped sniffing into her hanky.

‘Robin, he’s only eighteen. He’s working part time, earning money to put himself through college. He wants to build planes.’

A fresh wave of tears suddenly burst forth, ‘I’m nearly forty. Oh my God, I’m old enough to be his mother!’

‘Now, Jane! Don’t talk like that! Jane?’

She dropped the phone and rushed off to the bathroom…….

……Jane switched off the radio and casting a last look at the robin on the branch she walked out of the room and off to her new job.