Disdainful of the traffic, Bob, my golden retriever, bounded across the road towards me. This is very strange, I thought. Bob was killed by a truck two years ago.
As he cavorted and joyfully yelped beside me, I noticed that people had clustered around someone stretched out on the pavement.
John Young is an old chap, 73, a retired Criminal Justice social work manager in Scotland (CJS roughly equivalent to English / US Probation Service) and then University Hon Lecturer lecturing in Social Work ethics. He grapples with themes of limits, longings, and the images that these create.
I escaped the overturned bus, passengers trapped, convulsing into zombies, bite by bite.
Stumbled into the flat.
There they were. Jane my ex, and little Tammy.
Those estranged eyes. That snarl.
That’s when I noticed the guests.
And for the first time in years, we ate together, as a family.
Sarmed is a Glasgow-based writer who has written for film, TV, and theatre. His articles and poems have been published in newspapers and magazines in English, Urdu, and Hindi. His aim is to invade the online writing universe 50 words at a time.
She had hidden her face, backed against the wall. I walked near her and she quickly withdrew behind her mom, holding onto her fingers.
I was a stranger to her, but she was my daughter.
Her mom nodded assuringly, as hello became the hardest word I ever had to say.
Christal Knight is waiting for that refreshing random breeze that happens on a warm, sunny day.