Asleep, dreaming

After reading the cycling magazine the cat fell into a deep sleep. As I watched him his back legs started to kick and wheel, like he was pushing pedals, hard. In his dreams he was riding a small bike, resting his forepaws on softly covered handle bars. Cycling up and down the rooves, down into guttering, splashing along, kicking leaves down to the ground. Now he’s going for a wheelie, front wheel pulled up. Leaping the gap between two houses, tail flying like a flag. Eventually, after half an hour of chasing his tail on the bike, round and round in rattling circles, he falls gently into a quiet sleep but remembering his ‘mad cat’ adventures.

Accident?

A phone call.

‘Hello, I’m ringing because I believe you were recently involved in a traffic accident that was not your fault?’

Me ‘oh yes, twenty years or so ago..’

Caller ‘er’

Me ‘oh yes, that time the icecream van hit my car.I gave him a freezing look!’ or when the trapeze artist hit us, I said ‘I could swing for you!’ ‘Or maybe the time I got hit in the rear by a tractor? He ploughed right into us,’

Actually all the caller said was ‘Goodbye’ so sadly I didn’t get a chance to try out my bad sense of humour on her!

Roses round the door.

When I bought the house I noticed a small rose bush. I thought nothing more of it. Then I moved in and everything was lovely. At least at first.

As time passed the garden grew, I tried to look after it, but it just kept growing. The roses were beautiful, white, perfumed. But it kept growing, entwined in the fence, creeping over the path.

But inside the house I felt safe. It was warm and comfortable, the colours were muted, pastels, old soft furnishings, blankets, a happy place.

Then one morning, I tried opening the double front door, the handle would not move, something was wrapped around it? I looked out of the window, sideways, I saw it. The rose had grown round the door handle, as I watched leaves sprouted and perfect white flowers appeared. The house was happy, the rose was happy. But me? Not so much.

Its looking at me

I looked over at the sofa and saw, my bag was staring at me, its stone eyes glaring? I knew there were sharp talons underneath. Any moment it could fly up and attack me. And yet it was my favourite bag? What could I do, I couldn’t look away, I did not dare sleep. I would have to watch it until dawn. Until I would be safe.

The owl hooted in my mind, a mournful call, a gentle sound, my head nodded, sleep was coming. I shook myself to wake up. The owl glared. I was trapped.

Triffids?

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Don’t let it come close! It will swallow you whole. The woman screamed at me as I walked up the hill. I saw what she was pointing at in front of me. A giant swirl of leaves and tendrils.

What is it I asked her. But she was running in the other direction…

Then I noticed the thing was moving, it was edging towards me. I turned to run but there was another one. It had sneaked behind me when I wasn’t looking.

I jumped in fright, ducked and tripped. Falling and running at the same time, I twisted as the tendrils touched my coat, desperate not to let them touch my flesh.

A hand grabbed my shoulder and arm, it pulled me away from the plants.

You don’t want to let a Triffids get you. A man pushed me into his car. We drove away.

Now I’m in London, I still don’t know what’s going on. Hopefully I can find out?

His eyes

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He was staring across the restaurant. A hard stare. Eyes wide, looking directly at the woman three tables away. She had not seen him as she was sitting side on to him, but her partner caught the look. Who’s the jerk over there? He said to her. I don’t know, she said, glancing across. The man was still staring and she felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

The couple had their meal in silence. Neither knowing what to say to the other. And both of them kept checking what the wide eyed man was doing. He in turn was drinking a beer, then another one..

I’m going over said the woman’s partner. She grabbed his hand, please don’t, she said. We don’t know who he is but he’s big, he could hurt you! She glanced worriedly at the man.

Then she realised he had signalled the waitress for the bill. He might come over and say something, she said as the man paid for his food. Ignore him said her partner. But she couldn’t, who was he. Did he mean to say or do something?

The man stood up, picked up and put on some sunglasses. Come on Jess he said. His Guide Dog stood up from under the table where she had been sitting, her harness jingling. Home Jess, he said, and the dog led him out of the door.

So here we are again

The woman with green eyes stared at her, there was something intense about the gaze. Powerful, insightful. She seemed to look right through the young girl.

Come here, it was an order not a request.

Timidly she stepped across the carpet. The sides of the big tent bellowed in the breeze. Your hand! The girl placed her hand, palm up in the womans larger one.

I see your future, you will marry, you will be happy. But first, you will have pain and worry.

The girl shrank back. Her eyes averted. The woman cupped the girls chin in her free hand and pulled her face gently upwards. The light caught the girls deep brown eyes.

Your sisters are jealous, they will not let you rest. But one night on the strike of midnight your fate will be sealed, and healed!

The girl shook her hand free, it was too much to think about, too much to dream about. Thank you, she had to say it.

The woman smiled, goodbye Cinderella, she said.

How did she know my name?thought the girl.

Staring at me…

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Lined up, their beady eyes staring at me..

Two owls, mock leather and fake jewels. They sit on the sofa and look back at me. Is there a glint if evil in their eyes. If I fall asleep, will there be a great flapping of wings? Will they peck my face?

They are mocking me, watching me, sitting ready to pounce once I have closed my eyes. I just know it. Nightmares fastening their claws into my arms. Beaks ready to stab at my ears, eyes and mouth.

I remember being paralysed by the fear of them. Black and gold feathers brushing my hands. Their talons raking my veins, tangling in my hair.

How can I escape their gaze. Looking back at me. My reflection in their eyes? I want safety. Instead I may be trapped inside them, in their black lined guts. Lost forever in their gaze.

He won’t put books back!

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We have bookcases, but the books from them are on the floor, on tables, on footstools, in flurries and drifts. So I asked him. Why won’t you put the books back? I will do, he snapped back. He is the one who puts them there, often opened and left unread.

When I change the bedsheets his side of the bed is six inches deep in books. I have to force my way through a tidal wave of them…

I plot now. I think about what to do. I want one of those camouflaged book cases, where you tilt a book back and a door opens. I would like that.

Open the door, fill it with books, or push him in and throw away the key. Oh don’t get me wrong, food would be delivered three times a day. There would be a laundry chute and a bathroom. A comfy chair and a bed. A secret trap door would be there to pass in things, or hook things out when he’s asleep. He would be happy, I would be able to tidy up….

Life goes on in lockdown. Ideas spring to mind. They are not serious.

I wish..

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I wish I could direct my dreams, if I could, I would travel to the seaside, or to a hilltop above a wood. I would look over at the setting sun. Red auburn hair of clouds wrapped round the bright orb. Wind blows streamers of air across the waves, or treetops, glistening light flickers over the boughs and branches. Gulls rise, then fall to roost. Night ascends, stars glint as shimmer. Sleep deepens. I doze.