Pottery

She hadn’t seen the patch of ice, knew there must have been some around but hadn’t seen this one, and as she put her right foot on to it it disappeared from underneath her. She hoped that nobody was watching. She started to fall backwards and swung her arms forwards to compensate but it wasn’t enough and she felt herself falling until he caught her. She’d never know that he caught her and she smiled as she righted herself, pleased at how she managed to stop her fall. She looked around but nobody was watching and she was almost disappointed.

It was the biggest thing he’d been able to do for her since he’d been assigned her, and he wasn’t sure if it was something he should have done. He should have let her fall to the floor. When he left her that night they’d ask him questions. What if she’d felt you catch her? What if she’d become suspicious? What if what if what if? What if she’d fallen to the floor? What then? How could he complete the assignment if she’d hit her head and died? What then? He’d fight for her, like he’d fought for her all his life.

He had to settle for small things, usually. She’d lose her keys and he always knew where they were because he’d watched her lose them. He’d place them somewhere visible and she’d wonder when she put them down there because she never usually put them down there. He’d rearrange the mugs in the cupboard so that the one he bought her was at the front and she’d swear that she put it towards the back but she’d stop and remember all the good times they’d had together and he’d see her smile and when she put it back, he’d move it towards the front. He wasn’t supposed to do that, either. Important things. Important things. What was important? All the what ifs.

She couldn’t know, she couldn’t ever know.

He knew it couldn’t last forever. One day she would find someone to replace him and then he’d have to leave her and move on to someone else, or somewhere else, he wasn’t really sure. He knew that he would have to enjoy every minute he spent with her because he’d found out once already that those minutes were not infinite, and they could come to an end any minute now just as they had done then. They weren’t supposed to have ended.

Why couldn’t she know? Why couldn’t she ever know?

What if?

He couldn’t see her the next day. He was kept away from her. They said it was for his own good. Said not to worry because everyone goes through this, helping more than they are supposed to help. Everyone goes through it. Learning process, just a learning process, you’ll get it, you’ll get it eventually. He wanted it now and he didn’t want it ever all at the same time. It was everything he wanted and it was too hard all at the same time. They weren’t supposed to have ended but couldn’t they end now? Did he want that?

Inanimate

I was there once during an argument, it was not an uncommon occurrence towards the end of their relationship. He told her that he knew her better than anyone else knew her, and she told him that nobody knew her, that she didn’t even know herself, that she needed “space,” and then I never saw him again. I’m not sure if she did because I don’t get out much, but my point is that she was wrong. She thinks nobody knows her but I know everything about her, more than she even realises I know, and more than she ever will.

I’ve been there since the start. Well, nearly. They brought her home from the hospital and I was waiting for her. The phrase “bundle of joy” could have been invented just for her. She was always smiling, and birthday after birthday they’d take new photos of her and she’d be smiling bigger and with more teeth each time, until everything went away. They never found out what caused the fire but I was there and I could see it happening and I honestly thought I was done for. I don’t know how I survived, I just gave up and then there were jets of water and people bursting in and they carried everyone out and the only one of them I ever saw again was her. Her grandmother brought her back to see what was left and she found me there and it reminded her of a time when she used to be happy. She dropped me into a bag and I was saved. A reminder of her, a reminder of her parents and how much they’d loved her.

We lived around after that. With her grandmother for a time but it was never the same there, and she took me with her when she ran away, a kind of last bond between her and her parents.

She’s never been able to open up about this to anyone except me, and she doesn’t even realise that she’s doing it. Anniversaries, birthdays she just breaks down and cries for them and I watch her and I comfort her however I can. It’s not much that I can do, I can just be there, but sometimes that’s enough and she holds me and the tears go away.

There haven’t been many good times but I’ve been there for them. They never shaped her like the other things that happened in her life. When she got married it was supposed to be the turning point, life was supposed to begin then, but it was shortlived and she keeps a photo of him now. When she needs comfort it’s him she turns to and not her parents but they’re still always here and she knows that.

She never recovered, really. She does her best but always finds herself wishing for space. Maybe she genuinely doesn’t know herself but that space she seeks is the only way she knows how to stop herself being hurt. If people aren’t there, they can’t leave her.

She only has to look at me to be reminded of everything that she’s lost.

Trapping

And then it was ready, and so the woman went inside her house and waited for the children that would inevitably come because if they didn’t, what would people have to talk about years into the future? Nothing, that’s what.

She didn’t have to wait for long, as she heard the tell-tale sounds of a girl crying, no doubt for her brother. “Two of them,” she thought. “How exciting!” In the corner, Maxwell was curled up with his eyes closed but instinctively he somehow knew to lick his lips. The crying grew louder as the children approached, and she waited to see what would happen, looking out of her window through a small gap in the curtains that she was positive she couldn’t be seen from.

“I don’t like it here,” the girl said, still crying. Looking out from the window the old woman smiled as she pondered this, the girl was right not to like it here, after all. Very astute. She shall go quickly, her stupid brother however, and she laughed, and Maxwell lifted his head to see what the matter was. “I don’t like it here,” the girl said again, “and there’s a weird old woman at the window laughing at something.”

The weird old woman quickly dropped the curtain and took a step back from the window as if this would not only render her invisible now, but would remove her from the memory of the girl. And from her brother, who she’d just told about the woman at the window. “I can’t see her,” he said.

“She was definitely there, at that window, an ugly woman looking at us and laughing.”

“What about?”

“I don’t know! Let’s just go!”

“Okay, maybe you’re right,” he said, accepting that his sister would never be happy to hang around here and sick of her crying. “Let’s just go home.”

The ugly weird old woman knew that something had to be done. They hadn’t even activated the trap yet and if they were going to turn around and go home then they’d never activate it. Maxwell put his head back down and closed his eyes and resigned himself to another night of canned meat that tasted like no animal he’d ever eaten before.

The ugly weird old woman ran from the window and out of the room into the hallway and out of the front door. She stood on the front door mat and shouted “wait!” at the two children, whose backs were turned as they were walking away and they hadn’t noticed her come out. Instinctively at hearing an order from an elder they stopped and turned around and saw the ugly weird old woman hanging upside-down in front of her house.

“Can you give me a hand down?” she asked them, feeling like an idiot for having stood on her own pressure pad and activated the trap that was supposed to catch her dinner. Still, there was time, they were still there and if she could just get down she could catch them the old fashioned way. “Children? Please?”

The children turned and ran away.

Cage

Let me out let me out, put me in a cage, always putting me in a cage I can’t believe it I don’t know why they have to put me in a cage all the time don’t put each other in cages its just me every time it gets dark, scared of the dark, don’t know why they put me in a cage, dark means cage, cage is fear, don’t like the cage but they put me in there every dark time, leave me there and disappear into the darkness and I sit there until it’s light again and then they appear from somewhere up above me and let me out of the cage, throw me outside, rain or shine, cruel, don’t want to go outside just want a hug but they throw me outside anyway don’t let me in until they’re ready, warm inside, can see them through the glass in the door, hugging each other, kissing each other, no hugs for me I’m cold outside and then finally I’m inside and I relax and go to sleep and then the call me lazy but I can’t sleep at night because of the cage they put me in the cage why do they put me in the cage I don’t do anything when I’m not in the cage they just do it anyway and I don’t know why they say they love me in the light time but then in the dark time they change it gets cold and they change and I know what’s coming and I pretend to be asleep in the dark time but they just wake me up can’t leave me alone they just wake me up and I know what’s coming because it always come and it’s the cage and they make me go outside and they wait and wait and if I stand there they shout at me and then they close the door and I can’t get in and eventually they let me back in and I try to lie down but it’s no good because of the cage and they make me go in the cage and I can’t resist because they’re bigger than I am and I’m in the cage and they lock the cage and then they disappear because they always disappear and I shake and I’m scared and I sit because I can’t sleep in the cage nobody sleeps in the cage it’s too small there’s no room to move you can’t get out of the cage until they decide to let you out of the cage and that never happens they disappear and if you shout at them and ask them to let you out they shout back at you but the shouting comes from the darkness and the darkness is nowhere and everywhere and they’re nowhere just in the darkness and I’m I the cage and I don’t like the cage but there’s nothing I can do because they’re bigger than I am and I can’t run away because when I’m not in the cage they keep me here anyway.

Infatuation

Hey, diary. He looked at me today oh my goooood I swear he did. And not like how he looks like everyone else if THATS what your thinking because I can tell he looks different at me. I feel like he knows me like more than everyone else knows me and I think he thinks he knows me more than he knows everyone else that he knows if you know what I mean. Like, oh my god, I dont even know how to explain it. Like you know when someone looks at you and theres something in their eyes and, I dont know, why would you know? youre a book. LOL. Just joking but you know what I mean about his eyes, the way he was looking at me, god it just made me all tingly inside like how Ive never felt before. anyway this is what happened, right. we were in class and he was teaching us about something, I cant even remember what it was now LOL because I was kind of distracted by looking at him. Well you would be, wouldn’t you? And like, he asked us a question and I don’t know what that was either coz I still wasnt listening haha but I dunno I must have been looking daydreaming or something because he just KNEW that he couldnt ask me for the answer and thats when he was looking at me just looking at me like he KNEW and like I KNEW and I think he knows I love him and I think he was trying to say he loves me. Like not with his mouth but with his eyes, like he was just trying to say “I love you” but he couldnt say it in class because everyone was there and he’d get in trouble but I know how he feels it and he was definately trying to tell me about it. Now I dunno what to do though. how am I supposed to go and talk to him about it? Shouldn’t he come and talk to me? that’s what Im worried about now. like before how I was worried about how he felt but now im totally sure but I dunno what to do. I know its not allowed but what are you supposed to do when you fall in love? its not like you have any control over it is it? like you don’t choose who you fall in love with and I cant help that I love him and he cant help that he loves me. I need to see him outside school but I dunno how. I need to find out where his address is cause I know that if I could see him at home wed probably be able to talk about stuff properly and tell each other how we feel and stuff but I don’t know how to find out. he drives a car so I cant just follow him home LOL. ill think about it and keep you updated.

Review – Quarrel (Xbox 360)

Link when it’s up, etc.

Blister

“I’m not carrying you, come on,” she said, because she knew he was just being lazy, the same as he always was. She couldn’t carry him even if she wanted to, the size of him, he’d been carried too much already and could use the exercise. Of course, she couldn’t say that to him, last time she’d called him fat John had heard and been so shocked he’d had to take her to one side and tell her that you’re not supposed to say stuff like that to your children. “I can say whatever I want to my kid,” she’d told him, but thinking about it he was probably right. He said she’d give the kid a complex, and it might get him dieting (if such thoughts enter the minds of five year olds) or it might have him lying on a couch talking to a psychiatrist in twenty years time about how his parents mentally abused him.

If they could find a couch big enough, anyway.

“Come on,” she said again, but he’d stopped walking and was just standing by the side of the road leaning on a red Ford Focus.

“Get off of that,” she said, “and come on. We’re going to be late.”

“But it huuuurts,” he said, pathetically.

“It doesn’t hurt, you just don’t want to go to school, well you have to go. Come on.” That was clever, she thought. She’d managed to use reverse psychology or double reverse psychology or, well, she didn’t know what she’d done really but she’d done it without mentioning his weight and so it was a definite tick as far as the psychology went. Maybe in twenty years he could talk to her about his childhood, save himself £200 an hour or whatever it was they’d be charging in those days. She’d have to get a new couch, but if she was charging him £100 an hour that wouldn’t take long to save up for.

“I’ve got a bliiiister.”

“You haven’t got a blister,” she said, even though this denial of something that was probably a fact would only confuse the poor boy. Eventually the poor boy gave up and started walking again, making as much of a show of it as he could manage. He walked with a limp so pronounced that it was as if one of his feet had been shot clean off or something. He held his arms out in front of him like a zombie as he walked. “I’m not picking you up, come on, we’re going to be late,” she said as she turned and walked away from him, keeping distance between him that would keep him walking, undead or not.

When next she turned around, it was at the sound of a car alarm. He’d stopped again, and had somehow ended up back at the red car he’d been leaning against before. She saw a man come out of his house waving his arms around and could just about hear the words “what are you doing?! Get off my car!”

Finally, something to spur him in to action. Maybe they’d make it after all, and he’d get over it eventually. You know, everything.

White

“What the fuck?” he shouted a little too loudly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, barely audibly.

“What is that?”

“Your shirt.”

“Which shirt?”

“Your favourite shirt.”

“And what’s wrong with it?”

“I’m sorry.”

He raised his voice again. “And what’s wrong with it?” he shouted.

“I’m sorry!” she said, and she threw the shirt at him before she knew what she’d done. It hit him and he let it fall to the floor, then he took one step forwards and punched her in the left side of her face with enough force to knock her on to the floor. He tutted as she fell down, sure that she was exaggerating for effect.

“Get up,” he said to her, and he left the room, grabbed his coat and walked out of the house.

Minutes later he was in The Lion, and the barman was uttering the most comforting words he’d ever heard. “Usual, mate?”

“Yeah,” he said, and the barman nodded and pointed him to a table. He sat down at the table in the corner and sighed. The barman put a coaster down and put a pint on top of it before sitting down opposite him. He watched as he picked up the drink and downed half of it in one go before sighing again.

“Everything alright, Mick?” he said eventually.

“Aye,” said Mick. “Well, you know, women,” with a roll of his eyes.

“What’s she done this time?”

“Oh nothing, it’s not important, she just fucked up me favourite shirt is all.”

“Ouch.”

“Aye, never mind, I can get another one.”

“Right enough,” said the barman, and he waited for a second for Mick to speak.

“Another drink, I mean, get us another one.”

“Oh, right,” said the barman, standing up. “Right. Right enough.” He went over to the bar and got Mick another drink while Mick sat at the table with his head in his hands. The barman came back with Mick’s drink and put it down on a second coaster. Mick began speaking before the barman had even sat back down.

“What am I meant to do?” he asked.

“Well, you could go and grab another shirt the same, I suppose.”

“I mean about her.”

“That’s what I meant, I mean, you can go and get her to get a shirt for you. One that’s the same, like.”

Mick looked at the barman and squinted. “I mean she’s always doing stuff like this. I don’t know how much longer I’m meant to put up with it, you know?”

“Oh right, right, yeah, totally. Plenty more fish in the sea though, aye?”

“Aye, you’re right. Get us another one, I’d best get back and make sure she hasn’t burned the place down.” Both men stood and walked to the bar, and Mick downed his third pint in one go, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and gave a thumbs up and a nod to the barman before leaving.

He walked home but still was plagued by the same question. What was he going to do about her?

Crate

She hadn’t wanted to get out of bed at the knocking on the door, so she made him do it instead. He’d been unusually keen to jump out from between the sheets and that really should have been the first sign that something was going on. It was too early and she was too drowsy for suspicion though so she just let it pass, closed her eyes, and tried to get back to sleep. She tried because, in spite of not wanting to get out of bed, she was still curious about just what it was that was so important that someone had to come to the door at, she looked at the clock, seven thirty in the morning. And wait a minute, hadn’t he been a bit too excited for this time of the morning? She opened her eyes, closed her eyes, and then opened them again slower before rubbing them with the backs of her hands.

She tried to decipher the noises that she could hear coming from outside. There’d been a beeping at first that had reminded her of her alarm clock but pressing the button on her alarm clock hadn’t worked and she would never tell him that she tried. He already had enough that he playfully mocked her for, he didn’t need more. She’d realised half way through the motion that the noise was coming from outside and she’d continued it anyway. Then it had stopped when she pressed the button which had confused her some more, but she was awake enough now to put it down to coincidence and wonder what the beeping was. It sounded like a truck reversing, just like a truck reversing. There’d been a knock at the door and then he’d run downstairs in a flurry of excitement and then there’d been a large vehicle outside, reversing towards them.

“What have you done?!” she shouted to nobody, and quickly got out of bed, threw on a dressing gown and some slippers and went downstairs, full of almost as much energy as he’d left the room with. She found him at the bottom of the stairs with a grin on his face so stupid that she wondered if the truck had left with half of his brain or something. “What’s going on?” she asked him.

He stood there, grinning.

“Are you alright?” she asked this time, worried that maybe the truck really had left with half of his brain.

“Fine,” he said at last, in such a tone as one might use when they were speaking through only a small part of their mouth because they were still using the rest of it to smile with. “Come outside.”

Finally, she was going to find out what all this was about. He opened the door and went outside and she followed him out on to the front lawn. When she’d gone to sleep it had been mostly grass. Now it was mostly a giant wooden box.

“What the hell is that?”

He grinned.

Order

The voice from behind him said “march” and so Cal marched because it was the second time he’d been asked. The first time the voice from behind him said “march,” he didn’t march, and now that he found himself beaten and weak he knew he would march whenever they demanded it of him, whether or not his legs would allow it. For now, his legs were fine, and he walked forwards alongside the man whose right ankle he was chained to.

The man was old and had known what was coming when Cal had refused to march the first time. Cal had stood defiant while the old man had cowered on the floor, shaking so much that the chain sounded like rainfall as it waved and swayed between them. Cal wished for rainfall later when the blood was dry and sticky on his face. He didn’t know how much of it there was but the old man had told him that he didn’t look in a good way. That’s all the old man had ever said to him, and it came in the only second he was sure that they weren’t being watched. Cal knew that if he could get the old man away from the guards he would be able to get some information from him but there was no way to get away from the guards and even if there was, the old man wasn’t the type to risk his own safety for the sake of a man he didn’t know.

Wasn’t that why Cal was here? He felt like the gods were toying with him. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Yeah, it was nice in theory, but if he was the only one practicing it what good was it for the future of mankind?

When Cal tried to speak to the old man, the old man turned away. Cal didn’t know whether the old man was listening or whether he’d learned over periods of years to simply block out all sound when he didn’t want to hear it. He never responded directly, and never made any sign to suggest that he was absorbing anything that Cal told him. It was as if when he was questioned, he didn’t want to have anything to hide, as if he didn’t trust himself to be able to hide it. Cal didn’t know whether to be thankful for that or not.

“What happens when we die?” Cal asked the old man, before realising that the question was not the one he’d meant to ask. “Here, I mean,” he clarified. “What happens when we die here?” The old man had turned his head at the first question and Cal didn’t get his answer. The answer would come later when the old man disappeared. Cal slept one night and when he woke up, he found someone new on the other end of his chain. This new man looked as surprised as he did, and Cal somehow knew that that was what happened. Nothing happened. The old man had never existed and if he carried on like this, neither would he. Cal turned to the new man, and the new man turned away.