WWIn #28: Memory

Wednesday Write-in #28

This piece is inspired partly by the weirdness of Black Mirror, also recently watched Rebecca so that is in there also.


farewell  ::  pocketful  ::  feeding  ::  thief  ::  maroon

I’ve been feeding myself hope over the years; they trickle by like fast food joints flashing in and out of existence. The buildings that I marker in my mind, here is where this happened, and this, and this.

The town is falling in on itself, crumbling into an apocalyptic movie set. I shouldn’t have left it so long before returning, I lay my memories over the streets like thick brush strokes loaded with fresh paint. I make the roads cream, the houses a deep maroon, as if they each hold a separate organ that is ripening within the walls. Arteries splayed inside the concrete. There’s a woman feeding pigeons like there always was, but she is alone with the birds and her face is blurry. I wave a farewell to her and she bleeds to whiteness as I forget her also. Traveling towards where I grew up. The house was held in a network of parks and roads.

It is still there, cushioned against the world by a field and a large chestnut tree where the chestnuts nestle inside their casings. The stream is an additional barrier to cross before you reach the estate on the other side. And there are more parks, for children, with plastic slides.

In the estate there are thieves, pockets full of chewing gum that they spit at the pavement. I use a forefinger and dot it in, small greyish blobs. When I get to the park itself I scatter bark to create the floor, a churned up surface that incorporated crisp packets and fag ends also. There was a strange orange sculpture, made for children to swarm up and down again. We would gain the temporary illusion of adult height, an anticipation of growing, then fall back to our waist high perspective. I put myself in the park. There are bicycles lying in the grass outside, like animals just slaughtered. My fingers trail along the silver handle bars as I wipe each wheel away with slow purposeful gestures. I run down the sloping path towards the bridge, it vanishes behind me at each step till I pause and throw a twig to the water. Behind me is nothing.


11 thoughts on “WWIn #28: Memory

  1. Fantastic use of language. You create so many images. I am a little confused by the opening, but really liked the piece.

    • I think I’m finding my feet in the beginning lines, and that comes through. Possibly I’ve overloaded the piece with images….I’m happy you like it overall:D.

  2. I really enjoyed this piece, and I love the line about the bikes lying like slaughtered animals – such a great visual. I loved the way you used the painting motif to describe the character’s memory of the town. It’s like the character is coming back to a place that formed her, and the story describes how she asserts her control over her surroundings by re-making the place to her own rules, and using her colours. Really powerful, especially in such a short piece!

    • Loving your reading of it :D. The bikes are important as they refer to a real memory, so I’m glad that image had impact for you. Thank you for commenting, I like what you see in it, it makes me re-see it if that makes sense.

      • Brilliant! That’s what’s so amazing about writing, isn’t it? Getting other perspectives on what you’ve written which make you see your own work in a new way. 🙂

  3. This made me feel like I was on drugs, in the best possible way. In the estate there are thieves, pockets full of chewing gum that they spit at the pavement. is my favourite part. very well done.

    • I’m glad you like that part, I didn’t want it to read as if just written for the prompt. It is interesting there’s a drugged feel you got from it. I shall think about this! Thanking you Craig.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s