Live and let love…

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Chloe looked horrified.

‘You mean you left him to fend for himself? With that woman?’

Tim shrugged.

‘You know what Gramp’s like. I wanted to make them a cuppa but he told me not to fuss.’

She gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head.

‘You shouldn’t have listened. You shouldn’t have left.’

‘Chlo, he’s getting old not losing his marbles.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

He stared at Chloe.

‘Yes, I am. You’re making him a dodderer. He likes Cassie and she likes him. Stop messing in their lives.’

‘What’ll happen to the house, his money?’

‘For God’s sake! I hope he lives long enough to spend all his dosh. And you know what, I hope he and Cas go ahead and tie the knot!’

Chloe’s mouth dropped.

‘Are they? Tying the knot?’

Tim smirked.

 

©ChristineNedahl23/01/2018

Read and Vote Weekly eBook https://t.co/1xdccGKXMK via @AdHocFiction Live and let live… on page 7 – please take a look and vote if you like it. Thank you.

My Past

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I search for likeness

over two hundred years.

There is kindness, warmth

a gentle smile.

You look well, countenance

not marred by labour in hell.

I place you

in homage to the past.

My past, my now,

children, grandchildren.

Carried forward you and me

to a future we won’t know.

I searched your life

to know your existence.

I learned but will never

understand the hardship, the toil.

You left a beloved land,

sailed to a new world.

Found friendship, love

life blessed through drudgery.

Handsome man unblemished

to my eye.

Inside made old

before your time.

I know you though I never did,

and I love you, my forebear.

©ChristineNedahlDecember2017

Nightmare

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I’m on the edge, free-falling, the wind around me, through me.

It’s terrifying.

I can’t breathe despite the air rushing past.

Sometimes the sky is blue.

Other times it’s black as the ace of spades.

In the daylight, I see land rushing to break me.

At night, the buildings with their lit widows drag me close.

So close I feel the hardness of the walls.

I clutch at open space, frantic to find something to grasp.

There is nothing.

My hands, and brain, are numb.

Fumbling, I pull the cord.

I am flung upward toward – what?

For now, I am safe.

But the time is coming.

I have to face this.

©ChristineNedahlJanuary2018

Read and Vote Weekly eBook https://t.co/1xdccGKXMK via @AdHocFiction Nightmare on page 20 is mine – please take a look and vote if you like it. Thank you.

Lady of…

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Pencil thin skimpy black second skin

brassy zipper neck to thigh

raven hair alabaster face

rucksack leering skull

diamante cheeks ruby eyes

plastic chair uneven ground

fingers fly active interface

eyes dart screen road back

darkness creeps silent vehicle

hard voice orders snapped

door slams empty space

tomorrow begin again.

©ChristineNedahlJanuary2018

Only So Much

‘Where the hell is she?’

‘D’know.’

Dad’s hand smacked into my cheek.

Tears stung. I stood my ground.

‘This’ll kill your mother.’

I couldn’t stop the twitch on my lips.

‘Bloody funny, is it? I don’t think so.’

His fist sent me reeling and I fell against the kitchen unit. He knocked me senseless. I don’t know how long I was out but I came round to his grotesque face in mine. Gasping he managed ‘bloody loser’ before he slumped over me.

I heaved him away.

His eyes stared lifelessly, dead as the hearts he’d always abused.

I managed a laugh.

‘You’ve lost this one.’

©ChristineNedahlJanuary10th.2018

Read and Vote Weekly eBook https://t.co/1xdccGKXMK via @AdHocFiction Only So Much on page 3 is mine – please take a look and vote if you like it. Thank you.

Uneasy Shade

Tree

Roots wrap round blanched bones

branches stark vent the air

howls and screams of despair

speak of how I am entrenched

in twisted frame of creeping death

no leaf nor bud shall grow again

as from ancient roots deep

my ice blood does slowly seep

loosened from this writhing tree

my spirit still may wander free

to haunt the man who cast the stone

and turned my precious flesh to bone.

 

©ChristineNedahl

The Walk (in companionship)

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Shoulders hunched against the wind,

hands clasped behind.

Heads nod, bodies sway,

words snatched on the air,

raised over the breaking ocean.

Palm leaves wave high

above greying heads.

The talk, of times old, and new –

football, bowls and a myriad pursuits-

now just onlookers.

Opinions pass, one to another,

welcome food for thought

in minds more active than bodies.

The paseo ends,

you turn, homeward bound.

Comrades in retirement – easy companionship.

 

©ChristineNedahl