Fictional Fridays #22


The Misfortunes of Mr. Ferrars (Part Two)

Dwayne poured out what he sternly told himself would be the last cup for the day. The sun had set outside and shadows had crept across the room as he had not bothered to light any candles. Only the golden and pink streaks of fading light in the sky provided a little illumination. He barely noticed the lack of light. He sat staring at the drab walls of the dingy establishment that he had been forced to call home for the last two weeks. An open trunk lay yawning in a corner. He didn’t have any money to pay the next day’s rent, so he knew he had to move out, but hadn’t the heart to pack when he had returned “home”.

He emptied the glass down his gullet and set it down forcefully on the small table, sighing. The bottle was still half full, but he felt no inclination to even pull it toward himself again. He wanted to do nothing and be nothing. He knew he would have, that fateful night two weeks ago, if not for Lessie. He truly would be nothing if not for her. He knew he should be grateful that she’d stayed with him even after his business was closed down, but he only felt anger for not being the one accompanying her to the party. His blood boiled at the thought of her being asked for a dance by a handsome stranger, someone with the money and influence that he’d lost. Before he knew it, he was on his feet, his hands curled into fists at his side. He couldn’t allow that to happen.

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Fictional Fridays #21


The Misfortunes of Mr. Ferrars (Part One)

Dwayne Ferrars looked down at the gold coins in his hands and counted five carefully as he dropped them in his money bag.

“That is the last of your savings, Mr. Ferrars,” said the man behind the counter. His polite smile from earlier was gone. Sensing the dismissal as the man busied himself with paperwork, Dwayne got up and walked away, his money bag giving a pitiful jingle as he moved.

He looked back at the bank after he’d walked a few paces onto the street. Its almost-white walls smiled at him mockingly in the sun. He knew he’d never have a reason to come back there again and the realisation produced a tingling at the back of his eyes. He blinked once and continued on his way, his head consumed with bitter thoughts.

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Fictional Fridays #18


Leslie entered her grandmother’s room to get away from the crowd below. Her eyes were tired of seeing only black everywhere and sympathetic faces that offered no real comfort. It had been years since she had set foot here and she felt like she was invading the privacy of a person who still lingered around somehow. She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. The sheets still smelled like her grandmother, but the warmth had seeped out of them. Leslie shivered, getting the distinct feeling that she shouldn’t be here, but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to see if those awful rumours that were being whispered downstairs were true.

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Star-Crossed Love

We are like a planet and the Sun, you and I. I can feel your rays on me constantly, and yet you are so far away. Whenever I meet you, it is as if I’m at the perihelion. We are close for a while, but we inevitably move away. I can feel the cold getting to me when I’m at the other side. I long to be closer but I can’t stray from my orbit. I dream about the day when the gravity holding us apart will collapse. Maybe then we can truly be together, but we’ll never be what we once were. We are bound to this celestial dance. We are the slaves of time and the laws of nature. If there is a bigger power than you and I, I pray for an anomaly and bide my time. All things must come to an end and so will my wait.


What Babies Might Think

I spent a few good hours with my cute one-year-old cousin today, which inspired this post. It makes a lot of ridiculous assumptions such as babies having a very good vocabulary, but I hope you can find reason hidden somewhere among the words.


‘Put me down!’ I felt like screaming as I squirmed restlessly against the body of the stranger who picked me up unexpectedly, snatching me away from my mother. I looked at her in panic, but she was still smiling serenely, as if nothing was wrong. “I see that you have mother’s approval, strange man,” I tried to say, but it came out as a high pitched shriek and unintelligible syllables.

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