Worthing Flash

Pale. Wide-eyed. Troglodytesque we step into silence. The silence, thick and heavy. A curtain. An intermission until it begins again. Begin again it will the howling, rattling, crashing, banging, clanking destruction. The wind’s revenge. Its revenge will subdue us for a heartbeat, then we will forget until the curtain rises.         by Dorcas Wilson  

Do you remember when we kissed while the brass band played and our hearts beat in time with the drums? Do you remember when we danced, cheek to cheek at the school disco, as Meatloaf promised to do anything for love? Do you remember when you held me as the piper played in the new year? Do you remember when we made love as somewhere a fiddler fiddled? Do you remember when you whispered ‘I love you’ as the wedding march played? I remember when I should have listened to the words playing in my head and not the music. by Dorcas Wilson

The birdwatchers devoured the eagle pie. Laid off by live; death plotted. by Dorcas Wilson 

The Silence Whispers There’s ten or twelve of us waiting at the gate. We don’t look at each other; afraid to see our pain, reflected in other eyes. We don’t speak; afraid to hear the words we don’t want to hear expressed by another tongue. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick. They came. Their expressionless faces betrayed by the shock in their eyes. They spoke the words we didn’t want to hear. Words we’d heard whispered in the silence. They comforted us. Together in heartbreak. Alone in grief. They let us see them. Let us kiss, cold, colourless cheeks while the silence whispers, why?   by Dorcas Wilson 

You look up and down a street illuminated by flames and suffocated by pain, you take a deep breathe before stepping into a community broken by sirens and screams of realisation. You twist and turn your way amongst people, running in all directions but not going anywhere. You’re not like them; whichever direction you go- except back – will lead you to a better place. For all your bravado you scan faces searching for him. Scared you will spot him. Or him you. You know he’s out there somewhere, using the disaster to relieve whoever he can of their valuables. Once he’s done, like a cat bringing its owner a dead mouse, he’ll present you his haul expecting to be praised. This time they’ll be no praise. So, he’ll curse you but you won’t be there to care. You climb onto the bus that will take you far from him, and curse when you spot him watching you. But It’s not him. It’s a face on a Missing Poster. They’ll be more of those soon; people looking for loved ones lost in the tra...

'I didn’t steal the money,’ the girl said to the man sitting opposite her. ‘You stole it.’ ‘It wasn’t me.’ ‘They found the money in your locker.’ ‘I didn’t steal it.’ ‘Yes, you did,’ he said, grabbing her wrist. ‘No.’ ‘The money was in your locker. You stole it.’ ‘No. You stole it. You put it there.’ ‘You’re deluded. Why would I do a thing like that?’ he banged his fist on the table, making her jump back as if she had been shot. ‘You aren’t going to get away with it. You stole it,’ she said, once she had composed herself. He laughed. ‘Tell me, why would I steal money and plant it on you?’ ‘Cause I broke up with you. You don’t like not being the one in control. You told me I’d pay for making you look a fool.’ ‘You’re crazy.’ ‘You made me crazy,’ she smiled. ‘You destroyed my life. I’ll make you pay.’ ‘Who’ll me make pay?’ ‘I will.’ ‘You? You’re a silly little girl and you’ll make me pay?’ he sneered. ‘Yes.’ ‘How?’ ‘Kill you. Then myself.’ ...

  ‘Come here,’ he said, slipping his arm around me. ‘I’ve something for you,’ smiling, he pulled his fingers through my hair, pushed it behind my ears; his eyes twinkling, he twisted a flower into it. I giggled, swayed my hips like the sexy senorita I imagined myself to be. ‘A spring flower for my May,’ he said, nibbling my ear. ‘That hurts.’ ‘Sorry,’ he whispered, his lips tickling my cheek. Then it wasn’t his lips, but a feather. I laughed, threw my head back. The flower fluttered to the ground, petals scattered everywhere. ‘Stupid bitch,’ he yelled, pulling my hair.