Category: Stories & Poetry
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I heard the rain first — soft taps against the bedroom window…
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Sometimes a memory returns the way snowfall does — quietly, without urgency, settling only where it’s welcome.
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Soon after, the train arrived. An emerging shape in the whiteness, slow and deliberate, like a creature pushing its way out of a snowdrift. The front was plastered in ice, snow packed into every crevice, the sides streaked white as if it had been travelling through a blizzard for hours. I was stunned. It didn’t…
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A remarkable journey, unhurried, moving at a speed allowed by the weather conditions outside.
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I heard myself ask, quietly, “Is that the radio station?”
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As an adult, acquiring cherries meant a small supermarket punnet during a brief British season. Here, they were abundance itself. Even the family pet, a huge but gentle Bernese Mountain Dog, spent its afternoons beneath the tree eating windfalls as they fell. I casually mentioned to my friend that I adored cherries, a rare treat,…
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There are photographs of that moment somewhere — me standing stiffly, wearing a jacket that didn’t quite fit, a hat with a huge feather denoting a rank I didn’t yet understand, and holding a real ceremonial sword.
