Burning the Past : a story

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I put tulips under all the pillows, and then I set fire to the house. It was a ritual that I had often dreamt of, symbols of the love I once had for this place. But that feeling seems old now, a burnt flower is already where my heart used to be. The happy times are like a movie reel playing through my mind and I no longer feel any connection to them as real events.

Crouched down the street I watch with fascination as the fire takes hold, spreading from room to room, slowly consuming the whole place. I want to watch for as long as possible, to make sure the job is done. If I see this place reduced to ashes perhaps the ashes inside me could finally be cleared away.

A girl is walking along the street and she stops directly in front of my position. She seems to sense something is wrong, and she casts her eyes around searching for whatever her instincts have alerted her to. Why did someone have to come along? Couldn’t I just have a few moments alone to enjoy this?

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Appreciation

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He lives in an apartment, which from the outside may look like a uniform grey block of uniformity. But he doesn’t spend a lot of time looking at the outside of the block, so it has never bothered him really.

Currently, he is alone. Well, except for the rabbit anyway. He loves that rabbit, but just like children it needs taking care of and to be taught the rudiments of good behaviour. At least the children eventually stopping peeing on the floor, but he is not so sure the rabbit will ever learn.

His wife is shopping and his children are with their grandparents, so he has a bit of time to himself. But, as ever, he has too many things which he would like to be doing with his time. Will he ever learn? He is currently spending part of his, supposed, relaxation time chasing that rabbit around the living room. It’s frustrating but it could be worse, he reminds himself.

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Deep Down

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Looking into the depths can be a dangerous business. Wouldn’t it be easier to just splash around in the shallow end? Currently many of us have time on our hands, time to think, to dream, to worry. I guess the most important thing is acceptance, both of the situation and of what arises from it. That can be hard work sometimes though, can’t it? Yet, right now, while I look at a sun dappled tree, acceptance seems easy.

© Neil Hayes and neilhayeswrites

Strange Times: Recognition

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A pair of eyes is approaching and there is something vaguely familiar. The hair too is somehow recognisable. I look with some hesitancy for a reaction from the other. Just the merest flicker would be enough. But all I see is my own hesitation reflected back, as if from a mirror. So we pass, two strangers in masks. Or were we? I guess we will never know.

Words © Neil Hayes and neilhayeswrites