Don’t look back in anger

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…used to call them ‘terrorists’ and ‘murderers’ who didn’t belong in this country. They should ‘fuck off back where they came from’ was a regular tirade whenever the subject of immigration came up on the television news.
Ahmed was born in Sale. Both his parents were born in Bolton. His grandparents came from India and Accrington. None of his family hated anyone as far as he knew. His grandad loathed fish and chips but they were careful not to share that dark family secret too far.
Emily came from a strict Jewish family. Although her parents were outwardly respectful of…

By Phill Slater

Website: http://phillslater.blog/

Twitter: pslater1972

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It Began with a Doll

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…divided us. I had a Buzz Lighting doll. She had a Woody doll. I burnt Woody’s hat. I left it on a lamp while she was either in the bathroom or asleep. The top of his hat glued to the lamp. I wasn’t creative. I never wanted anything because I didn’t know that those things would be possible. It was awful how jealous of my sister I was. I wanted everything she wanted. Every time she came up with something new I wanted a part of…

By Cristina C.

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Crowning Glory

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…hair was super thick and flowed halfway down her back. A pile of bobby pins, all without their nubbins, lay on the counter, ready to get to work. She studied her face in the mirror, as she did every morning, trying to decide who she would be today. Decisively, she grabbed her mass of rich auburn hair and the magic began. Twisting, pinning, folding, swirling, pinning, winding, pulling, tucking, pinning. The intricately spiralling braid wrapped regally like a crown upon her head. Another final glance and she turned and walked away, ready for the day.

"It's way too hot to…

By Sharon Cunningham

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/sharon.cunningham.5076

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Wedged in the Garden

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…gingerly upon her knees, under the hot sun.

He sits upon the bench, watching her; his gaze steady and intent.

Delicately, but purposefully, she pulls pensively with her hands.

He urges her to pull just a little harder, "or it won't come out," he says!

She licks her lips.

He notices how charmingly her moistened lips glisten in the sun.

Expectantly, he looks down at her bent head, intent on the task at hand.

"Aaaah," he proclaims, as she cheekily leans back to rest on her heels!

Triumphantly, she holds her trophy in her soiled hands.

Delightedly, she proclaims, "Well,…

By Sharon Cunningham

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/sharon.cunningham.5076

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Barefoot - Healing the Inner child

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…like this is where I belong, in the embrace of an infinite Ocean of love. The briny taste is inviting me to spill my own salty tears. Now I know why the Ocean is saline!! Others have been here before. Others who were also me.

But this is about you, not about them.

Try again...What do you feel?

I feel love.. almost more than what my heart can hold. For my child. But there is more love there. For more children. Children that I did not have, maybe? ...Hold on…. this is not about your child, not about other…

By Shilpa K

Website: https://touchingthecloud.wordpress.com/meandering/barefoot/

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Between Living and Existing

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…natural drug. She stopped feeling, she stopped caring, she was just one with the cold elements and like a harsh parent it controlled her with its cruelty.

She was now wet through. All her colours had drained away and her face was like a wrung-out cloth. From afar, she was a large bundle of damp darkness – the dark hues of failure. Her face failed to smile and her eyes refused to brighten as they had done once upon a time. Her skin was pallid apart from her weather-beaten cheeks and her hair was a lifeless grey. She was a shadow that nobody…

By Sarah Bowden

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Social Anxiety, Stage Fright and The Giant

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…than before.

The giant knocked me down cold in the first round. When I regained consciousness, I looked at its face. It refused to give up. I was astonished. The lines on its forehead mirrored mine. The dark under its eyes was a lot like mine, but only darker. Perhaps it had fought many similar fights or even wars. It had my eyes, my lips. It was all me. But its hands were different. Why ? How can I be fighting against myself ? But I am. Right? If this giant is anything like me, then I know its weaknesses and…

By Mohini Awasthi

Website: http://mohini19blog.wordpress.com

Twitter: mohini_awasthi2

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/mohiniawasthi.96

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The Love Basket

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…at the top of his voice! His Mommy open the door he just slammed and asked him, What’s wrong Harper? “Are you still mad about the cookie?” she asked. “YES and Daddy won’t play with me! I’m so bored!!!” He replied.

“Is that all?” Mommy asked with concern in her eyes. You see they were moving again and they had done a lot of moving. They called it “adventures” but Harper was attached this time. He was only three when they arrived in Washington but now he was turning 5 and he was feeling a lot more. More fear…

By Trina Casey

Website: http://galaxyswhale.com

Twitter: TrinaCasey13

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/GalaxysWhale/

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Wimpy Paddington

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…how my friends and I insulted each other. John had started it and we followed whatever John did without thinking much about it. He wrote U2 on his schoolbag and within a week we’d all done the same. John had got the Arab thing from his dad who’d been in prison. There were no Arabs in our part of Avon.
Stephen looked up, eyes wide, shaking his head.
“What?” I sneered, staring at the streaks of red sauce. 
“What you just said…

By Matthew Roy Davey

Website: https://matthewroydavey.wordpress.com/

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Our Saviour

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Memories form the fabric of our identities: we encode, we store and we retrieve. Children's memories are often formed from play, games and fun finding. In an infant, memory is like sand used in a play pit. When shaken through a toy sieve most of the sand works its way through the grid and disperses. As adults to the grid is covered with a fine gauze mesh, most of the memories remain as they can't work through the holes. As toddlers, we make recollections from a smell, from sight, from touch, from what we hear, from indifference or…

By Alison Little

Website: http://alisonlittleblog.wordpress.com

Twitter: Alison05

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/alison.little1

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