sylvarwolf

[sylvarwolf]

choices, a poem for National Writing Day

choices a poem for National Writing Day

ChoicesSo many choicesThere are too many thingsto choose fromI’m toldthat I’m good at them allbut that’s nottrueOthers trained for yearsand their work isfantasticThey have experience and talentwhereas I amJack of All Tradeswith no great skillSo how can I walk along the roadslike those they have chosen?There are so manychoicesWhere do I start and spinning round in my mind ishowdo I start?In a…

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[sylvarwolf]

Bereavement: A Cogitation

With dismal days looming above,Life leeches bright colourFrom the azure vault of heaven,Memories unbidden,Un-looked for, focus gloomy thoughtsOn the space left behind. The Shape of your life in my mind –The hole where once you smiled –Stands empty, never to be filledWith the sound of your voice.Only the echoes lamentingSuch sweetness to the ear. You have gone and left naught but chillMemory of…

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Don't Rock the Boat

Don’t Rock the Boat

John studied Pete for a solid minute before standing up and turning to face him. Margot saw his eyes, lined with stress and worry, glance at her and she wondered whether she had the nerve to drive the getaway vehicle. They hadn’t told her what was going to occur, and all she knew was that she had to make a quick, safe and legal drive across the busy town centre. It was not a matter of whether she…

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[sylvarwolf]

There's No 'I' in Team

There’s No ‘I’ in Team

Margot regarded John with a quizzical look in her eyes. His mass of messy blond hair stood up on the top of his head and flopped about with wild abandon as his head moved. Long, thin fingers would sweep through his hair and push it back over his ears. Then he thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket and hunched his shoulders over into his perpetual stoop. He turned to face Margot,…

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[sylvarwolf]

The Big Plan

The mobile phone buzzed away to itself on the kitchen counter and Margot turned it over to see who was calling. John’s deep penetrating eyes stared up at her from the screen. Margot’s stomach flipped, and she decided she needed to talk to him. Even when they were still together as a couple, she could never decide whether to talk to him. He always found fault with her and argued her down when she…

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Going for a Drive and a Drink

Going for a Drive and a Drink

Margot opened the passenger door of Angie’s green Mini Clubman and climbed inside. Angie put the car into gear and pulled into traffic. “How are you doing today?” Angie said, flicking her eyes to look at Margot. Margot seemed to shrink inside her thick overcoat. “Fine, fine.” She said, the briefest smile lighting up her face. The wipers shushed back and forth across the windscreen. “Did Jenny…

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[sylvarwolf]

Margot's Nightmarish Dream

Margot’s Nightmarish Dream

Her bedroom was a mess; clothes everywhere underfoot, her dressing table covered in bottles of cream, perfume and make-up and the bed covered with scatter cushions. The curtains were half-drawn and the light from a street-lamp spilt across her bed like a sodium-yellow plank of wood. Margot kicked off her shoes and pulled the curtains together to bring a hint of darkness into her bedroom. After…

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[sylvarwolf]

The little orange flag

The little orange flag

The field was in the middle of nowhere, hedged in by sparse trees, and Angie was well and truly lost. She had come out for a walk in the local woods, but the vibrant sound of birdsong distracted her and she kept walking into unfamiliar territory. She meandered back in the direction she had come, hoping her memory would pick up clues about the path she had used. Something bright and orange caught…

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[sylvarwolf]

The rusty old door

The rusty old door

She approached the unfamiliar door and nervously took the key from her pocket. She took a deep breath, unlocked the door, paused, and then opened it. To her horror, she encountered three men with black balaclavas over their heads watching her as she stood open-mouthed in the doorway. They each had guns in their hands and huddled together like a murder of crows. Three black-dressed men in the old…

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[sylvarwolf]

Young Margot: a Short-story Flashback

Young Margot: a Short-story Flashback

It was the year that her mother died. No one had expected her to pass when she did in the glorious springtime. She had left her small family to fend for themselves. Margot was nine-years-old at the time and her world had filled itself with her friends, her scooter and Dad watching the game on the television. He was always the rock in their family: sturdy, bound to his armchair, predictable and…

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[sylvarwolf]

The big job interview

The big job interview

Margot had been out of work for three weeks now, and her self-esteem was plummeting. So eager was she to dress for the job interview that she had forgotten to bring her exam certificates with her. Margot hoped they wouldn’t ask her for them. She wore a freshly pressed navy blue A-line skirt and cream blouse with a jacket to match her skirt. She flicked her hair behind her ear; a habit that she…

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Pie and Mash at the George & Dragon

Pie and Mash at the George & Dragon

The George and Dragon’s saloon bar was warm, inviting, and almost empty when John walked in. Low dark wood beams complemented the rough plastered walls. Rich mahogany armchairs scattered around small circular tables. Beer mats and a small metal tin containing cutlery and serviettes decorated each table. He waved at the short, bespectacled waitress and she lifted her hand and smiled back at…

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[sylvarwolf]

More Coffee for Two

More Coffee for Two

Margot was sitting in her kitchen when the text message arrived. She was sitting at a breakfast bar island in the centre of the kitchen. The wide double-glazed windows let early afternoon sunshine stream across the kitchen. The Coffee-maker had recently provided her with a fresh cup of coffee. A creamy, comforting latte that settled in her stomach with a satisfying warmth. Margot retrieved her…

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[sylvarwolf]

She poured herself another glass of wine, the glugging rising in pitch as the wine filled up her large glass. The wine was dark, the colour of blood, and she took a long sip before turning back to the television. The glow of its screen lit her front room with a pale and flickering light. She wasn’t watching the TV with its flashing lights and moving images. Half a dozen textured scatter cushions…

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[sylvarwolf]

Swings, slides and wild rides

Swings, slides and wild rides

The trees gathered together like green-robed, conspiratorial monks and loomed over the bright, plastic coloured play-park. Their shadows blocked most of the cool winter sunlight that spilled onto the slide and the swings. Small children ran screaming their joy from one crowded activity to the next. Swings, creaking like old bones, rattled backwards and forwards in constant complaint. Grubby…

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[sylvarwolf]

Waiting for a bus

Waiting for a bus

Angie’s breath came out in small, wispy clouds of ice and she shuddered as the cold spread into her bones. She sat forward on the ice-cold, wooden bench of the bus shelter, clutching the sleeping bag she had bought from Argos. It was electric blue and squashed into its little bag – perfect for a teenager away from home for the first time. She was certain that the bus should be here by now. The…

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[sylvarwolf]

Lies, lies and more lies

Lies, lies and more lies

In the mornings he would exercise; the treadmill clattering away to his heavy footfalls like a train going over points. After exercise, would come lunch which on most days comprised poached eggs and coffee. Then he would shower, allowing the hot cleansing water tumble over his body. Only then would he allow himself the luxury of a bar of chocolate. He played the guitar every Wednesday night, and…

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