Letters

Stu burnt the letters. He should never have kept them, he should never have tied them up and kept them hidden. Nor the letters.

Water

As I bent to dive, the pink medusa rippled. As I broke the water I twisted sideways but the tentacles striped my ribs and flank.

It’s a grand garden you’ve got, grandad.
Aye, but who’s going to look after it?
We all will.
Pave it over as soon as.
No. Not us.

“But it was only a myth, a story the old people told. Now sleep.” The children closed eyes. He smiled and licked his red teeth.

But where was the door? The door in the floor? It’d been there before, before he went out to score. He stared at the floor. No door.

Children 1 and 2 skipped in the school yard. Miles away, Child 3 pressed the red button. One and Two disappeared from his screen.

Gav dripped sugar water across the floor, into the server vent. The first ant touched the pool by the window. Last day, goodbye.

Steve the sheep couldn’t sleep. He’d tried counting people. Nothing.
One.
One.
Nothing.
One.
Still wide awake.
Steve the sheep.

They said Hardy had a heart of stone. But when Rosa smiled her white light smile, colours exploded from the diamond in his chest.

The stunning linguist left me a 1-word message “phoneme”. But which single sound did she want me to practise? Ah. Oh. Two words.