That infernal cup of tea

Okay I've noticed a trend here...not really into finishing things. I will get back to some of it however this week I've written something else and this just a short little story to highlight how much people tend to hide things. It's possibly got a few typos and bad grammar since this is not my strong point but hey it's finished, at least.



“Sally…”

 She looked up at her boss and the woman standing in front of her desk expectantly.

 “Could you get us a cup of tea?”

 Her heart raced and her vision fogged. There was her father, a much younger man with is hair sticking out on end, his eyes ever so slightly wild and dishevelled, lit up against the threadbare curtains of her childhood home. She blinked, her boss and female companion swamp into view. She took a deep breath and felt the tears well, her shoulders tense and she backed away from the request. “What kind of tea would you like?” She sounded normal and they didn’t seem to notice anything.

 “Normal, white with one sugar, thanks.” They smiled.

 They always smiled it didn’t mean anything, her father had smiled. She took a deep breath and stood up, her hands were shaking and clammy. She smiled. “Sure, back in a minute.” Her legs quivering, head down she walked the dirty hallway of her childhood. She shook her head, this was work; the floor was a grey carpet, the walls clean cream and the wide open plan office had alcoves for desks with people going about their business. The kitchen was empty and she sighed as she reached for the kettle and stopped, frozen. The kitchen back home had been sparse and she could always hear what her father had been doing in the next room. The banging and crashing of furniture and cupboard doors and here was no different. She could hear the office at work, people annoyed and frustrated loud and intrusive, would any of them find her and want to talk?

 “Where’re you going for that tea, China?”

 She looked up and saw the shadow of a man so much taller than her. She couldn’t see his face but she didn’t need to, he was stiff, slightly leaning down towards her, one arm on the door the other on the frame, one foot through it blocking the doorway with his leg. She blinked, he was gone and there was the office and her desk neighbour standing in the doorway with her mug.

 “You okay?”

 She shook her head and took a deep breath. “Yeah I’m fine.”

 Her colleague moved towards her.

 She jumped back.

 “Sorry.” She stopped moving. “Are you sure you’re alright.” The colleague put her mug down.

 She sighed. “Yes I am fine, I’m just not having a great day.”

 “Oh dear.”

 She pulled a face and the colleague turned and left.


Oh why, oh why is this such a problem, it’s just a cup of tea for a client? She put the kettle on and then got out a cup and teabag, sugar and milk and then stood waiting for the water to boil. Her face quivered and a tear dripped onto the counter, she closed her eyes. Her father was standing in front of her, his face screwed up like he’d just tasted something foul.

“You’ve left this too long, it’s stewed.” He paused. “God I can’t trust you to do anything right.”

 Her vision swam she could hear him.

 “It’s pathetic; anyone with half an ounce of intelligence could do this, but not you.”

 She could see his face, the set of his eyes and feel the heat of anger coming off him just before he threw the mug full of tea at her. How it had burned. “Get me another and get it right this time.”

Time and time again she’d tried but she never got it right. How long had it taken for her to realise that she would never make a good cup of tea? Months? But it hadn’t changed a thing, every time she’d wanted this to be the time she’d get it right; the time the tea would be okay and he’d just drink it and not say anything, but it had never happened. So many scolding cups had come back at her that she had gotten into the habit of ducking and hiding to avoid them but that had only made it worse. “You do this to me deliberately; you’re trying to poison me.” If only I had the courage she’d thought, I could be rid of you, rid of this torture.

 The kettle boiled. Would she get it right this time? She dunked the bags in each mug, added the milk and sugar and stirred them both. She picked them up and the tea sloshed over the sides. She cleaned them up and tried again, her hands shaking. She stood still as her heart raced; she was never going to get them through to the office without spilling them. Her eyes shut tight and tears slid between her lashes. She put the mugs down and took a deep breath. She could do this, she just had to concentrate. She thumped the counter, opened her eyes and picked up the mugs. This time it would be okay.


The office door was shut so she took a deep breath and put her elbow to it and gently nudged it open. The conversation stopped and she smiled her eyes fixed on the tea in front of her. Only a metre to go, steady now you can do this. The mugs down she didn’t wait for any acknowledgement she turned and fled shutting the door behind her she headed for the bath room and didn’t stop until the door was safely locked behind her. She sat down on the loo and put her head in her hands and shook as the tears flowed. When had this become such an ordeal?

 And why was it still such a big ordeal? She’d stopped making tea for her father such a very long time ago and yet the memory lived on. “What are you snivelling about? Anyone would think there was something wrong with you?” His voice again it would not leave her alone. “Go away. For God’s sake just go away.”


“Excuse me for being concerned!”

 She scrambled off the loo. “Oh jeeze sorry not you.” She opened the door. The woman standing there was wide eyed and half turned to go out. “God I’m sorry I...” How could she explain? “I’m having a bad day, I’m really sorry.”

 “Right, bad day.”

 Her shoulders slumped and she looked at the floor. “I just…have a…” She shuddered.

 “Hummm…”

 She wiped her face. “I’m fine.”

 The lady nodded slowly. “Okay I just wondered if there was anything I could do?”

Not ask me to make another cup of tea sprang to mind, but then that would require an explanation, a very painful and personal explanation that would almost certainly result in them asking what the big deal was or even worse telling her to just get over it. She smiled, straightened herself and replied. “Nope, I’m okay now. Thank you.”

Losing ones identity

A long time ago I saw a competition witht he theme identity and I thought about it a bit and then started writing this piece about a man who feels he's lost himself, who is and no body even notices. The competition came and went and I didn't get the piece finished but now it's about time I did. This is the first part (not going to call it half as it will probably not be) of this story I entitled
 Identity? What identity

The house is quiet as Richard opens his eyes. He stares at the ceiling and listens to his wifes’ breathing, slow and steady. She moves slightly pulling the duvet with her. He turns his head towards the clock, five o’clock. Damn, far too early to get up, besides what do I need to get up for these days. He looks over at Sara still asleep next to him. Yeah what did he have to get up for, it wasn’t like she’d even see him over all the things she had to do before she rushed out the door. She didn’t even see what he did when she got home. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something happy, something to make him want to get up, but nothing came to mind.

The alarm sounded and he jolted awake, slammed his hand on the snooze button. Damn, time to get up.
Sara moved and groaned. Looked at the clock and then lay back. “ummph, you awake?”
Richard didn’t answer.
The alarm sounded again. “mmmph, I’m getting a shower.”

Richard lay still and silent as she got out of bed and shuffled off to the bathroom. He turned onto his side so she couldn’t see his face. It wouldn’t be long before he had to get up, had to speak to her and be sociable. She would want to talk to him, tell him what needed doing today and she would want a reply; she never seemed seem to care about what the reply was but she would want him to say something.

Another alarm went off, Laura’s probably; she was usually up before Courtney. Courtney tended to hang to bed. “Rich, you need to get up now,” said Sara

“Yeah will do.” He didn’t move and listened to her opening and closing draws and the wardrobe, and pulling on her clothes. She sat down on the bed. Now he had to get up.

Richard could hear the radio and shower as he dressed. Sara had already gone down stairs as he pulled on a jumper and started towards the landing. He knocked on Courtney’s door. “Come on, up you get.” There was no reply.

Sara pulled bowls from the dishwasher and then cereal from the cupboard, milk from the fridge; she seemed oblivious to his presence. She looked up briefly and then poured cereal into two bowls. “Morning.” She passed one over and sat down.

Yeah morning, thought Richard, but didn’t speak.

Sara was writing a list as she ate her cereal. “Don’t forget you need to pick up Laura from practise this evening at four thirty.” She ate more cereal. “You forgot the soap powder and shower gel yesterday.” She scribbled on her pad, took a mouthful of cereal and put the bowl in the sink. She’d barely eaten anything. “Don’t forget Courtney needs a lift to Rebeccas’ after school.” Sara was unloading the dishwasher. “We need some more bread and tomatoes. You should have got them when were shopping yesterday. Don’t forget to mow the lawn.”

At eight she paused and called up the stairs to Laura and Courtney to hurry them, then she started to load the washer.

“I can do that, you sit down.” Richard called form his seat at the table.

She continued loading the washer “We need to eat early tonight Trish is coming over.” She went into the hall and shouted, “Laura Courtney, you’re late, now come on you’ll miss the bus.”

Richard looked at his watch. “It’s all right I can give them a lift on my way in if they miss it, it’s not a problem.”

Sara pulled a disgusted face. “Don’t be stupid, they can go on the bus that’s what it’s for.” She looked at her watch, “Shit I’ve got to go. Here,” she thrust a piece of paper at him and started putting on her coat. “I don’t have time to explain. Don’t forget the car is being serviced.” She gave him a peck on the cheek, shouted up the stairs, “Get a shift on, you two I want tell you again”. Without looking around she walked out of the house.

Richard looked at the paper, yet another list of things she wanted him to do or to get, reminders about lifts and things he’d forgotten. Great now she can’t even be bothered to ask me to do things he thought as he pocketed it. “Come on you two.”
The girls came down the stairs, Laura oh so fashionable and Courtney barely awake. “What’s the fuss, we’ve got plenty of time,” said Laura as she passed him on the way to the kitchen.
“Sure, if you want to arrive for second lesson you are,” replied Richard. “Come on you’ll miss your bus.”
“Thought you were giving us a lift.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just hurry it up you haven’t missed your bus yet.”
Laura smirked and started to pour cereal into a bowl.
Oh yeah she was going to be late now wasn’t she.
She lifted a spoonful towards her mouth as she said, “It’s not like you’ve got to be anywhere.”
“Hurry up.”

Going for a swim part 2

Okay so this is part two of this story and it's still lacking an ending but again I'd rather get it out there than leave on the computer. In this part we move on from the question of suicide to how people react to depression and in this case we meet her partner who has been worried since she disappeared.
Part 2

She looked at her feet.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” He shuffled his feet and turned away from the lake.
“No I’m sorry.” She turned to him. “I was just...”
He stopped mid step and turned back.
She looked back to the lake. “I was just thinking about going for a swim.” She smiled. “It looks so peaceful...”
“And cold. Brrr. You’d freeze in there this time of year.”
That was the point she thought. “Maybe.”
“No maybe. It’s sodding cold most of the year, but right now it’s... brrr.” He shivered.
She watched his face. Not a clue, good just as well. “Yeah well I decided not too.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m not real good at rescuing people.” He frowned, as if he wasn’t sure if she had decided.
“So what are you doing up here? It’s a long way from anywhere.”
He sighed. “Needed a walk, bit of peace and quiet; this seemed like the perfect place.” He shrugged.
“Yeah and then here I was to spoil it of you.” She turned away from the water and motioned forward with her arm.
He started to walk with her.
“Spoil it? No, bit of a surprise though. Not many people come up this time of day. A few dog walkers, maybe a guy with a camera, but that’s all.”
“Well I can see why.”
She stared as a running man came into sight. “An occasional runner too, huh!”
The man smiled. “Not so much. This place has quite a reputation, not welcoming for people.”
She followed the runner with her eyes. “Really?”
“Yes, a few years ago the police were all over this place looking for burial sites.” He looked down. “Some local man killed a few people and buried then out here. Never really got why he killed them but having found severn graves, people have kept away.”
“Whoa...!”
“The sad part is that they think there may be some others out here somewhere but the guy isn’t talking. Only admitted to two of the seven as it happens, the police just found the others while they were looking for them.” He sighed.
She looked at him now, his face taught and strained. “Someone you knew?”
“Humm?” His eyebrow rose.
She waited.
“Not really.”
The runner had speeded up and was heading straight for them.
Not long now she thought. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah me too.”
“Cora, blimey,” the runner panted, “I wondered where you’d got to?”
She pulled a tight smile. “Sorry I didn’t mean to worry you, I just needed to get away.”
“Hi”
“Hello.” The man watched as the runner caught his breath. “Life goes on.”
She sighed. How many times had she not wanted it to? One moment it seemed like the end and then something happened and her attention was drawn somewhere else and then life was continuing and she hadn’t even realised that it had moved on.”Yes it does, it’s just a shame it isn’t a bit easier on us.”
He smiled.
The runner watched her closely. “Damn shame.” He paused and looked at her companion. He looked back at her. “Feeling any better?”
“Little bit.”
“I should get on. It was nice to meet you.” He stepped away.

“Yes you too.” She watched him take a few steps then turned to the runner. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to disappear. I just needed some peace.”
He squeezed her arm. “It’s okay, but next time, please tell me you’re going. I was looking everywhere. And why here? Of all the places you could go why here?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone here.”
He blinked. “No, not really populated out here is it? but then what would have happened if you’d gotten into trouble?”
She sighed and started to walk. “Well I didn’t, did I?”
“Not really the point.”
“Oh give it a rest Nev, I’m alright, no harm no foul.
The man stopped walking. “You really don’t get it do you? God we love you, we’d miss you and when you disappear it’s like it’s already happened. Like you’ve already gone and we’ll never get you back. I daren’t leave you alone because it might be the last time I ever see you and I can’t stand that. I can’t stand to think of it being the last time.”
She stopped walking. “And yet strangely you never seem to be with me when you are here. You’re with someone, but it’s not me, I don’t recognise her. You treat her like a child that needs to be looked after, like this week end was what I wanted. All the people, all the old memories...everything was what I wanted. Well it wasn’t, it wasn’t what I wanted at all.”
“I don’t treat you like a child.”
“Yes you do. Look at you coming out here, making this trip and you made such a big deal about doing this for me, organising it with them and yet you never asked me if it was what I wanted.”
“There you’re family.”
“Right so of course I want them running my life. Listening to endless reasons why I should be happy, why it was for the best, doing everything for me and then complaining that I never get off my backside. Yes of course that’s exactly what I want. God why can’t you see that all I need is sometime to feel shit for a bit. To work things out for myself and God help me spend some time alone with you so we can talk.”
Nev stopped walking. “We do nothing but.”
“Oh yes of course you do. But what about me, since when I have I had anything to say that you’ve cared to listen to. You’re all about telling me what to do, how to feel better but not once have actually sat and talked about how I feel, about how you feel? You’ve just run around like nothing has changed, like you’re still happy and everything is right with your world. Jesus you gave my feelings all of three seconds for me to feel better and then started telling me how to be happy. What to do to achieve it. God just give it a break, it’s takes time.”

Going for a swim

Okay so it's been a while and although I've had lots of ideas I haven't really gotten down to the nitty gritty of actaully writing, big suprise! My excuse, life has kind of been getting in the way...terrible I know, so here's my latest offering. It will eventually be longer than this, however I thought I'd get this part out of the way as I've actually written it.... oh dear the story of my life at the moment, anyway to the story.
Going for a swim brought about in part from past experiences and conversations with friends, the idea was to explore peoples darkest moments, and how they can change from despair. Cheery huh!  Oh well never mind...

Going for a swim

The woman was sat on the end of the wooden pier looking out at the inky black water that stretched away in front of her. The wildlife glided through the mist silently. She didn’t move, didn’t blink as the swans passed within inches of her. She just sat her face blank, slack, her eyes sunken as the water lapped on the uprights beneath her.

Her face rippling slightly in front of her she wondered what it would be like to dive in, to swim away from here. The water would be cold, it would make her heart pound, push the blood through her veins and warm the chills she felt. Maybe she could swim out and just keep going, let the water take her away from here. The cold would suffuse her skin and numb her from her extremities first, then push further through her. Would it penetrate deep enough to remove the pain? Would it take her away from here and give her the peace she was looking for? Let her slip away beneath it’s surface.

The wamp, wamp, wamp of wings flapping hard, followed by the sound of splashing brought her head up and her eyes fixed on the swans as they tousled and flapped in dispute in front of her. She blinked and tears rolled from her eyes and she looked down. Her mouth flickered in movement and then settled back.

No that was how it would be. The cold water would hit her warm innards and it would fight, it would gasp for breath despite her, it would fight so hard that warmth would return to her limbs and she would swim again. She repositioned her arms in her lap and let the tears fall. Why could she not give up, why would her body not let her die?

She did not hear the footsteps on the wood, nor the creaks or movement of the boards under her as the man approached. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

She shuddered and caught her breath.

“Sorry. I...” he trailed off.

She half smiled and then returned her gaze to the water.

“I can’t resist coming here when it’s like this. It’s just so peaceful, no one around.”

She looked up at him; half smiled and then turned back to the lake. The inky water was not moving but as she looked out the reflection of the cloudy sky and then snowy peaks of the hills behind drew her attention. The sun was so low in the sky that the light was still pink and golden from sunrise. Yes it was beautiful here.

“It’s great place to contemplate the world.” He smiled.

Yes contemplation, isn’t that why she had come to do, to contemplate things.

“Brrr... it’s pretty cold to be sitting down though. I’m surprised you aren’t frozen.” He stamped his feet. “Penny for them?”

She looked up.

His weathered face, looked down at her, his gaze steady.

She looked back to the water and then to the swans, now calm and serene, and didn’t know what to say.

Performance Anxiety

I think most poeple worry a little bit about whether they will be able to do what they are seeting out to, for some it's much worse and their fears can become so overwhelming that they don't even try; convinced that it won't matter they will always fail. This poem was trying to capture what might promote this from the inside.

The laughter ringing in my ears
the jeers and insults flowing
Oh come on, that’s awful, you didn’t even try
why ever did you think that good?

My heart explodes with pain
I’m embarrassed, disappointed and ashamed
no matter how hard I’ve tried
the hope that spurred me on now dashed
battered and obliterated
the pieces, shards of glass,
unseen and yet embedded, a rash of painful splinters
why ever did I think I’d been good?

So desolate and lost, there’s nothing to be done
no sitting still accepted, I’m not allowed to stop
yet all the while I fail
why ever do I bother?

So to the next what shall I do, however shall I choose
my head it rants and rages so and all before I’ve started
a torrent of past anguish, resentment and despair
life without fulfilment where I’m never any good
why ever do I care?

Big brother and I!

I think many of us feel we've been overshadowed by others, whether the elder brother, the baby sister, the sucessful cousin... or whoever it may have been. What is said shapes how we think others see ourselves and ultimately to how we see ourselves. Often this can be good however not always. I remember from my childhood that I was always compared to someone else, or to something else and so I wrote this as a comparison between  a brother and sister. The intention was to show what she saw and heard rather than tell.

My Big Brother
I was good at maths, but he was ace at science
I enjoyed my art but he was fantastic at sport
I kept to myself but he had lots of friends
he had such energy while I got tired too quick
he was neat and smart and sophisticated, I was just a scruff that tried hard
he did things that they enjoyed, thought good and admired
I did things that scared them
he was talented and driven, achieved so much so fast,
I just plodded on
he bought a house at 23, while I still studied hard
he married and divorced before I even settled down
he borrowed fast, paid back slow and I just made my own
he played fast and loose, while I worked hard
he lied to all and I was honest to a fault
he exceeded all their wildest dreams and I did as expected
he was the apple of their eyes and I was just a girl.

The Nature of obsession

It's been a while and strangely I have been writing but nothing seems to have come up to snuff. This time I have a collection from a competition I entered at Slough Writers group. Three short poems about obsession. The idea for each was to voice a way of looking at obsession rather than a particular obsession and try to promote the feelings of the person suffering from it. Each poem has a different take, the first Road to recovery was a simple look at how you could become obsessed, what happens when it takes over and then once it's under control how they lived with it knowing what has been.

Road to Recovery
Unseen the loss of will
it hides within the ritual
I’m willingly enslaved
 
My life is full of patterns,
they encroach upon my happiness
I can’t continue as I am

A slow and painful process
I despair of being free
will always watch myself

This the second,
Bondage
Another knot, another loop, pull it tight
to feel secure, held, protected
the rope is my comfort.

It tugs as I move, my body aches,
restricted, my soul it weeps
that I so bound myself

I struggle to unravel it, to untie myself
to reach the knots that bind
I beg for release

Another knot, another loop, pull it free
I breathe easier, slowly emerging
the marks of bondage remain

drew on the reason why someone might become obsessed and what the obsession might do for them both good and bad and was aimed from the child growing up and how once they have become entrenched in what they were doing to survive found they were the one that was suffering and the pains it took to start the journey to be free of it.

Okay Number 3 is different again and is more of an adult outlook where someone has already recognised their obsession and is desperately trying to free themselves from the outset. It was trying to look at the way that although we may wish to be rid of our behaviours we can miss what we're doing and end up in the same position as if we hadn't even tried and frustrated that we lack the insight to achieve our freedom.


A life of vicious circles

Down a road you have not travelled
the end is still unseen
the people and the places change
the feelings stay the same.


It ends upon that same crossroads;
a place of torment and despair.
you whip around and see your path
more clearly seen from here.


You see the choices that you made
and how they brought here
you see the veil that you pulled
but not the reason why

I'm not really sure any of them really worked. The line count was very restrictive so I might have another go at them and make them longer.