Her skin is like velvet.
Her face cut from stone.
Her eyes when she's smiling.
Will never reach home.

Oh but hear how she sings.

  posted by Hap @ 5:24 PM

 
I spent most of yesterday with Josh. We went to the cinema and waited in line for half an hour only to end up being the only people watching the film. We had M&M’s and crisps and drank soda till we popped. The movie was ‘Jimmy Neutron’ a Nickelodeon animated adventure. We thought it would be fun and ended up laughing till there were tears running down our cheeks.
The rain hit us hard when we stepped through revolving doors that turned us forever. The car seemed a lot further away in the wind and rain but we made it only to have Josh clowning around in pools of water that had collected in the pitted tarmac. It took forever for me to get him in the car.

On tables stained with rings from teacups. Josh helped himself to my lunch. I had ordered plenty knowing this, bringing an extra fork after he denied being hungry. Flared tempers rose around us as we overstayed our welcome while crayons and pretty pictures littered our feet and plastic fish on hooks dangled from tiny rods in our hands. We played some more then left the remnants of lunch stuck to the table behind us.

The afternoon moved quickly. Rage flared out through the gaps in the garage door as I ran the clippers over Josh’s hair making it neat behind the ears. Tears of frustration ran hot down tempered cheeks their path broken by the falling hair. Quick march to the shower and a wet bathroom floor and we had smiles again.



  posted by Hap @ 10:37 AM

 
I want to sit in the sunshine and dangle my feet in the murky waters of a river.
I would be so high in the air that I would feel sick to look for what’s below my feet
And the boy?
He would be here with me too, with dirty blonde hair and a stopping smile. Brilliance in the light of his eyes would brighten my soul under the shadow of the clouds on the moon.

I am hungry.
The food that is on my mind right now:
 Cheesy, Mayo, mustard and onion sandwiches
 Ice cream
 Tom’s regular dish
 Burnt bacon (oh god yes!)
 Humous
 Home made rice pudding


  posted by Hap @ 4:47 PM

 
OK, I wrote the last little ditty at about 2am. I am negotiating part ll with my web server (It's too big! God dammit!!)

  posted by Hap @ 3:58 PM

 
Summer arrived overnight. I awoke to the smell of flowers and cut grass invading my dried up sinuses sending my energy levels through the roof. Swinging my legs out from under the warm covers I let my feet rest on the wooden floor allowing the blood to rush south towards my pale toes. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and listened for sounds of life from downstairs. I knew my mother was up and about for the back door was open sending the cool morning air drifting up the stairs and seeping under the bedroom door. I stood and stretched my lean limbs in front of the mirror and looked at the strange girl who, through discreet lashes, stared back with an unusual air of paranoia.
Stepping closer I examined my features, lanky arms to go with the lanky legs and long mousy hair that would never hold a curl. Moving my gaze lower towards the silhouette of my body I looked with scrutiny at my breasts, they were definitely there today no doubt about it
I could feel the small protrusions pressing against the palms of my narrow hands as I scrambled out of my cotton nightie. Maybe I’ll ask my mother for a bra today after all Nicola Brown from number twenty-two had been wearing one for three weeks now and she wasn’t even thirteen yet. I had been thirteen for over two months now and I was still in vests. Perhaps a pale blue bra with a bow, I thought as I struggled into my uniform. Nicola didn’t have one like that. I remember looking at her small collection of bras and there was nothing delicate about them still, they were certainly pretty.
We sat there two nights ago on her bedroom floor hiding under her brother’s duvet like a couple of criminals plotting our next heist. I had begged my mother to let me stay over at Nicola’s. She wasn’t too happy with me staying in a house with no rules and on a school night too, besides that ‘Brown woman’ has no dress sense and had brought salmon paste sandwiches to the Elliott’s last garden party, for goodness sake. She gave up though after watching me sulk at the dinner table for half an hour, the food untouched and my stomach protesting loudly. After making me promise to politely refuse any junk food offered and to uphold her social standing in the community by being on my best behaviour I was allowed to pack my school things and make my way over to Nicola’s. I felt excited running down the street, my bag winding me as it thumped up and down on my back. I felt differently however as I watched Mrs Brown erect the camp bed in the corner of Nicola’s bedroom. I stared at the thin, murky looking mattress with distaste and wondered what horror she would pull out for a blanket. I was to be denied relief when Sam’s quilt was tossed onto the makeshift bed with a breeze that sent dust into my eyes. With the weary breath of a woman twice her age, Mrs Brown picked up my shoes and left me standing in the middle of the room looking at the violent figure of He-Man that donned the tattered quilt.
Later that evening we sat huddled under his watchful gaze; the blonde of Nicola’s hair flashing in the torchlight like sparks from a flint, her grubby feet pressing against mine. The carpet itched against my thighs as we looked at those magic garments and giggled at how grown up they made us feel, but as I walked to school the following day I felt conscious of my vest pressing against my skin. I was so jealous of Nicola that my jaw hurt from frustration.
Pulling on my jumper I made my way towards the stairs listening to the familiar creaking of floorboards as I stomped on them. My younger sister sat on the middle step eating toast, the cat patiently sitting amongst stuffed toys beside her eyeing every bite with disgust. Sian tilted her head back with exaggerated effort and grinned at me as I started down the stairs, it was barely past breakfast and already she had several meals surrounding her chubby lips like time lines on a tree stump. Sian was six years old and epitomised all that could possibly be in every parent’s nightmare. People wrote books about bringing up children every day and every parent owned at least one of them, I was hardly a teenager and even I could think of a few titles like ‘How to be a better parent’ and ‘The joy of children’. I bet most parents-to be, with nervous laughter, skipped the section on ‘how to cope with the difficult child’. I know my mother did, I scoffed to myself. Climbing over my sister, I clamped a hand; hard on her head to keep my balance as I waded through her breakfast with the cat and her care bears. She yowled at the intrusion and kicked me on the shin with a fat foot clocking the cat square on the head at the same time. I launched into the air and landed hard at the bottom of the stairs. Wincing with pain I snatched up sleepy bear with one hand and in full view of my sister punched it in the stomach with the other. She promptly started screaming.
Listening to her tears of rage I made my way towards the kitchen with an air of satisfaction, the cat, naturally defecting followed me at a brisk pace. The hallway stretched eighteen feet down the centre of the house. Doors leading to various rooms, most of them unused in the summer months gathered in a circle around the main foyer, the white gloss of the paintwork reflecting across the floor like the moon on water. Towards the rear of the house the hallway narrowed leading to the kitchen at the end and the morning room to the left. I lined my self up with the entrance to the kitchen and propelled myself down the length of the hallway, the polished wood occasionally catching the soles of my socks as I slid towards the door. I stopped short by two foot. I had never reached the finish line yet. Everyday when I got home from school I would throw off my boots at the front door and charge down the hall, letting my feet slide the moment I reached the edge of the stairs. Leaning for optimum speed, towards my goal I’d surf the length, but two foot short, as always.
I stepped into the gloom of the kitchen. The smooth ceramic tiles seeped cold into the soles of my feet as I ventured towards the fridge. The kitchen was always cold even in summer. Copper pans hung from hooks on the maiden like pigs in a butcher’s shop, the high ceiling sending the slightest clatter ringing like church bells on a clear day. My father bought this house for the kitchen alone and spent months building it from scratch yet as I stood there staring at the contents of the fridge I couldn’t recall seeing him use it, not once. ‘What are you doing?’ the familiar voice cut through my thoughts. ‘Shut the door before you chill the whole house’ I looked up to see my mother unloading the washer, her long black hair brushing the floor as she stooped to retrieve a pink sock stuck fast to the rim.
Knowing what was coming next I quickly grabbed my packed lunch and tip toed towards the door.
‘What did you do to your sister?’ I winced at the tone of her voice stopping me dead in my tracks ‘You know that she eats her breakfast on the stairs and yet you just have to torment her’ she called.
There was no way she could have known, until now my mother was in the garden and I could hear Sian singing quite happily to herself on the stairs. I shuffled towards the dining room, chewing the sleeve of my jumper. Feeling angry I plonked myself on the chair and snatched up the frosties. I hated my sister.



  posted by Hap @ 3:56 PM

 
Has anyone noticed that my archives keep disappearing?
It's driving me mmmmad!

  posted by Hap @ 8:19 AM