Author Archives: Sandra

Sand is everywhere; in our limp fish-paste and cucumber sandwiches, my salt-sticky hair, and chafing in the elastic of my knicker-legs. Dad rages over his forgotten sunglasses.  My brother, the butt of his anger, has wandered off, so now Dad’s … Continue reading →

She is watching him paint. And he is watching her watching him. Her lack of desire to understand his paintings is only matched by his desire not to have to explain them.  She simply wishes to observe; he only wishes … Continue reading →

As dawn breached the horizon, the carnage was finished.  The air was fetid with wine and, lurching to the cellar steps through broken glass, I saw my lower limbs were flecked with miniscule bleeding cuts. If he would not love … Continue reading →

“Wouldn’t want one in my workshop.” “One what?” Geoff says, glancing around. “The ree-tard there – a liability, I’d say.” “He’s no problem. Someone’s gotta help ‘em.” “Better man than I am, Geoff Roper.” “His ma begged me to give … Continue reading →

Still searching for her, he senses the skyscrapers looming over the street. He’d almost landed a job there once… shortlisted, but came in second.  He’d set his heart on these bijoux residences too but couldn’t quite afford the deposit without … Continue reading →

The earth is an ice-baked, ochre ruin. You notice the colour of the earth when you’re closer to it. In fact, you notice many things when you’re older… like breathing.  You still do plenty of it, but is it enough to … Continue reading →

Gilbert returns from the restroom to discover an empty place opposite his.  She’s done a runner… After the walk of shame back to his seat, avoiding curious glances from other customers, he attacks his overladen plate of bacon, eggs and … Continue reading →

The carousel music echoes nostalgically around the silent buildings overlooking the square. Stranded in their apartments, people stare out remembering a different time, whilst in doorways and alleyways the hooded jackals congregate, staring with bleak eyes at the gaudy flashing … Continue reading →

It’s a church, right?  So a good place. Every Sunday I hunch in the front pew, staring up at his face.  He knows who I am.  I know what he is. Every now and then I’ll take confession, which is … Continue reading →