Dither at a crossroads

The motorway is half asleep and I’ve driven through the night on late night radio and coffee. My mind invents images to fill in the blanks and I’m past the accident before I wake. Through the side window a faceless woman cries next to a car with no wheels. A policeman holds a baby, I cannot tell if it’s living or dead. The wipers make an arc and the nightmare is swept into subconscious. Wheels hiss. At home the door has too many hinges and locks. I step into a porch that ferments with boots and darkness trips my feet. Suddenly the image of the woman clots in my throat like broken glass and sugar. Should I call someone? I dither at a crossroads I can’t even define as the sky turns the colour of petrol.

– Benjamin F Jones

About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
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3 Responses to Dither at a crossroads

  1. That’s really well-written but tragic. The smell of fermenting boots seems a welcome relief, after all that carnage.

    • I have been looking at my work lately and wondering if in general I am a bit tragic. Perhaps I can consciously inject some more joy into my writing – it does tend to get rather weird then but I don’t care!

      • There’s a place for all types of writing, as there are all types of people in the world who are in all manner of emotional places in their lives. Greek tragedy was very popular at the time and probably most people then would have felt shortchanged if a story had had a happy ending! Weird is good. I, for one, have difficulty writing comedy that’s devoid of a dark edge. We all develop our individual trademark writers’ voices over time, and we should have the confidence to stick with them if that’s where our Muse leads us. Amen to that.

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