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“Poisoned”

Two days after the Queen died, they sent for me. I was sixteen. Barely more than a child. Father and Mother could do nothing. News of my supposed beauty had reached the capitol, so they came, they saw me, and they took me. Dressed in a great fur coat and a long, velvet dress trimmed with white ermine, I was bundled into a carriage and never saw home again. Mother and Father’s faces grew distant, like clouds, until they were as indistinct as clouds, and then they were gone. Continue reading “Poisoned”

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The Life Chronicles: ‘Blinkers’

Angie was slow my mother used to say. She told me she was ‘out of it’, and needed Adderall to help her focus. I was the younger daughter, by five years, so this gave me an internal feeling of superiority. I used to get called bright in comparison. I was naturally focused, but Angie didn’t seem to envy me, so she resisted the prescriptions my mother pushed for. Continue reading The Life Chronicles: ‘Blinkers’

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The Life Chronicles: “Old Love”

When you are seventeen, love is mutually assured destruction. These novelty pangs of brilliance and devotion which bubble and surface like lava; irresistible, deadly and hot to the touch. Who will detonate your shiny new feelings first? The ebbing confusion of backhanded compliments and rebellion. It is only a matter of time before one of you brings a match to this fuse. Continue reading The Life Chronicles: “Old Love”

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“A Better Place”

As I stand at the edge of this rooftop, looking down on the place I once considered home, I begin to feel the irreversibility of what I am about to do. There are no second chances where I’m going. It is nearly time now; I am on my last cigarette. Inhale, exhale – like it is my oxygen supply. My lungs burn with each drag and the dizziness in my head is overwhelming, but I can’t bring myself to care. The things we worry about while we are alive just don’t seem as important when you know you are about to die. Smoking Kills. But so does everything: isn’t that the point? Continue reading “A Better Place”

The Life Chronicles: “The Therapist’s Wife”

He sculpts characters out of them. The people who dig money out their pockets to sit on the sofa opposite and spill out the contents of their tiny minds. Listening to expansive life stories. The he-said, she-said of adult life. Branches spilling out like tributaries, he gets lost in a spiral for an hour before the timer goes off so he wraps it up and stuffs the fresh narrative in a file for next week. Continue reading The Life Chronicles: “The Therapist’s Wife”