Walking Away

Walking Away

Wednesday, 20 August 2014


Most nights I'm woken by the whirling of the helicopter blades. A powerful light searches the gardens like a giant torch. Never sure what the Police are looking for. We've never had any drug dealers or burglars in Portslade Old Village. Our drug dealer is the local doctor who gives out Viagra and Prozac like sweeties. A nice young man in a dark suit who thinks we geriatrics should be happy and at it like rabbits. We sell them on to the middle aged; they are the ones that need happiness in their stale, barren lives. No final salary pensions for them to look forward to.

Doris, sleeps like the dead, her thigh warm to my touch, I can't hear her breathing I'm deaf. Sometimes that's a blessing. We've been together for 5 years. My wife upped and died and Doris started helping out and never went home. Not sure what nationality she is and what language she speaks but she smiles a lot. Sometimes I wonder if the light is searching for her. Where would they send her? Who would make my meals, scratch my back and sing me to sleep? I've come full circle like the rotating blades that fly overhead.

I wrote this last year for the Geo-Writing site. We were given a prompt about an area in Brighton. I have only spent 4 days in Brighton and that was to celebrate last years big birthday. Great city, vibrant and fun. Looking forward to this year's prompts. Wonder what ideas it will give me :)


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Things I like

  • Writing
  • Wit
  • Voltaire's Candide
  • Theatre
  • Shoes
  • Reading
  • Music
  • Laughter
  • Coleslaw
  • Cheese