Well Then.
It looks like this is it. Locks changed. Bags on the doorstep. No Way Back.
Whatever happened to...
"I'll always love you no matter what." Under an oak tree in Finsbury Park, sheltering from the rain storm. Shivering despite the warmth of your body. The sincerity of your blue-eyed gaze the only surety I needed.
"No-one, but NO-ONE has EVER understood me the way you do." August; roof top. The pinky-blue sky still shimmering from the heat of the day. Talking, talking, talking. Telling each other things we'd never told anyone else. Leading to the moment, the breakthrough, the point of no return.
"I want to grow old with you." The day I moved in, pulling my battered black suitcase behind me. You laughed at it's antiquity, picked me up and carried me over the threshold. I felt safe, held. I knew then, you'd never let me down.
I don't know how it happened. Truly I don't. I thought we were happy. That you loved me. Clearly I missed something important, something obvious. Like one of those frogs, who don't notice the water is boiling until it's too late.
So now, I am locked out. I can see you through the window back to me, ignoring my texts. My rickety suitcase sits in front of our blue door. Or to be more precise, YOUR blue door. There is no "our" any more. You've made that abundantly clear.
Well then. If this is the situation. What is to be done?
I look at the suitcase. I look at the window. I extend the handle, pick it up, and swing.
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Rapture and what comes after
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Rapture and what comes after
Welcome to my blog
'a woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction' Virginia Woolf
Well I have very little money and no room for writing. So I've created a virtual writing room. Here you'll see examples of my own writing - fiction, poetry, reviews, critical analysis. I'll also be plugging other people's work and from time to time introducing you to some of my brilliant writing friends. Pull up a chair, switch on the lamp, and I hope that you enjoy what you read.
Well I have very little money and no room for writing. So I've created a virtual writing room. Here you'll see examples of my own writing - fiction, poetry, reviews, critical analysis. I'll also be plugging other people's work and from time to time introducing you to some of my brilliant writing friends. Pull up a chair, switch on the lamp, and I hope that you enjoy what you read.
About Me
- Virginia Moffatt
- I'm a forty something writer from Oxford. I have written a number of short stories and am currently working on a novel, Echo Hall. I am also developing a TV script.
Published Pieces
Non-fiction.
I have had pieces published on-line for the Guardian's Comment is Free webpages. I have had articles in Peace News and The Church Times. I blog for Peace News.
Fiction
I have had several stories published in on-line journals, including, One Million Stories Project, Evolve Journal and blankpages (run by Blank Media). I have had stories published in One Million Stories Creative Writing Anthology 2010, One Million Stories Creative Writing Anthology 2011 and Inside (A Blank Media Publication).
I have had pieces published on-line for the Guardian's Comment is Free webpages. I have had articles in Peace News and The Church Times. I blog for Peace News.
Fiction
I have had several stories published in on-line journals, including, One Million Stories Project, Evolve Journal and blankpages (run by Blank Media). I have had stories published in One Million Stories Creative Writing Anthology 2010, One Million Stories Creative Writing Anthology 2011 and Inside (A Blank Media Publication).
Copyright Notice
A Room of My Own is the copyright of Virginia Moffatt. All works written by her and published on this page are copyrighted to Virginia Moffatt. All works written by guest authors will be copyrighted to them.
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10 comments:
Good to see you pick up the pen again.
Heart rending but so resonant.
The magpie in me furnishes the Buzzcocks' song "What Ever Happened To" and Lenin's "What Is To Be Done" to where these phrases occur in the text and I rather like that duality!
marc nash
I am glad to be reading these aching words of disappointment, these questions left hanging, unanswered, only the reminiscence of days bygone bittersweet for the readers heartbreaking amusement.
The suitcase and away she goes, but here you are, a Friday flash beautifuly written. Tis why I'm glad.
Thanks folks...It has been a while, doing other things, Ray, but always good to be back at Friday Flash! That's so interesting you found song titles Marc, I don't know either but I like the connection. Thanks Cindy that's the effect I was after.
How come it's only in these moments we want to question and confront those things? All those opportunities, blown away.
In my head, she swung the suitcase at the window.
Funny how people don't talk until it's too late.
Oh, I love that ending and the whole texture of this. Beautifully done.
apologies for my tardiness in visiting!
Yes, what John said. We sit in silence, unhappy, until it's too late.
Always a pleasure to catch up with you on fridayflash!
Quite poignant, and very well written. The imagery of her (him?) standing on the other side of the door, ignoring the texts is so vivid.
~jon
I like the frog analogy. Also the narrator's sense of bewilderment rang true. Good one!
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