No. This cannot be happening. This cannot happen. I will not let this happen. Why won't anybody listen to me? What on Earth did I do to deserve the silent treatment this time? It is really not the time to be this petty. I tried asking my sister what all the commotion was about, why was everyone here, in my house uninvited while my husband... why the hell was my husband was being marched out of the house we shared in handcuffs. Why in God's name is no-one talking to me. Then, as someone so carelessly walked through me, it all made sense, and like a movie playing in my head, the last two hours played out. Me, screaming down the phone to my sister, screaming for help as my husband, who had just come home from work, the man I loved with every fibre of my being, approached me. He approached me slowly, with rage filled eyes and holding a knife so tightly in his hand his knuckles were white. The last thing that played over in my mind was him cornering me in our bedroom before he raised his arm, the phone lying at my feet and I could hear my sister calling out for me while also talking to the police on another line. And now, well now I guess I'm a ghost.
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Short Story[In Edit] Summer train journey's. What better inspiration for a collection of shorts stories. The concept for this book was birthed on a train but has continued to flourish long after the train left the tracks. From April to September 2016 I had to...
