I think u just need to let it out! It will produce something amazing.

My sick side that I try and suppress….

corr – just in the nick of time! you don’t half know how to write disturbing flash. Ive said it before but I really do think you could write amazing horror / thriller type stuff. You have such an ability to write really unnerving things – just like that box in the loft….

It’s the feeling of the bricks, sort of not quite slimy to the touch. That’s what I remember. Derby smooth stone, someone told me and they’re right. It does have that same slippery texture. But it isn’t the same, feeling an abstract. There isn’t the connection to the place and time. When I leant my face against its soothing surface after the burning; the hardness when I pressed my hands against the bricks, trying to push through the wall as Jimmy held me back; the way my tears made the slippery surface glisten. I wanted to stick to that wall, melt into it, be part of it. I’m still not sure whose screams I remember from that day but I’m sure some of mine were trapped in those bricks. Jimmy told me they demolished the cottage – ‘unsafe’ he said. I think it’s because of the ghosts. There had to be, after that fire, after those deaths. For a long time I wanted one of those bricks; it was all I asked for, for Christmas, birthdays, certain it held some part, some essence. Jimmy says it was me asking for bricks that made dad lose patience, had me committed here. I’ve plenty of time to lean again the bricks in this place, plenty of time to remember, to hear the screams. When I get out, I’ll go back, get a brick and hold it to my cheek. Then I’ll be home again.

My god that is so evocative – I really felt her longing for that sense of home and belonging. I can’t believe you ever thought you wouldnt be able to do flash you are SOOOOOOOO good at it.

p.s. just in the nick of time – my leg was half in bed! literally! I climbed back out and uploaded your submission for tomorrow 🙂

Their eyes hook into my back like claws as I pass by. They keep their thoughts locked and silent in their heads, but their faces smoulder with resentment, distrust. They bite back the words but their message burns into my skin just the same, “You don’t belong here.”

And they’re right. I don’t. But I won’t go back, I can never go back, though my heart yearns for home. Those like me, well, we’re not welcome anywhere.

For me, home is not bricks and mortar. It’s not tied up in four walls, anchored in place by geography, or a slot in the vastness of time. The home I long for is family, acceptance, love. Home is not where I came from, but perhaps where I’m travelling to.

haha I know right… all these bloggers are genius – 6 tiny words gives such a massive opening to a whole story.

Like you, I know the feeling and love the word anyway 🙂