We weren’t supposed to be down the far end of the school grounds. But the Gregory twins had chased me all the way. They’d left shouting they’d find a teacher to tell on me.
The hedge growled, shaking its twigs. Scary, but I was more frightened of the Gregory twins. I took out my lunch. The hedge snatched the sarnie. It wasn’t interested in the bread. But it devoured the ham. I held out my finger, pulled back before it could take a bite out.
I laughed. The Gregory twins smelled like pigs. Next time, I’d make them follow me.
The smell of moth balls makes me think of Nana. I loved exploring her teenage wardrobe, even though I had to hold my nose. I cried when Dad told me she’d thrown it all away because it’d confused her.
I freeze. Am I seeing things? This has to be Nana’s dress. I check for the hole she’d burnt into it with a cigarette. There. Like mad, I burrow through the 1950s section. But it’s the only piece of Nana’s.
I wear it for dinner. My parents exchange a look. They’ve recognised it, too.
My name is Sonya. I’m a writer (I used to write stuff for other people and realised that when I’d decided I’d become a writer, I hadn’t meant copywriter).
This blog is an outlet for my imagination which doesn’t seem to know the meaning of resting. I’m in the middle of editing a novel. My imagination got bored dealing with a story that already existed (albeit in pieces). So I made it a deal: You let me get on with the novel, and as a reward we’ll write and publish a 100-word story.