‘Animals shouldn’t go in the playground,’ my human says, ‘but it’s empty, nobody’ll tell us off.’
First, we go on the swings. Swinging’s fun.
Then it’s climbing time. My human likes the climbing frame, I prefer the tree – feels good to get my claws into the bark.
I don’t like the seesaw, and the merry-go-round makes me growl with fear. My favourite is the slide – looks scary from the top, sliding down makes me go whee!
But another human arrives. Mine hides me. It turns out she’s also a rule-breaker, she brought a bear. New friends.
Today’s a good day.
(Thank you for the inspiration to
Helen’s Beasties and the kiddo: ‘Dogs can’t come to the playground, but my tiger’s okay.’)
‘You are joking.’
‘It’s a church.’
‘Therein lies the genius. Nobody will suspect the likes of us to seek sanctuary here.’
His smile widens. I bury my face in hands. He has a point, as usual. I love him to bits. Without his kindness, I wouldn’t have survived the first nights. But sometimes, his ancient weirdness bothers me. As does the idea of moving into a church.
‘And it’s disused – nobody to ask us in.’
His smile splits his face.
‘I’ll invite you,’ he says. ‘It comes with a spacious crypt.’
‘It’s your old church?
Now that’s creepy.’
I’ve decided to give Mesh a go. Not sure I like the way it crops the photos, though. What do you think?
(c) Sonya, 2015
You don’t pay attention to
the ground beneath your feet. You walk on it, so it’s there – why would you look down?
‘What’s keeping you?’
Your question is spiky with impatience.
‘I’m going to take a picture, won’t be a second. Look at this tiny blue blossom.’
You’re five yards on already. Five more and you’ll be swallowed by a wave of commuters spilling out of the station. If I let you, you’ll go on without me.
You’ve forced me to make a choice: Will I keep up with you or take the picture?
I realise I have a choice.