Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank

But people don't just live or die, people just float

<  Where There is No Doctor

One Eleven  >

by Romy Needham

illustration by Allen Forrest

 

After Sheila my only solace remained in the Yorkshire Moors. In the desolate hour before the dawn had any potential, I followed my grief.

On our stone I wept until she appeared in that blue dress, the one I bought her in the marketplace, the one that made me wish I might never see the sky again.

“You left me alone, Sheila.”

“It was for the best, my love. Next time will be easier.”

Now I’m too frail to find her in that hour and my own mind is making its way to a different world.

But when I remember that the sky has a colour, I go to the market and buy a dress.

 

 

‘The Dress’  

published 15 October 2014