Search Results for: Peat 

Peat

There were no brides in Manchester in 1989. Unemployment, falling cinema attendance, and The Problem with Wearing White were offered as factors on the news.
 
It was the year the bog man exhibit came to the museum. Visitors pressed their noses to a glass case, staring at the young man found preserved in peat.
 
He appeared to be sleeping, cradling the land. His tanned arms curved loosely in front of him, as if allowing someone to slip in and out of an embrace.
 
Girls clutched their satchels and wondered if they touched something enough every quality it possessed would seep into their hands.
 
Rent was increasing. Satin reminded people of rain, but the most popular reason for not marrying was peat.
 
Women addressed the camera and stated, Some nights I think about going clubbing, but find myself laid in the garden, touching soil, letting the cool soak into my legs.

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Credits

fiction by
Angela Readman
@angelreadman

image by
Chris Espenshade

©
creators

spray

Cleaning Spray

Some mornings I sweep dead flies from the windowsill overlooking the gardens. Thick dust returns each time, laying claim to shelved photographs framed shiny and wooden. Other memories lie face down, stacked and ready for dealing at Christmas or birthdays.
 
A mop bucket full of cooling water.  
 
'I sailed beneath the waterfall,' she tells me, 'I remember the roar, the stinging spray, the sheer weight of the water crashing around the boat and never since have I, ever been so close to feeling alive.'
 
The kettle begins to boil.
 
'I flew high above the canyon,' she adds in astonishment. 'I walked on air.'
 
She repeats I did, I did as if I don't believe her. As if somehow this is all make believe. 
 
I pour the tea. Two cups, sugar, stir.
 
I know this is real. I can feel the stinging spray, the sheer weight of water all around me.

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Credits

fiction by
Steve M

image by
Victoria Fielding
@fielding_v

©
creators