Sunday, 24 April 2016

Short Story One: 'The Feeding Tube'

Fat. Sometimes I like to imagine the cracks in the wall gradually getting bigger and wider. Each little crack joins together forming one long crack reaching from the top to the bottom of the same clinically white wall. Then slowly it begins to separate, creating a gap; I can picture what’s behind the wall, motorways, rats, exams, theatres, all the things that actually make me feel, not just think. I begin to feel a tugging, a pulling, a kind of force bringing me towards the gap which has gotten so wide I could almost fit through it. I’m almost there, reaching forwards, I can smell the fresh, breezy air, a cool wind, and most strongly of all, freedom. I’m getting so close, I’m almost there, and then… “Come on, you were doing so well. Just try harder”.