A short story written as part of a Flash Fiction exercise, the theme was the title “Sudden”.

The silk scarf feels like a caress. At the mirror she takes care to fold it just so. It is important that it sits well. Small things like that make her happy.

She admires the colours in the mirror, the opulent blues and greens. One final flourish and she is satisfied.

She suspects nothing.

At tea they sit together politely and she checks the scarf once more to be sure it is still sitting well. Across the table the glint of a silver bracelet catches her eye and she compliments her friend.

And still she suspects nothing.

After tea they take a walk in the park. The first scent of spring is in the air and the birds can sense it. They chirp somewhere in the trees, but she cannot see them.

She sits still and suspects nothing.

A sharp breeze disturbs the air and she pulls the scarf a little tighter, but she can feel the tiny goosebumps on her skin.

By a bench under a tree she asks her friend if they can sit a while and steadies herself on her arm as they walk towards it.

And all the while she suspects nothing.

Looking up, she spots it at last, perched high on a branch. It chirps and the sound makes her smile.

A blue tit? she wonders, as her eyes close and her head falls onto the shoulder beside her.

Afloat On The Dead Sea

It’s the nearness that astonishes me. Mythical names. Biblical names. Names that possess an otherworldliness that separates them from reality. And yet there they are now, right before my eyes as I survey the landscape. Jericho, Jerusalem. Across the Dead Sea, close, but just beyond reach. On the drive down from Amman, the driver, Mohammed, had pointed out those other, more modern names, that spark a different, more tormented recognition. Ramallah, The West Bank. I stare at the barren, hostile looking strips of land, places known to me only from television screens and news. Can this desolate landscape really be [...]

Reading Spinoza In The Rain

Sunday afternoon and the sky is overcast and threatening. July, and the rain is going to pour again for yet another day. But I’m restless. All this weather imposed containment, in the middle of summer, makes me jittery. To hell with the elements. I need to get out. I need to run. Anyone who runs will know the score. Barely ten minutes in and muscle, sinew, shoulders, neck, thought, worry, tension. All unfurl and loosen as the flow and the tempo, the movement take over. I head around the island, the charcoal sky no longer a threat, simply a background. [...]

The Way The Wind Blows

I love the way nature can catch you by suprise and force you to stop and take it in. These patterns in the snow, caused by the wind, fascinated me the moment I saw them. This photo is in The Guardian as part of the World Forum On Enterprise And The Environment exhibition at Oxford University. Woohoo!

During my time in solitary confinement in the bottom of a Victorian prison I had time to reflect on the conditions of those people around the world also in solitary confinement, also on remand, in conditions that are more difficult than those faced by me. Those people also need your attention and support. Following the statement from Wikileaks founder Jullian Assange upon his release on bail yesterday, it is worthwhile reading Glenn Greenwald’s harrowing report in Salon detailing the torturous and inhumane confinement of Private Bradley Manning, the alleged source of the embassy cables and the notorious Iraq Apache helicopter [...]

It Really Is A Beautiful Day
Small remembered moment

The street is crowded. So many people they merge into a blur. Just a flow of shapes. Save for the boy. Small still. Only three, perhaps four. He’d be invisible among the mass if it weren’t for the balloon. A bright yellow thing, bobbing on a string. Trailing behind him in the crowd as his mother drags him on, pulling at his sleeve with impatient jerks. Never looking at him, never stopping to urge him on. She simply tugs at his free arm as they move through the crowd. But the boy neither cares nor notices. He simply stares up [...]

Monday Morning Seven Fifteen

Sometimes she can still hear it. The rush of air that swept through the station that morning. Everyone blinked and took a step backwards as the train powered through. And as they blinked, he jumped. The train coming to halt five hundred meters up the line. Later, the driver explained that he hadn’t even seen him. All he heard was a thump. Then a few seconds of confusion before it registered. Before he realised he had hit someone. That was the funny thing about the whole incident. No-one on the platform could recall seeing a thing. It was only that [...]

Valencia City of Arts and Sciences

I’ve seen many photographs of Calatrava’s City of Arts and Sciences and it’s always the beautiful compliment of architecture and engineering that strikes me. The two can often oppose one another, but this work had always seemed, from photographs at least, to have achieved a respectful balance, perhaps due to Calatrava’s own mastery and understanding of the two disciplines. And indeed, when you first wander around it’s this technical precision that captivates. The symmetry, the natural forms, the sheer futuristic, shimmering whiteness of the place. It is truly a marvellous sight. Once the architectural amazement has subsided however, an unexpected [...]

© 2012 Jen Harvey Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha