Alice could fly. She must be able to. Hadn’t her dad told her many times that she could. Sat with her on his lap on the heath in front of the priory all those years ago. “Little Wonder” he used to call her. Picnics in the park…happy bloody families. Climbing the dilapidated stairs past the piles of rotting debris, beer cans and pigeon shit she reached the folly. Stepping gingerly over the decaying floorboards she made it to the opening; which once had been polished oak door frames that held stained glass panels of the view beyond. She stepped onto the remnants of the balcony. The view to anyone else would be beautiful. One hundred and eighty degrees of panoramic splendour. The heath, the Priory lake where they all used to swim until…
Squinting into the distance beyond the small minded town that she reluctantly called home she could just make out the shimmer of the Atlantic Ocean. Breathing in deeply she could smell it’s saline energy. She smiled- memories. Happy bloody families. The past; the rusting past. If only…
But it was too late. The years of sentimentality were now but shadows chasing around in her distorted mind.
Climbing on to the aged railings, she regained her balance and breathed in deeply again. Arms stretched out wide, she smiled- a smile she hadn’t used in an age. In the distance she could hear the gulls- they were calling her to the sea.
She must fly…
Simon Harlond 