davidcrabtree

davidcrabtree

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Finally we reached the end of the line. I'd been in London 13 years, but never been to this end of the Northern Line. The problem with the end of the line is you have to decide where to go next. Luckily there are two ends to every track.

Somebody was at the door again. Elenor's heart pounded. She could her the blood rush past her eardrums. The voice in her head warned her again of the dangers of strangers. Better to stay where you are. Better to just keep hiding.

It had been four days since Elenor's son had gone missing. Eric, her husband, had fallen asleep at the wheel that morning, after spending days looking frantically. Finally they had to give in, he could be anywhere by now.

Andrew was beginning to understand Laura, she wasn't what you would expect, but she was the love of his life. Sorry, HE was the love of his life. He could change.

riots

The sound and smell of bodies raged in her head. She tossed and turned in her sleep, fighting off the riots of her dreams. Her husband watched helplessly as she stormed into battle, kicking and punching the air.

"Well what else were you expecting, Albert?" she screamed, hurling everything within her grasp at him as Lucy held her back. "You can't just propose and make everything better" Albert dodged a fish fork and tried again.

given

That was it. He had given in. He stepped out of his old marital home and ran to the bridge over the river. She had taken everything, his kids, his home and his dignity. He had nothing to live for.

The class gazed in wonder as Erik scribbled on the chalkboard. No longer even amused by the fact that his rotundous belly rubbed out the writing as he moved and wrote but awestruck by his equation.

radio

He was prepared for it but the final splutter of noise as the radio died still terrified him. He was alone. He sat and stared at the beach and quietly went mad.

He stared at the photograph of him, Laura and 5 children. He looked so happy, but who were they? It had been so busy in his hospital room recently he hadn't had time to ask. He tried to remember.

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writing since 2010 · 14 entries · 14 days shown up

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on this day 15 years ago

DavidCrabtree wrote about riots
“The sound and smell of bodies raged in her head. She tossed and turned in her sleep, fighting off the riots of her dreams. Her husband watched helplessly as she stormed into battle, kicking and punch…”

the words DavidCrabtree reaches for

finalbetterlinewaltzperformedsteppedboothsmelldropssmilestaredlaurahomealbertheadhusband