Category Archives: LYN

Lyn blocks out the men chanting, the women screaming, the ginger drag act. Her boy’s top front tooth is chipped. Holes for two studs in his ear. At first his voice shocked her, hard, very Wakey, twinkly eyes, she bets … Continue reading→

He comes back, she can feel the cold on him. ‘You been outside?’ ‘No, yeh, needed some air like.’ He sniffs his fingers. ‘You been for a smoke.’ ‘No, I don’t, well I do, weed. Not now, I just needed … Continue reading→

He still tasted of beer in the cobbled Latin Quarter alley. Then against the red brick wall of Switalskis he tasted of pies. Outside the door to the flats downstairs, while she was still deciding, he tasted of dope. Now … Continue reading→

He is asleep again. Lyn’s eyes are drooping but her mouth is dry from smoke, sex, bright sweet alcohol so she gets herself a glass of water, picks her red dress off the bedroom chair and sits legs curled under … Continue reading→

He tastes of- ‘Fuck!’ ‘What?’ ‘Work. I have to go, fuck, shit.’ ‘Chuck a sickie.’ ‘You are joking. Where m’f-‘ ‘Under the-‘ ‘Cheers, look, what um … laters.’ ‘Smday off.’ ‘Yeh?’ ‘Yeh.’ ‘Sound. I mean..’ ‘What?’ ‘you might want to … Continue reading→

She breathes in, closes her eyes. Almost metal, not quite glass. Opens her eyes, looks at her phone again. Four texts. Hers, So Ive yr number. ThankU!!!xxx Too much? His, U2! x and Laters. Not enough? An exclamation mark. In … Continue reading→

The balcony is cold, good cold. Deep-breath it-won’t-be-cold-for-long cold. Morning-of-a-good-day cold. Cold that makes Lyn feel elsewhere. Abroad. Rasping scooters, lazy sirens. About to explore a new place. She can’t see the prison. Nothing moving in Burgage Square. Between the … Continue reading→

Lyn has glugged orange all morning. She opens another carton. Her stomach’s full but her dry lips crave more juice, her mouth bits, her throat craves gulping. She slides open her wardrobe, looks at her work clothes, going out clothes, … Continue reading→

Lyn tweets, ‘Anyone know where I can buy mulberries in Wakey? @wakelibs @woodstreetmarket @uniquewakefield’ She clicks History, opens up the Rightmove page, slideshows through the the rooms full of show flat furniture, rereads, ‘This brand new, contemporary, residential development brings … Continue reading→

Responses to her tweet come in. From @wood_street_market, I don’t know because I have a bush in the garden! From @uniquewakefield, Can you still even buy mulberries? There is a wakey link though From @miriamm, berries have been and gone … Continue reading→

Lyn walks to the bottom of Burgage Square and rings Pete. ‘Hi … it’s me, I know you can’t answer, I just wanted to say … say … ‘ She realises she should have thought. ‘Thanks’ Lame! Lame! Lame! ‘I … Continue reading→

Alan Lumb opens his door and lets Lyn into the hallway of his ground floor flat. She has never met anyone who smells so strongly of tea – somewhere between Earl Grey and chamomile. He is younger than his twitter … Continue reading→

Sugar light brown Flour pl Cinnamon Pecans O Juice Ginger —————- Beer wine Fish/dill/pots/veg? Apples etc Radox Toothbrush Cleanser/cw Air fresh Bics BISCS Looroll Batteries Ramkins

The last person Lyn wants to run into is the key lime lady from Mulberry House. No. The last person Lyn wants to run into is Jan. Jan wants to know what happened last night. How she gave them the … Continue reading→

Lyn is glad to see that God is in Create Cafe. The mornings she sees him on her way to the library upstairs, she knows she will have a good day. The mornings he is not, she knows will be … Continue reading→

Preheat oven to 350°. Lyn rings Pete. Pecan Streusel Topping. She says streusal, stroosal, imagines what she will say if he answers while she is saying strooooowsarl. She doesn’t leave a message. She mixes four tablespoons of butter with the … Continue reading→

Hot from the shower, Lyn sits in her bra and pants, with a towel round her hair and, saying it like Alan Lumb/Bennett out loud, ‘Gooooogles Pyyyyr-imooos an’ Thiiiiiis-b.’ Wikipedia: “In the Ovidian version, Pyramus and Thisbe is the story … Continue reading→

Soon now. She must stop looking out of the window. She leaves it open. Gets the streusel topping out of the freezer. Now the mulberry mixture: three and a half cups of … mulberries. They look a bit limp. Seven … Continue reading→

Lyn spreads her hand on the thick tablecloth. She thinks of pearls. If she picks up a knife, a fork, a glass they will be heavy. Lyn sits down and presses her fingers flat into the white, like a fresh … Continue reading→

The old woman wraps her pearls in her fingers and presses them to her throat. Lyn checks her phone, checks Burgage Square. It is warm in here, smells of wood, or spice. Over on the worktops there are bags of … Continue reading→

Lyn stares into and out through the glass half full a quarter of a bottle a glass she could force over her sweaty head if she wasn’t reading the recipe through its side a little wobbly from the half glass … Continue reading→

He was here. Last night. This morning. He was here. The flat is too white. The wood is too wood. She kicks the wall. It is easier to kick the wall than the floor. She kicks the floor. Wine sloshes … Continue reading→

All the white sugar brown sugar cinnamon pecan ginger mulberry mush in her tummy is coming to Lyn kneels, one hand stomach one hand head the flat so hot burning lurching all at sea tilt Thinks: air, what time is … Continue reading→

This morning he was here. Now he is not. Today she has spoken to him. To his ansaphone. And stared out of the window. Then the floor. Now the ceiling. Now the crappy wall. Talked to Alan bloody mulberry goooooogle … Continue reading→

The man from next door is climbing over onto her balcony. She knows it is too late. That she is dead. No one can live this long, upside down, without air, even though the noose is very thin it is … Continue reading→

They shoot upwards so quickly she can hardly breath, just hold on to her sister’s arm and they’re spinning, the huge finger snapping them round faster, faster, everyone screaming, and she is fine, if she wasn’t screaming she would tell her … Continue reading→