The party hall is almost ready now, chairs, banners, balloons and an explosion of every single colour of the rainbow. To the far right is the popular pin the donkey and to the left a table, stocked with every child’s dream a mountain of cupcakes and a sea of...
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People always talk about the calm before the storm. How the day flips from being quiet to dangerous how there is a period of unusual tranquillity before it. But I never really understood that.
It's funny how the long brown table in our dining hall can switch roles so fast. During the day her job is to hold the daily mail and unfinished homework, as well as plates of cookies, a pit stop for hungry bellies in the house.
A melting pot of people burst through the immense gates and a series of asynchronous footsteps twirl skyward through the mahogany stairwells. The towering luminescent bulbs look over us and beam as a slight breeze nods in our direction and the sun waves goodbye.
Ironic isn't it?, how faces of such sadness and exhaustion are leached into creating the gifts of joy. Amid the purr of the machinery and the gentle hum of the sowing stations, unfolds the creation of a child’s best friend.
The garden is always a shade brighter after the first rains. The dew is perfect pearl beading more exquisite than any wedding dress, effortlessly following the curves of the earth. The harlequin beneath shines through, a rich dark grass upon the nurturing soil.
The ocean breathes, her surface rising and falling with rhythmic ease. The waves are her pulse and only just an echo of the souls that lay in her brine. Her skin glistens in nascent rays, an underrated facade for the utopia beneath.
As the nascent rays of the rising sun highlight the edge of my magazine page, as I near the end of a rather interesting article about politics and look up at the morning mist clear underneath the flickering halogen lights.
Don’t let the exterior of the double glazed automatic glass doors fool you, for once they slide open, what lies in front is nothing short of a snake pit.