You cast your spell over me, all golden and seductive.
Those long childhood summers you came calling, peeking through the letterbox, peering through the windows. As we splashed in the summer shallows, cool water soaking the hem of my dress, you turned dull days into sparkling, carefree, precious times.
You cast your spell over me, all golden and seductive.
Those long childhood summers you came calling, peeking through the letterbox, peering through the windows. As we splashed in the summer shallows, cool water soaking the hem of my dress, you turned dull days into sparkling, carefree, precious times.
When you left me, even for an instant, all was darkness and gloom.
I followed you everywhere. On long bike rides you urged me onwards, laughing into my hair. I felt your warmth close behind me. We’d lie together on the beach, hand in hand, oystercatchers peeping in the distance. Mother didn’t always approve. On long balmy evenings I was always late to bed, playing outside with you until darkness fell.
September brought school. Trying to concentrate on handwriting and maths, I’d see you, dancing outside the classroom, at once coyly tiptoeing around the edges of my vision, then brash and fearless, beckoning me to join you. I ached to be outside.
I was scolded for daydreaming, staring out at you, smitten. You’d call for me after school and we’d snatch a few urgent, precious hours, hating the lengthening nights.
Winter arrived and I missed you so much. You’d disappear once the weather turned cold. I dragged a weight around my shoulders like a lead cloak during those dismal, miserable days.
But over the years I’ve noticed a change in you. Where you were so gentle, your sweet touch a delight, lulling me to sleep, there’s a ferocity to you lately.
You come calling for me in winter now. I’ve caught you peeping through my curtains, even in January. You’re still frail in the cold, but stronger than you ever were.
Wow. Cathy, this from you is absolutely stunning - compelling to read as I believe you were speaking of a friend and guessing at what kind of relationship it might be, and then unnerving and absolutely-true of what was until you wrote it unvoiced in me, though I feel it too. As do so many of us. Yes, like the best of writing, you've not only shared a truth from your own experience, but given me direct access to mine. Privilege to have this piece in the story archive and here is your link to it on the cure for sleep website...
You cast your spell over me, all golden and seductive.
Those long childhood summers you came calling, peeking through the letterbox, peering through the windows. As we splashed in the summer shallows, cool water soaking the hem of my dress, you turned dull days into sparkling, carefree, precious times.
When you left me, even for an instant, all was darkness and gloom.
I followed you everywhere. On long bike rides you urged me onwards, laughing into my hair. I felt your warmth close behind me. We’d lie together on the beach, hand in hand, oystercatchers peeping in the distance. Mother didn’t always approve. On long balmy evenings I was always late to bed, playing outside with you until darkness fell.
September brought school. Trying to concentrate on handwriting and maths, I’d see you, dancing outside the classroom, at once coyly tiptoeing around the edges of my vision, then brash and fearless, beckoning me to join you. I ached to be outside.
I was scolded for daydreaming, staring out at you, smitten. You’d call for me after school and we’d snatch a few urgent, precious hours, hating the lengthening nights.
Winter arrived and I missed you so much. You’d disappear once the weather turned cold. I dragged a weight around my shoulders like a lead cloak during those dismal, miserable days.
But over the years I’ve noticed a change in you. Where you were so gentle, your sweet touch a delight, lulling me to sleep, there’s a ferocity to you lately.
You come calling for me in winter now. I’ve caught you peeping through my curtains, even in January. You’re still frail in the cold, but stronger than you ever were.
Has my gentle friend turned into a monster?
I fear for our future, sunshine.
Wow. Cathy, this from you is absolutely stunning - compelling to read as I believe you were speaking of a friend and guessing at what kind of relationship it might be, and then unnerving and absolutely-true of what was until you wrote it unvoiced in me, though I feel it too. As do so many of us. Yes, like the best of writing, you've not only shared a truth from your own experience, but given me direct access to mine. Privilege to have this piece in the story archive and here is your link to it on the cure for sleep website...
https://thecureforsleep.com/august-issue-longing/#cathyrobinson
Tanya xx
Thank you so much for your lovely comments Tanya :) x
A beautiful and clever piece Cathy. I know that friend too, one I'm so fearful of now when summer looms.