Xavier Leret

My Daughter asked for speech marks, so, as I am writing for her, in this chapter there are speech marks. When I get a mo I will add speech marks to the rest of it.

Ahead of her was a patrol moving slowly from building to building. Men in uniforms halting people as they passed, knocking on doors. Questions, questions, faces dropping to the floor. No eyes connecting. Faces drained of colour, eyes glazed. Over the other side of the road a man was confronted. His bag searched. The man gesticulated, struggled, shouted. Was pushed to the wall. Sal kept walking. There was no stopping now. The man was brought to his knees. Sal's eyes concentrated straight ahead. The man fought his way up. He was screaming and Sal kept walking. Her head down, ignoring him. By now a crowd was squinting out of the windows and the man was fenced by a crowd of black uniforms. He was pushed to the floor and his torso pinned with a boot and the back of his head cracked and his forehead split forward into the pavement. And the girl keeps walking but she has to look, to glance, because to not do so would be unnatural, and yet all who walk passed keep their eyes to the ground, to the ground, but stretching to see. The mayhem is to her right and the man is dragged to his feet and bundled into the back of a ruck, a deep dripping cut in his forehead and the engine hums a monotonous threnody as it goes about its work.

» Read the rest of this entry «

Through the branches of the bushes under which they were hiding, Sal could see the feet of children running and hear their excited voices shouting, screaming and laughing. With each sound she squeezed herself closer to her brother. Every time footsteps came too close she held her breath. Johnnie was holding her hand tightly, and his arm was wrapped around hers. Boo was lying quietly across the lap of her crossed legs. Sal could feel that her legs had gone to sleep, but she didn't dare move, just in case she caught a branch, and the branch shuddered the entire bush, to give away their presence to the whole of the park.

» Read the rest of this entry «

My eleven year old daughter has asked me to write her a story. She wants something dark. So here goes.

BLOOD RUN

1.

When it happened Sal knew. It was late. Her parents were standing at the end of the bed looking at her. They came and sat beside her, put their hands through her hair. They kissed her. They hugged her. They told her that they would always be with her. That they loved her like the universe that was ever expanding. They said that it was up to her now to look after her brother and sister. That they were not going to be there in person, but their spirits would never leave them. Her mother then exclaimed, oh god, and held her as tight as she could and her father gasped, no not now, then quick, between a blink, they were gone.

» Read the rest of this entry «