Jade Redleif
In a desperate attempt to claw back some creativity in trying to write some stories
Jade Redleif
In a desperate attempt to claw back some creativity in trying to write some stories
In a desperate attempt to claw back some creativity in trying to write some stories
In a desperate attempt to claw back some creativity in trying to write some stories
‘Oh bloody hell!’ Matt moaned as he sat up in bed, the air raid siren-like alarm screaming for him to wake up. Charlie hadn’t burst into the room yet demanding breakfast, this had become a less and less frequent occurrence over the last few months, a worry that Matt had put to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to consider the fact his best friend was getting old. Just once he would have liked to have woken up feeling happy, but it was 5 AM and the anxiety induced by the urgent shrieks of phone alarm always gave him heart palpitations. He lay in bed, wondering why they didn't have a nice relaxing tone to wake people from their slumber, some phones did. He had seen the memes on TikTok, the brand of phone he used giving people warlike flashbacks whilst other brands had a gentle, peaceful jingle.
A gruff bark snapped him out of his thoughts as Charlie sauntered through the door, he couldn’t make it onto the bed anymore, he just sat at the foot and watched Matt silently. ‘Ok, I'm getting up.’ Stretching Matt pulled back the covers of his Christmas-themed bedspread, it was January, he had told himself he left it on to try and keep some cheer in his life, but he knew really he just was too lazy to change it.
It was already 5:30 by the time Matt got downstairs, Charlie was already sitting by the front door. ‘No morning coffee for me I guess’ Matt said to himself sarcastically, pulling his old worn trainers and winter coat on he realised he had left his phone on the bedside table. His energy levels were low enough without having to climb the stairs again to get it, so he decided to leave it, he grabbed Charlie's lead and opened the door.
It was a foggy morning, maybe zero degrees, he could see his breath hanging in the air. the frost from the night before had formed droplets on his neighbour's flowers, Charlie walking slightly ahead brushed past them, every drop soaking into his fur as he padded on past the identical houses of the street. These walks had begun to get slower which bothered Matt, he knew it wasn’t Charlie's fault but it was annoying. It gave him a mixture of sadness and frustration which always seemed to manifest in anger.
The local park was only a 10-minute walk on a good day, but it was cold and Charlie had to stop at every garden to sniff the wall, the gate or the flowers. To pee up every fence post and to look back at Matt periodically, to make sure he was still there. Charlie's hearing wasn’t very good anymore, he missed the sound of another smaller, yappier dog across the road, the sound of a bell as a young man on a bike urged the owner to move out of the middle of the path. And of Matt begging him to move a bit faster.
17 minutes later they reached the park entrance, Matt had started to wake up earlier to make sure he was back in time to start work at 7 AM, luckily for him, he worked from home cutting out the commute may have improved his work-life balance, but waking up an hour earlier to take Charlie for a walk had not improved his mental health.
As he walked through the arches that cradled the park, he saw the lady and the yappy dog, on the grass ahead, he wasn't in the mood to talk, or to peel a tiny angry chihuahua off of Charlie, so he switched up his regular route, opting to divert through a side entrance and around the bushes, cutting out the main area of the park.
As they passed under the damp trees, frost dripped onto Matts's head, he put his hands in his pockets and found his gloves, but he had forgotten his hat. his thinning hair left his scalp open to the elements, another thing to add to the list of annoyances. Matt had never considered a hair transplant, but on days like this he wished he had better genes, 32 was no age to lose his hair he thought.
Matt shook his head and broke free from his thoughts as Charlie barked loudly. He looked over at Charlie, sniffing at something in the grass ‘Leave it!’ Matt yelled, assuming it was some leftover food someone had dropped. It was common for people to walk through the park on their way home from a night out, takeaway in hand, singing ‘Mr Brightside’ loudly, It wasn't uncommon to find half a donner kebab or a pile of vomit. He had taken this route himself after a night out.
‘Charlie, come here. Now!’ he yelled, Charlie ignored him. Matt rolling his eyes wondered if hearing aids for dogs existed, he stamped over to Charlie. ‘Get away from….’ Matt looked down and on the floor, he saw a small black leather purse, frosty, and obscured by the long grass that hadn’t been cut since the summer. Looking around he saw a runner in their own little world about to cross the nearby path. Matt bent down and made it look like he was attaching Charlie's lead, he picked up the purse and checked again for anyone nearby. The runner had passed now, and the coast was clear.
Matt opened the wallet, empty, of course, who carries cash these days? Another topping for the shit sandwich that was his life. He noticed a bank card, and an ID ‘Miss M Braithwaite’ he saw her address was nearby, and he weighed up the pros and cons of returning it. Pro: I do a good deed and maybe make someone's day a bit better. Con: I have to walk an extra 10 probably 15 minutes with Charlie for what? a thank you? And what if someone had already got to the wallet and raided it for cash? Then I'd look like a thief. The cons outweighed the pros, it was cold and Matt didn't care about the 5 minutes of satisfaction he would have gotten from doing a good deed. He closed the wallet up and dropped it back on the floor. ‘Not interested unless it's a dead body’ he joked leading Charlie away.
Charlie pulled on the lead, finally finding a satisfactory place to do his business, Matt looked at his watch, an Apple watch which seemed functionless without his phone. He rubbed his hand down his face, considering what a stupid thought that was. A watch was for telling the time, so it was the opposite of functionless. But that wasn't what had attracted him to it. Charlie pulled on the lead again. Matt bent down to pick up after Charlie, he was far enough away that he could still see the spot where he had left the wallet. He walked away back towards the gates and then back towards his house.
Finally home it had been over an hour since Matt had left his house, he only had 15 minutes before he started work and he still hadn't had breakfast, he dragged himself up the stairs. Got in the shower washing his hair with a bottle that promised to increase hair growth. He sighed and put the bottle down, rinsing himself and stepping out of the shower, quickly changing into his clothes. he put a slice of bread in the toaster as he pressed a button on his coffee machine.
He looked out of his kitchen window as he waited for his breakfast, a police car and ambulance whizzed by sirens blaring. he didn’t take much notice, as the toaster popped up he grabbed the bread, hanging it from his mouth as he grabbed his coffee. He climbed the stairs to his office and turned on his computer.
it was noon by the time he grabbed his phone from the bedside table. he looked at the screen, the usual mix of emails, news story pushes and social media notifications. But one stood out. ‘Body found at Marshal Park’ he opened the notification, skimming the story. The body had been found that morning, by a dog walker. That must have been why the blue lights had passed his house that morning. Curious he opened Facebook, he was part of a neighbourhood watch group. Some of the nosier locals were frequent posters, he went to the group and immediately saw someone had shared the news article. 56 comments, he clicked them and began to read, he readied himself for the conspiracy theories and speculation he was about to find.
The body had been found by a lady called Cathleen, a dog walker. She hadn’t commented but others had, ‘who was Cathleen again?’ one person commented, the lady with the Chihuahua’ another replied. Matt looked at Charlie sleeping. He let out a deep breath, realising his little diversion had potentially saved him the hassle of having to deal with this. He read on, comment after comment asking for more information, speculation as to whether this was a murder, someone had drank too much, or a homeless person who perished in the cold.
Then he saw it, someone had shared a second post, ‘Jake Braithwaite: has anyone seen my sister Melanie?, she went out last night and nobody has heard from her since. This isn't like her if anyone has any information please contact me immediately. Mel if you see this please contact me.’ 2 pictures attached of a young blonde girl laughing at the beach the other of the same girl holding a pint with a friend.
It didn't take Matt long to put the clues together. Melanie Braithwaite, Miss M Braithwaite. The wallet he had seen in the park, potentially the body they found in the park. A wallet with his fingerprints all over it. Matt stroked his hand through his remaining hair. 'not interested unless it's a dead body’ he mocked. He put his head in his hand praying the body was someone else.
You place your hand on Claire's and stare lovingly into her eyes, the reflection of the gaudy pub lampshades on the ceiling visible only to you. The clamour of patrons a the bar just a few feet away feels loud, but after 5 minutes you don’t hear it anymore. All you hear is Claire, telling you about her ‘fur baby’.
Your Smirnoff Ice bottle tips over, you weren't aware you knocked it, maybe it fell itself in protest? This date had already caused a lot of raised eyebrows between friends, or maybe it was jealous it wasn't being held as tenderly as Claire's hand. You tip it back up as Claire grabs her purse, pulls out some tissues and hands them to you to mop up the sticky malt liquor.
You go back to holding hands but the conversation has stilled. You stroke her hand as she strokes her own Smirnoff Ice bottle. The bottle is seeing more action than you, you think to yourself shamefully, and you thrust your own half empty bottle aside, angry at its attempt to ruin the mood. Claire's hand retreats back to her own body as you arch over further desperately clinging to it.
You realise how desperate that must seem and snap out of it sliding back to your chair, as your food arrives. It's not until later you will question why exactly you ordered bangers and mash. in the meantime you mash the sausage with your fork, mixing it with the potato and shovelling it into your mouth like a ravenous pig. Claire looks at you concerned as she begins to eat her fish and chips.
In the opposite corner of the room is another couple, they look stern as they drink from blue WKD bottles, You wonder what they are discussing maybe something deep like the meaning of life? or what exactly is the flavour of ‘Blue WKD'
You look down at the aggressively flowered patterned, burgundy carpet, dirty from the mass of feet that have shuffled over it and still damp from when you spilt your drink.
Claire twirls her fork, she looks to the left a couple kisses between long glances at their phones scrolling through some kind of feed, to the right a pair of younger girls sit people-watching, giggling about something as they drink pitchers of cocktails.
It's probably you, they are laughing at, they are probably live-tweeting your disastrous date. You turn back to your meal and scrape the last of your meal into your mouth, throwing your fork down against your plate triumphantly. You look up to see Claire shovelling a handful of chips into her mouth, she notices you watching her and gasps.
You pick up your half-spilt bottle on Smirnoff ice and down it. Maybe you aren’t so different after all.
The hand-holding seems to be over, even the couple kissing to the left is now absorbed in reading the menu, the two girls to the right are munching away on burgers and even the stern looking couple are sitting in silence now.
You glance again at Claire and stand up shaking her from her trance. Walk around the table towards her, kiss her on the head and lead her from the pub, into the cool air, leaving two lonely Smirnoff ice bottles on the table.
Anna was watching people pass by the office windows, the snow was falling and she was bored. Bored of work, another boring day in the office, waiting for others to finish their work. Casually she got up from her seat and looked towards the kitchen, hoping nobody would notice her waddle to the biscuits for the 5th time today. ‘Damn’, Brian had seen her he got up and followed her she knew she was going to have to talk him. ‘Elevenses?’ he said as he reached for the biscuit tin, before Anna had a chance. Fake out, he grabbed the tea bags next to it instead. ‘Getting a biscuit’ Anna grumbled ‘just trying to make the morning a bit more exciting’. ‘How about another bourbon?’ Ill at ease Anna froze looking at Brian had he been counting her biscuit intake? ‘Im not sure’, Anna said as she fumbled around the jar. ‘Just, that I had noticed you often get a bourbon’ Brian said looking directly at Annas hand. Keeping herself composed, she took the last bourbon, Brian staring as she put it to her lips. ‘Last one’, Anna said and walked away. ‘Maybe we could get a coffee sometime Anna? I know a place with plenty of bourbons.’ ‘No thanks’, Anna walked away as fast as she could without looking weird. 'Only I could get myself into these situations' she thought. Peering from the kitchen to her desk she could still feel Brians eyes burning through her. ‘Quick’ she thought, ‘pretend you are busy before Jen asks what happened’. 'Regarding the Bourbons' an email pinged to Annas inbox. She opened it gingerly. 'Today, it seems someone has decided to eat an entire packet of bourbon biscuits, freshly added to the biscuit jar, please understand these are for everyone.’ Uncomfortably Anna looked around the office, was everyone glaring at her. Various colleagues began to whisper. Were they talking about her? xylophone like tones started to sound from her phone, she quickly answered it. 'You are in trouble’, a voice said, it was her friend Jen from down the office calling her to take the piss. Zoning out, she let Jen carry on waffling as she went back to looking out of the window.