The stifling silence of the Robertson’s farm pressed down on my eardrums as I slowly stepped into their kitchen. I studied the quiet space with a growing sense of panic as the my eyes fell upon their large pine dining table wrenched into five different pieces, jagged edges clawing upwards at the low ceiling. Six pine chairs had been equally smashed to kindling by whoever or whatever had stormed through the usually cosy sanctuary.
I contemplated getting back on my bike and hastily pedalling back home as the silence pressed in on me. Suddenly a reassuring rustle on my left gave way to the sight of a tiny robin hopping onto a branch and turning its beady eyes towards me. Continue reading
I’d hardly slept the night before. Rain had hounded the conservatory roof, which was directly under my bedroom window. Each bullet of water had driven through my vague attempts at dreams as they bounced off the corrugated plastic and spilled into the gutter below, creating a stream that continued to trickle as the sun finally managed to wrestle in the morning. Continue reading