Mind The Gap- A Novelette (Part 1)

I remember waiting for a train. No particular train, just one that would take me away. This story covers, at least at first, 20 minutes of my life, and let’s face it, that’s all that was left at that point. I’ve always thought of train stations as a sort of no-man’s land, a commuters purgatory, neither here nor there- just waiting.

There were a few standing there that day.

There was a young man, probably a student, in a plum hoody. He had bags under his black-grey eyes, tired from late night study, or more likely, late night drink. Then there was a washed-out woman, who was clearly on some sort of narcotic. She had burnt brown eyes, long greying chestnut hair and bare feet which were callus and cold. She was wearing an ankle-length floral dress with a frayed hem, a cheap rubbery watch that had stopped on 2 o’clock and some faded wooden, multicoloured beads around her neck. She looked like a hippy or hadn’t been told the sixties were over.

The only other person on the platform was a young woman. She was the personification of isolation, stood away from the others, her wide primal-like eyes glaring out at some non-existent enemy. The ancient romans said that the eyes were the gateway to the soul, looking at her I could understand why. I only remember her glare and her eyes.

Then there was me. If you had been there, you would have seen a young man with sharp, crisp blue eyes, eyes at contrast with the dull day. You would have seen my scruffy brown hair and the jeans and wearily witty t-shirt that I always wore.

At that moment, I was stood against the wall of the station with the withered hippy and the student to my right and the isolated girl to my left.

I could hear the train before anyone else, it imminent arrival signalling my imminent departure. A few seconds later, with the train now becoming visible, the 3 strangers,stragglers really, each teetering the edge of their own realities and whom I was stood by, each stepped forward anticipating the train’s arrival.

The young woman stepped forward further than the rest, her heels off the ground and the toes of her worn, once white trainers touching the faded, chipped yellow paint spelling out the barely readable words “MIND THE GAP”. The look in her eyes indicated that she liked to tempt death, but who would rather that death not succumb to such temptations. Unfortunately for her, death would not resist the apple she had so kindly place before him or her that day (for death could so easily be a woman, in fact I strongly suspect it).

Time slows down near the edge of a black hole, a dying stars way of forgoing inevitable oblivion. So it was, in a similar manner, that as the train, which was coming in from the left faster than it should have been, the would-be temptress of death slipped near the edge of the station and as she was falling back ward in a twisted awkward pose, straight into the path of a speeding train- everything stopped…


Ruling From Above

The sound of it is what we long for.

Parched fields and dry creased lips hope for the day it will come.

A feeling of mud between our toes will be heaven to us.

A deluge in the back of the mind.

Look! A cloud.




Feel, a drop of water from the sky above.

Holding On

Wet mushy autumn leaves laying by the lake.

Young puddles grow as the rain drizzles on.


A man stays sitting.


A woman starts running.


Children stay playing, jumping into the misty air.


Suddenly, the clouds empty their deluge within.

Puddles overtake pavements.


Like a circle of dominos falling, 

the water seeps into every corner of the street,

creeping up peoples paths.


The man jumps, his feet are wet.

The man shouts, his path is flood.


The woman arrives home, away from the rain,

shivering because of her damp, wet coat.

She has a bath.


Children continue to play, holding on to the hope that the rain will stop.


The rain stops.

I Stand Alone.

I step through flowers in the rain,

Standing alone.

The rain pours, a million drops of silver.

Street lamps shine on the glistening fallings,

Like eyes of orange honey dripping, spreading through the watery air.

I look up,

into the above,

into the wet pinched globes rushing down.

I stare,

An abundance of glowing powers, some are dead,

but live on in our sight,

in our light.


Reflections of raindrops in each other,

All showing the powers of the infinite nocturnal sky.


Stand, look, stare and see-


The night is alive,

The stars are awake,

To the music of the skies.

Alpha and Omega

Smelling of an old book, musty with age.

It is a waterfall, falling downward forever, slowing diminishing the things below,

Like the branches of a tree, splitting into many different paths.

Measuring it is as impossible as understanding the emotions of the heart.

Understanding may come, it will just take Time.


The sky, a perfect white, a blank canvas waiting for the sunset to give it life.

Rain falling, creating puddles, creating reflections, some reflecting the world in a good way, others reflecting it as bad.

But some rain falls on the leaves of an old tree, craggy, withered from age.

These few droplets, are like the eyes of a child, looking all around at once,

they capture the world, seeing everything,

the good and the bad, yet still seeing the true beauty of the world in that single moment, before falling to the ground below, into the puddles, which reflect the world as a black and white place.

The sun sets, painting the sky a vibrant picture that no artist can match, the rich colours making the evening come alive, showing that the world is not black and white nor as we see it, rather it is as it is and is ever-changing.

Singly Me

Pressure all around.

Reality shrinking round me.

Everything compressed,

All existence and all feeling itself,

Enough power to crush a man,

No end, the beginning has been forgotten,

was there ever one?

As this reverses I begin to cope,

All things and all problems are spaced out,

So it is easier to understand and deal with?