Will Conway

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“What have I done? This isn’t funny.”

He’s terrified, of course he is. It’s like a nightmare. His supposed best friend has just taken him to a strange home, mainly full of slowly moving old people and earnest, mumbling bearded men in pants. I even let one of the crazies play cards with us and joke with him. Just when he was starting to find it a bit funny and enjoy himself I told him that I have to go. I have to go and he has to stay. When he starts getting a little loud and realises that I am being serious. He stands to leave but orderlies come in to calm him down and comfort him. However, the more they attempt to sooth him and talk familiarly with him the more confused he gets. He starts to get agitated and almost aggressive as they linger, ready to restrain him.

“Get off me! How do you know my name? I don’t know you.”

I feel on the brink of tears as I leave him. I’ve let him down but I can’t do anything else.

I still don’t totally understand it. He’s usually fine. But today it’s like for a moment he forgot where he’s been living. Or maybe it’s more like he remembered for too long, and that can be unkind.

I think about his words again as I get into my new car that’s lost its novelty. The words linger in my head. What have I done? This isn’t funny.

Because some days it isn’t. Read More.

Bedridden

            The voices from downstairs gently wake me. I can’t make out words but I can tell who’s talking from the depth and pattern of their speech. It sounds like we have a full house this morning. Since everyone is about I should get up and join them; they’re probably having breakfast together. In five minutes I’ll rouse and either see if I can help or guiltily eat some of what they’re making. Stupid, I fall asleep again. I only realise I didn’t actually get up as I had planned when I re-awake minutes later.

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Snow day

            ‘Be careful on the way back, it’s slippery,’ I said to my sister, feeling like that’s a really big brotherly thing to say as we went in our separate ways home from our brother’s flat. As if on cue, I slipped and nearly toppled over. I turned, of course she saw. She laughed at me as I sloped off round the corner.

As I walked home I listened to the way the Sunday night snow popped under my footsteps. I always loved the way it crunched under my feet as I compacted it. An inch is quite a lot for England; it’s a hell of a lot for London. Read more.

Dedicated to Maurice Sendak

Monster

      I love talking about Monsters, when the mobile library came round I got the best book about monsters which I bring to school everyday. It teaches you how to identify all the main types of monsters. The best bit about it is when it shows you what their weaknesses are and how to defeat them. It’s basically my guide-book to keep me safe. I’m definitely the best at knowing about monsters in my age category anyway in case I lose it.

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