A tiny tale with a warning.


John’s fat mother

John’s mother was convinced she had an influence on the weather. She had very bushy eyebrows that were linked in the middle and her backside

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“Turn around, walk away.” Miko tapped me against the ear and I obliged with a sigh. Some called them angels, some called them demons, others friends or teachers, I opted for all the above. They were always present, perched on our shoulders as they coached us on, steered us through life while guarding against that which might prick and leave us bleeding.

Miko was extremely emotional, and I made her cry often; “you’re exhausting” she would moan through the tears. And I knew it was true, her biggest and constant struggle was to keep us apart, me and Nostalgia. We yearned for each other, drawn to one another like magnets, and our union when it happened always wrapped us up in a damp blanket of misery. Soon others would peek around dark corners; IfOnly was usually the first to appear, then Should’ve would sneak closer, more and more of them would join our pity party, we would dance around, pulled at each other till we fell down, exhausted, into a lazy orgy of agony.

“Not that way, love.” My guardian demon-friend would caution. I would turn my head and she would snap, “Don’t look back, you’re wasting out life.”