Nightingale Lane, 25th January 2018

by Philippa Baines

Down my road
There’s an 8-year-old who goes to school with his little sister
He holds her hand and doesn’t let go till they reach primary school

Down my road
An old man at the bus stop, stinking of Carling, asks if I’m married.
I’m not
but say
I am. 

Down my road
Affluent professionals stick broomsticks between their groins
and pretend they’re playing Quidditch.

Down my road
Suited lawyers and estate agents gather outside Gigalum bar
All you can hear is rah rah rah.

Down my road
Moxons fishmonger pour out leftover guts
And swish them into the streets.

Down my road
They killed a boy

Another kid had a long knife.

Put it in his heart.

The dying boy held his wound

And final words were

“Oh, no.”

Down my road
A little boy takes his sister to school and doesn’t let go ’till they get there. 
Hold tight. 
Hold tight.

Philippa Baines is a dark comedy writer based in London, UK. Her stories focus on modern-day pressures, covering themes such as climate change, bad landlords, technology and internships. Her stories reveal the absurdity of life and consider how we can come to terms with the confusion it brings. Keep up with her latest writing on Twitter/Instagram @mudfishblog.