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Occasionally, very rarely often I lie in bed with my eyes open, listening. I listen very carefully, every creek sending shivers through me.

I wait and I wait.

Just after it pasts Midnight my family are fast asleep, dreaming sweet dreams. My mum will be in her double bed alone, as she complains my dad is fat and sends him to the guest room to sleep, although secretly I think that she just wants the bed to herself.
My dad will be in the single bed, he’ll be wearing his going-to-bed shirt which he has worn for over 20 years and refuses to sleep in any other shirt.
My brother is an obsessive computer freak, so he’ll have his headphones and microphone headset on and the world will be far away to him.

I pull a dark coat on over my Topshop superhero patterned pyjama bottoms and I’ll open the front door, putting a finger to my lips when my Golden Retriever tries to lick my leg and failing when she realizes I’m wearing pyjama bottoms. I close the front door behind me, and I’ll walk to the place I like to call my own, lit up only by a small lamp. My mind is emptied by the cold night air whipping into my face, but I like it. I look up, trying to look for the stars through the pollution.
I fail mostly, but I can always find the moon. Bright and staring down at me.




  1. It’s so raw and poetic. I really like it, especially because it’s honest. Another brilliant piece.

  2. Interesting post, really realistic and, as has already been said, poetic. Very much so. I like it.

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