'Abel', Oil Paint, House Paint, Ink - By Sian Shirley.
'Sunday' Short Story excerpt By Shaun Perry
She stood like a stray nail and let the water run down her white ivory flesh in thousands of intertwining rivulets. With her head down - the water flowed from her temple and down the bridge of her nose as she gazed into the drain.
She watched the water leave her feet with a sense of rapture. Like it bled into a deeper void, one that was secret and never knowing.
She kept thinking of the time’s she had wanted to head home and put a blade to her throat - watch the blood spray out like an open fire hydrant and then laugh at the red - but she was getting better.
That’s what she kept telling her self anyway as the water washed her skin. As the pills made her see the clouds and not the sky, nor the stars.
She then elegantly and without notice lifted her torso and straightened her shoulders. She shut her eyes and with her poised countenance raised her face into the stream. She ran her fingers through her thick ringlets of hair and the water passed the cruel scars on her wrists.
She wasn’t a rockstar or a supermodel, a famous artist, actress or weather girl. She didn’t sing or play an instrument exceptionally well, and she wasn’t overly special. She was alive though and coming to terms with the smaller moving parts of life. The realities - and the hindsight and the mtv fuck over. She shut the shower off and waited. She waited and let the last of the water drip from her nose and then got ready for work.