I’ve never before wanted to screech into the wind. Or yank the curtains off the wall.
I’ve never wished to hurl a feather into silence or squash the sky beneath my toe.

There is a presence within me that I cannot understand. A change I cannot erase and a rage I cannot quell.

I wish to shed my skin and coat my wounds in ice, reveling in the sting of a new way to be.

The ground crackles as I tumble through the house, banging up against the emptiness. The smooth layer of nothing.

I grasp at a raggedy old jumper, pressing my face to the window of what was. Desperate for my old
reality to seep back into me and undo what I have become.

I am broken. Shattered like glass and melted down to become something new. I cannot hold the same
space that I did with him. It is too big. A drawer overflowing with excess fabric, a dress falling open at the seams.

I wrench myself from the cookie cutter that was my life with him and I’m left raw. Covered in
scratches, bones at odd angles and guts spilling out.

A crack in the door sends me tumbling back down, splayed on the carpet, salt water streaming.

Clawing at the air, I drag myself back up and gulp down the sunlight crashing through a window.
That’s all I need right now. Reality with several degrees of separation.

But eventually I’ll find a way to bandage myself up and creep outside, one toe at a time.


Ella McFarlane
This short, moving piece was written by Ella McFarlane and was the chosen winner for the Writers Initiative quarterly flash fiction competition. To find out more about Ella please see the details below.
Instagram: @my_literarylife
Is an Editorial Assistant at Taylor & Francis. She writes flash fiction, pieces on disability and short fiction pieces and her favourite authors are Maggie O’Farrell and Louise O’Neill. She also runs a blog about reading, writing and her experiences with disability.