Kirstie Bruton
Stories (2)
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The Last Slice of Cake
Emmeline jumped out of bed as soon as she heard the shrill alarm sounding in her ears. Today was the day. The day that she would leave this town behind and all the memories that were buried within it. She had returned to her childhood home after her mother had passed. She had no feelings of sadness towards the death of her mother. She relished it. When she received the news, she had taken herself out to celebrate with a wine and expensive dinner. Her mother had left her the house and everything within its walls. Not because she loved her, only because she had no one else to leave it to. Her mother had always been a terrible parent, a terrible woman in general. A judgemental old cow that had made Emmeline’s childhood an entanglement of bad memories, tears and self-doubt.
By Kirstie Bruton 5 years ago in Fiction
Dear Reader
Dear Reader, Whoever you are, I hope this finds you in a better situation than the one I am writing this in. I am writing for a couple of reasons. Firstly, if there is anyone still alive out there, or perhaps once humanity redevelops, there needs to be some sort of true account as to what really happened here. Not the account they will surely use. Secondly, I feel like I need to write, or do something, anything, if not just to hold onto the last threads of sanity that are keeping my psyche together.
By Kirstie Bruton 5 years ago in Fiction
