Aww Ellen, choked I was when I read this!
She sat, on a low wall three bricks high. A wall that once was tall was a crumbled remnant beside the main road. She wore wrinkled long socks, one higher than the other they offered no protection against the easterly wind; that bitter December day. Her ditsy floral skirt flicked against the already chaffed skin; leaving pink welts. A grey knitted cardi hung from her shoulders, the sleeves fisted in her hands as she waited. Flat barren fields of East Anglia solid from the morning frost were inviting her gaze; eyes glassy and wide.
I notice her many times as we flashed by on the way to Norwich. Each time we’d go I would see her, with pain in her shape a stillness about her. Once we stopped at the village shop while I waited I asked her story. The post mistress said, ” She’s about forty a local she is… not been herself…
View original post 463 more words
Kate McClelland 
Comments are most welcome, as are follows… i relish the sound of toe caps tap tappinng on frosted pavements. The prickles that run up my back when I feel you behing me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Lovely work from Ellen. I live in the area she describes, and this resonated with me all the more for that.
And there are people around who do strange and unusual things. We have a man nearby who is known as the ‘Walking man’. He walks all day, in all weathers; circling the surrounding villages, striding as if intent on being somewhere, but never arriving. He carries handfuls of carrier bags, and never speaks. I have often thought about his past, and how he came to behave in this way.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Pete.
LikeLike
It reminds me of Douglas Adams ‘Dirk Gently…’ Where he has to go and knock on the door of the professor who has never ever spoken to anyone in the multitude of years he was at the college and when the professor answers the door the question he has to ask him is ‘Have you seen a horse go through here?’ The professor shouts at him ‘You’re the first person who has EVER spoken to me and you ask me if a horse has gone through here?’ It just made me feel very sad at the thought of this very old gentleman never having one conversation with another human being, It must have driven him quietly mad!
Maybe the ‘Walking Man’ is the same. Maybe no-one has ever stopped him and asked where he’s going – just don’t ask him if he’s seen a horse walk by, mind you where you live that might be a conversation opener :0)
LikeLiked by 1 person