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Chris Breslin Writes...: Green Fields

http://www.chrisbreslinwrites.blogspot.com/p/green-fields-where-did-last-year-go-he.html

Where did the last year go? He didn’t have a care in the world. He flopped his head back and closed his eyes. It was so goddam hot. ‘Keiiiit’! Keiiit’, you fuck! Have you been drinking, again? You drink too much, it’s disgusting! You should watch your behaviour and be considerate, or it’s finished! 8216;It’s just hot.’. Keep talking. Don’t give me any of your excuses, I know you can talk! 8216;I was going to roll you one.’. 8216;You don’t have to, just because I am.’. 8216;You can get used to the flies, ...

Chris Breslin Writes...: One More

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8216;D’you remember the deaths back in school? 8216;Yeah, they seemed like a lot.’. 8216;One’s a lot, at that age.’. 8216;One’s too many.’. 8216;Too young.’. 8216;What d’you think they’d be doing now? 8216;Don’t dwell on that shit.’. 8216;Who was it again? 8216;Rather not have to say their names. It’s morbid.’. 8216;You’re right, I won’t go there. Not now. But how did they go? 8216;If you’re asking, then one did it with a shotgun.’. How did they get one of those? 8216;The Dad.’. After… y’know? Subscribe ...

Chris Breslin Writes...: The Gift

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8217; her father hollered from the kitchen. ‘Lahja! Wind up the record player before you wind up in a tangle, I’m tired of hearing you fidget. If you’re not careful you’ll have no clothes left but an old potato sack! 8217; Lahja bristled with irritation but obediently slid down from her seat and gingerly edged around the boxes to the window ledge. She felt around until her hands lay upon the trumpet of the gramophone. She won’t think we’ve forgotten she’s coming, will she? She can share my clothes if she...

Chris Breslin Writes...: The Last Glass

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I was just.'. I know, but don't. Please.' She lowered two lumps of sugar into her coffee and watched them turn brown. She didn't need music, or the weather. 'Do you want something to eat? No, thanks.'. I could get you some toast? I'm fine.' She knew she should have been explaining herself. Again. She knew she should be feeling more guilt, even. She couldn't bring herself to that, yet. 'Well I'm making myself some.'. You sure you don't want any? Turn the radio on.'. Oh, I thought you meant.'.

Chris Breslin Writes...: The Black Canvas

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I must have fled the road in fear of some fire-breathing monstrosity. A beast from the dark. Will it come for me again when the rays cease their incessant search? Wait, they are becoming dimmer, slowly retracting their beams. I’m paralysed. What was I before? I am adjusting to the dark. The light has one last hole high up in the dark from which it sends out faint beams into the black that shimmer blue and white on the forest forms. Is it I that they stalk, or each other? 8221; The noise acquires its own ...