The gallimaufry approach to life

Far from me to want to deceive anyone into thinking this is based on my life. This is fiction. This little girl exists in my head but represents all those children abused and hurt by adults. I wanted to speak out about it from the child's perspective. Twisting a tuft of hair around my finger, I notice the harsh neon lights are making the burns on my forearm shine. 'Can you tell me more about Jimmy?' Another question. I don't want to answer, but have to, I know. I look down at my feet dangling, shifting my weight. The plastic chair is hard and uncomfortable. 'I remember the day he came to live with us. The doorbell rang. I thought it was the postman. I was wearing my sparkly hairband, the one Jimmy broke into a thousand pieces when I wouldn't put my shoes on. I opened the door. Mummy came running up behind me smiling. He looked friendly. He was holding a bunch of flowers for Mummy and Mr. Nibbles for me.' I pause, tightening my grip on the cuddly toy ...

My mother was a burlesque dancer. I say this with pride. After all, she brought me up in a swirl of sparkly nipple tassels, fringes, music, dancing, instilling in me a sense of whorled wonderment. 'Play Dream a Little Dream' she would say, and my father would literally sweep her off her sequined-slipper clad feet, spinning her round and round. Only my father could make her this dizzy. She would throw her head back, the sequins a blur of starry colour. Sometimes she would fall on the floor melodramatically. 'Again' she would insist. She would stand in front of me, looking down, batting those dark fake eyelashes. 'Dance with me.' she would say. Grabbing my wrists, she would pulled me towards her, my book clasped in my fingertips at arms length. There was never any point resisting her magnetic pull. I would be allowed to place my book open at the page I had reached on the seat of the pink velvet armchair. I would turn towards her and offer a gentlemanly bow. In my...

Tristen pulled out his hip flask and took a swig. Shaking the almost empty canteen, he downed the rest, his Adam's apple rising. The audible gulp rang out in the silence as the liquid gave rise to the familiar warmth. He checked the time yet again on his smart phone, the glow lighting his face. From a carefully chosen position at the end of the darkest part of the alley, a black clad figure stood waiting, watching the spectral head. She was dying for a fag, but that would have to wait. It is time, the walrus said. Pulling her hood lower over her face, determined soundless steps drew her nearer to the meeting point. 'Have you got it?' A whisper so mere that the disembodied voice floated in from the depths of darkness. 'Jeez, you scared the shit out of me.' His voice rang out in the obscurity, filling the air. 'Shh. Here's how we'll proceed...' A buzzing sound and the Star Wars imperial death march drowned out the voice. Tristen fumbled i...