by Rae Cod

‘Get back into bed, love,’ hushed Ayla’s mother bustling into the room. Caught in the act, legs dangling, toes stretched in anticipation of freedom. She’d almost made it.

‘Aw, come on Mama, I’m fine, look at me!’ Ayla jumped up and broke into a round of star jumps, dressing gown flapping to reveal sheep patterned pyjamas.

‘That’s not what your well-link says. If you don’t rest up, you could become seriously ill.’

‘Says who?’

‘Says whatever health rhythm is running that link!’ cried her mum, exasperated by her daughter’s complete lack of concern for her own well-being.  ‘The rhythms were created for a reason, Ayla.  I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you, not after your brother.’

Ayla’s bounce fled and she sat down heavily on the bed, guilt twisting her gut as she met her mother’s eyes, where dark circles reflected shades of fear.

‘This…

by Rae Cod

Martin knew the saying; once man’s trash is another’s treasure, but it always amazed him the items that people discarded. Dropping it at the charity shop made them feel better about it, but make no mistake, if all the charity shops closed tomorrow it would be on the rubbish heap.

That’s how much stuff people were drowning in these days, he thought, so much they didn’t know what to do with it. On a typical day, they’d get board games, teddy bears, designer clothes with the labels on them, books, DVDs. That was just the normal stuff. Then you had the weird and (not so) wonderful; the see-through trouser suit (that one sold to a gentleman in a non-see-through pinstriped suit, the toilet seat (binned), the set of false teeth (also binned) and once a box of ashes that turned out to be the family dog, returned…