Prose Blog

It’s difficult to decide whether Japanese trains are the easiest or most complicated public transport system you have ever tried to navigate. As you lean back on a plush seat in the Shinkansen, you are relieved to hear the English announcement that follows the Japanese: the calm voice lists your destination. Somehow, you made it to the right place.

Darkness enveloped us, and suddenly we were the only people in the world. The swarm chased us down the tunnel, the deep buzzing reverberating off the crumbling brick walls. The wind whooshed past as we panicked, desperate to escape the onslaught of bees.

He returned from the journey, dull and grey. The sun struck his breastplate, but no light reflected. His armour was heavier than he remembered it being when he left the castle grounds. It weighed him down.

Cinder dragged the pumpkin along the shoulder of the road. She kept to the shadows, worried her step-mother and sisters would pass in their carriage and see her there. The gravel cut into her bare feet. She contemplated abandoning the gourd, but then what would she ride to the ball in tomorrow? And she had to go back—she’d promised.

She likes the evenings where the clouds roll in off the ocean and fill the sky with pillowy softness. Those nights where you can lie out in the brisk air, falling up onto the velvet quilt, are her favourite nights. She finds peace on those nights.