Cyanseagull

Children have a way about them, a brutal open honesty that can neither fault, nor find comfortable. When a child makes peace with the fact that the ship is hurtling towards the centre of a an exploding star, the rest of the crew stop panicking. I think the little girl’s matter of fact calmness makes them feel bad. “Captain, we’ve got twenty percent power diverted to the external blasters, and continuing as planned.” “Good work. Carry on.” It’s scary though, how well kids handle their own death. Maybe it’s just ship’s kids, maybe not. I wonder how they do it, how they can just accept something

A flower shakes loose from a laden spring branch. It falls onto a lake. Ripples spread. On a park swing in the late afternoon, a 17 year old boy sits, with eyes on the ground and tear tracked cheeks. A middle aged woman with a maroon hat, and two dogs in tartan jackets walks past. She pauses, digging in the pocket of her coat. A mars bar is placed gently on the swing beside the boy. He looks up. Ripples spread.