#tuesdayuseitinasentence: I see through you

X-ray broken arm

Image : Pixabay

 

X-ray vision, that was what I always wanted.

In the playground at break time, between laughing at the girls’skittering across the square of crumbling tarmac, them squealing like piglets as we shot our muddy football at their white knee socks, we’d argue over what super power was best.

Con wanted to fly like Superman, over the smoking chimneys of our home town, away to the sea and to his Dad sweating and cussing on the oilrigs. Dan wanted Thor’s hammer and though he never said so, we knew it was to smash Stu Philips to bloody crumbs, spread what there were of his brains across the playing fields, watch the crows duck and bob over the remains.

I always said X-ray vision and that would make Con snort through his nose and giggle about the girls’ changing room and Dan would turn pink as strawberry Angel Delight.

But I never wanted it for that. I wanted it to see through next door’s wall, to see why Mrs Philips so often looked like she’d been crying. To see if she really was so clumsy she walked into cupboard doors. I wanted it to solve a mystery.

Then one night the ambulance came, blue lights flashing through my bedroom window like an icy lighthouse warning.

And I didn’t need X-ray vision anymore.


Written for Stephanie at Word Adventures’ #tuesdayuseitinasentence. See here to join in and to read the other posts.

Advertisements

39 thoughts on “#tuesdayuseitinasentence: I see through you

  1. You always have a knack for ‘la chute’ (that’s what we call the punchline in French); and here what a fall it is. I was laughing and then I wasn’t.
    Wow is pretty much what I’ve got left to say. And thank you; it’s a always a pleasure to read your contribution to #tuesdayuseitinasentence. I count myself lucky that you participate every week.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You have such a great knack at describing the minutiae of everyday lives in a way that makes them feel intimately real, in such a short piece, too. And here, what an interesting take, to glimpse at a serious and sad situation from the perspective of the young boy next door who doesn’t understand — and then does. Well written.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I realize I never commented on the Bronte-esque story you wrote, and how I enjoyed both it and what the contest organizers said about your writing. What triggered the thought is that the voice sounds similar in this, and I’m realizing that’s your voice! (Duh!) You seem to have tapped into some really cool vein, mix of kids’ perspective with a touch of horror/real-life and hints at the supernatural (now I’m going over to the other story, more so than this). I don’t read as much on the internet as I do offline, but when I do, I open yours with relish, and consistently pleased. (And you help me remember what day of the week it is, too. Thanks!) Cheers Lynn. Bill

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks so much Bill and thanks especially for taking the time to read the Bronte story – not always fun to read a longish piece online, I know. I’m thrilled at what you say about ‘the voice’ – I wonder if that means I have one? Although the writing comes fluidly enough (on a good day) I wasn’t quite sure if I had a distinct ‘voice’ yet. I think it’s hard to identify with you’re own work. Thank you for reading and for your brilliant comment. All the best

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Well it’s true about the voice, for sure. And the piece read very quickly, not longish at all, I was really hooked! You called on some techniques to build suspense I envy, I haven’t written in that style. A page turner, or screen scroller as it were.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. My word, thank you so much again. Glad it read easily and that you wanted to read on. When I see that in other writing I’m always envious – it’s a skill that might not be valued so far as literary ‘serious’ fiction is concerned, but it’s pretty important for genre fiction.
        And your own writing has a similar effect, though you use different techniques – it sucks the reader in, creates a spell that’s hard to break until the end is reached.

        Liked by 1 person

  4. I’m thinking about your response to one of the comments made here. Don’t doubt your voice. Don’t question whether you have a style. Many of us get it right from time to time, and occasionally we may write something that is truly brilliant, but you do it time and time again. But this story is outstanding, even for you.
    I wouldn’t like to face in in a boxing ring – those below-the-belt punches are so quick that the referee would probably miss them 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I can’t always tell – sometimes people love a post I thought was just okay and don’t respond to ones I love. Some are always easier to write than others though. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      2. No. When I wrote Urine On the Floor in July last year, I thought it was the funniest thing ever – I still do – but it was greeted with a resounding silence 😀

        Like

      3. Sometimes it’s timing, though isn’t it? Some days hardly anyone I follow posts and some days lots of them do. If no one’s posting then probably no one’s reading either. Not sure why it goes like that but it does. We should make a point of reposting pieces that have been largely missed before – probably be surprised at how much more popular they are on another day 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      4. He’s straight and sober, and I’ve never seen him in such a mess. I’m not getting a moment’s peace when he’s with me, and when he’s out it’s terrifying. Last night he was taken by ambulance to the hospital and there was talk of sectioning him…

        Liked by 1 person

      5. Oh, Jane. Why’s he like that if he’s straight? Do you think sectioning him is a good thing? So tough for you. I do wish there was somewhere peaceful you could go when things get this bad. All the best and take care of yourself X

        Liked by 1 person

      6. Turns out he wasn’t straight – just doing street-bought prescription drugs that they don’t test for. I don’t know what to do – I feel as if I’m going to break apart. I just want to get him to Trowbridge, where he’s meant to be going.

        Liked by 1 person

      7. He’s no longer on probation – his sentence is used up. She wanted to keep in touch with him, but I can’t ask her for favours, and I don’t think it would make any difference anyway – it never did when he was on probation.

        Liked by 1 person

      8. Is there no one in authority who you can ask for help? Or is it really just a case of waiting until he’s rearrested or sectioned? Oh, Jane. What a mess our system is.

        Liked by 1 person

      9. Did he catch the train? Is he in Wiltshire? Daft lad needs all the help he can get. I do hope he saw sense and is somewhere people will help him get back on track X

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.