Over seven days from Monday 21st July, Only Me, a brand new short story, unfolds. Each part is precisely 140 characters in length (a tweet). You can follow the tale here, on Twitter or on Facebook.
Only Me ~ Part 2
I walk home, head low. I tread down the red, brown and orange carpet rather than kick it up. Dinner tickles my nostrils when the door opens.
Sausages and beans; my favourite. Mum's wiping sauce from her chin. Dad's head is behind the newspaper as usual, so he doesn't have to talk.
I want to tell them about the park, but I'm afraid to speak. Then I remember that Mum is always reminding me that honesty is my best policy.
"I met someone today," I announce. "A friend from school?" asks Mum, sauce still on her chin. But I don't have friends. "A boy in the park.”
"A boy?" Mum's voice goes higher. "What have I told you about talking to strangers?" I shrug, although I know. "Do I have a brother?" I ask.
For the first time in history, Dad lowers his paper to look at me. "What did you say, son?" "I asked if I had a brother." Mum's face is odd.
Dad laughs, but I don't mean to be funny. "What an absurd question! Of course you don't have a brother." He lifts the paper, hides his face.
Then Mum says: "This is why you don't talk to strangers. They can and will tell you anything. Anything! You're not to go to the park again.”
"But-" "But nothing," Mum interrupts. "These people are dangerous. They trick you to get something." Then she adds: "What did he look like?”
"He was tall with a red baseball cap. And he had a small moustache and an earring." Mum's quiet before replying: "You don't have a brother.”
Part 3 coming Wednesday 23rd July
Only Me ~ Part 2
I walk home, head low. I tread down the red, brown and orange carpet rather than kick it up. Dinner tickles my nostrils when the door opens.
Sausages and beans; my favourite. Mum's wiping sauce from her chin. Dad's head is behind the newspaper as usual, so he doesn't have to talk.
I want to tell them about the park, but I'm afraid to speak. Then I remember that Mum is always reminding me that honesty is my best policy.
"I met someone today," I announce. "A friend from school?" asks Mum, sauce still on her chin. But I don't have friends. "A boy in the park.”
"A boy?" Mum's voice goes higher. "What have I told you about talking to strangers?" I shrug, although I know. "Do I have a brother?" I ask.
For the first time in history, Dad lowers his paper to look at me. "What did you say, son?" "I asked if I had a brother." Mum's face is odd.
Dad laughs, but I don't mean to be funny. "What an absurd question! Of course you don't have a brother." He lifts the paper, hides his face.
Then Mum says: "This is why you don't talk to strangers. They can and will tell you anything. Anything! You're not to go to the park again.”
"But-" "But nothing," Mum interrupts. "These people are dangerous. They trick you to get something." Then she adds: "What did he look like?”
"He was tall with a red baseball cap. And he had a small moustache and an earring." Mum's quiet before replying: "You don't have a brother.”
Part 3 coming Wednesday 23rd July
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