Writing Group 82: Night


The man sat in the darkened kitchen, the tick of the clock showing 3 a.m. upstairs his family slept, his children in their beds, his wife finally able to settle, now in the empty bed after his insomniac tossing and turnings. Only the week orange light of the cooker hood illuminated the scene. The kitchen was clean but homely, last night’s washing up stood drying on the draining rack, a lunch box stood empty, waiting to be packed in the morning, crayon drawings stuck with magnets to the fridge, a fine pencil one was framed showing the progress of children’s art. Domestic bliss.

And yet, he could not sleep. So now he sat, listening to the quiet city, carefully spooning out Nutella from the jar.


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