Snowman O'Clock

It’s snowman o’clock,
You’re at the front of my mind.
I thought I’d moved on,
But now it feels like a lie.
I’m strong,
Now I’m weak.
How’d you do this to me?
On my strongest days
Why do I find I miss you?

- Josie -

Jane Grew Up

(Josie Sayz: The, below, flash fiction piece, is a thought that arose in my mind, this morning, while suffering from a PTSD of separation anxiety. This piece is written from my ‘Jane Chronicles’ characters story series. Please note, the character of Peter Pan and Jane are copyright the Great Ormond Street Children’s Hospital, in the UK, and ‘Disney’ in America.)

Hundreds of bodies swarmed the city centre. Bobbing to-and-fro, they became a blur, bumbling about, navigating to their place of work. Amongst the sea of black business suits and blazers, a red head followed the flow of people. Imagining the birds-eye-view of the scene around her unfolding, the red head realised that she had become lost in the crowd. Her heart sank to her stomach. 'Years ago, I would have hated the thought of blending in with everyone, like this,' she thought to herself, with a deflated sigh. As she began her morning laps around the cathedral, a strange memory popped into her head, of a conversation she had had a long time ago, with someone she thought she had forgotten about.

“All office workers are boring," said the voice of Peter Pan in her brain. "All they do is work and sleep. They have no hobbies. They don't go anywhere or do anything with themselves, and they are always so drained. Bah! I'd hate to live a life like that, wouldn't you, Jane?" Hearing Peter's words in her head, Jane's intestines began to churn, and her chest grew tight. Peter's words had come true. Dark circles formed beneath Jane's eyes, and no matter how many times she tried, Jane struggled to keep her posture straight. Her hairline was also receding, having fallen out through stress. The inner corners of Jane's eyes stung, as she sniffed, trying to remember the last time she had the mental energy to do anything for herself.

          Speed walking around the cathedral, Jane glared ahead, as she strode through the pavement's centre guttering. 'Even the walking I do, I no longer do for me, anymore. It is all for the cult of a workplace that I have joined.' Jane felt her shoulders droop, as she acknowledged the person that she had become. She had forgotten how to be creative. She had forgotten how to have fun. Despite her best efforts, Jane had grown up.

- Josie -

Dream - 17th April

(Josie Sayz: Last night, I had a very peculiar dream. I woke up in the middle of the night, having had a very brief dream. I haven’t dreamt like this in a long time. I will write my dream in the form of a story, in the universe of my ‘Jane Chronicles’ characters.)

 

As Jane’s eyes fluttered open, she found herself sat at a round, pinewood table, with a mug of steaming olive, coloured liquid in front of her. A frown furrowed her brow, as she examined the mug’s image, depicting an illustration of a cat in space. Her nose snarled, as seeing this image reminded Jane of a person from her past, Wendy. Shuddering, Jane pushed all memories of Wendy from her mind and looked up at her surroundings. A window, to Jane’s left, illuminated the room with sunlight. Beneath the window lay a row of kitchen counters, with a sink in the centre. As Jane looked ahead, her cheeks blushed bright and a lump leapt into her throat. Sat on the opposite side of the table from her was Peter Pan. Inhaling a nervous breath, Jane’s lips parted, as she gazed at the man she had not seen in years. Peter leant forward, with his hands around his ‘Life Begins at 30’ mug, full of black coffee, with a kind smile on his face.

“So, Jane, how have you been? It’s been a while,” he said, with a soft smirk. Jane felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and a smile spread across her face, as she gazed back at him. Although a considerable period of time that had passed since the two has last seen each other, Peter had not changed a day. His dark chocolate brown hair remained deep and vibrant, and it still curled in the same way that it always did, with no signs of greying or receding. No lines creased under his eyes or curved around his cheeks. His stubbled cheeks looked the same as they always had. Despite being a few months shy of forty, Peter still looked the same as he did ten years ago, when they had first met. A shudder crept up Jane’s spine, as she felt as though she had aged a fair deal during their time apart, and felt almost unrecognisable. She was consciously aware of the dark circles beneath her eyes, the lines that creased her cheeks and how her hair had receded up her forehead as she continued to lose it from stress. Lowering her sight to her hands on the table, Jane focused on the silver ring, with a deep olive, peridot, on her ring finger. Her chest tightened. She sniffed, feeling the inner corners of her eyes sting a little.

“A lot has changed, Peter,” Jane replied, as she found her voice. Her throat grew tight, and she wrapped her hands around her biceps, pulling her arms tight to her chest. Pinching her lips in, Jane looked over at Peter, expecting to feel fear, seeing anger and hatred for her in his eyes, but instead she felt her heart melt, as a warm, caring smile spread across his face. Jane’s eyebrows slanted together and she relaxed her shoulder blades, not realising that she had been tensing them.

“I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to,” Peter said, with a soft chuckle to his voice. Smiling back at him, Jane hugged her hands around the mug in front of her, as she found herself getting lost in Peter’s deep brown eyes with little green flecks in them.

- Josie -