Kind is the new black

The computer screen buzzed. The words buzzed. Every click, every scroll, cutting deeper and deeper.

Her phone buzzed. The words buzzed. Every message, every minute, cutting deeper and deeper.

Her mind buzzed. Every second, every though, cutting deeper and deeper.

She didn’t deserve this. Wave after wave of spiteful, hate-filled messages swamping her. A never-ending tsunami of hatred. Do you message your mother with that keyboard?

A decision made. Dilute the anger, the spite, the hate. Moderate yourself. Call out unkindness. Be the change. Reclaim the internet. Kill ’em with kindness.

(Inspiration: #keepitkindonline campaign which launched today).




Your name flashed up on my phone  tonight. A simple text message; a few meaningful, leading words. My stomach swooped at the sight, my breath caught in my throat. 

I rolled over, mentally preparing myself for the shock of the cold floor under my bare feet. Visualised where my clothes were, selecting the red lace bra you always loved. 

My heart raced as I thought of your touch. Your smile. Your hands. 

But it’s warm in bed. When one door closes, sometimes it’s best to nail to shut.


Dear You

Dear You,

How’s it been? What is your life like now? Do you ever think of me?

I think of you often – replaying those crazy, heady days (or should that be seedy days?) where we were inseparable. Those days where we’d rush home from work and fall into bed together, tangled in bedsheets, rising only to seek food or water. Those days where the weekends passed in a muddle of brunch, booze and beaches.

I can still feel your hands on me, feel your eyes gazing at me. The way you’d twirl my hair in your finger when you were tired. The way you’d pull me close after a long day and massage the knots in my shoulders. The way you’d cock your head to make me laugh, or whistle between your teeth when we’d talk of growing old together. The way you laughed. I miss that laugh. How we fit together perfectly, two halves of a whole.

We were so in love. Or so we thought. Or so I thought. I can still remember the bile rising in my throat as I came home early that day to find her. Her and you. Tangled together on our couch, last night’s leftovers still balancing precariously on the arm.

Even in my worst nightmares, I never imagined the arms that once protected me would turn against me.

I hope you’re happy.

(Inspiration: Write a letter to someone you have so much to say to but cannot tell them directly.)


“Come outside with me and watch the stars,” he pleaded.

His cheeky grin lured me in, a captive fish on a hook. He whispered sweet nothings in my ear, fingers toying with a strand of hair that had come loose from my plait.

The stars twinkled overhead, winking at me. He sat close, thigh pressing against mine. Heat radiated between us. He offered me a cigarette. Red ends glowing in the darkness, he leaned in and kissed me.

After that, there was no going back.




A beginning

Sunlight streams through my curtain. The smell of cut grass too sweet for the morning.

She is in the kitchen. Her voice twinkling up the stairs and twirling under my door. She sounds happy.

Whisk raised, drips egg, shells ooze behind her on the bench. Thick crusty bread drowning in the mixture. The frying pan dances with hot butter.

She turns to face me. Spatula annotating her words. Her face glows red from the heat of the stove top.

“I have a surprise for you”. And I know. So I sit at the table and wait for breakfast.


Gravel crunched under her shoes, the path winding around roots of tall majestic kauri and bright yellow trumpeting kōwhai. The air dripped with the sweet nectar of native bird song, pierced occasionally with the shrill sound of cicadas, basking on the limbs of the trees. Fantails flittered through the greenery, tūī cocked their embellished throats, white pearls snuggled under their chins. An eerie tranquility pervaded, the heavy breath of nature lingering in the air. Although she was in the shade the heat was almost unbearable, her shirt beginning to cling to her. Stumbling over truant roots, she kicked up small clouds of debris in her rush to reach the other end.