I (sometimes) call myself Mr. Pondersome. I'm a rather wordy, weirdy person. I say hullo a lot. I write a lot more. While you're here, why not give some of it a read?

Tuesday, 31 December 2013


When he arrived, Ben was already sat at the table folding a paper aeroplane. He took his seat and watched his old friend creasing the middle at crooked angles. He couldn’t remember ever showing Ben his technique for making aeroplanes, his old technique.
‘Annabel managed it then,’ Ben eventually said.
‘I suppose she did.’
‘Well, if she’s good at anything, it’s manipulating. Always has been, you’ll remember.’
‘I didn’t know her very well before.’
Ben glanced up. ‘A master of manipulation. Or is it a mistress?’
‘Maybe madam.’
Ben laughed. ‘They’ve got me bang to rights before you ask. I did it.’
‘But why did you do?’
‘He stole my dog tags; beat the shit out of me with his mates. Then I saw him at the bus shelter. All alone. I didn’t need more than that.’
There was a silence. He tried not to look directly at Ben or his handcuffs. Instead he reached out for the aeroplane. ‘May I?’
‘Go on then.’
He unfolded the wings and then smoothed out the middle crease. He made the overall shape smaller but lighter. When he was done he held it up.
‘But will it fly?’ Ben said.
            He smiled.

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