by MJ Christie
One ear. One eye. Tattered arms. Tattered legs. Re-sutured seams preserved the life within. Ground-in dirt rouged his cheeks. There was an odour your mum had tried to wash away without success.
“Shall we leave Ted at home today?”
“No.” You hugged him to your chest. He loved riding the bus. Mum gave in, as always.
If only she hadn’t.
Your room was lonely without him. Tears released the pain inside. His empty chair. Your empty arms.
“We can get you a nice new teddy.”
“No.” You didn’t want another teddy, you wanted Ted.
Should have left him at home.
A writer of novel-length fiction, MJ Christie recently became addicted to writing shorter fiction – the shorter the better – and poetry. The UK’s Lincolnshire Coast provides the backdrop and inspiration for MJ’s writing, giving focus and meaning to everyday life.
Website: http://www.mjchristie.com/