Hi Mum, I've been meaning to call you.

I know, sorry.

He’s fine. Just in the other room.

Christmas? No, only the two of us. He says he wants to spoil me.

I've made him a cake. Fruity, laced with brandy. I've started feeding it.

Let's. In the new year. Once Christmas is out of the way.
#WriteCBC

Damp stone buildings huddle around the yard. Rotting timbers protrude from the carcass of a barn. Corrugated iron bleeds rust. Buzzards circle, calling.
Ivy swarms over the house, blinding the windows, feasting on mortar. The roof sags, like life has been sucked out of the rooms below. #WriteCBC