For Her Light I could hardly feel the cigarette end between my fingers. Only a slight warmth from the faint shimmering glow as the smoke stroked my fingers before fading into the sterilized white light. I still couldn’t perceive where my fingers met the cigarette, only a slight warmth. How long have I been here? The ash which hung tentatively finally gave way, and fell to the meticulously cleaned tiles. I hadn’t even put the cigarette to my mouth save for lighting it. How long have I been here? Starched corridors lit by relentless white light glared up at the windows hiding any natural colour. I could smell the hygiene; the detergent, the anti-bacterial wash and it inflamed my nostrils, a sharp aroma which gave me a nauseous feeling at the back of my throat. Faces passed me, eyes darting across medical records, eyes blank with fatigue, and at a constant pace as they dissolved into the walls. ‘Are you waiting for someone, sir?’ The voice came from behind me. ‘How long have I been here?’ I asked, though not concerned for her answer. But she didn’t even get a chance to reply. The one image I wanted to forget, descended upon my mind with the vengeance of a rising storm. Red; running along corridors, licking at the walls. Blood, flesh and tears. Must get back to her. I moved swiftly back to the room and as I approached I couldn’t shake off the blood, but I knew that I must be there as it finally breaks through. It is what she wanted from me. Why had I left the room? It wasn’t just the blood which gently rolled down her convulsing legs. Or was it the isolation? Me; fading behind a screen of machines, of tubes and incisions, and the sound of them in all the dark passage ways of my ears. She was groaning deeply, then screaming, the echoes of her agony in the dark passage ways of my heart. I could see in her melting eyes that she had heard nothing, could see nothing, and as I left the room she did not flinch or wail as if to prevent me from leaving her side. The machines had now become hot and bothered, transmitting short sharp blasts of electronic panic, they seemed to recoil into the shadows as I passed them by. As the masks fell upon their faces, as the needles punctured her skin, as the surgical knives rattled on the trolley, as they pulled the still-born from between her legs, I could feel her #life draining, her light ebbing away. Then I blindly ran. Then I was alone. The fresh air began to soothe the hypnotic buzz and electronic pulses that seemed to linger in my head, but I could feel myself being stalked by some unknown shadow, I could feel its presence just beyond the surrounding trees and street lights. I rested here content to watch the winged night #life darting carelessly around the dim amber glow. How long have I been here? Suddenly there was a crowd of children swelling around my legs, like a rising lake. But their laughter and warm ways tore through me. I felt myself falling; were they pulling on my coat sleeve, or were my legs sinking into the frosty concrete, or was I being consumed by my own unrelenting grief and loss. I felt broken, utterly horrified as the shadow fell upon me. All my dreams distorted came crashing down at me, and I kept on screaming until I finally collapsed onto the stone pavement. The children and their terrified voices soon fled into the night and with them all my dreams - still-born and dead. That cool night I ran, dissolving through layers of voices, footsteps, car engines and the whole beating rhythm of every child and street.