Forged 3

The snap of a twig, and I looked up. A figure was walking towards me. I managed to speak.

‘Please help me. I’m dying. Please help me.’

But the figure did not speak. Instead, they reached inside their coat and brought out two objects. In one hand was a friction match, which was lit by a stroke of the air around me. I could then see that in the other hand, the figure bore a candle. The candle was lit from the match and with another stroke of the air, the match’s flame was put out.

The lit candle was handed to me. I did not dare look at the figure or try to see their face.

I held onto the candle for dear life. The figure walked away, twigs snapping



This is another part of a piece I performed three weeks ago. If you would like a full copy, please leave a message.


About catherinehume

Catherine Hume: Writer, social care worker and a liver of a life less ordinary.
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