Sheffield's Panorama

Ashen landscapes form the backdrop

to the fog-drenched city.

One blow and it's dust.

Late night taxis swirl

like Saturn's belt -

piercing the canvas.


A sense of urgency,

in the engine's hum,

provides the bass

for the metropolitan musical.

The TransPennine's thrum from Meadowhall

offers the lo-snare.



A collective tap of heels

where neon lights flicker

over grim iron doors,

transfers

tonight's promotions

to varnished pavements.


Light strikes

upon night's result

and casts shadows to their corners.

Missing Child

This was something I wrote last year as an assignment. It is a short story, based on the case of Shannon Matthews, which I took on from the perception of Shannon's mother in order to create a fresh angle...


Caroline Dennis stood in the dock of Liverpool's Crown Court and waited for the verdict. Her eyes were red and inflamed from crying. As she looked around, she saw her mother, Sue, staring straight at her. It reminded Caroline of the look she'd given her as a child, when she was caught stealing from the corner shop. It was a look of shame and disgrace. She'd promised never to do it again and was grounded for a week. Eventually, she was forgiven. Looking at her mother now, Caroline knew she wouldn't be forgiven. She wasn't a child anymore. She was a thirty-nine year old woman and there was nothing she could do to heal the pain she had caused. Judge Stanbury called the presiding juror to announce the decision.
'Have you come up with a verdict?'
'Yes, your honour.'
'What is your verdict on the charge of kidnap?'
'Guilty, your honour.'
Caroline felt her heartrate climb and her palms slipped from the brass bar which kept her upright.
'What is your verdict on the charge of false imprisonment?'
'Guilty, your honour.'
Caroline's legs trembled and she struggled to keep her balance.
'What is your verdict on the charge of perverting the course of justice?'
'Guilty, your honour.'
'Caroline Dennis, you have been found guilty for kidnap, false imprisonment and for perverting the course of justice and will spend eight years in prison.'
The gavel was struck and Caroline flinched in fright. Her wrists were bound and she gasped as she was pulled away through a side door. Her eyes were fixed upon her mother's face. 'I'm sorry', she mouthed, but her mother had turned in disgust. The courthouse walls closed in on her as she was guided into the darkness at the end of the tunnel. A tear leapt from her eye and ran down her cheek. With her hands held behind her back, she had no way of stopping the flow and tears drowned her face. For a second, she was outside in fresh air, but she couldn't feel any difference. Caroline was blinded by a continuous flash. Behind the cameras stood a hate-filled crowd who made it their aim to heighten her suffering. Caroline howled as she took a blow to the face. The juice a tomato stung her eyes and she was blinded even more. She felt a slight release as she was bunged into the back of a prison van. She pictured her daughter's face as it looked the last time she saw her, teary and swollen. 'I've ruined her life,' she mumbled. She couldn't help but question how it all began.
         Terry was sat across the table, reflecting her image. He stretched his arms to reach hers, but she pulled away. Her emotionless expression changed rapidly to one of fury. Caroline stood up and paced towards the window. She took in a breath, wiped her brow and paced back towards her boyfriend.
'You swore!' she shrieked. 'You promised me that you would never bring that shit into my house! What if the kids had found the drugs, huh?' Terry reassured her. 'They wouldn't have.' Caroline calmed herself and attempted an adult conversation, but it was difficult when her boyfriend was acting like a stupid teenager.
'How much do you owe?'
'30k'
She couldn't help it. Her fury heightened again. 'You're a waste of space Terry Lambert,' she yelled. This time, Terry rose from his chair and bound towards Caroline. He grabbed her hair at the back of her scalp and pushed her head down towards the floor. 'I've given you everything! I work so you can buy your kids new shoes! You've driven me to drugs, you and your brats!' He struck her. He released her from his grip and she returned to the emotionless state she was in previously. Terry hesitated. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Your kids aren't brats.'
         They both sighed, exhausted from the mental drain they'd put on each others lives. Both moved, simultaneously back to the table. They listed solutions, but none were appropriate. They sat for hours, conscious that Sarah and Callum would be back from school soon and the childminder would be dropping Kenzie and Theresa off thereafter. 'I saw a program once. I can't remember it much but someone had set up a fake kidnap and hid their kid. Yeah, they got a bunch of cash for it and nobody ever found out. They just let the kid go and the case was a mystery. Think of the publicity! We'd rake it in, plus a bit extra for ourselves.'
'Are you stupid?' She shrieked again.
'Caroline, if we don't do something they're going to come for me! They'll come here, where your kids are. So, we hide one out for a while. If Bill Maddox sends the boys here, they're toast anyway.'
Caroline burst into tears. She'd do anything to protect her kids. Terry continued with the plan, but she said no more. She just sat at the table, knowing it would have to be done if she was to save them.
'Sarah. She's the oldest. She's thirteen. Teenagers can handle anything. She's an A-grader with all the friends; the teachers pet. She's perfect'. Terry was enthusiastic.
         By the end of the night, it was organised. Exactly when, where and how it would happen. It was Tuesday and Caroline had packed the kids' lunches and sent them off to school. Now all she had to do was wait for the call to tell her that her daughter had been hidden. She couldn't tell her that her daughter had been hidden. She couldn't truly believe what was happening. It felt like a normal day. Usually, she'd start with the ironing and that's exactly what she felt like doing. When she thought logically, it seemed like a tiny measure being taken to save the children. At least Sarah would be safe. Terry said that Paul Hines was a very close and trustworthy friend of his. It would be confusing for Sarah at first. She wouldn't understand why she was being taken to uncle Paul's, but she'd be safe. Caroline wondered if he would have a TV for her to watch, or a board game at least. She worried about her comfort, but mainly she worried about Sarah missing her mother. She wouldn't understand why Caroline had sent her away. Tears began to well up in Caroline's eyes. Terry promised that if Bill Maddox saw that their child had gone missing, he'd ease up on them because it wasn't their fault. Caroline refused to believe this and feared the day he would come, anyway.
     
        The call came that evening. Caroline jumped. The suspense had been killing her all day.
'Terry?'
'She's safe. It's time to ring the police.'
Next on the agenda was to get the neighbours involved. She ran across the street, knocking on anybody she knew. She even knocked on the Conroy's, who she hadn't spoken to in decades. Caroline's heart began to race. She felt like a child, ringing 999 when there was no emergency; the boy who cried wolf. However, it was part of the plan and it had to be done. On the phone, she sounded shaky. Any pro would act it out but her own fear had created this voice. The police were sent round and when Caroline had finished her well-prepared plea, a search party was arranged. Detective Superintendent Martin Bell, of Merseyside police, headed the enquiry. DS Bell questioned Caroline's extended family, starting with her mother. Sue held Caroline closely whilst informing DS Bell of how Sarah was a loving girl, a top student and an excellent granddaughter. Sue told the detective that she understood why somebody would want to take her. She was a pretty girl and very valuable. Caroline felt sick with guilt as she agreed with her mother.
        In a matter of hours, the appeal was set up and Caroline was prepped for press conferences and public appearances. Terry had told her exactly what to say, but she still felt sick with worry as she stood in front of the cameras. She kept thinking that anything could go wrong. She could slip up on one fact and she would blow the whole plan. Her fear re-created the shaky persona she used when she rang 999. The tears were real, though she cried for a different reason than the one she let on. She made it through the first day and then she made it through the second. After a while, Caroline's days seemed to merge together and she felt like a broken record. She'd repeat her plea over and over. Then, the tears stopped. It didn't feel real anymore. It was all a play. Each public appearance was just another night on stage. All the same, she missed her daughter. She needed to know she was ok.

       It had been 18 days since Caroline had seen Sarah. She was counting down the days. Callum, who was ten, was as distraught as Caroline herself and cried for his sister to return. At 5am on Saturday morning, a red Volvo pulled up outside Caroline's house. Callum, Kenzie and Theresa were staying at their grandmother's to keep them out of the public eye. Caroline took one last swig from her cup of coffee and grabbed her coat. She was worried that Sarah would hate her. She wasn't sure if Terry had told her why they did it. She didn't question him on any of the plans. She did as she was told. That was the only way they were guaranteed it would work. Caroline climbed into the car and Terry told her to keep her head down. He covered her eyes by pulling her jacket hood down over her head. Paul wouldn't be at the flat. He wouldn't risk being caught. Caroline began to worry again. Her little girl had been left alone in a strange house. She was still only thirteen. She began to doubt whether Sarah could really handle being in this situation. Caroline reassured herself that she'd be ok. As soon as she saw Sarah, she'd feel better. She closed her eyes and imagined Sarah snuggled up ont he sofa. Her long, blonde hair would fall across her face and Caroline would tuck it behind her ear and kiss her forehead. She'd be back in no time. She didn't know exactly when Terry had planned to let her go. He seemed confident int he arrangements. Terry pulled into the drive and walked round to Caroline's side to let her out. He placed his hand over her forehead to make sure the hood stayed in place until she was inside the house. From the front door, she climbed the stairs. It felt strangely cold inside. Terry reached for the light switch on the kitchen wall, but no light appeared. He tried the landing light and still no light appeared. 'The electricity is off.' Caroline ripped Terry's hand from her head and tried it for herself, refusing to believe the truth. 'What is going on?' She yelled. 'Where's Sarah?' Caroline began to scream Sarah's name. She found a torch on the kitchen cabinet and started to search. 'Caroline! Will you calm the fuck down?' Terry moved towards the kitchen and opened a corner cupboard. Caroline followed with the torch and Sarah's face was illuminated. Her hands were bound with string and her wrists were raw. She was scrunched up on an old duvet and shivered from the cold. Caroline let out an uncontrollable wail and reached to pull her baby out. Terry blocked her attempt and pushed her across the room. Caroline's head thumped the wall, but she felt no additional pain. Her body was numb. Her hearing was muffled, but her eyesight was in focus. She beat her fists against Terry's chest, continuously pounding him in hope that she would eventually hurt him. Terry put his arms round Caroline's shoulders and held her close to stop the shaking. Caroline's eyes were beginning to adapt to the darkness. The curtains were covered in stains and growing mould. Some of the kitchen cabinets hung open and she could see that there wasn't any food in any of them. Caroline shut her eyes and took a deep breath.
'I want this over, now.'
'It's almost over. Another week and...'
'Now, Terry. Look at her in there.'
'Do you want her killed Caroline? You're lucky you've just found her tied up with a few bruises on her. She could have been covered in blood if Maddox had her.'
Caroline knew that if they stopped now, she'd be to blame for this. She stupidly trusted Terry from the start and look what he had done to Sarah. She had no choice byt to trust him this time. He promised to tell Paul to take better care of Sarah and then he threatened that if they were found out, he would see to Caroline before the police got a chance to.
      
      The public appearances continued and Caroline's tears became real, again. Every time she cried out for her daughter, she pictured her crammed inside a kitchen cabinet. Now, it felt real. Her daughter had been kidnapped. She suffered in every way that a kidnap victim would. In fact, it was possible that she suffered more, knowing that her mother had done this to her. Caroline wished she could do something to help her daughter, but she reminded herself of how her family would suffer even worse consequences. She could feel that she was slipping up and all of a sudden, accusations were pointed towards Caroline, herself. Paranoia got the better of her and she tried her hardest to increase her tears but this attracted more attention. Before she knew it, Caroline was arrested, handcuffed and taken to the station.
     The light in the interrogation room was blinding. It was worse than the one in her cell, which she had no idea how many hours she'd been in. That light was small and dull. This one made her feel a burning sensation on her forehead. Caroline squinted as she tried to make out the detective's face. She hoped it wasn't DS Bell. She knew he'd sniff her out straight away. He was extremely clever. Someone came into the light and DS Bell's face was reveaed. Caroline's gut then told her it was over.
'Do you realise, Ms Dennis, that the inquiry for your supposedly missing child cost us two million pounds?' She hesitated, 'Err, yes I am so grateful Detective.' DS Bell slammed his hands on the desk in front of her. 'Don't give me that shit!' He yelled. 'Two days ago, one of your neighbours, Ms. Heather Conroy, came forward and expressed that she had seen Sarah being pulled into a white van on her way to school, against her will. Ms Conroy claimed that it was your partner, Mr. Lambert who forced the girl into the vehicle.' Caroline lifted her head to begin the denial routine, but hesitated as she realised DS Bell was not the man to mess with. 'Mr. Trevor Jones, another neighbour, claimed that he saw you getting into a red Volvo at 5:03am on Saturday 28th September.' Caroline bowed her head and knew then that it was over. 'Mr Jones followed the car to its destination, Ms. Dennis, and twenty minutes ago, we found your daughter.' She felt relieved. At least she was safe. That's all Caroline cared about, now. 'Yes,' DS Bell continued, 'we found her in a right state. Did you know Paul Hines, personally, Ms. Dennis?' Caroline shook her head, but she knew he needed more than that.
'No. All I knew was that he was a friend of Terry's.'
'Yet you trusted him with your daughter.' DS Bell paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. 'Did you know that Mr. Hines was physically abusing your daughter, Ms. Dennis?' Caroline's heart stopped. She looked up, levelling her eyes with his and tears began to well. Caroline screamed in despair. 'Ok, that's enough.' DS Bell was finished and so was Caroline.

She wiped tomato juice from her eyes. Her weeping had stopped the stinging, but the aching in her heart had overpowered it anyway. The verdict had been decided. It was all over. 'I've ruined her life,' she mumbled as the two officors fastened her to the back seat of the prison van. They turned and exited the van, unconcerned. 'I never meant to, I....'
The van doors were slammed shut and Caroline Dennis was plunged into darkness.

Á la folie… pas du tout

The little lady holds a rose.

Thorns pierce her velvet skin,

as she sits by her window sill

all day waiting for him.

Her pastel shade turns lively pink

as blood seeps from her hand.

Her eye lids did not flicker once.

This pain, she could withstand.

Though, she had waited long enough

dressed in her formal gown.

The ticking clock said it was weeks

he’d been letting her down.

Yet, still, she could not move herself.

She thought it was a test.

In minutes, he’d be at her door

dressed in his formal best.

The little lady held a print

placed in a heart-shaped case.

She pressed the image to her lips

to kiss an empty space.

‘Á la folie… pas du tout’,

she cried out in despair

aimed at the empty photograph

but she knew he was there.

Oblivious to blinding truth,

firm reason fuelled her fire

to feel him and to breath him in;

insane with false desire.

I dream of death

I watch the burial from a nearby tree

which bends above the six-foot hole.

From the wooden vault, I see the sun

through closed lids. I can see its scowl;

burning redder than my father’s fury.

Hand in hand, friends and family moan.

For them, it will be an endless death.

They pray, as I, Prey to the morning blaze,

am scorched in death

through mahogany finish.

Lilies conceal the staleness of demise,

just as much; the smell

of tiredness on my mother’s clothes.

Now she dusts the tomb with a silk

handkerchief, waves off the dirt and surrenders

to grief. My father shawls

an arm around her shoulder. Simultaneously,

I feel the same tender touch. Here is love;

unconditional, even in the afterlife.  Now,

he too is watching from a nearby tree

bending above the six-foot grave,

encasing a body no longer mine.

“Look after your mother”

he whispers to me, but only his cold breath lingers  

upon my lobe and I take his place round

my mother’s shoulder. It is not my death

and no longer a dream, but at least in dream

        you live.

Streams of consciousness

I.

Bags and boxes packed

in a seven-seat taxi.

It’s time to go home.

II.

The moon sulks with me –

too overcast for stars, so

we’re alone tonight.

III.

We all love drama.

This is why we find ourselves

slamming doors in rage.

IV.

A second of doubt,

as the spinning top wobbles.

Is it just a dream?

V.

“Watch your step, my girl.

It’s a long way down from there

and you’re alone now.”

VI.

Are cracks in pavements

the result of angered girls

wearing stilettos?

It’s a possibility

I think you should consider.

Earth's Effect

It’s here I consider my worth in this world,                                                                          

                as I sink my feet into ancient paste which swallows me whole and makes nothing of it.

It’s here I can’t leave a mark at all;

                every footprint eroded and every skimmed stone bedded where I found it in the first place.

It’s here I glower into Sky’s fiery eye

which blinds my sight with its superlative blaze, but cannot see its pitiful victim.                

and it’s here I am as dust is to the wind; insignificant friction amid nature’s drift.

Comfort's cliff

At the edge of Comfort’s cliff

I see him.

Unlike ones before,

this one is new, fresh, unscathed.

He does not know of love or its poison Ivy.

His youthful body cages no creaking soul,

nor murmurs painful memories -

just innocence -

which dances around his doodled limbs.

Yes, him

who has tied himself to an unfastened rope

with all intentions of throwing himself off.

Him

who has laid himself down

on hot coal; determined

he can handle her in all her rage.

Her blackened soul pangs

from an older life,

throbbing under the crumbling ash

of a painful memory.

She knows of love and its poison Ivy.

Her aging body cages a creaking soul,

which moans of aching sorrow

and drags her towards the edge.

But there he stands;

new, fresh, unscathed

and she sees him through surrendering eyes

as he holds the rope

with all intentions of saving her from

comfort’s cliff.