A HERD
A herd of students
race toward the shelter of the nearest building. As they crowd together they
talk and laugh and huddle into their coats. One of the girls in the groups is
outfitted in a black long sleeved T-shirt, black leggings, and black slipper
shoes but carries a hideously stunning yellow bag. The item seems out of place
on her dark clothing and also in the miserable weather. In the distance is
another girl, she wears a plain white T-shirt and plain blue shoes; they are
almost unnoticeable as the hypnotic pull of her bright, pink jeans draw the eye
to her shapely legs and behind. She seems uncaring that her straight, long,
blonde hair is gradually getting wetter from the gentle downpour. She contrasts
the lone man wearing a grey tracksuit, walking past her, who is covering his
head with a plastic bag. As the rain becomes heavier the students jog or walk
or run faster than before; as if the wind that rushes between the trees is
pushing them. The same rush of the wind, tickles the wind chimes situated in
the gardens on top of the newly-built buildings. That, with the sound of the
rain pouncing off the pavement, and the soft laughter of people in the
distance, calms the urgency that comes with a university campus. A man passes
men, completely unaware that I’m watching him as he smirks at his phone and
occasionally looks up to ensure that he doesn’t crash into the bin, only metres
in front of him. Two other men pass him, both wearing green coats. One carries
a cup of coffee and the smell passes me teasingly. The other man, rather
bizarrely, carries a computer screen under his arm. It is a thin screen
and yet it looks older than the other screens I’ve seen on campus. Although I
notice the state of the computer screen, I am more interested in the man’s bald
head as it honestly seems to reflect the sunlight as he walks out from the
shelter of the leaves.
Abigail Conran
A LIGHT
A light, cool breeze settles in as the soft down pour of
rain causes the fine hairs on my arms to stand to attention. Autumn is upon us.
A young woman hunches over a table, her lips drawn into a smile; the noticeable
imprint of wrinkles form around her mouth. She appears to be involved in a
light conversation. Her fingers twitch as her eyes lower to the untouched food
before her. Without another word she lifts the burger in a firm grasp – pausing
only momentarily – until the bite satisfies her needs. A low hum of
appreciation escapes her lips, her eyes crinkle at the corners. Delight painted
across her features as she wipes the remnants with a soiled napkin.
Alexandra Hudson
KEEPING TIME
12.38pm
One lone
boy/girl is running laps on the track. Backwards. They keep tripping on the
autumn leaves that lay on the ground. As I sit in this sun trap a steady flow
of students head back to their accommodation.
12.41pm
A girl
with the curliest of hair stops dead in front of me to confront a water droplet
that has just landed on her head.
12.45pm
A woman
in an electric wheelchair drops her student I.D card and asks me to pick it up
for her.
12.49pm
A man
with red hair brags to his new friend about how he knows a man who runs for the
Great British Olympic Long distance team. I laughed out loud.
12.55pm
The drip
of water has been splashing onto my vacant shoes. Everyone seems to be coughing
and spluttering. Freshers Flu strikes again.
12.58pm
The
runner is a man.
Jessica
Whalley
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