Story

I woke to the sound of horse shoes clicking along the London cobbles, the background music of my life. Memories flashed through me - my mother, long mousy hair, pale cheeks with a hint of pink, covered in freckles, as gentle as can be - my father, coal black hair like the colour of scorched remains of a burning building, sea green eyes, the type of green you only get when there's a storm, his normally pale face red with rage - my sister, only 4 years old, pale blue eyes and mousy hair like mothers, never quite sure of the situation - my mother, pale face even paler in the dwindling evening light, unconscious on the ground, breathing heavily - my father, still caught in the tsunami of anger, only just missing my head as he swiped to stop me running, running anywhere but there. And me, stumbling on the uneven cobbles of the London road, finding a place to sleep in a ditch through a dark alley, dropping off to the same sound that I woke to.