Daily Archives: January 3, 2015


I saw it as I entered the bathroom. A syringe; needle attached. An alcohol wipe. Horror shuddered through me. It can’t be! How is this possible? So many times I have seen it, but never here.

Breathe calmly, I think. Pull yourself together.

I find her in the kitchen.

Dropping the syringe on the table, I Look accusingly at her.

She looks down, and away, collecting her thoughts, searching for a lie.

“It must belong to my diabetic friend, Lyndsey,” she says.

Quickly, I grab her arm, pull up her sleeve.

“Mum, how could you!” I wail.

© Jane Paterson Basil


She threw the ball. It bounced twice, landing some distance from the dog.
Again and again, she threw the ball.
No response.
Why wouldn’t he play?
Yesterday, they had run through the fields together, leaping and play-fighting. For once, there had been no sign of that angry, red faced farmer who was always shouting, telling them to get off his land, accusing Sol of worrying his sheep.
Sol was the gentlest of dogs. He would never chase sheep.
Her mother called her. Lunch time. She went indoors, obediently.
Sol lay still; the cold wire tightly bound around his throat.

© Jane Paterson Basil