I like to listen to Mogwai, Tool and Messenger and ponder such things as, "WHAT ARE WE DOING HERE?" and "WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH MY LIFE?" . As such, my books, stories and articles tend to have a philosophical edge, which hopefully makes people think a little bit about their own purpose and meaning. Join my mailing list and I'll send you my musings straight to your inbox and you can judge for yourself.


Stockholm Syndrome: a short story


17 Aug Stockholm Syndrome: a short story

This is a new short story that appears on my new release:
You can by clicking this link, or .
They are also available in PDF format via paypal –

Stockholm Syndrome

They walked hand in hand across the lush golden sands, staring into each other’s eyes, as the sun rose above the horizon, its red glow warming their intertwined spirits.

They rose from their shelter each morning and walked the sands each and every day, never seeing another soul, their moment never being interrupted, silently taking in the beauty of everything around them, connected in both body and mind, as it should be.

No sounds were uttered, their different languages meaningless, words unnecessary. They existed within a comfortable, euphoric silence untainted by voices, not needing to speak to express their adoration.

Footprints in the sand followed behind them, meandering in solitude, as they basked in their collective joy, the beauty of their union reflected in everything around them. Waves lapped against the sand, the rhythm mimicking their heartbeats. Dolphins leapt in the distance, their bodies silhouetted against the rising sun. The sand was welcoming underfoot, heated each day by the same sunlight that warmed their skin, and greeted every step with a warm embrace.

As they became hungry, a pile of coconuts and fresh fruits appeared before them in the distance. They strolled to it, unhurried, still hand in hand, and sat in the sand, watching the sea as they ate and drank their fill , seated in the warm sand, their gaze following two birds in the distance, floating on the wind, content, with no need to expend any energy. When they were no longer hungry, and ready to move on, they rose together, wordlessly, to create more footprints ahead of them.

At the height of the day’s heat, they came to a cluster of trees, providing perfect shade under which to rest, the cool breeze from the ocean ensuring the perfect temperature. They lay next to each other, closing their eyes, resting, intertwined, until they were ready to move on and continue their blissful day. They awoke some hours later, to the sounds of the ocean, waves drifting in and out, a glass, pale blue mirror stretching into the distance.

As the day got later, and the sun’s heat cooled, they walked towards the cliffs, clambering up the narrow paths as they did each day, to overlook the setting sun, never letting go of each other on the gentle climb upwards. They sat, legs dangling over the edge of the cliff top, breathing in the scent of the sea water, brought in by the gentle breeze. But for the rising and the setting of the sun, there existence knew no time.

She turned to him, her soft, golden hair reflecting the light from the sun, her words shattering the silence around them.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t do this anymore.”

As the words left her mouth, polluting the air around them, she disappeared in front of his eyes, vanishing from their mutual existence, back to wherever she had come from. With that, he was alone, as the sun set behind the horizon, the darkness of night creeping towards him across the sea.

He stood atop the cliff, eyes closed to hold back the tears, waiting for the darkness to hit. The peaks around him began to crumble, columns of rock collapsing and sliding into the angry sea below. He stood alone on the last tower of rock, watching everything around him reduce to rubble. The wind, no longer a pleasant and refreshing breeze, rose and whistled around him, as he hurled rocks into the waves below, yelling incomprehensible sounds of grief into the onrushing storm. It kept rising, defiantly, drowning out his guttural screams, the waves brutally pounded the rocks below his feet, while his lone cliff top swayed in the wind. It would fight the storm for now, but it was only a matter of time before it followed the others, sliding inevitable into the frothing waters below.

Finally it succumbed, the rocks crumbling around him as he fell with it, finally, following them into the dark cauldron of waves below and crashing into the water amongst the thudding of the falling debris.

Beneath the water there was nothing but darkness, his body a total passenger to the power of the waves, the currents pulling him one way then the other. Columns of stone continued to fall around him, their crumbling rocks diving past him into the depths, while he fought the whims of the current, blind from the blackness, and helpless to the power swirling around him. It was warm here, offering some sanctuary from the brutal elements above.

He awoke some time later, washed up on the shore, the waves still crashing all around him, and slowly rose to his feet, soaked to the core, shivering. He began to walk, one foot in front of the other, trudging slowly forward. Progress was slow in the dim light, the ever present fog obscuring everything but the six inches in front of his face. A constant drizzle of rain pierced through the mist, enough to gradually soak him through, making his weathered and beaten clothes sodden and heavy. The walk had become a challenge in misery, accepted simply to ensure he kept himself moving.

Trekking back across the sands, no longer golden and warm but black and cold, his sodden, heavy feet left deep trenches behind him. He prayed that the mist would clear, so that he could see the path ahead. His body pushed him onwards, at odds with his mind, which willed him to lay down, curl up and let the elements wash over him.

He pushed on for days, the fog never clearing, the sun never appearing to warm the sand below, and the storms never letting up, constantly screaming around him, their whistling burrowing deep into his brain. Time stood still. There was no release from the darkness enveloping him.

Occasionally he would take a break from the grinding effort of ploughing forwards, and make his way to the water’s edge, peering into it, down through the fog, just able to make out to the waters through the fog as he felt its cold touch on the skin of his toes. It was black and cold, but offered some release. He closed his eyes and felt the abyss call to him, knowing that could be his escape route from this never ending hell. But not yet.

He trudged onwards with no let up. His legs became heavier, his thoughts bleaker. The doubts crept in, through the fog, and the abyss of the cold ocean called him once more, this time stronger, clearer and more powerful. He didn’t have the energy to continue this futile journey. He stopped one last time at the water’s edge, staring down into the waters below, calmer today and more enticing. The journey was never ending and his spirit broken, by the lack of hope and his inability to see through the fog.

As he prepared to immerse himself in the ice cold water and embrace the darkness, to end the hopeless march, the fog cleared in the distance for the briefest of moments, allowing the sun ray’s to push through. Not enough to light his bleak world, but enough to show him hope of what lay beyond this darkness.

He stepped back from the abyss, and pushed onwards, waiting for the fog to clear.

The End

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