I’m uneasy with skulls. Although I trained as a nurse, neurosurgery was never my thing.
Give me a pus filled wound or invite me to an operating theatre to see open heart surgery any day of the week
The sight of blood doesn’t worry me at all.
Even human excrement is ok as long as the room is properly aired.
I looked to the mantlepiece and winced
It was time to draw a line and make a stand, so I turned to Simon.
I scraped up some courage and attempted to be polite and reasonable.
“Skulls are creepy and repulsive,” I said.
“Your chalice, with it’s macabre spinal stem, aggresses me beyond words and I refuse to share my mantelpiece with it any longer.”
“What’s this obsession with magic and the occult? Please keep your Aleister Crowley books in your room and take this chalice as well. I don’t want to see them again.”
Simon grabbed the chalice from the mantelpiece and slouched back to his room.
I poured myself a stiff vodka and heard the usual chanting.
I suppose he’s going to go gothic next.
Sometimes it’s hard bringing up a teenage kid on your own.
This is my entry to this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction.