Storm at Lyme
…..Lucy and I march up the cobbles, her ahead, the sugared almond cottages and neon amusements, melting in the now heavy rain; then onto the promenade, the wind suddenly hitting us from the open water on our right. I see her falter, stagger crab like to the left, her little legs moving fast while I continue forward, pushing the buggy, using my wrists to keep it straight as it's battered by the gale. Lucy is impervious, bursting with a sense of injustice. The lashing rain stings my face; while the baby under the plastic rain hood is asleep, pink and fat and perfect. Oblivious…..
by Lynne Voyce
Lynne lives in Birmingham with her husband and two daughters, where she teachs English in an inner city comprehensive school. She has been writing for publication and performance for ten years. Most recently Lynne won the Legend Writing Prize with her story Kirigami. She is awaiting publication of her story Sparks by Leaf Press and is currently working on her first novel, The Trash Box. She mainly writes about women and their relationship with the environment, and is becoming increasingly interested in the line between imagination and reality.