Feet up, head back

Kim Hayes is undertaking the MA in Creative Writing, having completed her combined honours degree in Creative Writing with English.

Her white frilled socks stick out like mushrooms above her black Clarks. She admires the scuffs as they rest on the rooflines for a second before falling down onto slate. Backwards she drops, slicing the air. She lies into the wind, her arms pulled up by the chains. The skirt of her green checked dress swells. She'll make it this time.

An empty Tizer can stands on the grass beyond the rubber mat. Two boys stand next to the once red slide. ONe of the picks at the rust. The other watches the girl.

'She won't make it,' he says.

Just before her shoes reach the rooflines again, she closes her eyes and throws herself from the swing and erupts into the air. The boy stops picking rust. Gravity starts to pull. She juts her chest forward before her body straightens and opens her eyes as she passes the can.