Little Girl

Melanie Jay is currently undertaking the MA in Creative Writing.

He smirked, for she had finally arrived. He observed her scampering towards the dilapidating swing set, her blonde hair caressing her shoulders.

          She settled her frame upon the rubber seat; blue gingham dress rising an inch or so, exposing the scabbed knees of a six year old. The little tease. Her feet, clad in the black patent leather school shoes of his fantasies, scuffed against loose gravel. His pupils began to dilate as her calves pushed against the pebble-dashed ground, propelling her into the clutches of the early evening air. He shifted slightly in his seat. She was high now. Swinging rhythmically; up and down, back and forth, her hands clasping the tarnished metal chains. He was entranced.

          The swing slowed to a halt. She exited the playground.