The Imaginist is my primary novel and my main project at the moment. Read some snippets here ...
'... she realised that she had been fiddling with the fuchsia buds, popping them all so they were now open and vulnerable to the world, without even realising that she had been doing so. She watched her fingers, wondering what they would do next. And right before her eyes they picked up the opened bud nearest to her, squeezed the stem between her thumb and forefinger then plucked it off, quickly and neatly, dropping the bud so that it fell to the floor and just a bare stem remained in its place.
Skye watched as one by one her fingers picked away at the flower, slowly but steadily snapping them all off until she was left with a pile of pink and purple heads and a plant pot of naked stems. Now the plant was ugly. Alive, still, but ugly. No good or use to anyone ... she kicked herself into gear and stood up, picking up the decapitated plant in one hand and the flower heads in the other. She wandered over to the kitchen bin and dropped the ruined plant in ... then she dropped the flower heads into her cloud box, where they fell to rest on the pile of photos, clipping and papers, crowned on top with the sacred silver bangle ... '
* * *
A picture flashed through her mind, sharply and suddenly like a bolt of lightning. It caused her to drop her mirror, which fell to the floor and shattered with a crash. She put her hands up to her head as her temples started to throb and closed her eyes to the outside world. Another image shot into her mind and she stepped back, onto the broken shards of glass which embedded themselves in her foot. She was barely aware of the sharp, slicing pain that shot through her nerves, and the subsequent warm trickle of liquid that flowed out of the gashes and onto the lino.
Picture after picture continued to flash through her mind, like a relentless slideshow set on a loop. There were family Christmases, beach holidays, picnics in the woods and school days. Then there were teenagers, dressed to the nines and heading out for parties, watching videos and munching pizza. There were celebratory parties and emotional goodbyes, and then a young woman stood in the middle of a university campus, her face a picture of hope and ambition. And at the centre of every image stood the girl in the photo, her dark curls shaping her pale face, her haunting eyes staring piercingly and accusingly into Skye's own azure irises.
* * *
Like last time Eve turned before she lost sight of the flat, and jumped when she saw Skye peering out of the window. She paused and the girls stared at each other for a second, neither of them moving, until Eve tentatively raised her hand. Skye reacted by shooting back behind the grimy net curtain, leaving it waving in the breeze as if it was telling Eve to give up and go home. Eve cursed herself for having scared Skye off, and as she turned and walked alongside Dan she held the picture of Skye'sthin, exhausted face in her mind. It was the eyes that made Eve shiver. Skye had been peering out of the window with huge, terrified eyes, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an out of control car. There had been something in those eyes that Eve couldn’t quite place, but she didn’t like it. There was a mixture of anger, sadness and wistfulness, but something more as well. Eve knew that that look would haunt her when she tried to get to sleep that night.
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