The Snow

Published March 4, 2018 by Naomi Rettig

Day 27 – I’ve done it. I’ve eaten human flesh. I’ve eaten Mark. Not all of him, just his leg. He tastes good. I’ve buried the rest of him in the snow. For later. Except his head. I can’t look at his face. I’ve covered it with a Waitrose carrier bag. He has a judgmental frown frozen to his face. I don’t know why, he’d do the same. I’m going to dig more fridges outside. Now I know I can survive and look after Kate.

Day 1 – I wish the news would stop whipping up a media frenzy re the weather. I’m sure they’re given a backhander from the bakeries to make people go crazy on the bread buying front. And I wish the sheeple didn’t go and clog the supermarkets buying six loaves per person. Crazy people.
Kate dumped me today, I don’t think that’s helping my mood. I knew it was coming though, I’ve known about her and Mark for weeks. I should’ve kept going to the gym, if I had a six pack like him she might not have looked elsewhere.

Day 2 – Advice today on the news on how to keep warm in the impending cold storms, some prick telling me to ‘layer up’ and not just wear a jumper. If someone needs to be told how to keep warm, then they shouldn’t be wasting my air space. Why not layer up with all the bread you’ve just bought you nutters. Maybe shove a couple of croissants in your pants too.
Kate texted me, she asked me to gather up all her stuff ready for her to collect. I got excited when I saw her name ping onto my phone, part of me wanted her to say she’d made a mistake, part of me knew I wasn’t that lucky.

Day 3 – The snow has fallen here now. Fed up already of seeing posts on Facebook re snow days. Seems most of my friends are now five-year old’s making snow angels on their lawns. I’m probably only grumpy because I want the day off from work too, or a week, having to be nice to customers when inside I’m crumbling is draining me. But no, I live within walking distance from work, according to Mr. Jacobs, so I’m the sucker trekking in while Ben is warm at home drinking hot chocolate with whiskey and watching Netflix marathons. Twat.
Haven’t heard from Kate today.

Day 4 – Suggested we close today as we didn’t have any customers, but Mr. Jacobs said no. Who the hell wants to have their eyes tested in a blizzard? Unless they’re worried that all they can see is whiteness. More snow forecast on the doom and gloom box. I think I’ll throw a sickie tomorrow, I can’t take anymore of rubber band ball boredom. And sneaking onto Facebook to see people enjoying the snow is annoying me now.
Kate changed her profile from ‘in a relationship with Adam’ to ‘in a relationship with Mark’. It physically hurt to read that. She could’ve at least had a day of being ‘single’. And all her friends obviously knew as there were just thumbs up and heart reactions to the post. I wanted to write something stinging in the comments, so Kate would know how much I was hurting, but what’s the point, she doesn’t care anymore.

Day 5- Tried to order extra warm gloves from Amazon and they’re not offering next day prime delivery due to the weather. No local shops are open due to the weather. So, I guess my hands will just have to be cold, due to the weather. At least I got sent home early from work today. Mr. Jacobs has had enough of sitting in a silence, and watching me make a ball from elastic bands was probably doing his head in just as much as mine. Only one supermarket open in town, it’s starting to look empty. Those stupid people bulk buying have stripped it. Selfish twats.

Day 6- It’s starting to feel like Groundhog Day watching the news, snow, snow and more snow. More due, no end in sight. I might go back up to the supermarket today, get some tins in.
Waitrose was the only shop open in town, full of people like me who had braved a walk in, covered in snow and looking for essentials. Not many essentials left though. I bought tins of soup, packets of cereals, jelly cubes and chocolate. There was no bread, but packets of cream crackers a plenty, got loads of those. Not many staff in so a bit of a queue. There was a strange eerie vibe amongst us in there. Seemed like we were all sizing up each other’s baskets, and each other. The checkout lady said they were closing in an hour and didn’t know when they were going to open again. I went back around and got dry roasted nuts, Battenburgs, and Jaffa Cakes. I’m so cold my bones are numb.
Packed up Kate’s stuff, some toiletries, some clothes, and ‘The Secret’ book. The irony isn’t lost on me. Oh, and a pot of Nutella in the fridge which I’m keeping. Not much really considering she stayed here a lot. I guess she always knew it wasn’t long term for her.

Day 7- Lights have flickered a bit today and the tv keeps threatening to go off. I’ve charged up my kindle and phone. I’ve fished out some torches from the shed and dotted them around the house. The Granger’s packed up their four by four and drove off, I guess they’re going to stay with one of their kids and their families. That only leaves me here and Mark down the lane now.
Kate texted, she’s on her way to collect her stuff. I hope that doesn’t mean what I think it means, because I know she can’t get here from her parents’ house in this snow. I have her belongings in a cardboard box on the dining table now, it looks like a weird mini shrine.
I just cried for the first time since my mum died. I feel such an idiot. Kate picked up her stuff. She looked beautiful, all wrapped up with her pink wooly hat on, rosy cheeks, and smelling so wonderful with that jasmine perfume on. She didn’t want to stay for a drink, didn’t want to bring snow into mine on her boots. She said she was glad we could be grown up about things. I just smiled and watched her walking down the lane to his house. That’s when I cried. I’m glad I didn’t do it in front of her. The thought of her in his bed tonight, cuddling up to him, the thought of seeing them as I walk to work, life you are a bastard. I hate Mark, I hate myself, I hate the world.

Day 8- I’ve given up clearing the path from the lane to the house, the postman has stopped coming now anyway. It must be three feet deep out there now. I don’t want to go outside, I don’t want to see them, I don’t know what I’ll do.

Day 9- More snow overnight, what a surprise. Four feet now. News channels are showing carnage all over the country. Roads unpassable. Looting in cities. I’m glad I live here in the sticks. Well, the one exception. I’ve seen Kate through the window, trying to walk Mark’s dog. The dog doesn’t want to go, he just pees in the garden and they go back in. I stand to the side of the window, I don’t want her to see me watching.

Day 10- The internet has gone. Well, the landline broadband. Mobile phone internet is still up and running. The news is all the same though, no end in sight to the big freeze. Reading more now, classics, Kate always said I should read more, of the quality kind. Frankenstein is my current one. Different to the film. I prefer the film. I bet Mark prefers the book. I wish I’d picked up more varieties of soup, I’m fed up of tomato now. It’s Kate’s favourite flavour.

Day 11- No mobile signal. After an initial panic I’ve realised that no one phones me, and I don’t phone anyone. Only Kate, but not anymore.

Day 12- The satellite signal has gone down. No more TV for me. At least I have lots of DVDs I can watch. Time for a Lord of the Rings marathon. More snow. Less soup.

Day 13- Now the electrics have gone. Cold soup is gross but better than nothing. Going to bed when it gets dark so that I can save the torch batteries. Got all my clothing out to keep warm, layering up.

Day 14- Still no electricity. It feels weird being cut off from the rest of the world and not knowing what’s going on. The snow isn’t stopping. I cleared a path to the shed and found the camping stove. At least I can heat my soup. My last can.

Day 15- Snow.

Day 16- Snow.

Day 17- More fricking snow.

Day 18- I have no food left. I’ve even eaten Kate’s Nutella. I feel I need to go out and look for food, but I’m also worried about conserving my energy, it’s a six-mile round trek into town, and what if it’s for nothing? I wonder how much food Kate and Mark have.
Struggled into town, my legs hurt so bad walking through the snow. No surprise that nothing was open. It was like a deserted ghost town. I only saw two people, one man pulled his hood up and walked in the other direction when he saw me, the other man just blanked me when I said hi. Weird. I wondered if I’d imagined him. A few shops had their doors broken and had been looted. I stood and stared for a while, surprised this had happened in this small town. I’m ashamed to say I went in and took items too. I’ve written them down and will pay the owners when this craziness stops. I took cheap wine from Bargain Booze, someone had beaten me to all the spirits, and throat sweets and paracetamol from a ransacked chemist, all the stronger drugs had gone.
I saw a dead cat on the way back and was tempted to bring it home to cook it. But then I thought it might have died from a disease and not just the cold. How has it come to this? Stealing from looted shops and eyeing up dead animals on the roadside. Life is a bastard.

Day 19- I’ve woken up cold and hungry. I thought about setting traps to catch rabbits, but the snow is so deep it wouldn’t work. And I haven’t even seen any rabbits.

Day 20- Mark came outside with the dog today. I hope Kate is ok. He cleared the square in his garden and left the dog out while he popped back in. Christ, I felt myself wondering how the dog would taste.

Day 21- I stared at myself in the mirror. Having not shaved for weeks I saw my dad staring back at me. How I remember him anyway, he’s probably dead by now, I wouldn’t know, he didn’t want responsibility. He didn’t want me. Did he feel a failure like me? Is that why he walked away? If I had kids they’d be better off without me.
I saw Kate at the upstairs window. I waved. She didn’t wave back. She probably didn’t see me, the houses are quite far apart. She’s the only person that wanted me. Until Mark stole her away from me. Now I just have wine and pills to look forward to.

Day 22- Wine, you taste like cheap vinegar, but you make me forget what a loser I am. For that, I love you.

Day 23- Why aren’t the military or the police dealing with this shit? We’re all going to die. Maybe most people have. A second ice-age? Is this what happened? Everything just froze to death.
I broke into the Granger’s house this afternoon. I didn’t need to clear a path as the snow is so deep and compact you can just walk on top of it. They had porridge oats in their cupboards, I have no milk to make proper porridge but at least I can eat the oats. I took their drinks. Whiskey and a collection of wines. Some vile sherry too, it wouldn’t be my first choice but wasn’t going to leave it behind. I also got a pot of mustard, a jar of lemon curd, jars of tomato pasta sauce, tinned vegetables and tinned fruit. I had a good look around their house. Mrs. Granger has a nice collection of lingerie, not what I would have expected for an older lady. Mr. Granger has a rifle, I didn’t know that. I took that too, with a packet of bullets. Maybe I can hunt something. The food I’ve taken from them won’t last long.

Day 24- Feeling better today, could be the food, could be the better wine. I’m going to see if I can find anything to hunt to day. I’ve never shot a gun before. I’m strangely excited.
Nothing, not even a bird in the sky. The only movement I watched through the scope was Mark and the dog. They went into the garden again for the dog to do its business. Mark went back inside to give the dog some privacy. I followed the dog with the rifle scope. It didn’t have much energy, it must be hungry itself. It would be kinder to put it down. I haven’t seen Kate in a while now. I hope she’s ok.

Day 25- Mark came outside with the dog again. Where’s Kate? What’s he done to her? I’m going to go check on her. Tempted to take the gun with me but if he sees me walking towards him with that he could kick off and I don’t have the energy to waste. I’ll take the small vegetable knife from the kitchen with me. Just for self defense if he tries anything.
Smug bastard. He was in the garden with the dog. I asked him where Kate was. He said she didn’t want to see me. I asked him to ask her. He said she was ill in bed. I asked to see her. He said no, she was sleeping. Bastard. He’s not looking after her properly, like I would. He went in and locked the door. Stupid twat left the dog outside. I can see him now out the window, shouting for the dog to come to him. You’ll need to shout louder Mark, he can’t hear you with the boiling water bubbling around his ears on my camping stove.

Day 26- I slept well. Surprising what a good protein meal can do for you. I feel stronger today. That’s good, Kate needs me to be strong now. She needs me. I’m focused now. I think I can do it. I know I can do it.
I might have a long wait. He won’t be out for the regular dog toilet breaks. I’ve opened the window slightly, enough for the tip of the rifle to poke out. And I’ll wait. As long as it takes.
Two hours. That’s all I had to wait. He went outside calling for the dog again. My first shot missed. Excited fingers. Luckily Mark didn’t twig what the noise was until I lined him up again for another shot. I got him in the chest. He hit the ground hard. I watched. Ready to fire again. He didn’t get up. I ran down the stairs and down the lane. He was still on the ground. The snow under him was vivid red. I stared. I looked up at the window, no Kate watching. I dragged him back here. Exhausted now. Must rest. Kate needs me.


Another Year Older

Published January 31, 2018 by Naomi Rettig

Another year older and what have I done?
I’ve held on to my sanity and had lots of fun.
I went to a boot camp and did a zip wire,
Screaming so much like my ass was on fire.
I went to a film set and had my throat slit,
It looked really gory but didn’t hurt one bit.
Inglorious in concert and Wayward Sons too,
Electric Six was a blast, and Dick Valentine, woo!
The Emmerdale weekend was of course a highlight,
If I ever missed that my year wouldn’t seem right.
Met Michael Madsen at London Comic Con,
A chat with him and my legs were gone.
I went to a wedding that was full of romance,
I felt all happy and in a love trance.
I relaxed in Jersey with walks along the beach
And got mugged by a seagull with the loudest screech.
I left my job as it was getting a strain,
Went back to my old one for the sake of my brain.
Book number four was hot off the press.
And I ate too much fudge, I must confess.
I met lots of new friends to add to the collection,
I really do have such a wonderful selection.
If this following year is even half as much fun
I’ll be a bouncy, jolly, happy bun*.

*Unless I meet Judd Nelson, where I’ll spontaneously combust,
And drift of in the atmosphere like sparkly purple dust.


Published January 1, 2018 by Naomi Rettig

As I laze here in post-Christmas slump
I’m drinking coffee via a pump.
I look like I’ve eaten an inflated space hopper,
I could explode any time, like a giant party popper.

I’ve scoffed so much sugar I’m turning into fudge,
You’ve done the same so please don’t judge.
I need to roll off the sofa and partake in exercise,
But to the muscles in my legs this might be a surprise.

Bring out the salad, it’s time to detox,
My skin’s breaking out like some kind of pox.
A healthy new me will now atone,
Oh, look over there, some rogue Toblerone.

Mugged by a seagull, named Steven.

Published November 4, 2017 by Naomi Rettig

I set off for a challenging two-mile coastal walk. Probably not challenging for most people, but this was involving climbing up high then descending onto a beautiful deserted bay that can only be accessed on foot, a challenge for me. It was scary at some points as the wind was up, would I get blown over the cliff tops? Would my knees cope with the steep drop down? Would my phone get signal to phone the coastguard if I couldn’t climb back up out of the bay? And if not how long would my hotel biscuits, that I’d packed in my bag for emergencies, last for?

At many points in the walk my little miss negative kept telling me I couldn’t do it. I had to keep reminding myself that I could, and when I couldn’t convince myself I resorted to bribery. ‘If you climb that cliff you can have an ice-cream.’ ‘If you make it down there you can have an ice-cream.’ My inner five-year-old responded to the ice-cream bribe, and I climbed, scrambled, and completed my walk.

Walking back to the bay that I’d started from, all I was thinking about was my ice-cream reward, my prize for being an awesome adventurer. Guilt free too as my Fitbit was telling me that I’d burnt eight hundred calories on my walk. I was a smug adventurer. I felt epic.

At the ice-cream kiosk I requested one scoop of rum and raisin. The lady asked if I wanted a flake in that. Feeling like I’d trekked from outer Peru, I declared, still smugly, that yes, I would like to have a flake in that. That was my mistake right there. Floored by a flake.

Holding my ice-cream in my hand, like an Olympic torch, I started strolling off towards a bench along the promenade. I was going to take a deserved seat, relax in the tranquil setting, and savour my rum and raisin heaven. I was going to do that, but that never happened.

My mugging happened so fast. I felt a smack on my head, a blackness in front of my face, and my ice-cream was snatched from my hand. With my hand still in ice-cream holding pose minus the cone, I realised I’d been attacked by a seagull. The smack on my head was its wing, the blackness in my face was its fat body. I’d screamed loudly when I was hit on the head, which drew the attention of a couple on the beach and two pensioners behind me. I wish my natural reaction hadn’t been a loud scream. I wish I hadn’t drawn attention to what happened next. I have never been so ashamed of myself.

As the seagull lifted the ice-cream, via the flake handle, with its mangy webbed feet, the flake snapped in half. My ice-cream plummeted to the floor, presenting itself at my feet. All the build up to my ice-cream, the longing, the desire, the deservedness, the anticipation, all lay at my feet on a dirty walkway. My emotions exploded at the seagull, still flapping by my head, brandishing half a flake at me. I swore. In public. ‘Bastard!’ I shouted at the seagull. Aggressively. Just as loud as my scream. I was instantly mortified at myself. I’d let myself down.

The intrepid heroic explorer had been replaced with a potty mouthed fishwife. I could feel the pensioners disapproval boring into me. A lady on the beach laughed, then covered her mouth to disguise this. I picked my ice-cream cone up. Taking a tissue from my bag I wiped down my ice-cream to removed traces of the pavement. I then walked to the furthest bench on the beach to eat it. Steven the seagull followed me. Bastard. As I sat on the bench he landed at my feet. I told him ‘you have got to be joking.’ He wasn’t. He stood there, his greedy beady eyes focused purely on my ice-cream. His eyes were indeed on the prize.

So, my image of relaxing to the sounds of the sea while slowly enjoying my rum and raisin ice-cream didn’t materialize. Instead I got mugged by a seagull, swore angrily in public, disappointed some pensioners, and shoved and ice-cream down my throat in world record speed.

The flake was my mistake.

The 12 Days of Christmas, at the Surgery.

Published September 12, 2017 by Naomi Rettig

(to be sung to the tune of ‘The 12 Days of Christmas’)

On the twelfth day of Christmas
My GP gave to me
Twelve happy tablets,
Eleven messy dressings,
Ten asthma puffers,
Nine Mirena coils,
Eight vaccinations,
Seven lifestyle lectures,
Six creams for itching,
Five prostate probes,
Four med reviews,
Three sick bowls,
Two catheters,
And a small pot to fill with pee.

When a virus hijacks your brain.

Published September 1, 2017 by Naomi Rettig

(In bed, ill with a high temperature)

Brain: Ooh isn’t it cold.

Me: No.

Brain: It is.

Me: It’s not cold, I’ve got a temperature.

Brain: It’s freezing.

Me: (touching head to confirm) No, I’m boiling.

Brain: What’s that noise?

Me: (listening carefully) I can’t hear anything?

Brain: Can’t you hear that? The sound of your bones knocking together as they shiver?

Me: Pack it in.

Brain: Why don’t you put some socks on, your feet are cold aren’t they?

Me: (sighs) Yes, my feet feel cold now that you mention it. (gets out of bed and puts socks on)

Brain: (sings Vanilla Ice’s ‘Ice Ice Baby’)

Me: (back in bed) What are you doing now? I need to sleep.

Brain: I’m singing cold songs. Because it’s cold.

Me: Please stop.

Brain: Why don’t you put a nighty on. It’s cold and you’re nude, that’s just silly.

Me: I’m not nude, I have socks on. (gets out of bed and puts nighty on, gets back into bed)

(One minute and thirty-nine seconds tick by)

Brain: (sings Ultravox’s Vienna)

Me: That’s not a cold song, why are you singing that?

Brain: Midge Ure looked chilly in the video, so it’s a cold song.

Me: Stop talking, and singing, I need to sleep.

Brain: It’s too cold to sleep. But if you put another layer on you’ll feel all snugly and fall asleep.

Me: Ok, I give in.

Brain: Good, if you get any colder you’ll need the toilet.

Bladder: Hello!

Me: Great. I suppose you want to be emptied?

Bladder: Yes. Isn’t it cold.

Me: Don’t you start. (Empties bladder, layers up, back into bed) Can I sleep now?

Bladder: (snoring)

Brain: Of course. Snuggle down. Right under the duvet for maximum warmth.

(waking six hours later in a pool of sweat)

Me: Oh sweet horse chestnuts! I’m roasting alive! (fumbles feebly to remove socks while fighting heat fatigue)

Brain: Ha! Got you!

Bladder: Hello!


Published August 26, 2017 by Naomi Rettig

Misty pouted her blood red lips at her reflection. ‘Irresistible.’ She sprayed herself with perfume, Gucci Envy, and smiled. His last gift to her.

There was a knock at the hotel door. Misty took a deep breath. She carefully applied the gloss that she had mixed earlier over her lipstick barrier. Her lips glistened like syrup. A more impatient knock came to the door. She stood and walked over to the door, she undid her silk gown revealing a black corset and overflowing breasts.

She opened the door slowly. ‘Hello Joe.’

The man in front of her, Joe, appraised her body from head to toe, his eyes relocated to her chest when his surveying had finished. ‘What are you doing to me? You’re killing me.’

Misty smirked. ‘You don’t have to come in.’ She stepped back and arched her body slightly, glancing over her shoulder. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye properly.’

She turned fully back into the room, and heard the door close behind her. She dropped her gown to the floor.

Joe slid his arms around her waist. ‘This is definitely the last time,’ he whispered.

Misty felt his warm breath on her neck. ‘Definitely.’

‘I can’t leave her, not now.’ Joe’s fumbling hands stumbled up to her breasts.

‘Not now she’s pregnant.’ Misty twisted in Joe’s arms so she was facing him. ‘It’s ok Joe, you can say it. I’ve calmed down now.’ She started to undo his shirt. Her red nails a contrast to the white cotton. ‘You were going to leave her, weren’t you?’

‘Of course.’ Joe’s breathing got deeper as his eyes flitted between Misty’s fingers unbuttoning him and her slightly wobbling cleavage.

Misty finished unbuttoning his shirt. ‘I love you Joe, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Did you want that too? Did you want to be with me forever?’

Joe refocused to Misty’s hypnotizing dark eyes. ‘Yes, but -’

She placed her index finger on his lips and trailed it down to the bottom lip, parting them slightly, then releasing. ‘Tell me that you love me.’

‘I love you.’

Misty lifted her face to his, she saw his nostrils flare slightly as he smelt her perfume. ‘Kiss me.’

Joe immediately locked lips with Misty, like a screw on a magnet. They kissed with the hungriness of hyenas devouring prey. Misty pulled Joe down onto the bed. His hand slid up her leg to her inner thigh.

Misty stopped his hand going higher and pulled her lips away from his. ‘Hold me.’

Joe tried to kiss her neck. ‘But I haven’t got long.’

‘I know.’ She smiled sweetly, while pulling him closer and kissed him gently.

The slow tender kissing gave way to faster primal kissing and Joe started to fumble with his trousers, trying to undo them while staying glued to Misty’s lips.

Misty reached down and blocked Joe’s hand. ‘No.’

Joe froze. ‘What?’

‘You’re not using me anymore my love.’ Her hand moved up and stroked his face.

Joe frowned and studied her eyes. ‘But you called me? You said you needed to say goodbye properly? I thought this was going to be our last time together, to say goodbye.’

‘We can say goodbye without having sex.’

Joe pulled away from Misty and did his trousers up. ‘Why invite me here, to a hotel room? We could have just met for a drink.’

‘We couldn’t have met for a drink, that would be too public. I needed you here in private. I needed that kiss from you, now you couldn’t have kissed me like that in the pub, with prying eyes everywhere.’ Misty smiled at Joe, her red lipstick in place but the gloss gone.

Joe sighed and rolled onto his back, his hands flat on the bed. ‘If you’re trying to make me leave her again it’s not going to happen. You know I can’t.’ He glanced across at Misty. ‘Even though I want to.’

Misty shuffled closer and placed her hand on his chest. ‘I know you want to. That’s why I’m doing this.’

‘Doing what?’

‘I mean, if you’d said you didn’t love me anymore, or that you’d just be using me, of course I’d be heart broken, but in time and tears I would have got over you.’

Joe rolled back onto his side. ‘Doing what Misty?’

‘We both want to be together forever.’ Misty cupped his face lightly. ‘Just the two of us for eternity.’

Joe pulled away quickly. ‘What have you done to Claire?’

‘I haven’t done anything to her, why would I?’

Joe sat upright. ‘To be with me, to get her out of the way.’

‘I can’t believe you’d think I’d hurt her, pregnant too. I’m not a monster.’ Misty sat up too. ‘And if I hurt her I’d go to prison, and we’d still be apart.’

‘So what are you talking about?’

Before Misty had chance to reply Joe doubled up and moaned a guttural groan, collapsing back down onto the bed.

‘It’s started my love.’ Misty cradled Joe in her arms and stroked his hair. ‘It’ll start with me soon. My lipstick will have stopped it absorbing as quick into my system.’

Joe contorted in pain. ‘What have you done?’

‘Ssh, ssh, it’s all going to be ok. I put strychnine into my lip gloss.’ She kissed his forehead, then drew her knees up to her stomach. ‘It’s happening to me now too.’

‘You’re crazy.’ Joe started to pant.

‘Crazy for you my love. We will always be together now, for eternity.’