PTSD

By Sabah Carrim

In night and light and the half-light, a snatch-theft, a robbery and a smashed window. That was two years ago. Now, blood splashed on my windscreen. PTSD.

Boulders on a truck, as I lag behind. Brakes screech. The world rolling onto my car bonnet and burying me alive. PTSD.

Motorbike zooms past and slashes my neck with a parang. Fresh cadaver in the green grass. Blood trickling onto asphalt like water from a hose. PTSD. Continue reading