July Meeting

We met at John's today just nine of us. Joan, last month's winner continued the serial about the creepy old house that Sue started. A varied offering of stories which made choosing the winner difficult and the votes were well spread out. Sue's story was read out by Pat which recounted the follow up of a much earlier story of the maiden in distress after losing the oars to her hired boat. The handsome but lowly fisherman was really a high flier. Brian's story was of a villein who bit part of an ear off. Joan Read's Jimmy Bond sorted out the malingerers. Rosemary told of the changed days before the Health and Safety made scrumping too dangerous.Joan wrote about a missing boy who was found 10 years later. I told of my army days. John about the carnival and Ann about the depressing possible future we face.
Sheila's had a surprising ending where victims of an accident weren't. This was voted best story. Below the winning story is the serial the winner adds each month.

Sheila's Compensation to pay

The First Response came quickly and calmly felt for a pulse, did blood pressure, just what you would expect him to do. The heart monitor was attached, then he proceeded to feel her body to see if there were any broken bones. Her left leg was at a funny angle so I wasn't surprised when the First Responder said it was broken. There were cuts and grazes on her face and down her side, but it was good to know that it was not life threatening. I had been able to walk away from the wreckage with only cuts and bruises, my clothes were torn, but that didn't matter.
We have been friends for years, ever since we had been to the same school. We learned to do shorthand and typing, and although we went to work in different offices, we met up most lunch times. Along come boys, and eventually we got married and settled down not too far from each other. Our husbands became friends, so we were going out as a foursome, which we enjoyed. Over the years we both had a son and a daughter, similar in age. Then, all of a sudden the children were grown up. Oh! Where had all those years gone? One day I saw and advert in the Echo. I showed it to my friend, who was equally as keen so we answered the advert, filled in the forms, then we were given an address to go to. So, here we are, in the middle of all this carnage. A lady came from nowhere with cups of tea, which was most welcome. The rest of the day passed in a daze, we were so busy. On the way home that evening we said we were both pleased to have had answered the advert to be "victims" in a Red Cross training exercise. The makeup and situation was so real. So there was no COMPENSATION TO PAY and we felt quite proud to have taken part.

Serial

Gradually, as the seconds ticked slowly by on the illuminated dial of the clock beside her bed, she began to relax. Her heartbeat slowed and she sank back on the pillows, her hands releasing their frantic grip on the sheet. She started to recognise the reassuringly familiar night noises; the rustling of the ivy outside the window in the breeze, the hoot of the resident owl in the old oak opposite her window and the usual creaking of the floor boards in the old house. Eventually her eyelids fluttered downwards as they became heavier and she started to drift off to sleep once more. Then she was wide awake again as she recognised the noise which had so abruptly awoken her before. There it was again. What was it? An alien sound intruding into the familiar, a sound which shouldn’t be here in this time and place –and it came from the hall outside her bedroom door.
She lay there biting her lip a habit she had when she was nervous or afraid she reached for her phone and then realised it was down stairs. She started to remember the stories her grandmother used to tell her about the house, which was about 300 years old for the past 200 years, generations of her family had lived here. In that time there had many births and deaths, which had all been recorded in the family diary. However the first 100 years were a mystery there was a legend that a great evil act had taken place but nobody knew exactly what but her grandmother was convinced the house was haunted. She always thought that this was her grandmother’s imagination after all there was no such thing as ghosts. There was the sound again she knew she had to find the courage to open the bedroom door she got out of bed and reached for her glasses put on her slippers and dressing gown something she was aways told to do by her mother and started towards the door when she stopped, had the door handle moved she could hardly breath she watched, waiting for it to move again, eventually she told herself of course it did not move she took hold of the handle opened the door and stepped out onto the landing.

THE ‘CREATIVE WRITING’ SERIAL!

THE ‘CREATIVE WRITING’ SERIAL!
[commenced Monday, 29th June 2009]

She came awake immediately, sitting up abruptly, her heart thumping crazily, her eyes wide and staring as they roved wildly around the room, trying to pierce the dense blackness, her ears straining for any sound. Had she been dreaming? She had no recollection. What had woken her in such a panic? She clutched the sheet under her chin and continued to listen intently.

Gradually, as the seconds ticked slowly by on the illuminated dial of the clock beside her bed, she began to relax. Her heartbeat slowed and she sank back on the pillows, her hands releasing their frantic grip on the sheet. She started to recognise the reassuringly familiar night noises; the rustling of the ivy outside the window in the breeze, the hoot of the resident owl in the old oak opposite her window and the usual creaking of the floor boards in the old house. Eventually her eyelids fluttered downwards as they became heavier and she started to drift off to sleep once more. Then she was wide awake again as she recognised the noise which had so abruptly awoken her before. There it was again. What was it? An alien sound intruding into the familiar, a sound which shouldn’t be here in this time and place – and it came from the hall outside her bedroom door.