Another mixture of stories with one common theme, "nothing". John's was adventures underground. Joan Read read a disturbing tale of death coming to a family. I recounted a story of anticipated passion. Joan Edmunds told of a missing Premium Bond. Sue told of a woman who floated out into the sea while asleep to be rescued by a fisherman. The question was asked did she marry him but we will perhaps have to wait to find out. Sally told of a spider in the salad based on a real event. Sheila told of childhood memories. Pat gave us the background history to Corfe Castle. Ann took us back into caving.Brian's got the most votes a tale of long ago.
NOTHING
Gone is the forge, with its leather-aproned, shirtsleeved men, sweating in hoof-burned, acrid-dimness. Pulling out white-hot metal from the roaring furnace's eye-catching glow, with long tongs. Then knocking into shape, the hiss and the whisps of steam as the horse shoe's were dipped into the bubbling water.
Gone the sudden jangle of chain and brass, the creak And stomp over us as the great Shire horse's turned at The plough on the headland high banked above the deep Lane. Glancing brown-eyed and black hair-fringed,
Down at us as they passed by.
Gone the square, brass-buckled and broad-shining leather Belted, hobnailed booted men who shovelled coal into Heavy course sacks, which were them loaded onto the Lorries.
Gone are the people who came out from they cottages
With bucket and crook to dip water from their wells.
Gone are the nightingales with bramble-hills and willow,
Which hid, sheltered, nested and fed them, and the night jar,
Spinning its purring web of sound from the centre of the
moonlit field.
Gone the flocks of starlings that rose in dense clouds, to descend into the reed-beds at the mouth of the river,
bending the stems under their weight.
Gone are the Romanies that lived in the forest.
Gone are the Hares, you would see as many as 20 pounding
Round the fields. Grunting, Kicking, Bucking, they boxed
Like Kangaroos, jumping over each other, lashing-out With their hind feet. You never see that in March any more.
Gone are the clicking of milk bottles on the door step in the Morning. Gone are the cry of the RAG & BONE man as he pushes his barrow up the street. Gone are the large white £5 notes.
Gone...." ARE YOU GOING TO SIT THERE ALL DAY? YOUR TEA'S READY, WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN
THINKING OF"?
OH! NOTHING
Monday, 27 April 2009
Monday, 30 March 2009
30th March
Meeting at John and Sheila's in their sunny front room by nine dedicated would be authors and very good stories to tell. Joan E told of the time we had a bonfire in our garden. Sue a very disturbing one about a child being abused. Ann wrote about promotion that brought tears to the eyes. John hot air balloon, Brian ghosts, Sheila about flowers and working at a garden nursery. My contribution compensation for an accident. But Joan Read came tops in the voting.
Tears
Fiona McNab sat on her bed and looked in the mirror, the image she saw was of a green eyed woman quite pretty but nothing out of the ordinary except for one thing, there was also another image looking at her in the mirror, that of a young girl. Her long black hair was braided and fell as two plaits either side of her shoulders, she wore a shift and on her feet were moccasins Fiona had seen this girl many times since they had moved into this ranch. Her husband Richard went ballistic when she mentioned it. He said that her ability to see people that were not there was just her imagination but she knew without a shadow of doubt that this girl whether she was a ghost an apparition or spirit needed help.
Fiona went outside into the paddock where she saw old Tom leaning on the fence he had been called this since he was 17. He was now in his 76th year. She asked him if there was anything unusual about this land." Well now" he said chewing on a piece of grass "the land here as far as you can see used to be Indian land and there is a legend that a massacre took place near here. A troop of cavalry returning from a battle with Cochise (who was a Chiricahua Apache) came upon this village and slaughtered the woman and children but this had never been proven."
Fiona thanked him and continued her walk, after about I5 minutes she came upon an old barn which looked as if it was about to fall down. Before she got to the door, it opened. Fiona could hardly breath her heart was pumping so hard she thought it would burst. Just inside the door she saw the girl who beckoned to her. She went in and the door closed behind her. As her eyes became accustomed to the light she saw them. Woman and children some standing some sitting and some sleeping. Just as she was about to question the girl the door flew open and there was her husband, she said "Richard can you see them". He got hold of her shoulders and even though the tears were running down her face he shook her hard and yelled at her "do you really want everyone to think that you are mad" he was furious "enough of this nonsense" he yelled and with that he left. Just then Tom came in "You hear them don't you" he said "No" Fiona answered, "I saw them, they are here in this barn waiting for us. We need to dig up the floor". Tom said he would arrange for a machine and driver to come tomorrow. That evening when her husband came in Fiona kept quite she never mentioned the vision or the barn or about tomorrows event she knew he did not understand or believe.
The next morning when all was quiet the digging started it was not long before the first skeleton was found they could see that it was of a small child Tom phoned the sheriff and soon there were forensic scientist, anthropologists, historians and photographers all over the place by late afternoon 40 bodies had been found all of them were woman and children. When Richard finally arrived home Fiona could see by his face that their marriage was over but she knew it was worth it when she looked into the mirror that night and the image of the girl seemed to say "Thank you" and Fiona knew that she would not see her again. The bodies would be recorded and then buried according to Indian ritual on a sacred piece of land where hopefully they would remain in peace.
Tears
Fiona McNab sat on her bed and looked in the mirror, the image she saw was of a green eyed woman quite pretty but nothing out of the ordinary except for one thing, there was also another image looking at her in the mirror, that of a young girl. Her long black hair was braided and fell as two plaits either side of her shoulders, she wore a shift and on her feet were moccasins Fiona had seen this girl many times since they had moved into this ranch. Her husband Richard went ballistic when she mentioned it. He said that her ability to see people that were not there was just her imagination but she knew without a shadow of doubt that this girl whether she was a ghost an apparition or spirit needed help.
Fiona went outside into the paddock where she saw old Tom leaning on the fence he had been called this since he was 17. He was now in his 76th year. She asked him if there was anything unusual about this land." Well now" he said chewing on a piece of grass "the land here as far as you can see used to be Indian land and there is a legend that a massacre took place near here. A troop of cavalry returning from a battle with Cochise (who was a Chiricahua Apache) came upon this village and slaughtered the woman and children but this had never been proven."
Fiona thanked him and continued her walk, after about I5 minutes she came upon an old barn which looked as if it was about to fall down. Before she got to the door, it opened. Fiona could hardly breath her heart was pumping so hard she thought it would burst. Just inside the door she saw the girl who beckoned to her. She went in and the door closed behind her. As her eyes became accustomed to the light she saw them. Woman and children some standing some sitting and some sleeping. Just as she was about to question the girl the door flew open and there was her husband, she said "Richard can you see them". He got hold of her shoulders and even though the tears were running down her face he shook her hard and yelled at her "do you really want everyone to think that you are mad" he was furious "enough of this nonsense" he yelled and with that he left. Just then Tom came in "You hear them don't you" he said "No" Fiona answered, "I saw them, they are here in this barn waiting for us. We need to dig up the floor". Tom said he would arrange for a machine and driver to come tomorrow. That evening when her husband came in Fiona kept quite she never mentioned the vision or the barn or about tomorrows event she knew he did not understand or believe.
The next morning when all was quiet the digging started it was not long before the first skeleton was found they could see that it was of a small child Tom phoned the sheriff and soon there were forensic scientist, anthropologists, historians and photographers all over the place by late afternoon 40 bodies had been found all of them were woman and children. When Richard finally arrived home Fiona could see by his face that their marriage was over but she knew it was worth it when she looked into the mirror that night and the image of the girl seemed to say "Thank you" and Fiona knew that she would not see her again. The bodies would be recorded and then buried according to Indian ritual on a sacred piece of land where hopefully they would remain in peace.
Wednesday, 25 February 2009
February's winning story from Sheila
HOW ARE YOU GETTING ON?
Like many racing stables Sam's Stables were near to a racecourse. There were several races during the season and in a few weeks time there is due to be a big race. All the big names in the racing world will be there and tension was starting to rise even this early. I worked at Sam's Stables part-time, doing cleaning up and helping to keep the place tidy. It also entails making tea for the jockeys when they come back from the training runs. I am constantly amazed how small the jockeys are. I am not very big in stature but I feel enormous standing by the side of some of them. One jockey - Tony - seems to be child-size against the rest. He said that at school he was always the smallest and a teacher jokingly said that being a jockey would be ideal for him and the more be thought about if the more it appealled and so he joined Sam's Stables. Now, ten years later, he was one of the top class jockeys and horse owners were always after him to ride their horses. I likened him to Lester Piggott, being able to pick and choose which horse to ride. For this big race coming up he was riding a different horse each day so that he knew which one would be the best for this particular course. When he had chosen I was surprized how big the horse was. It seemed to be quite a bit bigger than the rest and it made Tony look smaller than ever. Without thinking I blurted out HOW ARE YOU GETTING ON? He just laughted and said "Don't worry about me- I will just have to get a bigger box to stand on"!!!
Like many racing stables Sam's Stables were near to a racecourse. There were several races during the season and in a few weeks time there is due to be a big race. All the big names in the racing world will be there and tension was starting to rise even this early. I worked at Sam's Stables part-time, doing cleaning up and helping to keep the place tidy. It also entails making tea for the jockeys when they come back from the training runs. I am constantly amazed how small the jockeys are. I am not very big in stature but I feel enormous standing by the side of some of them. One jockey - Tony - seems to be child-size against the rest. He said that at school he was always the smallest and a teacher jokingly said that being a jockey would be ideal for him and the more be thought about if the more it appealled and so he joined Sam's Stables. Now, ten years later, he was one of the top class jockeys and horse owners were always after him to ride their horses. I likened him to Lester Piggott, being able to pick and choose which horse to ride. For this big race coming up he was riding a different horse each day so that he knew which one would be the best for this particular course. When he had chosen I was surprized how big the horse was. It seemed to be quite a bit bigger than the rest and it made Tony look smaller than ever. Without thinking I blurted out HOW ARE YOU GETTING ON? He just laughted and said "Don't worry about me- I will just have to get a bigger box to stand on"!!!
Monday, 26 January 2009
26th January 2009
We met at Joan Read's on a nice day for January not cold nor wet. All the stories were very good, four gained equal votes so we took one from the hat which was Sue's to represent all of them.
SPREAD INFORMATION
Spreading information isn’t something we think very much about in the 21st Century. We take for granted that we have radio, television, phones, especially mobiles, and e-mail as well as newspapers. I did reflect on the phenomenal speed at which we receive breaking news when a plane performed an emergency landing in the Hudson River and the scene was snapped by a mobile phone user as the passengers emerged onto the wings. This amazing scene was flashed around the world even before the media knew about it!
Things were very different in past centuries, going back to when word had to be carried by messengers on foot or galloping from village to village on horseback, by town criers and more recently, during the previous two centuries, by telegram. Do you remember the telegram boys on their Post Office bikes, sporting their fetching uniforms and hats?
In times of war, those telegrams were viewed with dreadful fascination by wives and families waiting for news of loved ones. I know personally of one brave woman who had experienced these seesawing emotions, as what happened to her and her two year old son was a particularly cruel series of events.
Her husband, Ernie, was serving in the Royal Navy at the outbreak of war on 2nd September 1939. He was in the Mediterranean, expecting to return to port and a reunion with his wife and family, but his ship, HMS Glowworm, was diverted to the North Sea and on 8th April 1940 was sunk by the heavy cruiser Hipper during what some described as a foolhardy engagement and others hailed as an act of heroism. Many lives were lost, some in dreadful circumstances as oil insidiously crept around the sinking ship, coating and choking the hapless sailors who had managed to escape. The German propaganda machine later made full use of on- the-spot photographs of their rescue of some of the crew.
Meanwhile, Ellen had received the dreaded telegram from the Admiralty on 11th April, regretting having to report that her husband was missing, believed killed, on war service. Ellen began the heartbreaking task of going across the road every evening to listen to the nightly broadcasts from Bremen on her friend’s radio, naming British Naval prisoners, and she hoped to hear Ernie’s name and discover his fate. And fate certainly took a hand here, as one evening she was too ill to visit her friend. However, Mrs Lucas still listened and heard the announcer give a name that sounded like "Hurker". This was such scant information to go on that she said nothing, not wishing to raise Ellen’s hopes. Imagine everyone’s joy when Ellen received a telegram on the 25th April, to say, "Pleased to inform you information received from enemy sources that your husband Ernest …, Leading Signalman P/JX 132913, has been saved and is a prisoner of war and is injured."
Fourteen days of misery were at an end and there was much rejoicing among family and friends. Ellen told the Echo she had last seen her husband six weeks before when he came home on leave. On the day the first telegram came she had also received a very poignant letter from Ernie, saying it would be a long time before he would be home again. She had already bought mourning clothes when she heard of her tragic loss, but could now put them away again.
But cruel fate had not finished with Ellen, for some time later she received yet another telegram from the Admiralty, stating, "Deeply regret to inform you that information been received from Geneva that your husband Ernest … died on 22nd April 1940 in Trondheim Hospital and was buried in Stawne Cemetery, Trondheim on 30th April 1940." So all the time she had been celebrating the great news that Ernie had survived the sinking of the Glowworm, he was in fact already dead; such a tragedy for her and her son, Brian.
I am only a bystander in this family tragedy, but Brian grew up to become my husband and I still often think of their great loss, one of my ambitions being to visit that cemetery and pay my respects to the father-in-law I never knew.
Yes, times have changed so much and graphic pictures of the world’s tragedies often reach us via television within minutes of them happening. We certainly know how to spread information today.
SPREAD INFORMATION
Spreading information isn’t something we think very much about in the 21st Century. We take for granted that we have radio, television, phones, especially mobiles, and e-mail as well as newspapers. I did reflect on the phenomenal speed at which we receive breaking news when a plane performed an emergency landing in the Hudson River and the scene was snapped by a mobile phone user as the passengers emerged onto the wings. This amazing scene was flashed around the world even before the media knew about it!
Things were very different in past centuries, going back to when word had to be carried by messengers on foot or galloping from village to village on horseback, by town criers and more recently, during the previous two centuries, by telegram. Do you remember the telegram boys on their Post Office bikes, sporting their fetching uniforms and hats?
In times of war, those telegrams were viewed with dreadful fascination by wives and families waiting for news of loved ones. I know personally of one brave woman who had experienced these seesawing emotions, as what happened to her and her two year old son was a particularly cruel series of events.
Her husband, Ernie, was serving in the Royal Navy at the outbreak of war on 2nd September 1939. He was in the Mediterranean, expecting to return to port and a reunion with his wife and family, but his ship, HMS Glowworm, was diverted to the North Sea and on 8th April 1940 was sunk by the heavy cruiser Hipper during what some described as a foolhardy engagement and others hailed as an act of heroism. Many lives were lost, some in dreadful circumstances as oil insidiously crept around the sinking ship, coating and choking the hapless sailors who had managed to escape. The German propaganda machine later made full use of on- the-spot photographs of their rescue of some of the crew.
Meanwhile, Ellen had received the dreaded telegram from the Admiralty on 11th April, regretting having to report that her husband was missing, believed killed, on war service. Ellen began the heartbreaking task of going across the road every evening to listen to the nightly broadcasts from Bremen on her friend’s radio, naming British Naval prisoners, and she hoped to hear Ernie’s name and discover his fate. And fate certainly took a hand here, as one evening she was too ill to visit her friend. However, Mrs Lucas still listened and heard the announcer give a name that sounded like "Hurker". This was such scant information to go on that she said nothing, not wishing to raise Ellen’s hopes. Imagine everyone’s joy when Ellen received a telegram on the 25th April, to say, "Pleased to inform you information received from enemy sources that your husband Ernest …, Leading Signalman P/JX 132913, has been saved and is a prisoner of war and is injured."
Fourteen days of misery were at an end and there was much rejoicing among family and friends. Ellen told the Echo she had last seen her husband six weeks before when he came home on leave. On the day the first telegram came she had also received a very poignant letter from Ernie, saying it would be a long time before he would be home again. She had already bought mourning clothes when she heard of her tragic loss, but could now put them away again.
But cruel fate had not finished with Ellen, for some time later she received yet another telegram from the Admiralty, stating, "Deeply regret to inform you that information been received from Geneva that your husband Ernest … died on 22nd April 1940 in Trondheim Hospital and was buried in Stawne Cemetery, Trondheim on 30th April 1940." So all the time she had been celebrating the great news that Ernie had survived the sinking of the Glowworm, he was in fact already dead; such a tragedy for her and her son, Brian.
I am only a bystander in this family tragedy, but Brian grew up to become my husband and I still often think of their great loss, one of my ambitions being to visit that cemetery and pay my respects to the father-in-law I never knew.
Yes, times have changed so much and graphic pictures of the world’s tragedies often reach us via television within minutes of them happening. We certainly know how to spread information today.
Monday, 22 December 2008
22nd DEC 2008
All the stories were good and varied but Sally's was the outright winner with her unusual and amusing Christmas tale
HEAR ABOUT YOU
I asked my friend about the title for the next creative writing class and when she replied with "hear about you," I pulled a face and my thoughts were not polite, they were something like "Merry Blooming Christmas"
Oh dear! what would Santa Claus think about my ungracious thoughts, he would not be very pleased with my Baa humbug. 1 got to thinking about Santa and about all the good work he does by pleasing so many children, so my story is about Santa who always has a glowing smile.
Santa was riding his sleigh through the clouds he was deep in thought, one of his elves had gone sick, they worked to rule those elves, full of their own importance and they would never fill in for one another. Therefore poor Santa had to fill the sleigh himself and he was feeling too old for this job, if he had known about the elf going sick he would have telephoned the gnome kingdom but it was to late as the gnome kingdom had started with their parties and that's when they get up to their pranks. Last year they exchanged all the Barbie dolls for Cowboy and Indians sets. He had just arrived back to Wonderland and he was busy shampooing the soot from his rather grimy beard, when all of a sudden the screams from the Earth reached the very pinnacles of Christmas Wonderland.
All the pretty icicles snapped and never have the elves moved so fast as the icicles fell into the Action Man department, the icicles then skidded onto the Transformer department and there was utter chaos all the icicles were like rockets zooming around and eventually ended in the balloon factory. Bangl Bang! The continuous noise was horrendous. The Met office on earth issued a report that a freak thunder storm followed by very large hailstones had fallen in the south.
Santa shrugged his shoulders, enough of last year lets get started. He put the reindeer's onto remote pilot, they did enjoy whizzing through the clouds at breakneck speed, dodging the odd rocket on its way to the moon and when they found an aeroplane the reindeer's would ride alongside it and startled the passengers before they zoomed away into the clouds.
Santa fumbled in his mail bag and he drew out a bundle of letters from the children in Sleepy Town Valley. He began to read a rather grubby letter, Oh ho ho! I see that Johnny Sullivan is being greedy again, why do children of today want so much, they have no imagination, no fun, these items are all expensive, Nintendo ds, ipod, mobile phone, oh no no! Most of the letters read the same with the exception of one sad little letter from Maisy Lou Jones of 1 The High Street Sleepy Town Valley Dear Santa It was nice to hear about you and that you bring children presents at Christmas time but could you please give my present to the girl next door who is poorly and it might be her last Christmas, then she can smile just like you. Luv Maisy Lou. Santa took out his little red book and sprinkled star dust against 1 and 2 High Street, a special gift would be delivered there and there would be two smiling faces on Christmas day. Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas everyone.
HEAR ABOUT YOU
I asked my friend about the title for the next creative writing class and when she replied with "hear about you," I pulled a face and my thoughts were not polite, they were something like "Merry Blooming Christmas"
Oh dear! what would Santa Claus think about my ungracious thoughts, he would not be very pleased with my Baa humbug. 1 got to thinking about Santa and about all the good work he does by pleasing so many children, so my story is about Santa who always has a glowing smile.
Santa was riding his sleigh through the clouds he was deep in thought, one of his elves had gone sick, they worked to rule those elves, full of their own importance and they would never fill in for one another. Therefore poor Santa had to fill the sleigh himself and he was feeling too old for this job, if he had known about the elf going sick he would have telephoned the gnome kingdom but it was to late as the gnome kingdom had started with their parties and that's when they get up to their pranks. Last year they exchanged all the Barbie dolls for Cowboy and Indians sets. He had just arrived back to Wonderland and he was busy shampooing the soot from his rather grimy beard, when all of a sudden the screams from the Earth reached the very pinnacles of Christmas Wonderland.
All the pretty icicles snapped and never have the elves moved so fast as the icicles fell into the Action Man department, the icicles then skidded onto the Transformer department and there was utter chaos all the icicles were like rockets zooming around and eventually ended in the balloon factory. Bangl Bang! The continuous noise was horrendous. The Met office on earth issued a report that a freak thunder storm followed by very large hailstones had fallen in the south.
Santa shrugged his shoulders, enough of last year lets get started. He put the reindeer's onto remote pilot, they did enjoy whizzing through the clouds at breakneck speed, dodging the odd rocket on its way to the moon and when they found an aeroplane the reindeer's would ride alongside it and startled the passengers before they zoomed away into the clouds.
Santa fumbled in his mail bag and he drew out a bundle of letters from the children in Sleepy Town Valley. He began to read a rather grubby letter, Oh ho ho! I see that Johnny Sullivan is being greedy again, why do children of today want so much, they have no imagination, no fun, these items are all expensive, Nintendo ds, ipod, mobile phone, oh no no! Most of the letters read the same with the exception of one sad little letter from Maisy Lou Jones of 1 The High Street Sleepy Town Valley Dear Santa It was nice to hear about you and that you bring children presents at Christmas time but could you please give my present to the girl next door who is poorly and it might be her last Christmas, then she can smile just like you. Luv Maisy Lou. Santa took out his little red book and sprinkled star dust against 1 and 2 High Street, a special gift would be delivered there and there would be two smiling faces on Christmas day. Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas everyone.
Monday, 24 November 2008
November 24th November
Good varied stories today with Sally's childhood school memories (which came second) and Pat's school bully. Joan E told the story of the secret garden. Brian gave a graphic description of his Dickens like up bringing with the nuns. Sue recounted the Halloween scare while in a caravanette at Calshot. Sheila's story was about sandcastles. John and my own contribution was on the same theme murder most foul. But Ann's was chosen as best and you can read the prize winner your self.
Who Did This
When the firm announced they were closing the local offices and re-locating to Washington, there were murmurs of anticipation until it was pointed out that this was Washington U.K., not Washington U.S.A. Oliver was told there would be a job guaranteed if he decided to move, but there would be a lot of discussion with Emily and the boys before a decision could be made. Emily was a District Nurse and felt she would probably get another job quite easily. The boys were nine-year-old identical twins, Adam and Justin, but they were at an age when they would have time to settle into the new education system before they moved on to senior school. After discussing the pros and cons every available moment, they finally decided to take the chance and make the move,
Oliver started his new job and moved into a small guesthouse while he researched the locality and visited estate agents. During the half term Emily and the boys motored up to spend time with him and look at the places he had short-listed. They were all very acceptable, but nothing outstanding. On the way back one afternoon they took a different route and came across this delightful looking cottage with an estate agents board up outside. It was one Oliver had already registered with, so they called in to make enquiries. They were told it had only come on the market the day before and the details hadn't been sent out yet. The following morning they were all waiting for the agent to arrive and show them inside, having already peered through every window and wandered around the garden and outbuildings. As soon as they stepped inside they all fell in love with the place. It was as if it had been waiting for them. Having found somewhere to live they couldn't wait to move in.
They had been there about six months now. Oliver was enjoying his new job and the promotion that went with it. Emily had got a part time job at the local Doctors surgery and the boys had settled in well at the local village school and had started to make friends. When the odd incidents started to happen a few weeks after they had moved in, they initially put it down to the boys playing pranks. Emily had found the cereal and sugar in the fridge one morning and the milk in the cupboard. Another morning all the breakfast cutlery and dishes were either upside down or back to front. "Who did this?" was a cry often to be heard in the household, although the boys always denied it was anything to do with them. When all the twins' clothes were turned inside out, even Emily began to think this was not of their making. The evening the dog woke up from an apparently deep sleep on his beanbag while they were watching T.V. and looked towards the door, wagged his tail and appeared to follow something across the room with his eyes decided it for them that they were sharing their home with a poltergeist. No-one felt the least bit intimidated by it's presence. It was not a malicious being and the tricks were not intended to hurt. They decided to call it Patrick. One morning all the books in the bookcase had been turned upside down and another day Emily and Oliver found each of their pairs of shoes consisted of one of his and one of hers!
Life continued with the addition of Patrick and his tricks until one morning Oliver couldn't find his car keys. He looked everywhere and decided to take the spare set only to find these missing as well. Adam eventually found a set in his school bag. This time Patrick was not popular. On the way to take the boys to school Emily heard a traffic report of a road closed because of a serious accident. She knew this was the route Oliver used. As soon as she had dropped the boys off she tried to phone Oliver, but couldn't get a signal. When she arrived home she called his office only to be told he hadn't arrived yet. Leaving a message for him to call as soon as he arrived, she put the kettle on to make a coffee. When the phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin even though she was waiting for it to ring. Oliver told her he had been held up due to dreadful accident. If Patrick hadn't hidden his keys he would have been at the junction about the time it had happened. As she sat down with her coffee she glanced over to the key rack to see the spare set of keys hanging there.
Who Did This
When the firm announced they were closing the local offices and re-locating to Washington, there were murmurs of anticipation until it was pointed out that this was Washington U.K., not Washington U.S.A. Oliver was told there would be a job guaranteed if he decided to move, but there would be a lot of discussion with Emily and the boys before a decision could be made. Emily was a District Nurse and felt she would probably get another job quite easily. The boys were nine-year-old identical twins, Adam and Justin, but they were at an age when they would have time to settle into the new education system before they moved on to senior school. After discussing the pros and cons every available moment, they finally decided to take the chance and make the move,
Oliver started his new job and moved into a small guesthouse while he researched the locality and visited estate agents. During the half term Emily and the boys motored up to spend time with him and look at the places he had short-listed. They were all very acceptable, but nothing outstanding. On the way back one afternoon they took a different route and came across this delightful looking cottage with an estate agents board up outside. It was one Oliver had already registered with, so they called in to make enquiries. They were told it had only come on the market the day before and the details hadn't been sent out yet. The following morning they were all waiting for the agent to arrive and show them inside, having already peered through every window and wandered around the garden and outbuildings. As soon as they stepped inside they all fell in love with the place. It was as if it had been waiting for them. Having found somewhere to live they couldn't wait to move in.
They had been there about six months now. Oliver was enjoying his new job and the promotion that went with it. Emily had got a part time job at the local Doctors surgery and the boys had settled in well at the local village school and had started to make friends. When the odd incidents started to happen a few weeks after they had moved in, they initially put it down to the boys playing pranks. Emily had found the cereal and sugar in the fridge one morning and the milk in the cupboard. Another morning all the breakfast cutlery and dishes were either upside down or back to front. "Who did this?" was a cry often to be heard in the household, although the boys always denied it was anything to do with them. When all the twins' clothes were turned inside out, even Emily began to think this was not of their making. The evening the dog woke up from an apparently deep sleep on his beanbag while they were watching T.V. and looked towards the door, wagged his tail and appeared to follow something across the room with his eyes decided it for them that they were sharing their home with a poltergeist. No-one felt the least bit intimidated by it's presence. It was not a malicious being and the tricks were not intended to hurt. They decided to call it Patrick. One morning all the books in the bookcase had been turned upside down and another day Emily and Oliver found each of their pairs of shoes consisted of one of his and one of hers!
Life continued with the addition of Patrick and his tricks until one morning Oliver couldn't find his car keys. He looked everywhere and decided to take the spare set only to find these missing as well. Adam eventually found a set in his school bag. This time Patrick was not popular. On the way to take the boys to school Emily heard a traffic report of a road closed because of a serious accident. She knew this was the route Oliver used. As soon as she had dropped the boys off she tried to phone Oliver, but couldn't get a signal. When she arrived home she called his office only to be told he hadn't arrived yet. Leaving a message for him to call as soon as he arrived, she put the kettle on to make a coffee. When the phone rang, she nearly jumped out of her skin even though she was waiting for it to ring. Oliver told her he had been held up due to dreadful accident. If Patrick hadn't hidden his keys he would have been at the junction about the time it had happened. As she sat down with her coffee she glanced over to the key rack to see the spare set of keys hanging there.
Monday, 27 October 2008
27th October
Modestly I must admit the best story won complete acclaim from all my fellow writers. Following, my masterpeice.
The formula
Once again I felt disappointment at not winning the creative writing competition after making such an effort to produce a story that was lively, full of colour and with a robust main character. I of course never showed my disappointment to my fellow writers but surely the story of the three legged cat by Hannah was hardly in the same class as mine.
I was thinking this when on my way back home I picked up the Guardian as I noticed that its supplement was on the subject of writing a short novel. Not normally my kind of politics but in this case.
After arriving home at my opulent top floor flat overlooking the Thames I soon hungrily started to read the Guardian supplement. I opened up the laptop and settling back into the richly decorated divan I started what I hoped would be a far better structured story that they would find impossible not to award top marks. I felt a warm glow of pleasure at having found such a well written helpful guide. I read that all good stories follow the formula. It advised that you should have a character completely different from your self and then to build the likes and dislikes. Right, my character would be a woman not young but again not too old. Attractive and very sexual. Dressed in a tight fitting light blue two piece suit she looked competent and beautiful. I could see her face shining and alive. A successful business woman sitting at her desk, a modern polished workmanlike affair with the laptop open its screen filled with a large spread sheet of the companies current account.
Evelyn, I thought, that is her name. She was studying a small parcel well wrapped and tied with a pink ribbon. Her secretary had brought it in and said Happy Birthday. It was a complete shock to her she had forgotten she was 40 years old.
The formula said broaden the picture to show where the action is. I could see it was a modern office block and Evelyn rented a whole unfurnished floor on the third storey. She had devoted time and money bringing in the best designers to bring that air of competence and culture necessary to woo the clients when demonstrating the latest company brand marketing strategy. The office block was in the smart part of the city where only the richest could afford the high rents and taxes.
Relationships had to be sketched in. Not too many to be confusing and not so well described to take away the thrust of the main theme and the main character. I saw that Evelyn would have several lovers but only two vying for her affection Jim Henderson a rich mysterious part Arab with no visible means of support but not lacking in funds and Paul Wynberg a financier from the city. Both men were in their thirties both divorced. She thought she loved them both and neither were aware of the other but seeing the unwrapped birthday present it suddenly came home to her that this double life had to end.
I came back into focus, this imagery was intoxicating but it had to end for me too as I have now run over the prescribed 500 words.
The formula
Once again I felt disappointment at not winning the creative writing competition after making such an effort to produce a story that was lively, full of colour and with a robust main character. I of course never showed my disappointment to my fellow writers but surely the story of the three legged cat by Hannah was hardly in the same class as mine.
I was thinking this when on my way back home I picked up the Guardian as I noticed that its supplement was on the subject of writing a short novel. Not normally my kind of politics but in this case.
After arriving home at my opulent top floor flat overlooking the Thames I soon hungrily started to read the Guardian supplement. I opened up the laptop and settling back into the richly decorated divan I started what I hoped would be a far better structured story that they would find impossible not to award top marks. I felt a warm glow of pleasure at having found such a well written helpful guide. I read that all good stories follow the formula. It advised that you should have a character completely different from your self and then to build the likes and dislikes. Right, my character would be a woman not young but again not too old. Attractive and very sexual. Dressed in a tight fitting light blue two piece suit she looked competent and beautiful. I could see her face shining and alive. A successful business woman sitting at her desk, a modern polished workmanlike affair with the laptop open its screen filled with a large spread sheet of the companies current account.
Evelyn, I thought, that is her name. She was studying a small parcel well wrapped and tied with a pink ribbon. Her secretary had brought it in and said Happy Birthday. It was a complete shock to her she had forgotten she was 40 years old.
The formula said broaden the picture to show where the action is. I could see it was a modern office block and Evelyn rented a whole unfurnished floor on the third storey. She had devoted time and money bringing in the best designers to bring that air of competence and culture necessary to woo the clients when demonstrating the latest company brand marketing strategy. The office block was in the smart part of the city where only the richest could afford the high rents and taxes.
Relationships had to be sketched in. Not too many to be confusing and not so well described to take away the thrust of the main theme and the main character. I saw that Evelyn would have several lovers but only two vying for her affection Jim Henderson a rich mysterious part Arab with no visible means of support but not lacking in funds and Paul Wynberg a financier from the city. Both men were in their thirties both divorced. She thought she loved them both and neither were aware of the other but seeing the unwrapped birthday present it suddenly came home to her that this double life had to end.
I came back into focus, this imagery was intoxicating but it had to end for me too as I have now run over the prescribed 500 words.
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