Postcard Story

Dear Shelly,

It’s September now and six months since I last held you in my arms. I don’t know if you have been receiving anything from me. Your mother is probably withholding all my letters and gifts. I forgive her. She was angry but I hope one day, to get a note from you.

The leaves are falling against the cabin’s windows. The river is running cold and I am more alone then I have ever been before. I miss your sweet smile and small, warm hands.

Perhaps, in the spring I can return to you.

Papa

Over D.I.U-ing It#CCC

The hammering woke Mrs. Long before her alarm clock could. She rolled over, reaching for her husband but he wasn’t in bed next her.

Getting up, she crossed the room to draw back the curtains and swung the window opened. Looking down into the garden, she saw her husband. He was removing the rotting back fence.

‘What are you doing now, Tom?’ Mrs Long called.

He turned, peered up at her and shout back, ‘what does it look like I’m doing woman?’

Mrs Long shut her mouth before the angry reply could escape. She closed the window and walked away, thinking that she couldn’t wait for her husband to return to work so she could have some peace.

 

(Inspired by; https://crispinakemp.com/2020/08/26/crimsons-creative-challenge-94/ with thanks).

Light Stage #FridayFictioneers

The acrobats were like nothing ever seen before. Against the black stage backdrop, the men and woman were glowing neon lights come to life. They performed with a swiftness that years of practise had given them; they balanced on top of each other, swung from heights, juggled and walked on stilts.

The children wowed their wonder, cried their delight and gasped at the feats before them. When it as all over, the clapping echoed for an age and the acrobats bowed till their backs ached.

Back stage they celebrate and let their true fairy forms shine.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/08/26/28-august-2020/ with thanks).

Late Night

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Just one more chapter, I tell myself as I lay in bed. Rain is patting against the window and I’m wrapped up cosy.

Just one more chapter, I say, turning the page and carrying on. The rain continues and the window mists over. I’m too comfy to move.

Just one more chapter, I declare, determined this time to make it so. Night peers in at me, her soft voice whispering me to sleep and the rain is my lullaby.

Just one more chapter, the book calls to me, how can you stop right now? I turn the pages read more and more until dawn’s light sends night to her rest.

Yellow

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I followed the girl in yellow through the woods. Sometimes, she would look over her shoulder as if she sensed me. I would pause and duck low, hoping the underbrush would hide me.

Through the trees we went, last autumn’s leaves decaying and silent under foot whilst spring flower pushed upwards. The wind stirred the young leaves and I moved away to keep my scent low.

A deer took fright and we both stopped to watch it leap between the trees and away.

The girl tugged her yellow hood up and bent her head to watch her footing.

I padded behind her, licking my lips. She was going to be tasty. Just like the girl in red.

Three To Dance

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The conjoined triplets waited for the signal to come onto the stage. They had longed for this moment since the dance teacher had told them she had made a part for them.

As the lead ballerina finished and the audience broke into clapping, the conjoined triplets stepped into the light.

Paint #FridayFictioneers

With paint and canvas, I could disappear. It didn’t matter what was happening in the world or what my mood was, I could always find peace with brushes, colours and images.

People asked me where I got my inspiration from and how I came up with all this strange but fascinating paintings. I shrugged and told them I had a great imagination and eye for the unusually.

‘I can’t stop looking at it! It’s grotesque but for some reason it’s calling to me. I have to have this painting!’ People told me.

I would smile and sell my paintings to them whilst the Daemon laughed as he claimed another victim.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/07/22/24-july-2020/ with thanks.)

Nun

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Dear God, I don’t want to be a nun anymore. I’m sorry but that’s just the way it is. I don’t feel cut out for what you are asking me to do. Mother says that you’ll help me but so far I’m struggling to see that hand. How can I bring new sisters to you when they are not interesting?

The world has changed and I fear we all must change with it. People don’t want a church anymore, they want something more, something we can’t give them. Perhaps, it’s a something even you can’t give it to them…

 

Packages #FridayFictioneers

The doorbell rang and I went to answer it. On the doorstep was a medium size box. Looking up, I saw the deliveryman waving as he went back to his van. I waved back then gathered my parcels.

‘Postman?’ my husband called from the study where he was working from home.

‘No…it’s a thing for me,’ I answered.

‘More Amazon?’ 

I went to deny it but I couldn’t. Since starting lockdown my world had moved online. Everything I wanted came at the click of a mouse and it was like Christmas everyday but if it kept me going then it was worth it.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/07/15/17-july-2020/ with thanks).

Coffee Art

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I had always admired the art designs on top of my lunchtime coffee from the posh cafe next to my office.

Since working from home though, I had missed it. My home coffees looked so plain, so normal and I missed that treat that broke up my day. In the morning, I looked forward to the coffee art; what design would I get today? In the afternoon, energised, I enjoyed thinking about the creativity.

There was only one thing for it. I had to learn how to do the designs myself. Perhaps, that way, I would feel better about working from home.