Told You #FridayFictioneers

He decided to clean the windows himself despite his wife’s warnings of ladder dangers and having to juggle things but he had waved her away.

Water sloshed down the windows then there was an all might crash and screaming.

His wife hurried outside and saw her husband sprawled across the floor the ladder on top of him, Quickly, she threw the ladder away and knelt beside him.

He was moaning and mumbling, tossing his side from side to side whilst his left leg twitched and blood formed around varies openings.

‘Well, I hate to say it but I told you so!’ she snapped.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2020/06/17/12-june-2020/ with thanks).

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A life Of Stories

It was a grim task but I had volunteered to help my family clear out a distant relation’s home. I hadn’t know Bill Dalton existed until a second cousin of my mum reached out and told her that his uncle had died and he knew my mum was an antique dealer. Did she want to come and do a house clearance?

Bill had been an organised hoarder so the task of going through things wasn’t that hard, just long.

Whilst my mum and her second cousin were inspecting a collection of figurine women dressed in 1800’s ballgowns, I decided to open a corner cupboard that had yet been touched.

The door creaked like it hadn’t been opened in awhile. Inside, stacked on the small shelves were pile and piles of notebooks. There was a range of leather, paper and hardback covers all looked well use and the lined sheets yellowing. The notebooks were all tied together string in small groups. It was a strange sight.

‘What’s all this?’ I called over my shoulder.

My mum and her second cousin came to look.

‘I don’t know….’ he trailed.

‘Pull one out,’ my mum said.

I pulled the smallest stack of notebooks out and undid the string around them. Picking up the top one which was like a hardback diary, I opened it.

‘It looks like a novel…’ I said.

I handed it to the second cousin then passed another one to my mum and gripped a third for myself. We read quietly for a few moments.

‘I didn’t know him well,’ the second cousin broke the silence , guilt and sadness in his voice.

‘It looks like this is a whole novel, handwritten and with corrections at the sides,’ my mum muttered.

‘Are all of these novels? Surely he didn’t write these, maybe he copied them or translated them or something?’ I said.

‘I don’t think they all are. Look at those, they say diary with the years.’ the second cousin pointed out.

I pulled out that stack, untied them and picked up the top one. He was right, it was a diary and each day page was carefully filled in.

‘Do you think there’s anything important in these?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ the second cousin said, ‘do you think you could go through them and find out?’

‘I’ll try,’ I said.

All of the notebooks turned out to either be yearly diaries which Bill had recorded his life in, full novels which Bill himself had written, short stories, ideas and drawings, reflections on things and details of locations and characters.

There was a lot to go through but none of it was important paperwork. I didn’t want Bill’s life to fade and so with the family’s permission and years of work; I finally held one of Bill’s officially published novels in my hands.

I hope he is pleased.

Daydream

The only thing she wanted to do was escape. Looking out of the window whilst taking a break from cleaning, she sighed deeply into the broom handle. She couldn’t see anything other then the built up street from this angle.

She shut her eyes and imaged a beach some where and a boat jetty with a little house like building on the end. She thought about the sound of the sea lapping on the too golden sand and the cries of birds in the sunset sky above.  The smell of salty air and warm summers drifting around on breezes that also soaked into your skin.

She felt the sand between her toes, saw the glitter of shells half buried and found a child’s abandoned castle. She let the small waves kiss her feet then walked along, trailing water from her floor touching skirts without a care in the world. She headed towards the welcoming lights from the jetty house, feeling a mix of damp sand and wood now under her feet.

She reached the door and pushed it open….

The sound of a car horn jerked her back and the broom almost dropped from her hands. Fumbling with it, she caught and looked out of the netted windows. It only seemed to be a neighbor parking up. Pulling a face, she got back to work her daydream fading once more.

Dear Diary #22

 

Dear Diary,

It’s too quiet in the office. I forgot it was half-term and nearly everyone has booked today off. It’s strange seeing so many empty desks, it’s like the staff have all got up and fled as the Doom chime sounded.

Sitting at the front desk is even worse. At least though the phone sometimes rings and someone walks through the door. Ah, the postman is here. I’m not nosy, but sometimes I just get drawn in wondering about people’s correspondence with each other. It’s poor pickings this morning. There’s a small gardening magazine, a letter for someone who left a few months ago and a leaving card for someone who’s moving to another department next week.

Nothing worth pondering over. Also, today is one of those days were I don’t have much work to do. That’s why I’m sat here, writing this down and looking out of the window at the coming rain. It was meant to be nice today, but it’s clouded over so fast now it looks like a cold grey sea hanging  above the buildings.

There’s a slight rattling in the back and running water. It’s only the cleaners finishing up. Seems like they were on a late start this morning. I can hear them talking, passing on some gossip about someone’s affairs. They come to the front desk, saying cheery goodbyes before heading into the now drizzling weather.

I watch them walking away, chin resting on my hand and a small smile on my face. Then I’m back to daydreaming when I can escape into the stormy sea scape of the day.

 

Fresh Sheets

Smoothing out the finally corner, Paige took a step back and admired the newly made bed. A sense of satisfaction wrapped around her. Smiling, she walked around and sat on the edge, before throwing herself back. The smell of strawberries and lilies filled the air and Paige took a few deep breathes before it was all she could smell. The soft, fleecy duvet brushed against her skin and she glided her hands over the cream coloured fabric. Shutting her eyes, she rested and felt herself drifting into sleep.

Clean Break

Lucy hung out the clothes washing, just like she did every morning. The sun was all ready shinning down, heating the gentle breeze. She spun the clothes line around and hung up the baby’s stuff on the other side. From the open doorway she heard the phone ringing. Tutting and shooting a look at Maddie dozing in her baby rocker, Lucy hurried inside. She picked up the phone, give the normal line of hello and her name but instead of a replying voice came a dead dial tone. She hung up and rushed outside again.

Maddie was further into her mid-morning nap and the breeze was dancing with the wet clothes. Lucy hung the rest of the things up then took Maddie back inside. Placing the baby in the open plan living room where the TV was showing a Friends re-run, Lucy headed into the kitchen. She loaded more washing into the washing machine- because having a two month old baby, a three year old princess, a seven year old artist and a highflying businessman husband equalled a never ending supply of dirty clothes.

Ticking another task off her list, she turned on the radio and set about cleaning the kitchen. She followed the circle of empting the dishwasher, putting everything away, loading the dishwasher, tidying up the worktops and kitchen table, cleaning every surface then mopping the floor. She hummed along to the songs she knew and was all done when Maddie started crying.

She went over and picked up the baby. It was changing and feeding time. Sighing and feeling weighed down by everything, she went upstairs and sorted out Maddie. After, she wrapped the baby up and rocked in her husband’s great grandmother’s nursing chair. Her eyes closed and she felt calmed by the rocking motion and warm baby.

Whilst, she dozed she decided that it wouldn’t be a bad thing if she agreed to her husband’s suggestion of finding a nanny/cleaner/home keeper person. Placing Maddie into her crib, she half closed the door and went into the study. There she turned on the computer and did a bit of dusting as the machine loaded.

She loaded the internet and after a few moments typed in a string of words which summed up what she was looking for. Lucy spent the rest of the day searching though websites and reading profiles. Finally, she decided to write her own job ad and post it up on a few different pages. Excitement grew inside her and she decided that she couldn’t wait to tell her husband and children. Finally, she could break free of the house chores.

A Writer’s Desk

Her desk was a mess. Scattered across the wide, but thin wooden surface were; pens, blank printer paper, files, notebooks, books, snacks and her manuscript. Sitting down, she looked for her keyboard and mouse, both of which had become buried under everything. Stacking everything to either side of the middle, she uncovered them and switched on the PC.

As loud whirling and the hum of the monitors filled the room, she shuffled though the stack items and decided she needed to make sense of the two piles, before she began any work. Pushing the broken wheeled chair backwards, she stood up and began dividing the items up.

The folders, notebooks, blank paper and her manuscript went on the chair. The pens went into the glass jar holder decorated with dried autumn leaves that she had made two years ago. Empty snack wraps into the bin and the other snacks to the storage basket tucked under her monitor stand. The books she split into three lots – dictionary, baby’s name book and prayer book went next to the basket. The second lot – Writers’ Yearbook, Writer’s Handbook and Creating Characters went back on the middle shelf of the small bookcase to her right. Lastly, Best New Horror and Angelography, she put behind her keyboard to be stacked to the side on top of the folders.

She picked up the three smaller files and the printer paper, putting them beside the keyboard. The finally file she put on her desk with her manuscript on top, then stacked the two novels on top of the other files. As her computer loaded, she got to work, feeling better now she had some physical as well as mental space.     

Dear Diary #7