Water Escape #FridayFictioneers

As I waited for the lock to fill up so we could get the narrow boat down the canal, I noticed the strange trees and house behind them. I wondered what kind of trees they were, for I’d never seen just a bare trunk then a puff of green leaves like that before. The house must be a rich person’s home.

I shook my head, that kind of living wasn’t for me, I needed the flow of water, the experience of the elements, the escapism from this technology driven world.

We opened the gates and drifted onwards.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/03/07/9-march-2018/ with thanks).

Advertisements

Dear Diary #42

book-1945499_1920

Dear Diary,

February is here at last! January seems to have lasted forever, probably because I spent most of it being ill. I would like to say I’m feeling better today but it seems I have a cold – been sneezing, coughing and got a sore throat again. I blame the weather! Last night it snowed again and it wasn’t meant too.

I stayed up waiting to see the super blue moon and it wasn’t until 1am that the clouds cleared enough. I then wasn’t impressed! I thought the moon was going to be huge and bright, well it was bright but not as much as I thought it would be. Maybe the bad weather had something to do with that. The photos from America of the added Luna eclipse looked really good and the moon was so massive!

It’s almost 5pm now and I should start making dinner, but I’m not hungry. My new diet is basically not eating which I hear is the wrong way to go about it but on the other hand the book I’m reading says to eat only when you are hungry….So, its a Catch 22. I should really read the novel at some point. Everyone knows that saying but not may know where it comes from.

But I’m on a book buying ban this year! Promised hubby I wouldn’t and the flat is bursting at the seams with everything. This year we should be able to get a house. Thinking that looking in the next few months is a good idea. Our own real place finally! Then maybe I could suggest the ‘b’ word again….Oh, to be like all my other friends and have a little spawn!

I get ahead of myself diary. New job first – I’m so tried of being everyone’s slave at the office. I’ve been applying for lots of things and I get interviews for a three places next week. Hopefully one of them will work out. Perhaps, I’d then find the time to start doing some writing again. Finally get that novel idea into reality?

I’m far too dreamy today! Must be this cold and the weather, though there’s no snow outside now and it’s sunny for a change! Hubby will be home soon, so I must figure out what we can eat. Or at least him…

Till tomorrow then!

Rant #SundayWritingPrompt

stag-night-10505_1920

I wasn’t sure what had happened in the kitchen of the abandoned house. It was clear someone had emptied all the cupboards and sent everything tumbling to the floor. Broken plates crunched under my boots, it was unavoidable if I wanted to walk across.

Perhaps, someone was looking for treasure they believed had been hidden here? Maybe it was just mindless destruction of youths?

Whatever had happened I hated it with a passion. Why did people have to destroy everything? I liked things left as they had been, it give a much better picture of the last people here.

(Inspired by; https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/01/21/sunday-writing-prompt-238-rant/ with thanks).

The Light

forest-704077_1920

I hadn’t walked in Crow Woods since we had moved away thirty years ago. Trailing my fingers across the rough trunk bark of the first tree, I took a deep breath. The heavy scent of damp soil and green nature with a hint of pine was all too familiar. Underneath me on the single track, mud coated my boots and there was touch of frost and ice in places no one had yet been.

The sight of all the trees like old friends, made me recall my childhood. Everyday, I’d come here to play, my imagination fuelled by the nature and freedom. I hadn’t needed anyone else or any toys, I had searched and used what the woods had. Sticks had became swords to fight off monsters, the stream became a mighty river that I sailed on and tree hallows had turned into deep caves.

I smiled at the memories. I had been so lucky. Pausing, I looked around and admired the bare trees as they reached skyward. Birds were singing in the distance and there was a breeze now knocking things together. I shut my eyes and thought if I listened hard enough I could hear the ghost of my mother’s voice calling me home.

Mum didn’t like me staying out once it got dark. I had to agree with her as once the light had gone from the sky something seemed to happen to Crow Woods. It was a hard feeling to describe but it was like the atmosphere changed to a dark, grim feeling. You could no longer trust the trees or the ground, they harboured shadows with ill intent. But the light was the worse part.

Reaching the last stretch of trees, I ducked under their shade as if I was a shy child again. Stretching in front of me was a low raise, framed by a rusty wire fence then wild fields surrounding a hill with a flat top. I couldn’t see it now because of all the growth but this was Crow Farm and up there had been the house.

A lingering fear grew in my stomach as I remembered everything. Only once, I had been up to that hill and stood in the ashes of the house. I had told my parents and they had forbidden me to return. It was dangerous and trespassing, if anyone catches you they could shoot you! Despite my fear, curiosity stayed with me but I didn’t leave Crow Woods again. Though I came close countless times.

I heard a woman singing sweetly, often on cloudy afternoons when I had followed the stream too far down. I would go looking for her but I would never find her and instead end up on the boarder of Crow Farm. On Sundays, I would hear children playing and laughing when there was no one else there. When it rained and I tried to go home, some strange wanting to be in the woods would overcome me and I’d have to fight it off.

Then I started seeing the light. It was a single beam from a high window, but it was so strong that it shone out over the trees. It came on cloudy and rainy days, in the evening whenever the daylight was low so that It would be seen more clearly. I followed the light sometimes, when I was feeling brave and I would end up at Crow Farm. There on the hill, I would see the shadow outline of the the house with one of the upstairs rooms lit up.

I didn’t tell anyone. I thought at first it was just my imagination but it was just too real to be. Later on, fear kept me away as I started seeing figures and hearing piano music coming from the house. I stopped following the light and thought that would solve everything. I tried to go back to normal but I could never play in Crow Woods like I could be before.

One winter night, I woke up and found the light in my bedroom! It was shinning through my window and the beam was leading straight out to the farm house. I screamed and screamed but It didn’t stop. Only when my parents came in would the light leave and they thought I was having nightmares. There was no pattern to when the light would come but I knew it was not going to go away.

My parents tried everything; doctors, specialist, moving my bedroom, moving schools then finally we had moved house. Mum had always wanted to live on the coast and it was there that I found peace after six years. The light had become a faded memory, nothing more then a childhood accident that I grew out of.

Standing here now, all that was hard to believe but I knew it was true. The Light was still calling me, it always had been.         

Fanning The Flames #fridayfictioneers

‘It’s sabotage, you know,’ said my wife.

I pulled a face as we carried on looking out the window. In the street below our apartment two fire engines were putting out the fire engulfing the only house on the block.

‘They’ve been trying to knock down that house for years so they can build another complex there,’ she explained.

‘It was probably an accident,’ I responded.

‘Hopefully, they had good insure and can built another house then,’ my wife added.

A few months later, my wife was proven right.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/11/15/10-november-2017/ with thanks).

Long Nights

people-2565369_1920 (1)

When the house got to cold the best place to be was in bed. There I could wrap up warm in the winter duvet and blankets, turn on my little heater and wait till I could feel my toes again. I read a library book to distract myself and listened to the fan whirling as well as the noises of the old house. Sometimes I’d hear other things; animals, the weather, stray notes of music. Tonight there were fireworks.

I dozed in-between reading chapters and checking the time. It was far too early for bed, yet the darkness blocking the window was suggesting otherwise. I’d never slept well in this house, even as a child when I’d come to stay with my grandparents which had been too often…

The memories were still heavy in the air, single moments playing over and over again, like ghosts I couldn’t escape from. I hate being trapped here, just like back then, but no one wanted to buy the house and without a sale I couldn’t move into other. So, it was either this roof over my head or none. I’d already been ‘none’ a few times and any roof was far better.

Perhaps, it was some unknown unfinished business holding me here or a curse? I didn’t believe in either thing. It was just the bad luck of my life. Reminding myself to contact a few people tomorrow, I closed my book and turned the heater off. The bedroom was warmer. I kept the lamp on though, I never slept in the totally darkness.

Settling down, I listened to the fireworks still going off in the distance. It was a few days after bonfire night but people still seemed to be celebrating. The loud popping, whizzing, bangs and crackles re-breaking every few minutes. I kept second guessing when it was over till it finally was.

Then, in the house I hated with a passion, blissful sleep stole me away.

Clock

pexels-photo-89556 (1).jpeg

Liz lay awake, listening to the echoing ticks of the clock in the living room as 2am arrived. She wasn’t use to the new house so sleeping was difficult. The bed felt too hard and the pillows were not her own. Strange shadows crossed the window and walls. The air smelt like fresh paint, wood and clean sheets.

Liz turned onto her side and came face to face with Bex, her girlfriend, who was fast asleep. In the dark, Liz couldn’t make out the soft lines of Bex’s face or her dyed rainbow coloured hair. Liz moved slowly, hoping that maybe she could snuggle against Bex and hold her. That position might help settle her down. However, Bex was curled up too much on her side.

Sighing, Liz wondered, how can you sleep with that damn clock ticking away?  

Turning back over, Liz looked up at the ceiling and breathed deeply. Shutting her eyes, Liz pictured the clock. It hung high above the grey stone fireplace, screwed to the wall. It’s face was yellow stained and rust was coming through in small patches. The metal frame the clock sat in was a rusted dark red almost black colour whatever the frame had originally been was long gone. Then there were the stumpy pointed hands; black and stumbling as they made their way around.

I wish we could remove it, Liz thought, but it’s screwed too tight. Maybe I can stop it from working then cover it with something?  

With her mind now focused on something Liz, felt more awake then ever. Tossing onto her other side, she shut her eyes and tried to let everything go. However, the ticking clock thundered in her ears, breaking the stillness like a screaming baby.

Throwing the sheets back, Liz got out of the bed, put her slippers on and fumbled through the darkness to the door. A small slit of light was coming through so she opened the door enough to fit then closed it quickly behind her. The hallway came into focus before her, the light casting down to touch the next door, the stairs and the front door.

Liz crept downstairs, turned away from the front door and went into the first room. She turned on the light and looked up at the clock straight away.

‘You’re ticked your last tick,’ she said under her breath.

Glancing around, Liz spotted a smaller hammer in a box. They had been using it to put nails in the wall to hang up some pictures. Grabbing it, she then had to go out into and into the dinning room to get the step ladder. Dodging the piles of boxes and the handful of furniture which had been temperately stored there, Liz got the ladder.

Setting the ladder up at the foot of the fireplace, she climbed up and came face to face with the clock. Smiling, Liz raised the hammer and swung it into the centre of the clock. There was a tinkling and a rain of glass. The hands stopped in shock and a large dint appeared middle way, in-between twelve and six.

The ticking paused but then continued as if nothing had happened.

Liz struck the clock face again. Harder this time, letting out a gasp as she did so. This time the hammer went right through the clock, the dint stretching to a hole exposing the cog mechanism inside.

‘Stay stopped this time!’ Liz threatened.

 

Silence filled the air as the clock froze. Liz smiled, waves of stress leaving her. Then a police siren blasted and Liz wobbled on the ladder. Crying out, she clutched the top and curled her slipped feet around the rung she was on. Dragging in deep breathes, she hurried down the ladder.

Dropping the hammer, she walked back upstairs. Feeling chilling, she was grateful to slip into the warm bed. Curling up, Liz shut her eyes and prepared to drift off. Though as sleep claimed her, Liz heard a very faint tick tock.

No, that’s not the clock, Liz thought.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Liz’s eyes flew up and she shot up from the bed.

‘That damn clock!’ she shouted.

‘Huh? what?’ Bex mumbled.

‘I broke the clock, but it’s still going!’

Bex rolled over, stretched and yawed before saying, ‘what clock?’

‘The living room one. It’s been driving me mad!’

Bex paused then reached out and turned the light on. Turning to look seriously at her girlfriend, she answered, ‘I don’t hear anything.’     

Post It Note #39

post-it-notes-1284667_960_720

I heard it again last night. I don’t know what it is and I don’t wish to find out. It’s just not natural and it’s too disturbing! So, I’m leaving. Here’s my next month’s rent and good luck finding someone else to stay alive in this death house.

Old Shoes #FridayFictioneers

Who knew how long the boots had been in the shed but they were finally seeing light again. Gritting my teeth, hoping no spiders popped out, I carried the shoes onto the lawn and laid them down with everything else.

Something tickled across my hand. I looked and spotted a small spider. I screamed, flung my hand about then did a crazy dance around the garden. Breathing deeply, I glanced around, panic soaring through me. Of course, the spider was no where to be seen. Traumatised I rushed inside my new house and washed my hands repeatedly.

 

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/09/20/22-september-2017/ with thanks).

 

Hurricane

key-west-81664_1920

It was coming. Atlanta could hear the gale force winds rattling the storm shutters and the rain pelting the roof. She held her breath and hugged her dog, Greg, tighter. He didn’t seem to mind but then he was old and deaf.

They was sat in a small yellow tent set up in the far corner of the cellar. Dim amber fairy lights in the shape stars cast some light down, but it wasn’t enough to do anything by. Atlanta’s didn’t really mind though as long as she wasn’t in the dark.

‘I’m safe. Everything is fine,’ Atlanta muttered.

Every since she had heard about the high chance of the hurricane last week, she had be preparing. All the kitchen and basement cupboards were stocked with bottled water, long life food, matches and extra gas canisters for the camping stove. She had double or triple camping equipment items and a whole range of lighting; battery and candle lanterns, torches and spare candles.

Atlanta picked up her headphones which were top of the range noise cancelling and selected some loud classic music from her ipod.

‘There’s nothing else to do now it’s here,’ she said aloud.

She rubbed Greg’s ears then wrapped herself in a thermal sleeping bag and began waiting out the hurricane.