Autumn Rain #FridayFictioneers

Bob hadn’t be able to offered a new shelter roof after the storm blew it off. He thought at first that his pub’s clients wouldn’t mind just standing outside. Summer was still lingering and the nights were warm and dry. Weeks later, autumn fully arrived, sweeping and washing away summer.

Bob needed a simple and cheap idea to give people shelter. Umbrellas had come to him as he had been watching the rain falling outside. He stock piled boxes full and fixed them across the roof frame. The shelter looked like the stage of a colourful musical but the pub’s clients loved it.

(Inspired by; https://rochellewisoff.com/2018/09/19/21-september-2018/ with thanks).

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Raindrops On Glass #TwitteringTales

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He only came when it rained, coming off the moors to seek shelter. I would sat in the library’s window box, reading by gas lamps. I would try to ignore the sounds of him moving around. I had nothing else to say to him nor him to me.¬†We were ghosts to each other.

(Inspired by; https://katmyrman.com/2018/07/31/twittering-tale-95-raindrops-on-glass-31-july-2018/ with thanks).

What Really Happened #WeeklyWritingChallenge

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This story isn’t about them, it’s about you. Though everyone is going to try and make you believe that isn’t true but at the end of the day what does anyone else actually know? You were there and they were there but everyone else wasn’t and they’ve heard the story second hand and not the first account like you have it in your head.

It was raining in the park and you were walking under your umbrella. You had no busy there and were just out because you were bored at home. You had thought about going to the library but it was shut today. You went into the tree lined way, your favorite area.

Here, the trees reminded you of giant soldiers, lined in welcome and you could day dream about being someone special as you went by. You came to the bench you always like to sit on but today there was a note left there.

The paper was wet but you picked it up anyway and read it. It was a letter to a girl from a boy which started off sweet but then turned sour. The boy was breaking up with the girl, not through any fault but because her parents had told him to.

You felt sad. Why did this have to happen? You wonder about the girl, she’ll feel worse and what would that make her do? Fall out with her parents? Harm herself? And the poor boy! He’d be just the same.

You decide this can’t let this happen, so you take the letter. Why should the young couple be parted? You go to leave, the rain patting off your umbrella and the trees, the letter curled up in your hand. A voice calls out to you, starling you and making you look all around.

A young man comes out from behind a tree where he was been waiting and watching. He demands the letter back. You refused to give it him but he was persistent and says the letter isn’t your’s.

You give the soggy paper back to him. He tells you to go. You watch him place the note back on the bench. You tell him that it’s unfair, there must be another way, two people shouldn’t be heartbroken.

He says it’s none of your business.

You go to snatch the letter but he is closer and faster. He runs off into the trees. You decided because you have nothing else to do that you will wait and see if the girl turns up. You sit on the bench, listening to the rain and waiting.

The girl does come sometime later and before the boy can appear, you call the girl over and tell her all. She is most upset and doesn’t understand why you, a stranger is telling her all of this. You try to comfort her, but she doesn’t want to know.

The boy appears and you watch them arguing under a tree, both sometimes pointing to you. Deciding, you get up and go over, you want to fix things. The couple won’t listen though, they demand to be left alone but you can’t, you are involved now. Though you’ll wish for the rest of your life you weren’t.

You make suggestions about how they can stay together, drawing on experience and fiction. The teenagers are not interested though, they see you as a busy-body and want you to stay out of their business. You explain why you can’t and why you feel the need to help them.

They don’t want your help.

You insist in telling them of a way to escape though. You and a lover once a loped from the island and the young couple can do that to. Though when they question you about that lover, you blank over it – things didn’t work out but why do they need to know?- You tell them to buy tickets for the eleven o’clock ferry and go to the other side to start a new life together.

You pled with them not to let their young love die and to try decided what others tell them. Isn’t first love so innocent? So pure? They need to hold on to that! You try to explain it as best you can but they don’t understand. You give them some money for the boat tickets and tell them to go.

The rain starts to come down more heavily, they look at you then each other. They hold hands and walk away, you watch them go. You head home with a heavy heart and an over questioning mind. Was it the right thing to do? Will they be okay?

You won’t know for days afterwards. Then you see the first TV report. Everyone says it was a tragic accident, the young couple fell over board because the rough sea. Then, that it was murder by one of their parents, a relative, a friend, a hired hit person. Lastly, it was suicide.

It’s never proven what really happened to them. But you know.

(Inspired by; https://secretkeeper.net/2018/07/02/weekly-writing-challenge-148/ with thanks).

Sanctuary #Writephoto

I’m there still, in that one single memory.

Our laughter sounding across the garden, mixing with the sound of the sweet summer rain. Our racing footsteps to the old family mausoleum, the closest shelter around. Us standing in the doorway, watching the rainfall as the drops dripped off us like it did on the tree leaves.

We cuddled together upon one of the cold marble beaches that formed a broken circle around the staircase that led down to the tomb. You kissed me with the softness of first love. I said we shouldn’t, but we both wanted it and it felt so right.

Laying naked on the stone floor, staring at the mosaic on the ceiling, not thinking anything. Listening to your gentle breathing and heartbeat, realising my own was right alongside. We kept warm by shared body heat, dozing on and off. How I wished that moment could last forever.

Time and life don’t wait for anyone. At least we had all those years together and now we can finally be together once more.

(Inspired by; https://scvincent.com/2018/02/08/thursday-photo-prompt-sanctuary-writephoto/ with thanks).

 

Woodland #writephoto

I watched the rain and the sun through the oak tree’s branches and leaves. There was going to be a rainbow somewhere but I didn’t care to look for it. Wiping the tears from my face, I wonder how this had all happened to me. How could I have misread the signs of his affections? All along he had wanted my younger sister!

The oak’s trunk was damp and rough at my back, I had been ignoring the discomfort but now I eased off the tree. I looked at my muddy shoes and skirts. it would be hard to hide them when I returned. I gazed around the woods but no solutions came to my foggy mind.

I should go back to the house but they were all there celebrating the engagement. How was I ever going to face him again? I couldn’t call him out on it, he would deign it. So, I had to live with this the rest of my life; the man I loved, married to my sister and lost to me forever.

 

(inspired by https://scvincent.com/2018/01/25/thursday-photo-prompt-woodland-writephoto/ with thanks).

New Year’s Eve

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Standing on my best friend’s doorstep, looking up at the falling rain, I wondered how it had come to this. Another year was over and I didn’t want to let it go. So much had happened; good, bad and in-between. My mind jumped over the memories like snap shot photos and I was filled with happiness.

Sighing, I wondered how I was going to move on. It was a strange notion because nothing had actually changed nor would do in the coming weeks, expect for the dates. Why did I feel like this was such a big problem then? I rubbed my head and decided I was just being silly and I should let everything go.

The door opened behind me, party music and shouting voices drifted into the night. I turned around frowning and saw my boyfriend standing there.

‘It’s almost midnight. Come inside,’ he said.

‘No,’ I answered, ‘you come out here.’

I held my hand out and there was a moment where he almost pulled me in and I tried to pull him out. He stepped over to me and we held each other. Someone shouted out the number ‘ten,’ and other voices joined in the countdown.

Muttering the numbers under my breath, I drew my boyfriend closer and he started saying the numbers too. We were wrapped together, smiling at each other, breathing in the cold night air. Reaching ‘one,’ we kissed and welcomed in the new year.

 

 

Today

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It’s raining today, so I can’t be bothered to write. It’s more of a drink tea and read day.

The Paper Mill (Part 2)

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Laying in bed, the bedside lamp on to keep the dark at bay, my thoughts kept going back to that girl. She had either run away from home or just didn’t have a home to go back to. I tried to imagine living like her; no family or college, no money or food, no bed or clean clothes. It would be hard. Tossing about, I finally settled down but my mind still wouldn’t turn off.

Tomorrow, I told myself, I’ll get somethings together and take them to her. Maybe she’ll talk to me then and perhaps I can help. Or maybe, the other side of my mind thought, I should just let it go. It’s none of my business. But by seeing and talking to her I had made it my business.

In the morning after a shower and breakfast, I should have sat down to work on one of my essays. I didn’t have classes today and tomorrow was Saturday, so I should have been thinking about going back to the library. Instead, that homeless girl was still in my mind, so I set about finding things she could have.

My parents had died when I was ten, so my grandparents had took me in. They were currently away on holiday, visiting their other daughter and grandchildren in America. There was still a lot of my parents’ things in the attic but I didn’t have time to look through all that. What if the girl had left the mill because I’d scared her? I needed to get there as soon as possible. Luckily, close to the front door was a bag of clothes my gran was putting out for charity collection.

There were a few of my tops that were too small now, but might fit her. I also selected an old green jumper and two pairs of my grandpa’s trousers. There was my old winter coat in the closet, a bobble hat and matching gloves. Taking everything back upstairs, I put the clothes in a rucksack then brought that down. In the kitchen, I took some tins of beans and soup that had ring pulls. Some cans of fizzy drink, bottles of water, a packet of biscuits that no one of liked and a bag of dried fruit.

With those in the bag, I wondered what else would a homeless girl need. Perhaps; sanitary towels, painkillers, matches, candles  and a few other bits of pieces. the rucksack was heavy but it would be worth it. I got ready to go, saw it was raining and decided on my wellington boots and an umbrella. Was there a spare one to take her? My grandpa liked to collect useful things, so at the back of the closet were a few spare umbrellas. I chose a small pink one then set off.

The day was dull and it must have been raining to awhile because there were large puddles and everything was dripping wet. I walked slowly, weighted down with the rucksack. Some of the streetlamps were still on but they didn’t seem to be doing a good job. I hoped it wouldn’t get any darker. Following the country lanes around and to the bridge I didn’t see anybody or cars.

Going over the river, I picked up my pace and hurried through the rows of houses to the mill. I squeezed the gap in the fence and made my way over. In the gloom and rain, the paper mill looked darker and more dirtier. I could hear the rain falling into holes in the roof and dripping off metal.

In through the door and I had to get my phone’s torch out to see. There was no keeping quiet with my wellingtons and heavy rucksack on the debris covered floor. I thought I went to the room she had been in, but I must have taken a wrong turn because I ended up at a metal staircase. At the top of which was a void of darkness. Shivering, I turned away and weaved my way back again. All the rooms looked the same but at last I found the right one.

‘Hello?’ I called, ‘It’s me Darcy.’

The fire wasn’t lit but there was enough dim light from the tall windows to see that she was still there. She was sat on the floor, huddled in dirty blankets with a sleeping bag wrapped around her. She turned and realised it was me.

‘I thought maybe….I could bring you somethings,’ I spoke, not sure what really to say.

She turned away from me without saying anything.

I walked over and placed the bag down.

‘It’s not much just some food and clothes,’ I added.

There was a large piece of cardboard next to my feet, so I sat down. I opened the bag and took anything out. She kept her head turned away from me as if I wasn’t there. Whatever I had been thinking might happen, it hadn’t been like this. But why would a teenage girl suddenly gush out her life story to a stranger she’d never meet over some old clothes and food? Had I really thought we’re going to become best friends?

I waited a few minutes, listening to the rain falling and feeling the cold stiffen my limbs. She was quiet, ignoring me and because she was keeping away from me, I couldn’t make out her face. I wanted to catch her eye so at least I could try and say something else, but she didn’t move.

‘Fine,’ I sighed, ‘I’ll go.’

I picked up the rucksack and slowly walked away. Every now and then I glanced over my shoulder, but the girl hadn’t moved. At the doorway, I stopped and thought about saying something else to her, reminding her of her manners maybe? Get angry and yelling out my disgust at her? Perhaps hoping her the best?

The words, whatever they were, wouldn’t come out so I turned away and walked back through. Even though my mind was still on her, I couldn’t help but think about what the paper mill would have been like in the past. It would have been loud with machines cutting up the trees and making the paper. The air would have been heavy with wood dust and chemicals. People would have been everywhere too.

I made it out in one go, only to find the rain had got heavier and the wind had picked up. I opened my umbrella and hurried home, my heart and thoughts weighed down.

 

To Be Continued…

Flow #writephoto

Life is like the flow of a river, I realised looking up at the waterfall from the canvas I had been painting on. You start off like a spring then become a stream, turning this way and that as you take different paths. Then you join a river and carry on going through things; some good and some bad, changing and growing older. Finally, you join the sea ending your life.

I looked down at the canvas balanced on the small easel, the painting I had done was a likeness of the waterfall and mossy rocks below, but I didn’t like it. Some of the strokes looked childlike and I really hadn’t captured the true beautiful force of the waterfall. I signed and began to pack up. It was always the same when I paused and valuated my art; I couldn’t go on when I became negative about it.

When I was done, I stood and watched the river carrying on tumbling down. The sound was so calming and mixed in with the soft singing of the birds and the rustle of the trees this place was a peaceful spot. The river then bubbled past me and away into a cluster of trees towards the next waterfall. It began raining.

I looked up at the sky frowning then ducked into the cover of some trees. A thought popped into my head; this is the full circle of water. I watched the raindrops falling in the ground and realised that we too became a part of the earth, only we didn’t raise up again. It was a morbid thought but at the same time reassuring.

The river couldn’t stop it’s flow and nor could we stop the flow of life.

 

(Inspired by https://scvincent.com/2017/09/21/thursday-photo-prompt-flow-writephoto/ with thanks).

The Day Before

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The day before the apocalypse happened the weather went crazy. We woke up to dark as night skies and heavy clouds. Rain poured down like I had never seen before and it was like a huge waterfall. Many places were flooded. There was a massive thunderstorm which had people staying inside and those that went out regret it and came home again.

The hailstone fell in sharp bursts, large balls of ice hitting metal like it was dough. Glass smashed, car alarms went off and animals fled underground. The storm rumbled on; bright heavenly flashes of light going off like all the time and the thunder was deafening. The rain turned to snow. Huge flakes sweeping down on gale force winds and covering everything in a white blanket.

People peered out of windows, wondering what was going on. The news was a blur of reports as countries all over the world reported the wildness of storms and weather conditions. The warnings flashed by too; Stay inside! Await rescue! Whole cities swept by freak waves, whole towns buried in snow and the raising death toll.

And I stood by the shelter’s plastic windows, knowing what all this bad weather meant and the fact I couldn’t do anything to stop tomorrow’s rapture sitting heavy on my shoulders.