Alice enjoyed afternoon tea with her aunt. She was a tough woman, disliked by many, but she had a liking for tea, cards and croquet. Even the cat looked amused when Alice visited, although he often disappeared when she went looking for him.
Alice’s second cousin appeared one afternoon with a gift. Alice crept towards the cage. Peering out at her was a large white rabbit. Her aunt was not amused and began to shout. So as fast as she could, Alice hurried home for the day. That night, she began to dream the strangest of dreams.
Tom walked down the drab street. He’d always been curious about the solid brick wall here. A link back to this area’s more affluent past? Yet, he’d never noticed before halfway along the wall was a bright white brick. How strange! He glanced around to check no-one was about and then gave the white brick a prod, then jumped back. It had felt like it had moved, no not moved, vibrated below his hand. What the?.. He pushed again and one-by-one the bricks moved to reveal a perfect doorway, through which he could see manicured gardens.
It was early in the morning. The best time (in Eva’s opinion) to explore. As she reached the clearing in the trees, she wondered if she should have told someone her plan. It was insane. Better to rule it out herself, than to look mad. She stepped into the stony water and began to walk up the river. As she walked the trees came closer and closer together until very little light shone through. Just as she reached the point of darkness and was about to turn around, the hazy circle appeared before her. The fairy world portal beckoned.
Woodland – Image by KL Caley
For visually challenged writers, the image shows a shallow stony river meandering through some woodland.
Thank you to everyone for the incredible entries to this week’s prompt. I was away last weekend at my grandparent’s 60th wedding anniversary ♡♡ so I am a little behind but for happy reasons. I’ll catch up with everything with a giant cuppa ☕ this afternoon. I hope you enjoy the collection:
Some days you just want to shower, wash your woes away and start again with a new day tomorrow.
Want to play along?
I love playing around with the magnetic poetry blocks. I’m no poetry writer so I prefer to create a short story of sorts. The kits can be found here (and they are free):
Nothing beats hearing the right words at the right time.
Francheska
Sam curled up in a ball, she pulled the blanket over her head and sobbed into the sheets. The force of the sob caused her to choke and cough but she couldn’t stop, her whole body needed her to cry, to release some of the pent-up pain, anger and frustration. Eventually, the noises stopped, her breathing calmed and she lay on the bed exhausted. Removing the quilt she rolled over and lay staring up at the ceiling. She had no idea how long she lay there but she could see the light from behind the curtains was fading and causing shadows to dance along the ceiling. Her phone rang loudly startling her.
“Hello?”
“Hi, just calling to say that’s me setting off now.”
“Okay.” She sat herself up on the bed, she needed to go to the bathroom, wash her face and then try to muster the energy to face preparing tea.
“Have you been crying again?”
“Yes,” her voice escaped her in little more than a whisper.
“Okay, I’ll be home as soon as I can to give you the biggest hug.” Despite her mood, she smiled. “Don’t worry love, we’ll get through this together.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
“Love you.”
Nothing beats hearing the right words at the right time. – Francheska
Rod walked through the gate and put his worn satchel on the floor. He calculated how much money he had left and hoped it would be enough to last him. The big question – what’s next? – circulated around in his head. Focus on the now, he thought, the priority is to get home to my wife and kids. The rest could wait.
A car screeched down the road and then skidded to a halt at the curbside. The window wound its way down and his brother’s smiling face emerged.
Originally Written for Carrot Ranch Writing Prompt.
June 20, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about what freedom feels like. Whose point of view do you use? Does the idea of freedom cause tension or bring hope? Let the reader feel the freedom. Go where the prompt leads!
How had she got here? Her mother always told her she had the worst taste in men. So she had decided to try something new, so here she was.
She sat across the table listening. Listening… Listening…
Don’t glance at the clock, don’t glance at the clock.
3 Minutes left. Dammit, you glanced at the clock. 3 more minutes being harangued by this guy.
She nodded politely. Took another sip. Another guy with no interesting properties she could quantify.
Why was she doing this to herself?
Blimey, they loved the sound of their voice, didn’t they?
Buzzzzz
Thank god.
She glanced at the next guy approaching.
“Hi there.”
“Hi”
“Do you want to tell me a bit about yourself?”
“Well, I am Jack,” taps his name badge. “Which is the perfect name as people would refer to me as a jack of all trades.”
Nervous chuckle.
“Oh, that’s interesting, in what way?”
“I’m currently looking into creating a new app that will help low-cost families, it searches the supermarkets’ deals for that week and creates the lowest cost menu for them.”
“Wow, that doesn’t really sound jack of all trades.”
“Well, I’m also gathering together a team of savvy elders who are putting together old-style hints and tips to help the next generation.”
“Wow. That’s impressive, makes my life seem pretty boring. All I do is go to work and come home.”
“Oh, I never asked, what do you do?”
“Oh, I am just a software engineer.”
“Really, you might be just the person I am looking for actually. I do have some software algorithms I’m struggling to figure out.”
“Erm..” she paused.
“You would be helping people and… well, it would be a good way to get to know each other.”
Buzzzzz
Oh no.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
He smiled and ticked his sheet as she ticked hers.
Maybe she’d finally figured out what she wanted her taste in men to be… and maybe her mother would give her some peace at last.
Intelligence is really a kind of taste: taste in ideas
“No, no, no……”, a tiny voice shouted into the darkness. “Not Tony, we can’t have lost Tony.”
“Pull it together man. We’ve got to get the rest of the gang to safety. We’ll come back for Tony.”
In two’s the men made their way for cover. Safely in shelter one of them dared to turn on the light.
“Geoff, what are you doing? Do you want us to get caught?”
“Chill, we’re in the all-clear.” In the distance, they could hear glasses clinking, laughter and soft music. Still, it was clear some of the guys were nervous. They’d been caught out before and they knew the repercussions.
“Look we’ll hunker down here for a while. See if we can get one or two of those vehicles started and then head out.”
More laughter drifted through the air towards them, and they heard a door banging in the distance. Ignoring it they focussed on the cars. How many would they need to fit everyone in?
“Alex! James! Get yourselves back to bed this instant!” The bedroom light switched on startling two young boys. In the doorway stood an angry woman with her hands on her hips.
“Mum… It was just getting to the good bit,” Alex whined.
“You’ve already been told. Any more of that nonsense and James will be going home. You know you were only allowed to have a sleepover if you boys went to bed on time.” She walked into the room and removed some of the dolls the boys were playing with.
The boys skulked over to bed, wading through a trail of dolls and cars and toy guns.
“I expect this mess to be cleaned up first thing in the morning, then you can have these back.” His mother said then with a whoosh she switched off the light and closed the door.
“What now?” came a quiet voice in the dark. A dull torchlight appeared under the bedsheets.
“Give them five minutes to get back to their dinner party and we can play again.” “Yea, now we’ve really got to rescue Tony!”
She stared out across the water. Her mind lapping like the waves on the edge of the lake. Repeating her story to herself, but adding another line each time. Her life had changed, her plans gone awry, was there signals she missed? Probably. She had wanted the cliché. The house, the husband, the dog and the kids. She fought with everything she could, sometimes risking that which she hadn’t meant to. She had almost got it all. Almost.
The dog was an easy win, who doesn’t love dogs? Convincing him of the house move trickier but manageable. Some thought her husband meek but he could be stubborn when he wanted to. The wedding was a much harder challenge but eventually, she got there. Finally, she was ready for the children to come along.
Yet… as more and more time went in, the dreamed of pregnancy just didn’t happen. Cracks in her perfectly laid plans began to appear elsewhere. Strains that had been glossed over now bowed under pressure. Eventually, the talk was had. The perfectly planned life unravelled. One got the dog, the other the house. The title of husband and wife was vandalised with the “EX-“ prefix. So here she was, alone, in front of the wild lake.
Yet, life gave lessons, not curses. The wild lake representing what she needed, giving her time to cleanse, revive and refresh her life. Time to make some new plans…
“As exciting, difficult and memorable as our past can be, there comes a time when we have to get on with living.”
Patrick Carman, The Tenth City
I realise this is quite a melancholic post this week. I have someone on my mind. Someone I used to know well but life presented some challenges, as life often does, and now they are no longer part of my life. Even though that is the case, I still wish them luck and happiness on their quest. Water after all is the best symbol for refreshment there is.
He stared down at the newspaper. He really should call the newsagent and cancel the delivery but so far the thought of one more person apologising for his loss was too much. Better to just let it be, it was only a paper. Making his way to the kitchen he popped the kettle on then opened the fridge door. Row upon row of milk bottles lay unopened. He really should call and half the delivery. He paused. On second thought, a cuppa out would be a nice treat.
He grabbed his jacket and swapped his well-worn slippers for a pair of dress shoes. He wasn’t sure if they went with what he was wearing, Judy would have told him that, he shooed the thought from his mind. It didn’t matter, he had no one to impress anyway.
He walked down the street, hands in his pockets, keeping his head down, terrified a neighbour would stop him and offer more condolences. He knew they were trying to be kind but right now more condolences felt like the last thing he needed. He kept his head down and kept walking.
He stopped outside the café and looked in the window. Should he go in? His mind flashed back to sitting inside, waiting whilst Judy had her hair cut, after what felt like hours she’d appear. What do you think? She’d say with a huge smile. “Beautiful Darling”, he’d say, never really noticing the difference but her smile was all that mattered and that was truly beautiful. He turned to leave, he couldn’t go in there, not yet.
Across the road was a new café. It looked too trendy, one of these barista type affairs. Not a proper café. Still, he’d made it out the house, made it this far, maybe he should go in. No, I’m not young enough he thought, imagining the hipster type with their skinny jeans frowning at his questionable attire. But as he stood and watched a woman walked to the door and stepped inside, as she did, her scarf blew in the wind, causing her to drop her handbag, contents spilling across the pavement. Without even thinking, he crossed the road and knelt to help her. He picked up the pages of her newspaper and tried to sort them into some kind of order.
“Don’t worry about that, I’m not really a newspaper girl anyway, more of a book fanatic”, she said then gave him a beaming smile.
“Me too”, he said then chuckled. He handed her the scrunched newspaper and turned to leave.
“What kind of books are you into?” she asked.
“Oh, a bit of everything.”
“Ever read Fahrenheit 451?”
“Of course, a few years ago now, but it’s a book that sticks with you?”
“Great.” She beamed her smile at him again. “I am meeting my book group over by the window, why don’t you join us? This month’s book was Fahrenheit 451.”
“Erm…”
“We’re a friendly bunch, besides I think I owe you a cuppa for helping me but I’d feel bad holding the group up any longer.” That inviting smile came out again. He looked up and down the street. He had nowhere else to be.
“Sure. Why not?” He said. Together they stepped through the door. Despite the nerves, he felt excitement, a new chapter was about to begin, it only took one small step.
“As exciting, difficult and memorable as our past can be, there comes a time when we have to get on with living.”
Patrick Carman Quote
Originally written in response to Writer’s Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge (#WQWWC) hosted by Marsha Ingrao at Always Right.
“As exciting, difficult and memorable as our past can be, there comes a time when we have to get on with living.”
Patrick Carman, The Tenth City
Change is often both terrifying and exciting whether that be a new house, a new job or even just a new chapter in life. I’m always curious about how people come to the decision to make that change, I find it’s often one small moment that causes them to take that leap of faith. Hope you enjoyed my tale capturing that moment.
I’m hoping to create a local book group to share my love of all things book related. I attended one years ago, it was at a local arts centre which sadly lost funding and closed. The group tried to keep going but the right venue was never available, pubs were too noisy, or had awkward seating or couldn’t reserve tables, the local bookshop and library both close at 6pm so were unusable and we couldn’t guarantee the numbers to hire a dedicated space, so it fizzled out. I am hoping to start a new one, hopefully with fresh eyes and excitement after (reportedly) more and more renewed their love of reading in lockdown. Wish me luck.
New2Writing 