Ally stood in the workshop and stared at the racks of tools and equipment. She’d managed to pack the bedroom, even when she cuddled into his beloved checked shirts. She’d sorted the kitchen cupboard, even when she came across his favourite mug. Even the bathroom, when she’d caught the scent of his favourite aftershave. But the workshop was different. It was truly his space. She let the tears flow freely as she lifted the first cardboard box. The workshop was the chink in her armour and once the hole was established, her grief poured endlessly. God, she missed him.
Week 1 – Tuesday: The always give me the dirty jobs, the sucky jobs, the ones I’m never going to develop, I’m never going to shine! They are undervaluing me and everything I do. Apprenticeship, they say, like they’re doing me some big favour, apprenticed to these old goons that don’t know their apples from their oranges.
They tried the traditional jokes, we need tartan paint, haha, yeah everyone laughed, but I got it right away, knew they were trying to mess with me. Jokes on them, I took an extra long lunch break to get the “tartan paint” got myself a nice coffee, browsed my phone, got my nails done it was great.
Week 1 – Friday: The twats tried it again with a long stand – seriously, I’m sure these jokes were around with the dinosaurs, so I took a long stand, in the shopping queue, got myself some great new clothes, I’m so ready for this weekend. I wonder what time they let people leave on a Friday? My friend Georgie has got half day finish on a Friday, lucky sod. IF they think I’m working to five they can do one.
Week 2 – Monday – Thank god! One week left. I showed up today in all my new nails and new gear, looking proper smart, ready to be wheeled out in front of the customers, well that’s why I applied here for my work experience. Do you know what those b*ggers had me doing? Emptying their blasted bins, and moving boxes around the stock room. Covered in dust head to toe.
Week 2 – Wednesday – I walked in late today and no-one really noticed. I spoke to the girl on reception (she seems nice enough but a bit mousy) and she said she thought that was me finisihed up! Hah! I wish. I wonder if that means if I took Thursday and Friday off no-one would notice. Probably a bad idea, I need to get that completion certificate and Keira said last year after her work experience they had a whip round and gave her fifty quid! And that was just for waitressing in a cafe. Imagine what I’d get at a place like this!
Week 2 – Friday – Well thank god thats over. I got no fairwell, no pat on the back, no cash, just a piddly handshake from the CEO who I’d only seen once.
Work Experience Report for C Mitchell
C Mitchell has problems with authority and a poor work ethic. They failed to establish any working relationships with the team and at best could be described as idle.
Parents Signature…. Students Signature….
Week 3 – Monday – Bollocks!!! My mum’s going to kill me.
I actually really enjoyed my work experience (I worked at a local cafe, got to keep my tips and even got offered a Saturday job at the end of it) but I saw this quote and couldn’t resist.
‘A river cuts through rock, not because of its power, but because of its persistence.’
– James N. Watkins
As a writer and an author-in-progress, I adore this quote. I started writing my first novel years ago, having first read a historical account in a newspaper in 2013. The story mulled itself over and over in my head, then persistence gave way and I decided to read more into it. The characters began to speak to me, both the original storyline and a modern storyline which corresponded. I put my fingers to the keyboard and let the click-clacking begin. I had many stops and starts, I got married, attended Uni, and had a baby but still, I am drawn back to the story, which is in the final throws now. I have completed the modern storyline and have a handful of chapters of the historic storyline to go and then “Hallelujah!” my first draft will be complete.
I already have a second story outlined and a third and fourth gnawing away at me (I’ve collated some notes to try to keep them at bay for now). The hardest part, putting my bum in the seat and just writing without distraction, but I’ll get there. Like the river, I’ll ebb away at that rock and hopefully someday, I’ll make it.
Love and best wishes to all those rivers trying to cut their way through the rock. You’ll get there.
We lost our little old lady earlier this year, and although there is a space in my heart and in the house, we’ve decided at this time, we’re just not ready to have another. I still instinctively go to open the back door, the other day the white of a sheet flickering on the laundry line caught the corner of my eye and I briefly thought it was her wandering the bag garden waiting to be let in. My little boy has asked us more than once when she’s coming back from her holidays. I’m still not ready to tell him she’s never coming back. Anyway, whatever path she’s wandering (and I like to think it’s got a lovely beach with water to splash around, or a nice forest for her to sniff around excitedly), I hope she knows we love and miss her.
Kate sobbed into the pillow. Talia leaned over and rubbed her back.
“Kate, it will be all right!” Kate sat up and looked her sister straight in the eyes.
“No Talia, it won’t. Each day, I do my job, I try to help and it seems each day another injured creature must be put to rest. And why? Because humans do not care! They have no time to pick up their waste after a trip to the beach or the park, indeed, they do not care what products they buy as long as it has the brand they want to be seen with or a price they are willing to pay. But who really pays the price, Talia? Those sorrowful creatures that look deep in my eyes as I soothe them and try to comfort them in their final hours.”
“Listen, my dear sister. You are correct, some humans, do not care but not all are like that, and I feel the tide is turning in our favour. You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is like an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty. Until then we must keep campaigning. Keep spreading our word. Keep rescuing the injured. It will be worth it in the end. I assure you.”
He was quiet, smart and kind. He gave his heart to all that he did. Not many knew the real him, but those that were lucky enough to, know what a good guy he was.
My husband was ordinary.
He signed up for the military at a young age. He felt it was the right thing to do. He formed friendships and comradeship like many will never know.
My husband was ordinary.
He married, bought a house, and became a devoted father. He woke in the morning, walked the dog and got the paper. He gave the kids bath-time and then allowed them to curl up on his knees whilst he told them one last bedtime story.
My husband was extraordinary.
One time he never came home and the void he left will never, ever be filled.
“Travel is the only thing you buy that makes you richer”
Seeking the City
By KL Caley
He scraped his worn sandals against one another. His wandering eyes occasionally drifted down to the loose thread on his jeans. Don’t pull it, it was fashionable to have holes in them these days anyway, he thought.
As the early sun rose from the sky, the city revealed itself before him.
Leaving his job and his home was the scariest thing he had ever done, but now he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.
And he let his heart wonder, for just a moment, if he would ever see her again, in this city of dreams.
My 99-Word short story was originally written in response to:
“I still believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and true love. Don’t even try to tell me different.”
Katie closed her eyes and prayed
It was, after all, a holiday
She didn’t often go to church
It didn’t resemble her faith much
Yet in her heart, she felt a pull
She always had since starting school
A little voice that said “believe”
And in that voice she found relief
It may not be the common faith
But in her heart, it had found its place
Be kind, be curious and in all things love
This was the faith that she dreamed of.
This week’s topic on WQW was Faith/Hope. A difficult subject. One I am highly unqualified to discuss in reality so I have gone for a simple poem. I believe everyone’s faith is personal to them, in the same way each friendship, romance, dream, desire and life is personal. I don’t think a one-size-fits-all will ever be accepted by everyone, so your beliefs or faith may be slightly different to the next person, but that’s okay. The closest single message is the #BEKIND campaign, which I think all of the world wishes was more true. ❤