Wednesday, 15 February 2017

LOST LOVE - WEP FEB 2017


This month Write Edit Publish (WEP) challenge is: Back of the Drawer

It's up to you! Create an artistic interpretation: a poem, a flash fiction piece of 1000 words or less, a non-fiction piece detailing your personal experience or someone else's experience, write a script, draw your dreams, or post a photograph or a photo essay. The genre is up to you. The artistic choice is yours. A scandal, a lost love found, a deed, a lottery ticket or the last will and testament naming you the sole beneficiary! Go for it!

What will you find at the BACK OF THE DRAWER?




Here is my entry:

LOST LOVE

Frank rushed into the house. 

‘Maggie, look what I found wedged at the back of one of the drawers.’ 

He held out a bundle of envelopes, tied up with string.

We sat at the kitchen table.  I read each letter, tears filling my eyes.


The family heirloom furniture, ready to be refurbished or upcycled, yielded up the story of Sarah and Walter, not a family myth any longer. 


Walter Kelly – photo credit Sally Stackhouse 


My darling Walter,

I dreamt of you last night.  Your arms were wrapped around me as we snuggled up in bed, your whiskers gently scraped against my cheek.  I heard your snores as you slept peacefully.

I reached out for you but I was alone. 

I reached out in my mind. 

I reached out my love. 

I felt my fingertips tingle. 

I know you felt me. 

I count the days until you are home.

Your loving wife,

Sarah. xxx


My darling Sarah,

My love, my heart.

I only have a few moments.  

I wish I had longer.  

I will not have you crying tears for me.  

I hold you tightly in my heart every moment of the day and night.

Walter xxx




My dearest Walter,

Every night I hold back my tears.  

Every night I peek out of the blackout curtains, one tiny corner, for one tiny, precious moment and send my love soaring across the sky to wherever you are.

Your ever loving wife,

Sarah xxx




My Darling Sarah,

Tonight we had time for a hot cooked meal. I feel a bit more human now.  The rumour is we have tonight to recuperate before we start marching again.

Today was a tough day. My Lieutenant asked me to go through Charlie’s things ready for him to send on.  I steel myself as I do this last thing for him.   We thought he was going to make it but God obviously had other plans for this young boy.  I remember he told me his dad was so proud when he joined up but his mum was very cross.  Now she has to accept he is gone forever. 

Sarah, you must move to the country.  The coast is not safe anymore.  

Stay safe so I can come home to you.

Love you forever and ever.

Walter Xxx




My darling husband,

We are to be relocated to Wells in Somerset.  It seems even further away from you, although I know you are thousands of miles away but if I think it is only a piece of sea separating us then I can cope a bit more.

We are only allowed one suitcase. We don't know how long we will be gone for.  It is a farm and I will work in the fields.  I am not afraid of hard work.  I am only afraid of the evil in the world. 

I am so proud of you my darling husband and all the men who risk their lives so that we can live freely but sometimes I do wonder if the price is too high.

Do you think I could write to Charlie’s mum?  Are you allowed to give me her address?

Waiting forever for you to return.

Love you more and more each day.

Sarah xxx



Dear Nora,

My deepest sympathies go out to you at this time.  My husband, Walter, served with your Charlie.  I hope you don’t mind me writing to you.  I met your lovely lad last summer. He didn’t have enough time to get to Wales to see you and his dad so he came home with Walter on a 24-hour leave.

We chatted and drank some tea.  He talked about you, he showed me your picture, you, his dad and two little brothers.  He kept the picture in a pocket next to his heart.   He gave me a lovely cuddle as he left and I felt all the love he had for his family which I now pass on to you.

I am working on a farm in Somerset so I think of you working on your farm, doing the same chores as I am, waking up early and retiring early, physically worn out. 
Let’s hope this horrible war is over soon, they say it will be over by Christmas.

My best wishes to you and your family.

Mrs. Sarah Kelly.

Dear Sarah,

Thank you for your kind words.

I cry every night for my boy.

Best wishes

Mrs. Nora Jones.


********

We regret to inform you
Sergeant Walter Kelly severely wounded.
Receiving treatment at the Royal Free Hospital.

*******

Dear Walter,

I will catch the train tomorrow. 

I will be at the hospital Wednesday. 

I will look after you always.

Love

Sarah.




Dear Sarah,

Do not come.

W.



Dear Walter,

I came all this way to see you.  Why won't you see me? 

I love you with all my heart. 

I have found some lodgings two streets away. 

I will come to the hospital every day until you see me.

Always yours,

Sarah.





Oh my darling Sarah,

I am not the man I was when you saw me last. 

I can't be the man you married. 

I won't make you look after an invalid for the rest of our life.

I do love you. 

With all my heart.

Walter.



Darling, darling Walter,

I leave this letter by your bedside.
 
I know you can't see it.

I know you can’t pick it up.

I leave it with all my love.

I leave it with you for all eternity.

As a soldier you did your duty.

As a man you honoured your country

As my husband you had to go.

As your wife I understand.

As your wife I wanted you to stay.

My husband

My lover

My friend

My heart breaks

My soul weeps

My mind shrieks

I scream in the night

I scream in the daylight

Why do humans fight?

Who was right?

 Sarah, yours for always and forever.


Photo credit: Sally Stackhouse


Walter and Sarah’s love waited a long time to be found, now their love story could be told. 


Wednesday, 8 February 2017

EMMA WEDNESDAY WRITERS

Writing Prompt for Wednesday Stories 2/8/17
·       February 2, 2017



This prompt is simple:  write a story or an opinion piece about all the photos shown below.  Just try it!  And did you know — a story can be as short as three lines?  Word limit:  500 (It will always be this unless noted otherwise.). Send your piece to stantonsunshine@gmail.com by Monday noon, please.





EMMA

She made it to the top of the hill.  The lone tree had stood there for hundreds of years.  What changes had it seen?  The sky above was dotted with scudding clouds, the expanse of space above took her breath away or was that just the hike up the hill?  This getting older business was beginning to get on her nerves.  Her knees gave her gyp, her hips ached, let alone the calf muscles in the back of her legs.  Panting slightly, hoping to regain control of her breathing Emma set her back pack on the grassy mound and plunked down beside it. 


Now this was the life, no cell reception, no interruptions just her and nature, she could connect with the universe.   Oh get over yourself said her inner voice.  Who on earth do you think you are?  You are just plain Emma, middle aged, frumpy, your children have flown the nest and their lives are too busy to keep in touch, your husband left you for a younger, more nubile female and here you are convening with the elements.

Inside her mind came a louder voice, loud but gentle.  An image of her granddaughter swinging in the garden made Emma smile for a moment and then reality hit.  She couldn’t see her granddaughter’s face.  It was hidden from her.  She tried to send thoughts to the little girl she may never see, closed her eyes and willed the face to come to her but no luck.  She’d just have to make do with sending Christmas and birthday cards to little Marie and hope she got them. 



Emma dozed off in the peace of the hillside, the sun’s rays warmed her upturned face.  How long she had been asleep she really didn’t know when a strange noise alerted her senses.  She couldn’t place the sound.  Was she dreaming or was she now awake and back in reality?

Whoosh, whoosh, the air was moving in wafts around her.  She opened her eyes and quickly shut them as she was assaulted by a myriad of colourful images.

Colourful hot-air balloons were floating in the sky above her replacing the clouds.  Miniature people started waving at her as she heard the popping and whistling of air being inflated and deflated from the balloons. 


Emma looked down towards the village seeing a smorgasbord of colour, so many more balloons were getting ready to sail up in to the air.  She’d completely forgotten this weekend was the annual hot-air balloon festival.

She felt her spirits lift, her life wasn’t really so bad, she was reasonably healthy, apart from those aches and pains mentioned earlier.  She had friends and she vowed she would make more of an effort to stay in touch with her children and grandchildren.

Thank you, kind soul, she sent up silent thoughts of gratitude to whoever was beyond the universe for making her see her life was in her own hands, she just had to grab it and go with it.

Word count: 500

Tuesday, 31 January 2017

TROUBLE - Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers


If you want to join in the fun please read

Guide for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
by clicking this link


This week's photo prompt is provided by Jessica Haines.
Thank you Jessica for our photo prompt!




TROUBLE

Andrew’s new trainers were muddy along with his trousers.  He was going to get into trouble with his mum but he really couldn’t help it.  That puddle just begged to be jumped in.  He had homework to do after he got tea ready for his brothers when mum went to her second job.  That job was worse than the cleaning one she did early in the morning but at least she saw them to school in the morning. 

When she got back from the pub she would kiss him and his brothers.  Andrew could smell the stale beer, her hair smelt metallic from the hairspray she used.  She would murmur words of love to him, thanking him for his help, most nights he felt a wetness on her cheeks as he pretended to stay asleep.

When he was 13 he would get a part-time job and bring in some money to help. 

Word count: 152

Sunday, 29 January 2017

THE DREAM - Sunday Photo Fiction


https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/01/29/sunday-photo-fiction-january-29th-2017/

This week’s picture prompt is courtesy of C.E. Ary


We have 200 words to pen a story using the photo.

© C.E.Ayr


THE DREAM

The tide was out, a lone boat bobbed in the shallow water.  Emma couldn’t see any sign of life aboard.   It must be a lonely life out there on the river trying to make a living.  Emma was so grateful she worked in a nice warm office although some of the people could take a lesson or two in good manners.  Office humour was quite nasty at times.  There was a lot of back stabbing and rumours abounded started by goodness knows who or why.

Toby tugged on her hand.  Her five year old was so full of energy, some days she didn’t know how she kept it altogether, working full time and running round after him was wearing her out.  It was hard being a single mum. 

She looked back longingly at the lone boat and wondered, not for the first time, if she could just disappear from the hectic rat race, her time her own being blown wherever the tide and trade winds took her.

Toby was her main priority now, he slipped his hand from hers and ran with glee towards the swings.  She left her long abandoned dream behind as she chased towards her little boy.

Word count: 200


Wednesday, 18 January 2017

WEDNESDAY WRITERS - THE MISTAKE

This week's prompt is a photo and eight random words crafting a story 500 words max.

If you want to join in the fun please go to Inner Sunshine

http://www.innersunshine.net/2017/01/14/rushy-writing-prompt-for-january-18-2017/



pottery     lunatic     hour     arms     tar     barrel     bread     crown

THE MISTAKE

It should have been such a great day but now here I was striding along this road, the heat of the day making the tar on the road stick to my shoes.  These high heels would be the death of me yet, they were pulling on my feet but there was no way I could take them off and walk on this rough road with more miles of countryside to go.  It will take me at least another hour to get home.

It all started last week when my lunatic best friend, Angela, decided to throw me a party in honour of me opening my first exhibition in a few weeks’ time.  I’d been so busy getting everything ready, making sure all my pottery pieces were exactly right, the firing had gone well, the glazing wasn’t crazed and all the hand-painted artwork was going really well.
 
Then Angela turned up on my doorstep Friday night and gaily informed me she was taking me to her house where a few friends would gather to honour my success as an artist. 

I tried all the tricks in the book not to go but she had me over a barrel.  I’d arranged a similar surprise event for her a few years ago and she’d waited this long to get her revenge on me, well that’s what it felt like.

‘Come on, Natalie, you know you’ll enjoy it when you get there.’  Angela’s pleading face was enough, so despite all my protestations and foreboding about the event I agreed to go. 

Angela picked me up and we drove to her house in the country, the next thing I knew she’d invited all of our friends and it seems their friends as well.  The house was bursting at the seams and then he walked in.  I hadn’t seen Nigel for a year so I was so surprised when my heart started to thump with excitement and my tummy had butterflies in it. 

Nigel wrapped me in his arms, ‘God I’ve missed you Natalie!’

I just snapped.  I picked up the first thing that I could grab, luckily I was standing by the buffet table and a loaf of bread, as yet uncut, smashed it across the crown of his head.

His swearing and cussing could be heard across the whole of the house.  I picked up a bouquet of balloons and, with my head held high, made a hasty exit out of the front door.

He had a nerve.  What a cheek!  My indignation took me striding a mile up the road before I ran out of steam.  Then my tears started to flow.  What on earth was Angela thinking invited my ex to my party?  It should have been a celebration and she should have known better.

My mobile had been pinging with text messages and phone calls as I strode along but I ignored it.  I certainly don’t need friends like these, not now and never again would I be hurt like this.


 Word count: 500

Sunday, 15 January 2017

THE GOBLET - SUNDAY PHOTO FICTION


https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2017/01/15/sunday-photo-fiction-january-15th-2017/

The above link will take you to the rules/guidelines - basically we have 200 words to create a story around a photo prompt.


This is our photo prompt for this week

THE GOBLET
The piece of pottery gave her nightmares. It was grotesque, the skull face, empty eye sockets, grinning teeth, all encased in ivory and pewter and silver and gold design could not be worth as much as he had intimated over the phone.

‘Well now, Ms. Saunders, I understand you want to sell this item.’  His voice made the hairs on my arms stand up.

‘Yes, that is the general idea or I wouldn’t have made the appointment with you and brought it here for appraisal.’  I smiled back charmingly, I might as well use my womanly wiles as long as they lasted.

His dark brown eyes under heavy, bushy eyebrows actually looked directly at me.  I held his stare, daring him to take advantage of me.  I wasn’t a blond bimbo, in fact I wasn’t a true blond at all.

We agreed a price, cash exchanged hands and I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I drove away from the sleazy pub where we had made the deal.   

Aunt Jane is probably turning in her grave but I am several hundreds of pounds richer and I know exactly how I will spend it. 

Ibiza Club 30 here I come.  
Word count:  200

Wednesday, 11 January 2017

WEDNESDAY WRITERS - GOLDIE AND THE GANG

 Wednesday Writers is hosted by the lovely Debb at

Inner Sunshine

this week our prompt  consisted of several photographs with dogs in the pictures.  I chose these two pictures for my story. 
To join in the fun click on Inner Sunshine



Here is my story: 

Goldie And The Gang


I know Goldie was more or less happy with me here but sometimes she seemed so sad and suckled her cuddly toy.  I had so many emotions when I went to pick her up from the rescue centre.  I wanted a dog for companionship, I’d never had one before and needed a more mature dog that was already house trained. 

The centre explained to me that Goldie was classed as a ‘rescue dog’ not because she had been abused in the physical sense but in the sense that the family who had her as a young puppy weren’t really suitable for her.  They had young children who were too loud and lively and always hyper, as is the phrase these days.  Goldie wasn’t settling, the parents worked full time, the kids had so many social activities that most of the time Goldie was left alone for hours and hours during the day and early evening.  The centre told me that when you took on the responsibility of having a dog in your family that dog should become part of the family and part of your life, not an ego trip or something to show off.

A few weeks in and I feel as though she is my life.  It is only these moments when I know she is sad and I wonder why and what I can do about it. 

Saturday was a beautiful day, sun streamed in the windows and the park beckoned to us.  I packed a thermos of hot tea, a couple of sandwiches and some doggy treats in my backpack, called to Goldie, fastened her lead and off we went.

Dog people are so friendly, nods and smiles and endearments to each other’s dogs, although nobody knows each other’s names we are all quite content to let the dogs interact with each other.

Goldie and I found a nice bench to have our lunch.  Goldie’s ears perked up and she started straining at her leash.  I looked in the direction that had taken her interest, three dogs were staring at us.   They didn’t seem to be with anybody. 


As I packed up our lunch things and got ready to leave the park the motley crew decided to follow us.  I took a detour and ended up at the rescue centre.  Samantha was just locking the door and leaving for the day when she spotted us.  

‘What have we got here?’ Samantha bent down to stroke all three dogs.   

I explained what had happened.  Samantha decided to open the centre and check them over.  She said she would contact me if she found out more about them.  Every week Goldie and I visited ‘our gang’ as we now referred to them.

To cut a long story short we are now a family of one lucky girl and four beautiful dogs.  Goldie is happy, no more sad eyes, and ‘our gang’ keep me on my toes and have brought joy and happiness to my life.

Word count: 497