WEDNESDAY WRITERS - ORANGE

Writing Prompt for Wednesday Stories 11/9/16

·       November 3, 2016

·     CREATIVE WRITING, WEDNESDAY STORIES

Debb our host from Inner Sunshine has given us a one word prompt this week -  she says: 

Hello!  This prompt is the first of its kind on my blog.  I am asking us to write a piece on ORANGE, ANYTHING ORANGE! This could be about the colour or fruit; use whatever form you’d prefer, like a story, poem, composition, fable, dissertation (just kidding on the last one)…

I won’t even have a word count limit.  Here is your chance to use your wings and fly (write) with freedom!  Any questions go to:  

http://www.innersunshine.net/2016/11/03/writing-prompt-for-wednesday-stories-11916/

to see the other contributions. 

Here is my take on the word ORANGE

Photo credit:  Sally Stackhouse

JACK O’ LANTERN

The whispering started late that night.  A mumbling, a slight hissing sound always to the left of her head.  Daphne shook her head and made her way up the stairs.  She shouldn’t have watched that late night horror film all by herself. 

She’d begged Alf not to go to the pub that night but he’d just laughed at her silly ways.  He was captain of the darts team and they had a big match on that night.  A deep rivalry existed between their local pub, The Royal Oak, and The Orange Tree pub from the neighbouring village.  This was the final for the darts league and very important to both teams as they were neck and neck in the league table.

Alf gave Daphne a kiss, patted her ample behind with love taps and told her not to wait up.  He’d get a lift home with a mate.

Helping her grandson carve an orange Jack O’ Lantern that afternoon they’d made up ghoulish tales, his 12 year old imagination becoming more and more macabre with heads and limbs being chopped off by monstrous demons.

Now Daphne’s imagination became overactive not helped by hearing every creak that their old tied-cottage made as the heat dissipated from the rafters and the wooden beams contracted. 

She heard the sibilant hissing again as she turned out the bathroom light and made her way down the landing to their bedroom.  A loud bang frightened her out of her skin as she quickly covered herself with her duvet and snuggled down in the bed.

Daphne.  Daphne. Daaphneee….

She woke with a start, the green luminesce figures on the clock radio denoted 3.00 a.m.  She reached out for Alf but his side of the bed was cold.  She sat up with a start, something was wrong, terribly wrong. He should have been home hours ago.

Daphne.  Daphne.  Daaphnee – help me please……

The voice was calling her again.  Her heart hammering in her chest Daphne slipped her furry slippers on, wrapped herself in her candlewick dressing gown, switching on lights as she crept downstairs, gathering her courage she checked every room.

They were cold and empty, the heating was on a timer and not due to come on until 6.00 a.m.   She shivered and then froze to the spot in the kitchen.  Along with her name being called she heard a scratching sound at the back door.

Gingerly Daphne unlocked the door, pulling the handle she slowly opened the door. 

‘About time, girl.  Goodness you took your time waking up!’

Alf was shivering with the cold, his teeth chattering as the warmth of the alcohol he had imbued earlier on in the evening had left his bloodstream. Waving his mate off he then realised he’d forgotten his house keys.

Daphne was tempted to leave him out there in the cold for giving her such a fright. Then she remembered the old adage, revenge is a dish best served cold.

She’d bide her time and get Alf back for this, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but one day soon, when he was least expecting it, she’d pay him back.

 Word count: 514