It was still early

It was still early when he turned into the lay-by. Parking up he turned off his lights and pushed back his seat.  He leaned over to his glovebox and pulled out a cheese sandwich and bottle of water and placed them on the passenger seat.

“Do you want anything?”  He asked his back seat passenger.  Although silence came from there, he nodded as though she had said something and he leaned back in his seat, picking up the food.

Licking his fingers and brushing off the last of the crumbs, the man looked at her in the mirror.  She had not said a word since leaving home but he knew she was tired.  He had picked her up from work and, bags already packed as a surprise, had told her about the trip to London he had planned for the weekend.  She had argued about it.  He couldn’t understand why, she loved to travel after all.  She did enough with work.  But she had then yawned and he had told her she could sleep on the way down.

He passed the bottle back to her and she drank a little, spilling some on her skirt.  She grinned in that haphazard way she had now.  One side of her mouth curling up slightly more than the other.  Her eyes were not sparkling as much as they had earlier and he realised she was tireder than he had imagined.  Perhaps the trip had been a bad idea after all.  It could have waited.

He was about to ask her if she wanted to go home again when he heard the screaming.  The woman who had pulled up her car behind them and had strolled up to ask if the couple knew the way to the M1 from where they were, just looked at the grinning corpse in the back seat and screamed and screamed.

The man took back the bottle from the lap of his wife’s body and drank some.  Placing the top carefully back on it, he then placed it back into the glovebox, along with the sandwich wrapper.

He smiled at the screaming woman and started the car.  Looking up at the rear view mirror he smiled again.  She had really been very angry at him spending the last of their money on this trip, but she had soon shut up and gone along with the idea.  She should have known he would win the argument in the end but, perhaps it had been a bad idea after all.  She had said she was tired.

He pulled away back onto the A road, leaving the other cars owner standing there, and headed for London.

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Written as part of the Writing Tasks on Our Arts Magazine http://ourartsmagazine.com/literature/writing-skills-task-194/2018

 

The security guard shouted

Sell Art OnlineThe security guard shouted as he ran after the small figure jumping in and out between the cars.

‘OI! Stop you!’

The shape in front of him suddenly veered off to the left, down a dark alley filled with bins and rubbish.  The guard nearly overshot it but skidded to a halt and then flew off in pursuit.

He saw his quarry just up ahead.  Had he actually caught him up?  Not bad for a 50 year old!

Then, as fast as he saw it, it had gone.  Vanished.  Poof!

He drew to a halt in the last proximity of the figure.  To the left were tall skips, filled with the rubbish thrown out of the back of the takeaways whose back entrances filled the alley.  A man came from one of those doorways now and, casting a cursory glance at the guard, tossed up a bag of scraps into one of those skips then spitting off to the gutter, he sauntered back through the door, slamming it behind him

To the right of the security guard stood ladders, fire escapes from the apartments which were being pulled down systematically to make way for yuppy housing and antique shops.

He stood, silent, listening for breathing, for any signs of the thief he had seen lifting a wallet from an old boys pocket in the high street.

Nothing.

It was spooky here.  He could hear the clatter of pots and pans in the building next to him. Cars behind him in the main road whooshing past on the wet road. It was overcast and dark now and he felt watched.

Backing out of the alley he started back to the shop he’d come from, washing his hands of the whole affair and thinking already of his dinner that night, (cod and chips he hoped)

The thief came out from behind the skip and waited for a few moments.

She threw back her hood and opened the wallet to see what was in it.  She grinned when she saw the money and walked off to buy her families food from the local store.  She was just glad the old guy hadn’t stolen anything from it when he had taken it from her earlier.

 

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written as part of the Writing Task on Our Arts Magazine http://ourartsmagazine.com/literature/writing-skills-task-188/2018

 

The bathtub was dirty

Ethel lay on the floor screaming.  The linen that served as a nappy was filthy and her little hands clasped and unclasped the air as her small red face crunched in another wail of unhappiness

Sell Art Online

Her mother pushed a damp lock of hair from her eye and sat back on her haunches, clutching the wet cloth in her hand. She sighed deeply and wrung it out into the bucket, then resumed scrubbing the floor.  Her ears deaf to her daughters cries as she had much more work to do before the day was done.

Once she had finished this, she had to prepare her husbands food so he did not have to wait when he got in from the mine.  He worked long hours to try and provide for them all.  Thankfully the oldest,  Clarissa, now had that job up at the big house, so that was one less mouth to feed, but Ethel was here now and soon would be eating their food too.  Dear Albert was starting the apprenticeship at the bakery next week and she was very grateful that this would mean another 5s a week!  They would eat like kings!

She pulled herself up once she reached the door, and holding her back, sighed deeply again.  She looked around and was proud of what she had.  Apart from Ethel.  Ethel had been an accident.  He had pulled out like the good Catholic Priest had told them to, but it hadn’t worked.  Ethel was born into their world and had not shut up since.  9 children she’d had and she did not want another.  But Ethel was there and she made the best of what God gave her.

Popping Ethel up and onto one hip, she walked towards the kitchen to start the evening meal.  Shouting for Katy to come and give a hand she grabbed a few potatoes out of the bag in the shed.  Her brother had dropped them off earlier.  Filling meal tonight.

Kate popped her head in from the yard, ‘Sorry Ma, the bathtub was dirty so am just finishing off there.  Get Mary to help ya’

With Ethel quietened down for a moment in a clean piece of cloth, she started to get the pans ready……..


Written as part of the Writing Tasks on Our Arts Magazine

 

Sunday Afternoon Drive

Mrs Blythe looked at the buckle and spat on it.  Her brow furrowed and her tongue stuck out as concentration rubbed at the brass, threatening to wear it away.

Art Prints

Mr Blythe sighed and scooped the reins from the floor where they had slipped to yet again.

‘thats it lass’ he grimaced, holding his back as he stood.  ‘Done in I am!   They are spotless and you don’t have cause to complain’

Mrs Blythe straightened the buckle and tweaked the fitting.  Head on one side she inspected the leather for any sign of wear.

finally satisfied, she followed her husband to the cart and helped him tack up Maisie, then Georgie.

when all was done and ready Mr Blythe helped her up with two hands on her bottom, listening to the creaks of the wood and the clatter of the horses hooves as they shifted restlessly.

He followed her up thinking, not for the first time, he was getting too darn old for this lark.  Taking up the reins he clucked to the two ponies who set off happily, ears pricked, tails flicking.

no, he thought to himself, I won’t retire for a while yet, then he settled back to enjoy the view, his wife’s chatter, and the thought of the pint of real ale when they reach the pub.

Onlooker at the River

All the little kiddies were playing around the brook. Lovely day for it with the weather hot and calm after colder days. It would storm soon thought the old timer as he looked up at the grey skies a few miles off. He watched the kids splishing and a splashing from his vantage point on a seat shaped rock in the shade. Seat shaped after years of him sitting here watching, every year….waiting. Another year, another anniversary.

He took out a worn wallet and an even more thumbworn photo from inside the cracked pockets. ‘Today’, he smiled at her. ‘Today’s the day, I can feel it.’

The children screamed with joy as they dunked, and swam. throwing handfuls of water over each other. Calling each others names as they dove off the bank into the cool liquid.

They were having a great time.

He sat and watched them, sucking on an old pipe, only stopping to refill her now and then. Spitting out specks of baccy nto an already stained patch near his feet from the years before.

A little boy ran up to him and tugged on his sleeve. ‘Mister? You comin’ in?’

The old man laughed hoarsely, coughing for a while. He grinned toothless at the boy. ‘Nah. I used to, a long long time ago, but I am too old for that now.’

The boy stood looking up at him for a moment, then charged back to his friends, forgetting about the old guy within a couple of seconds.

The man leaned back against the rock again and refilled the pipe careful not to let it go out. He held the photograph up again and remembered splishing and splashing in that river himself. With her. He wondered what she would have been doing now. What he would have been doing now if not waiting here to see the event.

As the sun lowered, he carefully put the photo away and pocketed the wallet. Leaning forward on the rock he watched the water carefully.

A little girl, further out than the rest, saw him and waved. He stayed there, not moving.

The girl disappeared suddenly and a wave of water whooshed towards the bank, far off on the other side.

‘Well, there she goes’. He muttered and not moving, sat watching the far bank until the children ran up to him…. ‘Mister? Have you seen our friend?’

‘She gone now’, he stated quietly. ‘That old croc took her. He gets one every year. That old croc’

Later the people came and asked what he had seen. He just repeated what he had told the children.

Are you sure? they all asked. ‘I done seen it clearly’, he replied again and again.

After the riverbank was cleared of people he slowly stood up and knocked out his pipe. He cupped it and placed it carefully in the top pocket of his shirt. Looking one last time at the other bank, he turned and walked towards home. ‘Next year, Sis’ he muttered…’See you next again year’

6:30am aka silly o clock

I work late. Very late. I try to get up late too.

Yesterday I was woken at 6:30am by two boisterous dogs (read here)

Today….. as the centre of my two day old bed collapsed….with me on it.
Not broken…the slats are just wiggled if you move about, and fall out. Bad design. May nail them
Not happy
Sore
Must smile at work so I act cheerful
Ouch

Indents

Good morning everyone. Spent yesterday evening training family fluff Miss Hannah for her TV debut, if we get one….. She’s learning so many words. She can pray, dance, and a few other things. She won’t crawl though. We’ll get there.

So another late night and then early start with Mr Darcy having a full on discussion with me this morning about why I should get up. I grunt and he speaks. After about 5 mins with me not moving and grunting only, he jumped on me and his sister started systematic licking.

I have GSD indents in my body!

I got up.

What to do with my new found….box

I ordered a rug back from Amazon as I’m….well…making a rug.

I have a note on there (my orders section) to leave my deliveries outside my door…it’s safe

I got a note when I got home that they tried to leave my delivery but I wasn’t in. Cool I thought, going back outside to check…. No, I read on…..we’ve left your delivery at the local garage.

Okkkkkkkk?!?!

It should have fitted through my letterbox!!

Later that day I trot off to the garage….taking my car…..thankfully it turns out. Inside, the guy shows me a large box and, grunting, helps me by carrying it to the car.

Huh? It should have gone through my letterbox

Looking at the label it clearly states my name, address and a note, leave outside the front door if not in!!

My BFs Mum has leukemia and we were off to see her so I didn’t get a chance to look in the box then. But whilst there my curiosity would not be contained and I slipped outside to see how big my rug back must be.

Opening the box I beheld a huge pile of catalogues. Tool catalogues. Tool catalogues?

Anyway, too long to cut a story short, but I got a full refund and was told I could, ‘keep the box you were sent’.

So….what to do with my new found…box of catalogues? Ideas?