Got time for a short story? Stories is how we tell each other about the world around us.
Up the Canadian Creek It was a dark and stormy night – no, really, it was. We were shivering inside a fragile, storm-tossed tent on a lonely, wave-licked island in the middle of a large, dark lake, deep in the Canadian forest. (I know, enough of the hyperbole, already!)
For a girl from a small Welsh island, everything in Canada seemed larger than life. As my boyfriend and I finally managed to settle in that tent, I considered some interesting realities of my new life in this huge country.
Discontinued patterns Funny how everything seems unchanged.
The yellow daffodils are alive in their glass vase, sunlight reflecting through green leaves. A woman’s light perfume hanging in the air. The dog curved into her basket under the corner table. She came towards him earlier, seeking/giving comfort. He has none left to give her, needing to protect what’s left for what he must do next.
Canine Capers As the taxi sputters away, Rosie totters on her high heels across the road to a wooden bench under a big beech tree. She sits gingerly on the edge of the wet bench, using her glossy magazine as a thin, makeshift cushion. Gazing around the sodden village, she watches and waits, the drizzle matting her hair against her face.
Bedtime Story I clamber down the rough rock face and stop for a minute to thrill at the cold Irish sea licking the rock edge far below. I’m just about there. A few minutes more of careful climbing on this slippery rock, and I bend my twelve-year-old body almost double to squirm through a narrow entrance into a small, wave-dampened cave. … Decision made, the sea stirs, heavy with power. The clouds echo its growing restlessness, gathering ever deeper. The seagulls cry their raucous alarms to those who will heed them.
The Dizzy Disaster Dear Aunt Hortense, Mother told me to write and thank you for my birthday present – the nearly-new ghost trap was terrific, but was that real blood on the hinges or just some gloopy old rusty make-believe stuff? A girl does like to know what she’s showing off, you know.
The whole neighbourhood’s been in a right old tizzy, what with old Mr Carter getting his hormonal rejuvenation spells mixed up and Mrs Jenkins catching the virus left over from the Raise the Dead festival. But nothing compares to the turmoil Sis caused trying to hide her latest pet – Mum almost turned her back to stone for that one…
