Author Archive

Careless

September 26, 2009

I could have sworn I closed that window. Damn. There’s wet all over the sill. Wouldn’t matter if it was the bathroom, but these nice wooden ones show marks. Should’ve stuck with the plastic if I’m going to be so careless…

Funny – there’s wet on the floor too. How’d it get so far into the room? It’s not been all that windy. Big blobs too. Mustn’t tell the children I’ve been forgetting things – have me in a home next …

Get a cloth. Don’t want to slip … another sure-fire way to the home …

Who’s there?

.. who….?

Waiting

August 26, 2009

Ok – a suitable challenge to take up on a day such as this! Bit rusty, I fear, but here goes:

I stood under the trees like a horse, motionless, patient, waiting for the rainstorm to pass.  But what did it matter if I was soaked? There would be an element of cleansing, surely, if I could offer myself to the deluge – allow the water to course over my hot eyes, to wash away the signs, to plaster my hair to my face and make my appearance at once remarkable and normal.

I was no longer normal. He was dead, and it wasn’t my place to be distraught. But I was, and the rain mocked my tears – and my waiting.

C.M.

Sliding

March 1, 2009

My attempt at the train story; it’s 16 words over and I can’t pare any more. What a discipline this is!

He had been following her. She was sure of it. She had felt those sliding eyes on her almost before she had seen him, but when she had actually looked at the man, he’d been looking over her head at the destination board.  And she’d begun to sweat, in the snaking draughts of the concourse.

She had five minutes to pelt off to platform 13; the train almost deserted at this late hour. She sat in the end of a carriage, gasping slightly. A skinny girl chewed gum obsessively at the other end. No-one else.

And then he was there. Sliding into the seat opposite her, just as the train pulled out of the station.

Half empty haiku…

August 28, 2008

Life is always

so full of worrying things

– the cancerous sun.

* * * *

And a half-full one…

The rain had fallen

for day after sodden day

– but the flowers grew still.

The Wall

July 30, 2008

“We thought we’d put in a wall.”

The circle of aging faces looked mildly interested.

“To provide a space we could heat. And hide the new loo.”

They sighed. The cold and the need for a loo were indubitably connected. But there was a stirring, an uncrossing of ankles, and then:

“How high? This wall?”

Consternation. Obviously this had not been entirely thought out. The wall might go all the way to the lofty roof of the church, or it might not. If not, it would remain as cold as the rest of the building, and any screaming children would be as audible as ever.

“Maybe we should just try a partition. Folding.” The vestry secretary, as always, had the compromise ready. And Mrs Starling had already excused herself.

Downstairs, a loo flushed.

This is a tad long. Forgive my incontinence….

Oh wall, oh wall …

July 26, 2008

    These two lovely photos by Colleen Magennis provide the visual stimulus for your next assignment. Think about walls in their various roles, physical and psychological, and do your thing – 100 words of prose or a similarly brief poem.

As this is my first attempt to upload photos in WordPress, you’ll have to forgive any odd results.

Note to frustrated contributers: I noticed that on my first attempt to sign in today, my password was rejected. I merely hit ‘enter’ again and it worked.

Duck!

July 10, 2008

I think I’m becoming bogged down in domestic trivia! But all that came to me were these wally ducks …

Thirty-eight years these bloody ducks have flown across the wall. Gran’s, they were. My wedding present. Took them off her own wall and parcelled them up. You could tell she thought of them as a sort of trinity – indivisible. She went and died the day after the wedding and that was that. Never felt I could get rid of them. That lead duck has a look of Gran. Something about the eye. Of course, Gran had two eyes, but this duck isn’t properly rounded, if you get me. There’s a hollow bit against the wall.

I sometimes think I can hear the creak and rush of them. But not for much longer. Wee Kelly-Anne’s getting married next week.

Frequency?

July 8, 2008

We’ve been thinking about how often we should produce writing stimuli for this site. Personally, I hugely enjoyed the unexpected challenge to write to a given topic, and the liberation of not having to frame a whole post the way I do on my personal blog. It would be interesting to know how contributors to the last challenge see this: how often do we want to have a new challenge? Will that change depending on the time of year? (Fewer writers when it’s sunny?) And do we want a variety of stimuli – pictorial as well as verbal?

Alison signed me up to post to give some continuity while she’s away – so this is Chris, aka goforchris, indulging her particular bees by letting them out of the bonnet for a wander. Buzz away!