Short Story -Platform Three

I was having a look at an old blog where I used to post my ramblings and writing and there are a few short stories that I might try and polish up and post here… The first was written for a prompt – the prompt word was “stranger”

Platform Three

Looking up at the departure board I sighed, closing my eyes for a second in the vague hope the glowing orange words would change when I looked again, but of course when I peeked out from beneath my lashes the news was still the same. “Delayed”.

It was late, I was cold and I had just had the day from hell. I wanted nothing more than to get back home, maybe have a nice hot bath, but definitely get into the comfort, familiarity and security of my bed, so of course my train was going to be delayed. Stands to reason doesn’t it, on the one day you really need things to run smoothly it’s sods law everything possible will go wrong.

“Sometimes I really hate this country,” I muttered to myself as I slumped into the hard plastic chair to wait for the train that would, I silently prayed, turn up eventually. “A few flakes of snow and everything grinds to a halt… the rest of the world must piss itself laughing at us!”

Wrapping my arms around myself in some vain attempt to hold in the heat the draughty station platform had leeched from my very bones I shivered and tried to find some comfort in the worlds most uncomfortable of seats. How was it possible to design a moulded plastic chair that was almost the entirely wrong shape to fit a human body? There are some days you know the world really does hate you.

From the moment I had got out of bed that morning my instincts had told me to get right back in there and skip the day, there was no way it was ever going to be a good one after all. But I had somewhere to be and something to do, something I had already been putting off for days, weeks really, something that couldn’t carry on and I had decided today would be the day. A decision that had been a lot easier to reach a few days earlier when it was still something in the distance, not so easy once I was leaving the house for a journey I’d made countless times before but never planned to make again.

When he’d first got the promotion and moved we had said it wouldn’t change things, we had said we would make it work and the distance wouldn’t break us. I think we meant it at the time, I’m sure I did, but time and distance proved too great in the end and while I waited for that old adage to kick in, you know the one about distance making the heart grow fonder, I started to realise I wasn’t missing him, I wasn’t waiting for his call and I wasn’t wishing he was back with me. That’s when I knew I had to end it; it wasn’t fair on either of us to carry on. There was no point lying to him and pretending I felt things I no longer did, if I ever had. Being apart made me unsure of even that, how could I have loved someone if it had been so easy for those feelings to fade?

So, as the first flurry of snow began to fall, I made the three-hour journey that would end a four-year relationship, only to discover my unannounced visit was somewhat ill timed as the man I had travelled all the way to dump had already found my replacement.

I won’t say I wasn’t hurt, I would have hoped he would have treated me better than that, had more respect for the years we had been together, but after the anger and the tears I had to admit the overwhelming feeling was one of relief. At last we could both move on with our lives, lives that no longer included each other.

And moving on was exactly what I planned to do, if the train ever turned up.

Sighing loudly I glanced up towards the departure board again but my attention was pulled to one side when I was gripped by the feeling someone was staring at me.

My breath caught for a moment, it wasn’t that the man a few feet along the platform was stunningly handsome, but there was something about him that made my pulse race abit faster. His eyes were the colour of molten chocolate, dark and intriguing, holding the promise of something forbidden in their liquid depths. And he was staring at me. Me! What was that about?

My hand rose self consciously to my hair, I knew it would be damp from the snow and I inwardly winced as my palm brushed against lank locks that must have surely looked as bad as they felt, no wonder he was staring, I must have looked a mess. The earlier meeting with the man who was now my ex had been emotional to say the least, and the flow of tears had smudged or washed away most of my makeup, the remains being touched up as best I could in the station toilets half and hour earlier as I squinted into my cracked compact. Yes it was safe to say I wasn’t looking my best.

The man smiled, only a small half smile, but its full force was pointed my way and I shivered, this time not from the cold. The smile made a bright glint of light seem to dance in the darkness of his eyes and I couldn’t stop my gaze from flickering back to the obvious softness of his mouth, my mind already imagining the feel of it against my skin.

Cursing myself I dragged my gaze away from him, suddenly finding intense interest in the damp ground beneath my feet as my face flushed with embarrassment.

It was crazy; I was feeling like a silly schoolgirl over a single smile from a stranger, I was in serious need of help!

He was nothing special, I told myself over and over, sure he was good-looking, the dark overcoat wrapped around him appeared to embrace a tall and gently muscular physique and his dark, possibly black, hair was casually styled with just a hint of some product or other, but he was a far cry from an Adonis. So why exactly was my heart racing simply because I could still feel his eyes on me?

I was aware of him approaching even before I heard his footsteps, something told me he was moving, getting closer, and my interest in the mottled cracked concrete of the platform floor grew in its intensity. How could I look up? I felt too embarrassed, too shy, too confused and too many things I couldn’t put a name to.

“Could they make these chairs anymore uncomfortable?” He asked me with a laugh. The sound trickled over me like molasses, rich and sweet and thoroughly seductive. And I won’t lie because right at that moment I was more than willing to be seduced.

“Yeah,” I said in what was possibly the weakest most stumbling voice I had ever used in my life, making my cheeks flush an even deeper shade of crimson, but at least I wasn’t quite so cold anymore.

“You don’t remember me do you?” The gorgeously sensuous man asked, a man who I could not possibly have met before, men like that you don’t easily forget.

“Remember you?” Gathering up my courage I lifted my eyes to his, the force of his stare enough to knock me off my feet, thank god I was already seated. He must have mistaken me for someone else because I know I will never forget those eyes for the rest of my life, and possibly beyond. “I don’t think we…”

“We went to the same school…”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognise me Alison, I’ve changed a lot since then… but you haven’t!”

I smiled quizzically as I tried to place the man who was still taking my breath away. He knew my name, that couldn’t be a lucky guess, but why did I not know him? I haven’t changed… was that a compliment? Normally I would have thought so but there was something in his tone that seemed a little cold, bitter even.

Before I could comment further the rumble of an approaching train vibrated through the station, and he got to his feet with a confident smile.

“This one’s mine… Goodbye, Alison Moore.”

“Wait,” I said weakly, the sound lost beneath the noise and bustle of the platform as I watched the mysterious man walking away. He didn’t once look back and within minutes the train pulled away, and he was gone.

When I finally got back home I spent hours pouring through old school photographs, but I never saw him in any of them.

I never did find out who he was, that stranger who wasn’t a stranger.

Pinkie and Pow-wow Part Three

Well you can’t ever accuse me of overloading you with too many posts can you 🙂

But it’s a relaxing Sunday afternoon in the middle of a bank holiday weekend – what better time to catch up on the antics of a couple of naughty pups!

In case you missed it Part One is here: https://dawndelivers.wordpress.com/2017/01/06/pinkie-and-pow-wow-the-tale-of-two-playful-pups/  and Part Two is here: https://dawndelivers.wordpress.com/2017/01/22/pinkie-and-pow-wow-part-two/

So now it’s time for…

Part Three

“Pinkie, Pinkie, Pinkie…” Pow-wow’s voice was high pitched as she yapped the white dog’s name over and over, relentless and never taking a break until finally Pinkie relented and opened one eye.

“What do you want?” Pinkie asked as the small black pug bounced back and forward on the rug at the base of the sofa.

“Come and play, I’m bored.” Pow-wow said with an excited yelp as she jumped in the air before spinning around.

“I’m busy,” Pinkie replied with a deep yawn, her eyes already growing heavy again.

“You’re just sitting in the sun sleeping.”

Pinkie smiled to herself. She knew that before long Pow-wow would grow large enough to be able to clamber up on the sofa and her peace would be shattered, but for now the smaller dog was stuck at ground level and Pinkie could bask in the early afternoon sun which always bathed the back of the sofa in warmth.

“That’s what I do at this time of the day,” Pinkie said, closing her eyes once more.

“What should I do?”

“Whatever you want to, go and explore, just leave me in peace.”

“Explore,” Pow-wow repeated to herself. She could do that. She didn’t need Pinkie by her side all day long, she was a big girl now and she could do this on her own.

Sitting in the centre of the room Pow-wow looked slowly around her. This was the most familiar room to her, it was where she had spent most of her time since Lucy brought her home. There really didn’t seem much there worth exploring. Then something out of the ordinary caught Pow-wow’s attention.

She hadn’t noticed it earlier but one of the doors leading out of the room was every so slightly open. The other woman, the one Pinkie had referred to as “mum” clearly hadn’t pushed it all the way closed after she had brought Pinkie back from walks. She wasn’t sure what walks were but the woman had assured Pow-wow she would be able to join them before too long, after she had had her “jabs.” Jabs didn’t sound like a nice thing but Pinkie seemed to enjoy walks so much that maybe they were worth it.

Padding slowly over to the door Pow-wow scratched gently at its corner, leaping back quickly as the door moved a few inches, just enough for a small dog to wriggle through. The door opened wider as Pow-wow made her way through and into the kitchen.

Pow-wow’s feet slipped a little on the tiled floor until she gained her balance. She liked this room, it always smelled so good, especially when Lucy was in there clattering about with the pots and pans and sometimes dropping a tasty morsel onto the floor, most of which Pinkie snapped up before Pow-wow had even noticed, but that was okay as Lucy would then hold out a little taste for the pup to try.

Now Pow-wow had the kitchen to herself but it didn’t seem quite as interesting. There was nothing bubbling away on the stove and nothing roasting in the oven. There were still tasty smells but they seemed locked away and out of a small dog’s reach.

Pow-wow’s twitching nose led her to the large white door of the strange cupboard looking thing and, as she pressed her flat face against the rubber seal around the door, she caught the scent of many indescribable delights, her little mouth drooling at the smells.

“Pinkie, Pinkie,” she barked.

“Leave me alone!” Came the gruff reply from the other room.

Sitting on the cold tiles Pow-wow raised one paw and slowly scratched at the edge of the large white door, pawing at it over and over until one nail managed to hook onto it and slowly, carefully, it swung open.

Pow-wow sat transfixed for a moment. She had never seen so many treasures, so much to delight her puppy senses. Never had such a small dog been faced with the quantity of food as Pow-wow could see inside the open refrigerator.

“Pinkie,” Pow-wow barked again, “Come and see, come and see what I found!”

The small dog’s barks were so insistent and so excitable that eventually, reluctantly, Pinkie raised herself from her comfortable resting place and jumped down from the sofa, slowly padding into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about.

“Oh!” Pinkie said, her eyes growing wide as she saw what Pow-wow had done.

“What is it?” Pow-wow asked, bouncing up and down in front of the refrigerator her tail wagging so fast it was almost a blur.

“It’s where Lucy keeps all the food,” Pinkie said, her mouth filling with saliva at the aroma of such delicious treats.

“Can we have some?” Pow-wow asked, stepping up close to the refrigerator and sniffing deeply. “Just a little?”

“I don’t think we should,” Pinkie said, taking a few steps closer to the lure of the food.

“Did Lucy said we’re not to?”

Pinkie considered for a moment. At no time had Lucy ever explicitly said they couldn’t have anything out of the fridge, but that wasn’t the same as saying they could.

“Just a taste wouldn’t hurt,” Pow-wow said, her teeth catching onto a sausage that lay curled up on a plate, just too tempting for a pup to resist. As she pulled back the one sausage turned into a string of them, unravelling from the plate and spilling onto the floor.

Pinkie moved forward and took a large bite out of the closest sausage. Now they were already on the floor it seemed pointless not to have a little taste. And it tasted so good that she had quickly devoured two, three and then four.

Pow-wow’s attention returned to the interior of the fridge where she quickly liberated a block of cheese and a carton of yoghurt, which splattered over the floor as it landed,both dogs eagerly lapping up its sweet creamy flavours.

The cheese proved harder to sample, its tough plastic covering refused to budge and after placing several puppy teeth marks across its surface Pow-wow returned to the fridge to find something else to try.

Before long most of the contents of the refrigerator lay scattered on the ground in front of it. Packets torn, cartons and milk bottles split open and several plates which had contained carefully saved leftovers smashed as they hit the floor.

No item of food which the dogs discovered had gone untasted, from a small bite of something which proved unappetising to fully devouring those items whose flavours were too good to resist.

Pow-wow slumped onto the floor and rested her head onto her paws, her belly was so full that it felt twice its normal size and the combination of rich food was beginning to churn within her.

“Pinkie,” she said quietly, her voice containing none of the earlier excitement. “I don’t feel very well.”

Pinkie looked over at her small companion and understood exactly what the little pug was feeling, her own insides were beginning to spin around, like that funny machine Lucy would put her clothes into, round and round and round.

Pinkie lay down on the ground and hoped that the spinning would soon stop. “Me neither,” she said to Pow-wow. “I really don’t think we should have eaten all that.”

The two dogs closed their eyes and felt very sorry for themselves. But it was nothing compared to how sorry they were going to feel a couple of hours later when Lucy got home and discovered the mess.

 

Pinkie and Pow-wow – Part Two

Due to popular demand (two is popular right?) it’s time for the second instalment of my tale of those two playful pups. In case you missed it Part One is here: https://dawndelivers.wordpress.com/2017/01/06/pinkie-and-pow-wow-the-tale-of-two-playful-pups/

And now… Part Two:

Pinkie let out a small yawn before snuggling her head deeper into Lucy’s lap. The game of chase with Pow-wow had lasted about half an hour before the pup had stopped dead, curled up where she had stood and fell into a deep sleep. Lucy had moved to get to her feet and, Pinkie presumed, lift the new dog into her arms so Pinkie quickly leapt onto the sofa and and claimed her spot. The white dog wasn’t fully prepared to share Lucy just yet. It might be fun to have a smaller dog to play chase with, but even better if that dog could then stay on the floor while Pinkie got all of the fussing she loved.

Lucy’s fingers tickled the top of Pinkie’s head gently, the soothing motion lulling the dog into a contented sleep.

Pinkie’s dreams were filled with bunnies and biscuits and her feet twitched as she raced through imaginary fields, a small darkly coloured rabbit bouncing ahead of her. Without warning the bunny turned and bit Pinkie’s foot, causing the dog to wake with a start and and out a surprised yap.

Lucy laughed softly at Pinkie’s reaction, petting her beloved dog while at the same time telling Pow-wow that she needed to be a good girl. Pinkie narrowed her eyes and glared at the smaller dog, realising that her wonderful dream had been interrupted, not by a bunny biting her foot, but by Pow-wow’s sharp puppy teeth instead.

“You were sleeping,” Pow-wow said, her tail wagging excitedly. “But I want to play again.”

“I don’t feel like playing,” Pinkie said, turning her face from the puppy and closing her eyes.

“Oh please… please come and play.” Pow-wow bit at Pinkie’s toes again, chasing them as Pinkie moved them from reach.

“Be a good girl Pow-wow,” Lucy said, picking up the new puppy and peppering its face with little kisses. “You mustn’t keep annoying Pinkie when she doesn’t want you to… she might bite you, and you wouldn’t like that.”

Pinkie opened one eye and watched intently as Lucy cradled Pow-wow in her arms. Biting the puppy might not be a bad idea if she was going to take all of Lucy’s attention.

“Come on girls,” Lucy said, placing Pow-wow back on the floor before getting to her feet. “It’s time for bed, so you two need to go for a little wee… we don’t want any accidents in the house.”

“What kind of accidents?” Pow-wow asked, bouncing in circles around Pinkie as the older dog tried to follow Lucy to the back door. “Why would there be an accident? What’s an accident?”

“Lucy doesn’t want you to wee on the carpet,” Pinkie said, emphasising the word ‘you’, she would never do such a thing herself. Pinkie had had an accident of that kind when she was a pup herself, it was one of the few times Lucy had been cross with her and Pinkie had hated it when Lucy raised her voice.

“Oh…” Pow-wow bounced a little more as they headed to the door, now that the suggestion of going on the carpet had been mentioned the small dog felt as if her bladder might burst, she wasn’t sure she would be able to hold on.

“Don’t you dare,” Pinkie warned. “Lucy would be so angry… and if you can hold on a few more seconds we get a treat?”

“Treat?” That sounded good to Pow-wow and with all her strength the little pug held on as hard as she could, racing full speed out of the door the second it was open.

“There’s my good girls,” Lucy said as both dogs relieved themselves. Pinkie headed straight back inside, happily taking the dog biscuit from Lucy’s outstretched hand.

Pow-wow, however, found the garden too interesting and began sniffing around the plant pots and pawing at the ground.

“Pow-wow come on in,” Lucy called but the little dog was having too much fun to obey the command.

“If you don’t hurry up,” Pinkie said around a mouthful of biscuit, “I will eat your treat too.”

Pow-wow’s head turned back to the house, torn between exploring and the promised treat. Eventually she realised that the garden would be there in the morning, the tasty smelling biscuit would not.

“Good girl,” Lucy said as the black pug bounced into the kitchen and greedily grabbed at the biscuit in Lucy’s hand. “Don’t snatch,” Lucy said, pulling the biscuit out of reach, waiting until Pow-wow was seated quietly before offering it to her again.

Once the bedtime biscuits were consumed Lucy pulled Pinkie’s bed from behind the sofa and placed it in her usual spot. Despite spending the evenings on the sofa with Lucy the dog always slept in her own soft fluffy bed at night, a remnant from when she was too small to get up on the sofa unaided.

A few feet from Pinkie’s bed Lucy placed another, picking Pow-wow up she put the new pup in the centre of the bed, fussing her head as she told the pug to be a good girl and she would see her in the morning.

After saying her goodnights to the dogs Lucy switched off the light and closed the living room door, silently hoping that there would be no trouble in the night with them. They had seemed to get along well enough while supervised but there was no telling what they might be like once left alone.

Pinkie curled up in her cosy bed and, with a large yawn, fell almost instantly into a deep sleep. Her rest was disturbed less than an hour later by a high pitched pitiful whimpering.

Slowly opening her eyes Pinkie turned her head to the source of the crying. The small amount of illumination coming through the window from the streetlight seemed to glisten in Pow-wow’s large round eyes, making them appear as large as two moons and they stared at Pinkie, unblinking.

“What’s the matter,” Pinkie asked quietly, she didn’t want her barking to wake Lucy.

“I miss my mummy,” Pow-wow said, following Pinkie’s lead and also barking softly. “When do I go home and see her again… and my brothers and sisters…”

Pinkie was about to snap that she wouldn’t, but looking into the deep sad pools of Pow-wow’s eyes she remembered her own first night alone in a strange house. No matter how much she loved Lucy now and adored her life with the woman, at first she was scared and she too had missed her mother and siblings.

“You live here now,” Pinkie said, as kindly as she could, “This is your home, and you’ll enjoy living here, you’ll see.”

“But my mummy?”

“You’re too old to need her now…”

“Oh.”

Pinkie closed her eyes and rested her head back on her front paws, the smaller dog had seemed to understand. After a few minutes she was disturbed by the whimpering once again.

“What now?” Pinkie’s question came out like an annoyed yap which made Pow-wow whimper even more. “What is it?” Pinkie asked, more kindly this time.

“I’ve never slept on my own before,” Pow-wow said. “I don’t like it… I used to sleep with my brothers and sisters…”

Pinkie sighed. Her bed had once felt huge and lonely when she’d been a small pup, but now it was the perfect size for her, just her.

Pow-wow’s eyes seemed to grow more pitiful and pleading the longer Pinkie looked at them. “Come on then,” Pinkie said eventually, moving herself right into the soft edging of her bed and making a small gap. “But just for a night or two while you settle in, this bed isn’t big enough for both of us, especially not once you start to grow.”

The small black pug raced over to Pinkie and snuggled into the small bed beside her. Without realising it Pinkie placed one front leg over the pup and the two of them settled into a comfortable sleep for the rest of the night.

 

Pinkie and Pow-wow. The tale of two playful pups

This is a little something that has been forming in my mind for a while and was inspired by the office nicknames of my two work colleagues Gill and Gill (you see why they need nicknames!)  I suppose it’s something of a childrens story but I hope you still enjoy reading it – this is just the start… there will be more to come

Part One

Pinkie lay in her favourite position, sprawled on the back cushion of the sofa looking out of the window. Her tail would twitch and her head lift at the sound of each passing car, only to stop moments later as the vehicle drove past, her soft chocolate eyes closing again until the next sound caught her attention.

Pinkie may have had no real concept of time but she was sure that Lucy was late home. It felt like a long time since the woman Lucy called ‘mum’ had called around to take Pinkie out for her afternoon walk and Pinkie was getting worried.

Lucy was never normally away this long, what if she wasn’t coming home?

Pinkie’s head shot up at the sound of another car approaching, her twitching tail began to wag faster as this time the car pulled up in front of the house and its engine stopped.

Pinkie got to her feet and let out a small excited yap as the car door opened and she saw Lucy stepping out.

Pinkie loved Lucy, more than anyone or anything in the world, even more than food or walks, and Pinkie really loved those two things. But Lucy was special, she was Pinkie’s very own human. Whenever possible the two of them were inseparable and Pinkie knew that Lucy hated leaving her every day just as much as Pinkie hated to see her go, but apparently ‘work’ was not something Lucy had a choice about and she had to leave home and go there more often than either of them would like.

As Pinkie watched Lucy approaching the front door she noticed that the woman was carrying a large box, Pinkie’s tail began to wag faster. That was why Lucy was late, she had been getting Pinkie a present.

At the sound of the key in the front door Pinkie jumped down from the sofa and ran around in excited circles, barking at the closed living room door that prevented her greeting Lucy the moment she entered the house. Lucy and Mum used to leave the living room door open for Pinkie but her excitement each time either of the entered the house had left them stumbling over her on more than one occasion and, after Mum had hurt her leg when she fell, it had been decided that Pinkie shouldn’t be allowed to run to the front door any longer.

Finally, after what felt like hours to the fluffy white bichon frise, the living room door opened and Lucy stepped inside.

Pinkie ran to her owner, barking and jumping with joy as Lucy bent down and began to fuss Pinkie’s ears, much to the small dog’s pleasure.

“There’s my lovely girl,” Lucy said, laughing and pushing Pinkie away to stop the dog licking at her face. “Have you missed me.”

“Of course I have,” Pinkie said, although to Lucy it was just her usual barking yap. “You were gone forever.” Pinkie stopped barking for a second, Lucy had a strange smell on her. It was the smell of another dog. Is that why Lucy was late home, had she been petting other dogs?

“Look what I’ve got here,” Lucy said, pushing the plastic box towards Pinkie.

Pinkie took a small step towards the box, it had some kind of mesh front to it and Pinkie peered inside, leaping back with a start as a small voice inside the box let out a high pitched bark.

So that was where the other dog smell was coming from. Pinkie’s top lip curled and a small growl rumbled in her throat.

This was her human and her home, why was Lucy bringing another dog into it?

“Now then Pinkie,” Lucy said as she unfastened the box’s mesh front and scooped out the small black pug from inside. “You just be nice.”

Pinkie took a step backwards and the strange puppy was placed on the floor before her. The puppy’s tail was wagging excitedly and it let out a few more yaps.

“Hello… this place looks nice… do you want to play? I don’t know where my brothers and sisters are, they used to play with me… will you play?” The puppy’s stream of chatter seemed endless and Lucy tried to hush the puppy with a tickle under her chin.

“Come closer Pinkie,” Lucy said, beckoning the dog to her. “Come and say hello to your new friend. This little girl is called Pow-wow.”

Pinkie took a few steps forward, the new puppy didn’t seem that bad she supposed, as the two dogs noses touched together Lucy moved away to observe if her new pet would be accepted by her old.

“Hello,” Pinkie said quietly, sniffing in the puppies unfamiliar, but not unpleasant, scent.

“Come and play,” Pow-wow yapped, leaping up and landing with her front paws in Pinkie’s face before running off around the room.

Pinkie couldn’t help herself, chase was her favourite game, with a small bark she set off after the little black pug and the two were soon running after each other, taking it in turns to be the chaser or the chased.

Pouring herself a glass of wine Lucy settled onto the sofa to watch her dogs get to know each other. She hadn’t doubted that Pinkie would quickly love having a small friend and she was glad to see that Pow-wow had been the perfect choice.

The Meadow – short story

A writer’s mind can be a strange thing, it can see things in everyday scenes and situations that an average person might not, and it can twist those casual observations into strange realities.

An example of this is the short story below (I say short story but it could be the opening of something more, who knows). So there I was, walking the dog along the side of a small stretch of water (a brook I assume) and the grassy area between path and water was covered with hundreds of little daisies and buttercups, they seemed to glow in the beautiful sunshine (where has that gone by the way) and my mind began to wander… until it created this…(this is a rough, unedited throw together but the words wanted out of my head!)

The Meadow

The sun was at its height. Full and golden, blazing in a clear spring sky.

White and yellow faces of the small daisies and buttercups reached up to bask in the sun’s warmth. Their petals reflected back the sunlight making the tiny flowers appear to glow amidst the soft carpet of green.

The grass was thick and lush, begging for bare feet to sink into it and toes curl in delight at the sensation of its soft blades wriggling between them.

Far enough from any main roads the meadow held an air of peace, the delicate birdsong enhanced rather than detracted from the quiet. All was calm. A haven in a world that all too often lacked such solitude or tranquillity.

In the centre of the meadow something else shone in the midday sun, something completely removed from the scattering of delicate flowers and as out of place as it were possible to be.

Red and viscous it glistened in reminiscence of fresh paint, asking for a fingertip to touch at its edges, curiously checking if it was still wet. But no fingertips touched at it. Touching was not permitted.

The peace of the meadow was shattered at the sight of what lay at its heart.

The police tape cordoned off the pool of blood and the figure of a man whose body had once housed it.

He was young, early thirties at the most. A trim physique and short cropped dark brown hair complimented handsome features which held an expression of pure serenity. If it were not for the blood he might well have just been dozing in the springtime sun.

His short sleeved shirt was open, unbuttoned rather than torn, and his exposed torso covered with countless small lacerations, each one with a small trickle of blood which had spilled from it, adding to the pool around his body.

The pathologist shuddered as he looked at the body. He had been to more murder scenes than he cared to remember and yet this one still gave him a chill.

It wasn’t the blood that caused the pathologist’s discomfort, nor the carefully placed cuts over the flesh, even the sight of the chest torn open was not the first such sight he had witnessed. And the removed heart was, if not common place, still not unheard of.

What really made the pathologist’s blood run cold was the placement, within the empty chest cavity, of a carefully made daisy chain. The small circle of linked flowers, such as young girls would make on a summer’s day to wear as a crown or necklace, lay where the man’s heart had once been. The flowers half sunk in blood and yet still visible.

The pathologist report would confirm that the heart had been removed post mortem and the numerous incisions had led to a slow death, yet somehow a peaceful one judging by the lack of any defensive wounds and the serenity on the victim’s face.

Had the killer brought the floral tribute to the murder scene or, a more chillingly likely scenario, had the flowers been weaved together while the victim lay slowly bleeding to death?

Was the killer so confident in their actions, so lacking fear of discovery that they happily sat on the carpet of soft grass, linking one small flower to the next waiting for the moment when the young man’s heart would beat it’s last and his breath would cease.

What kind of twisted mind would do such a thing, and why?

And where was the man’s heart now?

 

Fear – Very short short story

Hello once more. I’m not actually here right now but I appreciate the fact that you are 🙂 I really hope this scheduled post shows up because sometimes they seem to play about and fail!

Anyways I was a bit pushed for time last week when I was setting this up so I’ve decided to try and write a little mini-short… it can be fun sometimes to try and tell a story with as few words as possible. I hope this works out okay 🙂

Fear

It was dark. Her eyes were squeezed tightly closed and her heart was racing as if she had been running a marathon. She was afraid to move, almost afraid to breathe.

At this moment anything could happen. This could be the greatest moment of her life or the greatest humiliation and she was both exhilarated and terrified.

She had been against the idea right from the start but they’d outvoted her, dismissing her objection like the wisps of smoke trailing from the end of a cigarette, unimportant and insubstantial.

Now she was the one to pay the price, it had chosen her and she was too much of a coward to refuse.

Then it happened.

His lips on hers were warm and soft and when his hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, she felt her whole body submit to him. Even in her many dreams kissing him had never been like this. She didn’t know any physical sensation could send all of her senses reeling until she didn’t know which way was up.

She didn’t know anything but the feel of his kiss.

Maybe spin the bottle wasn’t so bad after all!

Hangover – Short Story

Hello my dears, I hope the sun is shining for you this Sunday 🙂

Here’s a little story that came into my mind this week and you know what that’s like – once it’s in there it just has to come out 🙂

Hangover

Her head was pounding like a steel drum player had been given free residence inside her skull and was celebrating with a very elaborately orchestrated overture.

With a groan she raised a heavy, lethargic hand to her forehead, surprised it was relatively cool to the touch. Her eyes felt as if someone had smeared a line of super glue over her lashes, sealing them closed.

She rubbed them gently with the heel of her hand, prising her eyelids open just a fraction and instantly regretting it. The hint of daylight that was creeping through a minute gap in the curtains was as bright as a full torch beam shining directly into her pupils. Wincing she turned away, closing her eyes tightly once again.

Her mouth felt disgusting. Thick and stale. It was very possible that something had died in there overnight. Died, been resurrected and died again.

Her stomach gurgled a combination of nauseated hunger. She needed a drink, and painkillers, but that would involve leaving her bed and she wasn’t quite ready for that yet.

“Never again,” she vowed silently to herself.

Of course she’d made that promise before, many times, with every hangover. This was the worst though. She had never felt quite this bad before.

Pulling the duvet up over her head she tried to piece together the events of the night, horrified to realise just how many gaps in her memory there actually were. For a few minutes she wondered if it was possible someone had spiked her drink.

This had to be the worst hangover ever, no one could possibly have ever felt this badly before.

“Never, ever, again!”

It had started out a normal night out.

“Just a few quiet drinks.” That’s what her diminutive dark haired friend Carley had suggested, she should have known better. There was never ‘just’ when it came to alcohol and Carley. Despite her small stature Carley could drink most people she knew under the table and still greet the following morning bright eyed and bushy tailed.

The “few drinks” had turned into “just an hour” in the club. She had tried to resist but Carley was insistent.

“Come on,” she had said, fluttering her eyes pleadingly. “Please Aimes… don’t be boring… just come for an hour… I need a boogie…”

Amy had sighed and then relented, just like she always did.

The club had been the same mixture of music and people that is always had, they had had a few drinks and a few dances. None of that explained the horrendous nature of Amy’s current hangover.

There had been a guy. The corners of Amy’s mouth turned into a small smile as she recalled him. He wasn’t especially handsome, you could have easily passed him by on the street without a second glance, but if you did happen to take that second look then you might just see it. That “something”. That indefinable quality that made him a little more appealing than originally noticed.

Amy had taken a second look, and then a third, and when he looked back, his dark eyes somehow shining at her when he turned on the full beam of his smile she had felt her knees go to jelly and her heart raced that little bit faster.

They’d talked a little, and danced, but Amy couldn’t remember any more drinks so where the hell had this hangover come from?

And then..?

She couldn’t remember anything further, what was the and then?

Amy rubbed her eyes again and with a deep groan forced herself upright. She really did need those painkillers and a drink, and some food. Her hunger was suddenly so intense that getting out of bed had become the only option.

Dragging her arms into her dressing gown Amy shuffled her feet into slippers and then padded half dead into the kitchen.

Throwing open the fridge Amy looked at the selection of cold pizza and sandwich fillings, despite her hunger none of the food available appealed, if anything the thought of eating any of them increased the nausea deep in her stomach.

“Well look who’s finally up!” The bright all too cheerful voice in the doorway of the kitchen could only belong to one person and Amy felt a small snarl curl her lips at the sound of her friend’s clearly hangover-free voice. “How you feeling?” Carley asked as she stepped into the room.

Amy turned to face her friend without answering, Carley’s eyes widened as she saw just how bad her friend looked.

“Damn Aimes, you look like death, seriously… you look crap!”

Amy nodded, she could believe it, she certainly felt terrible so it stood to reason she was going to look terrible too. Of course Carley looked as fresh and bright as if she’s just spent the night at a salon rather than clubbing.

“Amy… you alright?” Carley moved towards her friend, obvious concern on her face at Amy’s lack of response. “I think you should go back to bed… I’ll bring you a drink or something.”

Amy should have appreciated her friend’s offer of help but instead she found it irritating. When had Carley become so pathetically annoying in Amy’s eyes? She couldn’t remember ever feeling that way before but now the small brunette was nothing to her.

The scream surprised Amy, she didn’t know at first where it had come from or what was causing it but it was loud and piercing and full or fear.

The nausea in Amy’s stomach passed quickly, the headache eased and then was gone and she felt better than she had ever done in her entire life.

Carley’s lifeless body fell to the floor, her face was so pale it was ashen as if all the blood had been drained from her. Two small puncture wounds in her neck the only visible wound, but it had been enough.

Amy wiped away a drop of blood that had split down her chin and smiled.

Now she could remember it all.

He had been more than just some guy in a club, he had been someone who offered to change her world, and he had.

Combing her hands through her hair Amy’s smile grew, life was about to get very interesting.

Platform Three – short story

Hello once more my Sunday friends.. you know the routine by now. Sit down, get comfy, grab a brew and (hopefully) enjoy this weeks post.

Now I have a bit of a dilemma this week – you see I was certain that I had already posted this story and yet I’ve searched my blog backwards and forwards and can’t see it anywhere – so if I have ended up repeating myself I do apologise… hopefully that isn’t the case though 🙂

Platform Three

Looking up at the departure board I sighed, closing my eyes for a second in the vague hope that the glowing orange words would change when I looked again, but of course when I peeked out from beneath my lashes the news was still the same. “Delayed”.

It was late, I was cold and I had just had the day from hell. I wanted nothing more than to get back home, maybe have a nice hot bath, but definitely get into the comfort, familiarity and security of my bed, so of course my train was going to be delayed. Stands to reason doesn’t it, on the one day you really need things to run smoothly it’s sods law that everything possible will go wrong.

“Sometimes I really hate this country,” I muttered to myself as I slumped into the hard plastic chair to wait for the train that would, I silently prayed, turn up eventually. “A few flakes of snow and everything grinds to a halt… the rest of the world must just piss itself laughing at us!”

Wrapping my arms around myself in some vain attempt to hold in the heat that the draughty station platform had leeched from my very bones I shivered and tried to find some comfort in the worlds most uncomfortable of seats. How was it even possible to design a moulded plastic chair that was almost the entirely wrong shape to fit a human body? There are some days that you know the world really does hate you.

From the moment I had got out of bed that morning my instincts had told me to get right back in there and skip the day, there was no way it was ever going to be a good one after all. But I had somewhere to be and something to do, something that I had already been putting off for days, weeks really, something that couldn’t carry on and I had decided that today would be the day. A decision that had been a lot easier to reach a few days earlier when it was still something in the distance, not so easy once I was leaving the house for a journey I’d made countless times before but never planned to make again.

When he’d first got the promotion and moved we had said it wouldn’t change things, we had said we would make it work and the distance wouldn’t break us. I think we meant it at the time, I’m sure I did, but time and distance proved too great in the end and while I waited for that old adage to kick in, you know the one about distance making the heart grow fonder, I started to realise that I wasn’t missing him, I wasn’t waiting for his call and I wasn’t wishing he was back with me. That’s when I knew I had to end it; it wasn’t fair on either of us to carry on. There was no point lying to him and pretending I felt things I no longer did, if I ever had. Being apart made me unsure of even that, how could I have loved someone if it had been so easy for those feelings to fade?

So, as the first flurry of snow began to fall, I made the three hour journey that would end a four year relationship, only to discover that my unannounced visit was somewhat ill timed as the man I had travelled all that way to dump had already found my replacement.

I wont say that I wasn’t hurt, I would have hoped he would have treated me better than that, had more respect for the years we had been together, but after the anger and the tears I had to admit the overwhelming feeling was one of relief. At last we could both move on with our lives, lives that no longer included each other.

And moving on was exactly what I planned to do, if the train ever turned up.

Sighing loudly I looked up towards the departure board again but my attention was pulled to one side when I was gripped by the feeling that someone was staring at me.

My breath caught for a moment, it wasn’t that the man a few feet along the platform was stunningly handsome, but there was something about him that made my pulse race that little bit faster. His eyes were the colour of molten chocolate, dark and intriguing, holding the promise of something forbidden in their liquid depths. And he was staring at me. Me! What was that about?

My hand rose self consciously to my hair, I knew it would be damp from the snow and I inwardly winced as my palm brushed against lank locks that must have surely looked as bad as they felt, no wonder he was staring, I must have looked a mess. The earlier meeting with the man who was now my ex had been emotional to say the least, and the flow of tears had smudged or washed away most of my makeup, the remains being touched up to the best of my ability in the station toilets half an hour earlier as I squinted into my cracked compact. Yes it was safe to say I wasn’t looking my best.

The man smiled, only a small half smile, but its full force was pointed my way and I shivered, this time not from the cold. The smile made a bright glint of light seem to dance in the darkness of his eyes and I couldn’t stop my gaze from flickering back to the obvious softness of his mouth, my mind already imagining the feel of it against my skin.

Cursing myself I dragged my gaze away from him, suddenly finding intense interest in the damp ground beneath my feet as my face flushed with embarrassment.

It was crazy; I was feeling like a silly schoolgirl over a single smile from a stranger, I was in serious need of help!

He was nothing special, I told myself over and over, sure he was good looking, the dark overcoat wrapped around him appeared to embrace a tall and gently muscular physique and his dark, possibly black, hair was casually styled with just a hint of some product or other, but he was a far cry from an Adonis. So why exactly was my heart racing simply because I could still feel his eyes on me?

I was aware of him approaching even before I heard his footsteps, something told me that he was moving, getting closer, and my interest in the mottled cracked concrete of the platform floor grew in its intensity. I couldn’t look up. I felt too embarrassed, too shy, too confused and too many things that I couldn’t even put a name to.

“Could they make these chairs any more uncomfortable?” He asked me with a laugh. The sound trickled over me like molasses, rich and sweet and thoroughly seductive. And I wont lie because right at that moment I was more that willing to be seduced.

“Yeah,” I answered in what was possibly the weakest most stumbling voice I had ever used in my life, making my cheeks flush an even deeper shade of crimson, but at least I wasn’t quite so cold anymore.

“You don’t remember me do you?” The gorgeously sensuous man asked, a man who I could not possibly have met before, men like that you don’t easily forget.

“Remember you?” Gathering up my courage I lifted my eyes to his, the force of his stare enough to knock me off my feet, thank god I was already seated. He must have mistaken me for someone else because I know I will never forget those eyes for the rest of my life, and possibly beyond. “I don’t think we…”

“We went to the same school…”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognise me Alison, I’ve changed a lot since then… but you haven’t!”

I smiled quizzically as I tried to place the man who was still taking my breath away. He knew my name, that couldn’t just be a lucky guess, but why did I not know him? I haven’t changed… was that a compliment? Normally I would have thought so but there was something in his tone that seemed a little cold, bitter even.

Before I could comment further the rumble of an approaching train vibrated through the station and he got to his feet with a confident smile.

“This one’s mine… Goodbye Alison Moore.”

“Wait,” I said weakly, the sound lost beneath the noise and bustle of the platform as I watched the mysterious man walking away. He didn’t once look back and within minutes the train pulled away and he was gone.

When I finally got back home I spent hours pouring through old school photographs, but I never saw him in any of them.

I never did find out who he was, that stranger who wasn’t a stranger.

Short Story – The Day the World Changed (Fanfic)

Hello once again. Always nice to see you here although I do think it’s time that maybe you brought the biscuits for a change, you know, just a suggestion.

So this week I thought I might share some of my old fanfic, as mentioned back when I started this blog fanfic was the birth of my love of writing and I would like to think it’s where I developed my writing style.

This is just a little one off story that I rather like – it’s based on characters from Hollyoaks (don’t judge me!)

The Day the World Changed

The ground feels cold, damp, it’s chilling me but I feel no compulsion to move. There’s no warmth to be found even if I left this spot now, and nowhere I would want to go even if I did leave. So I sit here and wait.

You see the thing is I never meant any of it, not for a second. It all just got so… so crazy and before I knew what had happened…

It’s his eyes that I remember the most. When it’s dark and quiet and I’m alone I can recall the way they looked that day. How bright and how blue. Those eyes had looked at me with so many different emotions. With love, disappointment, fear, pain… but it’s the look that they held that day that I see whenever I close my own eyes. That’s the look I won’t ever be able to forget.

But I’m getting ahead of myself aren’t I?

I need to tell you how I got to be sat here today, what happened that day that changed my life forever. I need to take you back to the beginning. Well not the very beginning, that could take all day and I don’t think we have that long do we? So I’ll just go back to that day… the day that the world changed, forever.

—

I’d been gone almost a year, resisting all of my families requests to come home for a visit. I knew that I couldn’t return too soon. I had to take my time and I had to be sure. And I was. I knew what I wanted, who I wanted and this time I wasn’t afraid of how I felt.

In all my life no one had ever, has ever, made me feel the way John Paul McQueen did. He could make the world stop turning just by looking at me. He made me feel a depth of love that I had never even realised existed and, for a while, those feelings terrified me.

I was afraid of what my feelings would mean when everyone found out. I didn’t want to be labelled, branded or victimised. I just didn’t want to be different. It took me a while to realise that none of that mattered when you find someone who loves you.

It felt strange standing at the McQueen’s front door again after so long. It was as if nothing had changed. But it had… I had, and I was here to show John Paul just how much. I’d spent nearly a year without him and I didn’t want to add another day to that.

I have to admit I was disappointed when the door opened and those beautiful blue eyes didn’t greet me. In my dreams I had imagined seeing him standing there, reaching for him, kissing him, telling him how much I loved him… but reality never quite lives up to the dream does it?

“Well, well, Craig Dean… who would have thought!” Michaela’s voice held a tone of amusement and something more but I couldn’t quite tell what.

“Alright Michaela?” I replied, hoping that I sounded calmer than I felt. “Is he in?”

“He?” Michaela grinned as she asked the question and I had to bite back a sarcastic comment, the last thing I needed was to get wound up.

“John Paul,” I said with what I hoped was a pleasant smile, “Is he in?”

“Oh haven’t you heard?” Michaela said as she leant against the doorframe, a sly smile wandering lazily over her lips. “Our John Paul doesn’t live here anymore…”

“Oh…” My family had never volunteered any information about John Paul’s life, and I’d never asked but I was surprised to hear that he’d left home. It seemed that the clan McQueen had finally gotten too much for him.

“Oh yeah,” Michaela was continuing, her smile growing wider and a glimmer of mischief sparkling in her eyes, or possibly something a little more sinister. “He moved out a couple of weeks ago…” She paused for a moment, as if adding dramatic effect before delivering the killer blow. “To live with his boyfriend!”

I felt as if the strength had been drained from my body. My eyes were fixed on Michaela’s mouth, somehow willing the words back in so that I didn’t have to hear them, so that I didn’t have to feel them rip into my heart and leave me gasping for air.

“It was all quite a scandal,” Michaela said, either oblivious to my pain or in some way enjoying it. “What with the fact that he’d been carrying on all this time in secret with a priest…”

The world seemed to stop spinning… suddenly and without warning. I felt as if the air had been stolen from my lungs and all I could hear was Michaela’s words assaulting me in a random pattern…

“priest… secret… scandal… boyfriend…”

“I… err… I…” I didn’t know what to say or what to think, I’d come back for John Paul but he had already replaced me. With another secret, a worse one… a dirtier one.

“I know,” Michaela said with a laugh, “You’d have thought one secret relationship would have been enough for anyone… not our John Paul though… so… you still gonna go and visit him? I could give you the address…”

—

I should have gone then and there. I should have taken myself back to the airport and got on the next flight back to Dublin. How different things could have been if I’d done that. But of course I didn’t… since when had doing the right thing ever been one of my talents?

Instead I headed to the address that Michaela had told me without any real idea of what I was going to do when I got there.

—

“Craig!”

The shock in John Paul’s voice and the stunned look in his eyes gave me some satisfaction as I stood in the doorway of the flat he now shared with his new lover. Some, but not much.

In the walk over my head had been filled with all of the things I wanted to say and the answers I needed to hear. He had to be able to make me understand or else it was all for nothing, what we had shared was for nothing and I couldn’t bear to believe such a thing.

But by the time I arrived at the flat I had managed to work myself up into a frenzy and I couldn’t think of anything he could say that would placate me.

How could he do it?

How could he do the one thing that had torn us apart?

How could he love someone else?

“Your priest home?” I spat bitterly, pushing past John Paul without waiting for an invitation inside.

“Oh… you heard…” At least there was a hint of shame in John Paul’s voice, that was something I supposed.

“Oh yeah,” I replied, “Your Michaela took great pleasure in telling me about your new boyfriend. Classy McQueen, real classy…”

“It’s not how it…”

“Don’t… whatever you were gonna say just don’t…”

I looked around the flat slowly, surprised at how minimal it all was, it was almost like a show home as if nobody real lived there at all. But then my eyes came to rest on the kitchen’s worktop. A selection of food and utensils were laid out across its surface.

“Don’t let me stop you,” I snarled, nodding my head towards the preparations of a meal. “I’m sure he must need a good meal after a hard day being a hypocrite…”

“That’s not… he’s not… Craig… why are you here?” John Paul asked gently. His voice was so soft that it almost felt like a touch or an embrace and for a moment I allowed myself to enjoy it until the reality of the situation claimed me back.

“I came back… for you…” I snapped, spinning round to face him. “I thought what we had… I thought it was worth fighting for but you… you just moved on didn’t you?”

“What did you expect me to do? Sit around forever mourning you?”

“Why not? It’s what I did… every night wishing I’d done things differently, wishing I’d been braver or stronger… wishing I’d been enough for you… if only I’d known all I had to do was slip on a dog collar!”

“That’s not fair!”

I could feel my blood boiling. How DARE he tell me what was fair? I had been prepared to give up my life for him and it hadn’t been enough. I wanted to hit him, to kiss him, to hurt him and love him. My emotions surged through me like an out of control locomotion and I could feel my body shaking with them.

Turning away from John Paul I rested my hands against the cool surface of the kitchen counter, my knuckles whitening as I gripped onto its edge. I felt as if holding on was the only thing keeping me upright.

“You left me at the airport,” I said quietly through gritted teeth. “You said you couldn’t be anyone’s secret anymore… that you deserved MORE… is THIS the more John Paul… is screwing a priest the more you were looking for?”

“It’s not like that…” John Paul’s voice rose slightly and I could tell he was getting angry; I wanted him to be angry.

“What was it? You couldn’t resist… did he look so fucking hot in his robes that you couldn’t keep your hands off him? Or was it all just a lie eh? Is that it… what we had was all just one stupid lie and you couldn’t wait to jump into bed with the next unavailable bloke that came along.” I didn’t know if I was being irrational but every word that came from my lips stung me and tore at my insides, making me want to hurt him like his leaving me that day had hurt me.

“I never meant for all of this with Keiron, I tried not to…” John Paul sighed in frustration. “What we had Craig… that was… that was never a lie. I just couldn’t face knowing that we would always be hiding away…”

“But you could face it with him?”

“No… I… it wasn’t…”

“Do you love him more than you loved me… is that it? You didn’t mind being HIS dirty little secret but you couldn’t give ME time to feel ready to kiss you in public?”

“There was more to it than that, you know there was… we weren’t…”

“Do you love him?” My hands were trembling as I asked the question, afraid to know the answer and afraid not to. I often wondered how different things might have been if I’d never asked, but I did and there was no taking the question back.

“Yes.” John Paul’s voice was so low it was hardly a whisper but to me it felt as if the word had been shouted into my ear, mocking me and mocking everything that I had felt. Every tear I’d cried was for nothing. Every night that I’d lain awake praying for a second chance had been for nothing. Coming back was for nothing. Loving him… nothing…

“But I…” John Paul touched my shoulder as he continued to speak and that contact broke me. The rage inside me burned so hotly that I had to let him see what he’d done, how he’d betrayed what we had, betrayed me.

I span around quickly, my fist connecting with his stomach before he had time to react, pouring all of my hurt and anger into that one blow that felled him instantly to his knees.

John Paul’s eyes were wide and stunned as he looked up at me, his hands gripping his stomach where I’d hit him.

That was when I saw the blood.

That was when I realised what I’d done.

Looking at my hand I saw the kitchen knife still gripped in my fist, its long silver blade was crimson with John Paul’s blood. I couldn’t remember picking it up, I think I’d been touching things at random on the kitchen counter as I had stood there. I didn’t know if I meant to use the knife on him, I still don’t know.

Uncurling my fingers I saw the blade fall to the floor, its descent seemed to happen in slow motion and the ring of metal as it hit the ground echoed around the room, vibrating inside my head making me think it would never stop.

Dropping to my knees I reached for John Paul, there was such fear in his eyes as he tried to hold back the blood.

“I’m so sorry,” I stammered, my hands touching him, stroking his face, his arms, pressing against the wound but I think we both knew it was no good. “I didn’t mean to…”

I didn’t mean to! How many times have I said that since that day? I’ve lost count. It became my mantra, the stick that I beat myself with, and the words that haunted me much as the look in his eyes.

“John Paul… it’s gonna be OK,” I lied, “You’ll be fine… I promise… everything will be fine…”

“Craig?” John Paul’s voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. “I still…” I saw the words in his eyes even before he said them. Those beautiful azure blue globes that had once captured my soul looked at me for the last time with love and more than love, with forgiveness. “I still love y…”

And then he was gone.

The brightness of his eyes faded like the dying embers of a beautiful fire, flickering one last time and then no more.

Sitting with my back against the kitchen cupboards I pulled John Paul into my arms and held him tightly against my body.

My hands were slick with his blood and I could feel more of it soaking into my shirt as I held him close to me.

I don’t know how long I sat there with the body of the man I loved in my arms. Holding him as his flesh slowly cooled, knowing that it would never be warm again, that those eyes would never sparkle again and that it was all my fault.

I knew who the dark haired man was as soon as he entered the flat. The look of pain on his face as he saw me holding John Paul was instant, replaced by horror a second later as he saw the knife and the blood.

It was as if we connected in that moment, somehow sharing the loss of the man we both loved, our grief binding us together in a way that nothing else ever could.

Eventually somebody pulled John Paul from my arms. A paramedic, a policeman, I’m not sure, I didn’t see. All I could see was him. That beautiful boy who I loved more than my own life being taken away from me and knowing that I would never see him again.

—

That was almost 10 years ago now.

Ten years of my life spent without John Paul McQueen.

Ten years of my life spent in prison for killing the man I loved.

Ten years of regret and longing and wishing every day that I could go back and change things.

Ten years of seeing that love and forgiveness in those beautiful blue eyes and knowing that I deserved neither.

I was paroled yesterday but there was no one at the prison gates to meet me. I had long since forced my family from my life partly through shame and partly because I knew it would make things easier for them in the end.

I’d been stood at John Paul’s grave for a while, the words on his headstone emblazoned across my vision “Taken too soon.” Taken by me. Craig Dean… killer. The grave is immaculate and I imagine that Myra visits this spot often, tending the ground that holds her son. Mourning the loss that should never have happened.

The sun is setting now and the graveyard is quiet and deserted as I sit down and lean against John Paul’s headstone.

The ground feels cold, damp, it’s chilling me but I feel no compulsion to move. There’s no warmth to be found even if I left this spot now, and nowhere I would want to go even if I did leave. So I sit here and wait.

Closing my eyes I let the half drunk bottle of whisky fall from my hand and I hear it settle amongst the empty tablets boxes that I have dropped there.

You see when I said that we didn’t have time to take this story right back to the beginning I really meant that I didn’t have time.

I’ve waited ten years to come to this spot, to be with him again and maybe if I’m lucky I’ll be allowed to find him.

Hello? Short Story

Oh dear I am rather later than normal with this Sunday blog post – I’ve been busy decorating and time just got away from me. Afraid you’ll just have to make your own tea today but I can offer this little story as compensation – although how much compensation it is remains to be seen!  It was actually written in 2010 in response to the prompt “Trip” and this is where my trip took me!

Hello?

“Hello… is anyone there? Hello?”

My voice echoed back to me, the only sound I could hear apart from my own ragged breathing and the steady thud, thud of my increasingly rapid heartbeat.

I didn’t know how I had ended up there, but even worse I didn’t know how to get out. I was trapped, caught, lost in a darkness that offered no hope of rescue or salvation.

Far above me I could see the smallest pin prick of light, a suggestion of the world above, but if my terrified voice even managed to penetrate so high there was obviously no one above to hear me.

With my knees pressed up to my chest I wrapped my arms around my legs, my own embrace the only comfort I could find and that was scarce comfort indeed.

“Hello?”

I knew it was pointless, hopeless, but I called out anyway. What else could I do?

I tried to look around me but the darkness was all but absolute. The ground beneath me was solid, a cold compacted soil that my fingernails could only scratch the surface of, releasing a few particles of dirt to become embedded beneath my nails. The walls around me were the same, smooth and with no breech, no corner or sign of exit.

Was it a hole or a well? I had no way of knowing. Did I trip and fall into its depths? It seemed unlikely as such a fall would have at the very least caused injury and yet I felt no pain. No physical pain.

I didn’t realise how cold my skin was until the heat of my tears scorched my cheeks, my whole body shaking with a combination of hysterical sobbing and utter fear.

A million questions raced through my mind but not a single one of them was rewarded with an answer.

What the hell was going on?

With my eyes squeezed tightly shut against the darkness I began to rock. Back and forth, my arms wrapped so tightly around myself I could hardly breathe, I rocked, a methodical motion with which I attempted to soothe myself.

“Hello?” My voice was barely a whisper, tear filled and afraid; more than afraid, alone… defeated.

In my mind I tried to conjure memories of anything other than the darkness in which I found myself.

I could recall the warmth of the sun on my skin and the softness of the newly mown grass beneath my fingers. The fresh, alluring cut grass scent filled my senses, mingled with the perfume of the blossoms around me. There was a soft buzz as a honeybee rushed past my ear and the joyful song of a dozen birds as they perched on the high branches and sang of the joys of being alive.

I smiled at the memory, I felt almost as if I could get to my feet and run across the grass, flinging my arms out joyfully as I raced through a spring day.

Leaning back slightly I felt the hard wall at my back, its cold unrelenting bleakness stealing my memories, my dreams, from me and bringing me back to the cold darkness where I inexplicably found myself.

“Hello? Anyone?” I didn’t even shout this time. What was the point, there was no one around, no one able to rescue me from the pit in which I found myself. No escape.

Opening my eyes I winced at the brightness of the light, lifting one hand to block the beam that seemed to be directly right into my face.

“Who’s there?”

More silence, more stillness as my eyes slowly adjusted to the newly found light.

Rubbing my hands over my face I let out a small derisive laugh. I knew exactly where I was. There was no deep dark hole, no dirt beneath my fingers or glimmer of light far above my head.

The wall facing me supported a large brightly coloured picture of a man, his strong handsome features looking directly at me, his guitar held out before him, his full pink mouth holding the promise of a smile.

To my left was the window through which the early morning sunlight had begun to shine, its beams blinding me only moments earlier; and to my right was the door to the rest of the house and beyond that the rest of the world.

I was nowhere more terrifying than my own room in the home I had known for many years.

With a sigh I swung my legs from the bed, stretching up high to ease my aching muscles.

Looking around my brightly coloured room I still saw the darkness.

You don’t always have to be at the bottom of a pit to be lost in the shadows