Category: Creativity

Holy Knight

It was Boxing Day, yet the chairman, along with a skeleton staff, had come to the office to work on the press release that he would issue early next month. On the screen in front of him was displayed the company’s latest sales report. It made depressing, if unsurprising, reading. Things were not looking good at all, though at least a small profit was forecast, which was more than was likely to be the case for his rivals. As welcome as this was, it was not going to prevent the huge number of redundancies that would be forthcoming in the New Year; redundancies which came on top of several store closures and associated job losses that he and his board had been forced to impose 6 months earlier. Continue reading “Holy Knight”

Black and white: A Christmas Story

“Sorry, Old Girl” said the Major, as his wife glared at him over the top of her reading glasses. It’s true though, he thought to himself. The seasonal covering of snow made them easier to spot, they stood out like sore thumbs. She was glad when it thawed but there was more on the way. The Major always loved snow on Christmas Day. On his short walk to the doctor’s surgery he had spotted three of them. They are taking over, can’t move a bloody inch without falling over one. Send them all back home where they belong. Can’t be doing with this he thought; they’ll be breeding like rabbits and taking over the country.

Continue reading “Black and white: A Christmas Story”

Three words to describe your day….

Simon Mayo (Radio 2) has this idea of getting folk to text in a synopsis of their day, or part thereof in just three words. This can lead to some amusing mini snapshots of various disasters, celebrations etc. My favourite today was this one,

Husband: Bath panel fixed.

Followed by

Wife: Where’s the cat?

 

What are your three word summaries?

 

Nov Short Story – the Mystery of the Unknown Soldier

If he could tell that the young girl with the fat baby in the blue snowsuit wasn’t interested, it didn’t matter. Not that day, not any day really.

Bert was an effusive sort of chap; never used three words where thirty would do. And they all came rushing out which tended to exhaust his listeners to the point where they would look at their watches and remember a pie overcooking in the oven or an appointment at the dentist.

Tracy was taking her children to her mums on the other side of town so she could go to a sunbed appointment and have a bit of peace. She deserved it, she thought – and so did her mum, knowing how hard life was as a single mum, especially since her Tracy was only 17. Continue reading “Nov Short Story – the Mystery of the Unknown Soldier”

The Hit Man (things are seldom what they seem)

Robert Hampton, a rather charmless man, of average height, medium build and with an instantly forgettable face, had carved himself a pleasant, if rather shallow niche in the village of Coltsfoot. He was beginning to feel quite safe in his rural idyll, although it would never do to become too complacent. He enjoyed the comfort of his Victorian cottage with the mundane name of ‘Meadow View’, but he would move on when the lease ran out; he always moved on. Continue reading “The Hit Man (things are seldom what they seem)”

Keep taking the pills: November Short Story

Things are seldom what they seem…..

How true in the case of the  Smith family Tragedy. Nice people by all accounts, and near neighbours, so it was with a frisson of shock that Jill read the article in the local paper. The whole family had been found dead; the police were not looking for anyone in connection with the incident and there was no information as to how the two adults, one seven year old and a young baby had met their fate.

Continue reading “Keep taking the pills: November Short Story”

The Last Night (CW Competition)

She opened one eye. “What the hell was the time?”

She was fed up with not sleeping properly and waking up at some God-forsaken hour in the middle of the night. She switched on the lamp and looked for the clock. Then she remembered that she hadn’t brought the alarm down last night when she had decided that she could not bear to sleep upstairs again and had dragged the mattress off the spare single bed and rolled it down the stairs. She’d gone back up, grabbed the pillows, sheets and duvet off the brass four poster, hurled them on top of the mattress and had virtually flown down the stairs herself.

Continue reading “The Last Night (CW Competition)”