Category: Stories

VR, a writing competition entry

VR

The practice of disguise is not an art; to believe otherwise is to fall into an error of logical thinking, to fall prey to the kind of sentimentalising followed by my good friend, Dr. John Watson, a man of otherwise robust virtues and stoutheartedness. Disguise is a tool of detection, as necessary as a magnifying glass; it is the means by which the investigator can pass unnoticed into worlds unreachable by a gentleman, the sordid worlds of poverty and crime. Continue reading “VR, a writing competition entry”

Miss Polly (Short story Competition)

Josie looked out at the rain with an air of frustration. Squally showers and a buffeting wind had arrived since lunch time: not ideal weather to encourage Polly to come out of her shell and let go of her ragdoll. She seemed to be permanently attached to the thing lately, not wanting to join in with anything or anyone, wearing a subdued mood like a cloak. Continue reading “Miss Polly (Short story Competition)”

Christopher Robin and the Station of Fear

Alice was waiting on the station platform.
“Flippin’ heck, CR, you look whiter than a nun’s knickers.”
“You are not going to believe it.
“Oh yea,” said Alice, “what happened?”
“After I left you at Buckingham Palace, oh and by the way, what is it with you and those guardsmen, you were grinning like a Cheshire cat when the sergeant offered to darn your socks for you.”
“You know me,” sniggered Alice, “I like a man in uniform”.
“And out of uniform too, from what I have heard”.
“Watch it. Just because ….Hehhhey, CR, who is that?” Continue reading “Christopher Robin and the Station of Fear”

Mid-Summer Roses

The house is an old rectory with a large driveway surrounded by a shrubbery which is beautiful in a rambling, neglected sort of way. The front door is surrounded by climbing roses – a deep, deep red one and pale pink with huge thorns. Maybe Albertine, I think? When I press the bell I can hear it echoing through the house. Continue reading “Mid-Summer Roses”

Midsummer Madness: A short story

It had been a lovely weekend. For once the weather was perfect and the children had amused themselves for hours, splashing in the shallow bay and exploring the rock pools at low tide.

Such a pity they had to leave and start the long drive home. Thinking ahead, and checking her watch, she pulled off the motorway and parked her four wheel drive at a convenience store. It was not the most salubrious of areas but she needed some milk, bread and eggs. The children would be hungry and tired and require feeding before bedtime.

Continue reading “Midsummer Madness: A short story”

Short Story: Global Warming- a lesson.

Global Warming; a lesson.

So, Bea decided, it was actually happening!

What to do?

Now Bea, not a scientist or a particularly sharp cookie, had made up her mind. She was not entirely convinced, but given an element of doubt, she decided to err on the side of caution.

Continue reading “Short Story: Global Warming- a lesson.”

Popocatapetl in the sunlight gleams

When I was but thirteen or so

I went into a golden land,

Chimborazo, Cotopaxi

Took me by the hand.

“It will be out secret”, said the priest. “I want you to promise not to tell anybody, not even your mother. Nobody must know?”

Antonio sat silently, on the edge of the bed looking down at his feet, brushing away a tear from his eye.

The priest placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Promise me?”

“I promise, Father”, said the boy.

“There’s a good lad. Here, let me dry your tears away. You don’t want anybody to see you have been crying.” He reached for a handkerchief and wiped Antonio’s eyes.

“Go back to your own bed now and get some sleep. You will fee better in the morning.”

“I am not crying because of the pain,” said the boy.

“I know. Continue reading “Popocatapetl in the sunlight gleams”

Short story, “Coming up for Air.”

Once under the water she always tried to reach the grill at the bottom of the deep end before completing the length – without coming up for air. The dive had taken her right down through the chlorinated water which stung her eyes and reflected blue from the cracked ancient tiles until she nearly reached the bottom. Two deliberate kicks and she propelled herself further down. Continue reading “Short story, “Coming up for Air.””