Monthly Archives: October 2014

Friday Fiction – The View

To avoid spoilers, I’ll save my introduction for after the story today, except to congratulate our host, Rochelle, who celebrates her second anniversary driving our bus – and to thank her and Melanie Greenwood, who provides today’s prompt.

three_chairs

The View

From the outside, looking in, Jerry and Maeve were the picture of contentment. Their jobs kept them busy and challenged, with enough money for incredible holidays and a nice house with the mortgage all-but paid off.

Friends would tell them how wise they were, how lucky, how sensible – how they had evaded tantrums and mini-vans, sticky fingers and muddy floors. Others suggested they might change their minds.

Because from the outside, looking in, it was almost impossible to see the third chair at their table; the empty crib in their spare room … the other life that had never quite begun.

 

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Extroduction!

These days it seems there’s a day for everything. Sometimes, I find that frustrating, but so many of the days are important to so many people, which ones would you cut? Is it more important to have a day for Breast Cancer, because it’s common, or for ALS, because it’s not? 15th October was Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

Such losses are mercifully much less common than they once were, but they still affect huge numbers, many of whom will never tell most of their friend, even family. I’ve got plenty of friends who say simply “We’ve decided not to have children”, and in some cases that decision hides difficult times. Which is one of the reasons (part from common decency and respect for the choices of others), why I get so frustrated with those who question that decision.

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Friday Fiction – The Date

I’m delighted to be able to fit in a Friday Fiction story this week. It’s proving a crazy busy month – I was away for a while and now I’m back Sebastian is proportionately clingy; I’m running up to NaNoWriMo, which I am both participating in and helping to run (in Toronto); and I needed to find a bit of slack in the schedule. As a consequence, I expect the irregular posting to continue for at least the next 6 weeks, and I hope regular readers will be patient and stick around for my return. Thanks or your support!

Over at FF HQ, things are far more clockwork, Rochelle runs a tight ship and The Reclining Gentleman provides this week’s prompt. My story follows and your comments, as always, are invited.

trg-1

The Date

We’re meeting on the pier, so I can’t “Dress nice” – Mum’s only piece of advice for snaring a boy – because I’m wearing my ugly, blue anorak so I don’t freeze or drown or in some other way die. And I didn’t spend hours on my hair, because if I wear a hat it’s ruined and if I don’t, it’s still ruined.

So I turn up looking like something the cat dragged in and I stand there trying to pick him out from the bird spotters, muggers and perverts. And right until he arrives, I almost wish he wouldn’t.

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Friday Fiction – A Brief Pause

Today’s FF prompt (copyright Douglas MacIlroy) pretty much reflects my life at the moment – full of things, many of them interesting, but certainly too many to handle. The clock in the centre could also be a metaphor, although I’ll leave you to decide how!

still-life-with-doug

In any case, normal service is suspended for the moment, but I will be back!

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Friday Fiction – The Price of the Prize

Rochelle’s provided us with a bit of a mystery prompt this week, courtesy of Kent Bonham. You may recognise the boys in my response from another unsavoury prompt some time ago. Eat up, now!

unidentifiable-on-a-stick

“It’s club rules.” Owen tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat as he’d seen father do.

“But it’s gross.” Liam stared at the lollipop and then at the expectant faces surrounding him.

He’d been begging to join his brother’s treehouse club for weeks, but now the initiation ceremony didn’t seem worth the prize. Feathers and the legs of beetles were held to the stick by an icky white substance he couldn’t even guess at.

“Do it,” Owen snarled.

“Leave him alone, he’s just a baby,” said Tommy.

Liam stuck his tongue out and closed his eyes. Nobody called him a baby.

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