The Lovers (Flash Fiction Story)

I've recently tried my hand at some flash fiction, writing stories of no more than 99 words. I thought I'd share my first one on here with you all. I hope you like it.

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The Lovers

Their eyes met and her heart began to race as she gracefully floated towards him. She couldn’t believe she had found him after all these years of searching, and this time she wasn’t going to let go. Distant music played invisible to their ears; it was just the two of them staring deep into each others soul.

As she stood opposite him he took her trembling hand, gently caressing it. Removing the veil from her face, he smiled and said those two important words he’d been longing to say since the day they met…

“I Do”. 

A Bugs Life

Despite my recent blog post about embracing autumn, I find myself today curled up on my sofa dosed up on paracetamol watching reruns of Friends on Comedy Central, fighting my first (and hopefully last) dreaded cold of the season, hitting home that maybe the change isn’t all it’s cracking up to be! Then again, better to get it now than say in four weeks when I’m going to a wedding, but if I had a choice, I’d rather not be feeling like this at all! High temperature, sweating, shivering…it’s just not a good look for a girl!

I’m trying to fight it though and thought a good workout in the gym yesterday would do the trick but it seems a 5k run followed by 20 minutes of intense kettle bell training has only made things worse. Not only do I look rough, I feel it too and with the added pain of aching limbs, I’m starting to wish I’d just spent the weekend in bed!

 Managing a quick trip to the supermarket to stock up on supplies, I am now sneezing my way through a multipack of Kleenex, dosing up on cold relief tablets and drinking my way through a carton of fresh orange juice and more than likely annoying the hell out of my housemate.

Let’s just hope my unwanted visitor doesn’t decide it likes me a little bit too much because I’m really not in the mood for befriending any bugs right now…so take note any other lingering germs out there, and for your own sake, keep your distance!

Ben (A short story)

Her eyes opened slowly and all she saw was the white of the ceiling. She could hear the beep of the heart monitor that was wired to her and the scurry of people around her. Somebody was saying something but it didn’t make any sense.

“Emma, can you hear me?” said a familiar voice “It’s me, Ben”

Emma tried to move her head but couldn’t. Darkness fell upon her again as she drifted off.

“Why won’t she respond to me? This is the third time now”.

Ben sat back down, taking Emma’s hand in his. His face was angst ridden as he watched his wife, so frail and bruised, fighting for her survival. It had been a beautiful summer’s day and Ben decided he wanted to take her out for lunch. They were driving through familiar country roads, music blaring as they laughed and talked about their plans. Emma burst into song as her favourite Jason Mraz track played which made Ben laugh because she was an awful singer. Not one note in tune, but he didn’t care because he loved that about her. He loved everything about her.

They had only been together six months when Ben proposed. He knew from the day they met he would marry her. He’d never felt like this about anyone before. She was so carefree, laid back and loved him to pieces. His confidence had taken a knock after losing his job just before they met, but when he told her how much he loved to draw pictures, she was soon encouraging him to get back into it and even sell them, and to his surprise, they were doing really well. Two years later he opened his own studio, and began an evening art course for adults and Emma would always come along after work to support him.

“I drew you another picture last night babe: hearts leaping from the moon, just like you described in your dream.”

That was a recurring vision of hers; but she loved the idea of it, mainly because Ben once made up a story about the heart of the moon searching for love and two days later, she dreamt about them leaping with joy from the moon’s centre, heading straight towards her. She knew then they were in love, even though they hadn’t told one another.

“It’s on canvass so we can put it on the wall in the lounge, or maybe above the bed in our room...actually, I think above our bed will be nice: My story, your dream, our love. What do you think?”

For a second he was convinced Emma smiled, but nothing.

“Why did I have to decide to go out?” Ben asked himself angrily. “None of this would have happened if we had just stayed at home”.

The car came out of nowhere and hit them head on throwing them into a double somersault before landing roof down on the ground. Emma was thrown against the passenger window, her body limp and blood everywhere. Ben hit his head on collision but managed to remain conscious. He tried to move but his body was stationary, whether from shock or damage, he didn’t know but all he wanted was for them both to be out of the car and quickly. He screamed at Emma to wake up but she didn’t respond. Another car was driving a little further behind them and saw it all. They called an ambulance and helped get Ben out of the car. Emma wasn’t moving though and they had to wait for the paramedics to arrive before they could do anything. That was eight days ago. The driver of the car that hit them was three times over the limit and died hours after arriving at hospital.

Ben startled upright from his chair. He was unsure how long he had been sleeping for but assumed it must have been a while because a blanket had been put over him. He looked at his watch and saw it was 3.08am and he suddenly felt thirsty. Looking around for a nurse, he got up from his chair and walked over to the table at the end of the bed and poured himself a glass of water but his body suddenly went cold when he realised Emma was no longer wired up to the machine; instead her face was grey and her lips blue and dry. An evil shiver fell down his spine as he stood there motionless.

“Emma!” he screamed, shaking her. “Wake up!”

Confusion fell over him as tears streamed from his eyes. What had happened in the short time he had been asleep and why had he not woken up before now? It didn’t make any sense. Commotion appeared from a nearby room close by to Emma’s. Ben looked over but couldn’t take in what was happening. The room started to spin and he could feel himself getting cold. The noise outside was getting louder, piercing through his body like nails scraping along a blackboard.

Storming out with raged anger, Ben approached the room but stopped short when he saw doctors surrounding a bed, checking the heart rate of a patient and wiring up a defibrillator. He walked over to the bed but froze in horror as he saw a familiar figure lying there underneath bruises and swelling. His black eyes widened and his body began to convulse as the realisation of what was happening dawned on him. Sweat poured from his head and his hands began to shake when he saw the person he was looking at was in fact, himself.

Ben stood in a trance as he watched doctors and nurses trying desperately to save his life.

“NO!” he screamed.

Nobody responded. Ben ran back into his wife’s room and he suddenly remembered everything. He was the one in the coma, not Emma. She died on impact. Everything he was feeling, thinking and hoping was all in his mind. He had been replaying his life over the last 8 days only today, after doctors began to see some improvement in him, Ben was beginning to piece things together, only for his body to go into shock after realising she was dead, causing his own heart to stop.

Tears poured from his eyes as he fell onto Emma’s cold body. He held her tight but felt the resuscitation shocks going through him pushing him back to the ground. He staggered up from the floor making his way back to the bed, screaming again to stop but nobody listened.

Ben looked around and saw the scene in slow motion. He could no longer hear their voices, and could feel something pulling him away. Doctors worked in vain for what felt like a lifetime to save him, each shock jolting his body off of the bed, but without any response.

Realising there was nothing more they could do, they had to stop. Two lives had been taken and for a week, doctors fought to save the third, but they couldn’t. Ben had given up. The thought of life without Emma was too much for him to contend with. He wasn’t strong enough without her. He felt responsible for her death and would never have forgiven himself had he survived. The only thing he could do was let go because at least this way he hoped he would reunite with her again.

A hand reached over and switched off his life machine ending the noise, and finalisng the end of his life. Softly stroking his face, a tear fell onto his cheek as a gentle voice whispered into his ears for the last time:

“Goodnight Ben."

Autumn days

Summer may be coming to an end as we begin the relegation of barbeques and sun loungers back into the garage for another year, but that’s not to say we still can’t enjoy the outdoors. In fact with autumn just around the corner it won’t be long before we’re back outside, this time wrapped up in scarves and gloves, filling bin bags with leaves and enjoying the site and smell of lingering bonfires.

I’m sure many of you would much rather be lying on a beach drinking cocktails and catching some rays, but now is a great time to embrace the change, after all it does come with some perks: a new wardrobe, Halloween and bonfire parties, conker fights, and dare I say it…..Christmas!

Ok I admit it, I’m not one for battling against gale force winds and rain, but there’s something to be said for coming in from the cold, putting on your fluffy slippers and comfy slob out clothes, heating on and chilling in front of the TV with a large Baileys on ice!  So don’t let the dark nights and fading tan lure you in a state of misery, instead embrace what is now on offer. Dig out the wellies, wrap up warm and let’s have some fun!

Lost (A Short Story)

He had been trapped underground for weeks. Everyone assumed the blast had killed him so a ceremony took place in his honour. Little did they know he was using every last drop of energy he had left to escape. Rats and bugs covered him like a rotting corpse, but he refused to give up because he needed, and wanted, to see his wife and children again. They were keeping him going.

As he scurried through rubble and battled falling debris, faith restored him. Light shone through in the distance and he felt an incredible rush of relief. He was saved. Tears stung his dirt filled eyes as he hurried towards his survival despite the bright blue sky almost blinding him.

Moments earlier, whilst he was reaching his freedom, a power cable sparked and detached overhead causing the pylon to fall to the floor like timber igniting flames and smoke that filled the light he was making his way towards.

His scream echoed around as the man so close to regaining his life saw the flames heading towards him. There was nothing he could do now.

It was over.

If the dress fits....

When it comes to fashion, I’m not really up there as a catwalk fanatic. I always try and make an effort though and look smart for work and when I am out, but I don’t get over excited about shopping for clothes and shoes like most girls do.

So, imagine my shock, when last weekend I went out with my housemate who was in search of a dress to wear for her birthday, and I came back with one to wear also and another to wear to her mum’s wedding in October.

The first shop we went into was Matalan and hanging up next to the fitting rooms (how apt) was this dress:

I fell in love with it straight away so tried it on and couldn’t believe it when it actually looked nice on me and for a bargain of £18 I didn’t even hesitate to buy it. Needless to say, I walked out feeling rather smug!

We then made our way to Wallis, where my housemate had told me about a dress she had seen which she thought would look lovely on me. I remember her describing it to me and at the time, it sounded lovely, but if I’m honest, I forgot all about it (sorry Chelsey!) but when we got there, hanging up at the front of the shop was the dress:

I knew straight away I wanted it so grabbed it off the hanger and tried it on. I loved it but stupidly decided against buying it, thinking I still have a couple of months until the wedding. As soon as I got home, I realised I made a mistake not buying it so found their website and not only did I find the dress, but it was also part of an online offer and was £4 cheaper than buying it in the shop at a cost of £36!

I seriously couldn’t believe my luck. Prior to this, I had spent weeks searching in vain for a dress to wear to my nephew’s naming ceremony, including trying out a personal shopper experience, only to decide on one I already had in my cupboard, but here I was, on a Saturday afternoon, finding two dresses I loved and on impulse, buying them both. I can’t wait to wear them now, starting tonight, with the Matalan dress!

The Old Lady (A Short Story)

We are often confused by the behaviour of people, but sometimes the way we behave can ultimately save a person. I found this out recently and I feel today is a good day to share it with you.

I grew up in a small village where everyone knew each other’s business, often before you knew your own. I enjoyed my childhood, but there were times I found it suffocating. So many busy bodies in a remote area never really giving you the chance to breath, and it came to no surprise when an old lady moved into the vacant cottage opposite my house that everyone wanted to know about her.

There was only one problem though, she didn’t want to talk to anyone, and it really rubbed the locals up the wrong way. People often wondered about the old lady in the house. They would see her most days pottering about, watering her flowers, getting her shopping, and sitting in her rocking chair in the lounge doing her knitting. She never seemed lonely, but was always alone. Neighbours tried to embrace her but she would just smile and decline any form of contact. Of course, there was that rumour about her being a witch and putting spells on people, but I never believed them.

I remember walking home from college one afternoon and she was hovering outside her front door. Despite my parents telling me to stay away from her because she was “a bit odd”, she looked like she needed help. As it turned out, she had dropped her key on the floor and was in too much pain with her back to bend down and pick it up. She told me I was the first person of many during that hour and a half of her trying that actually stopped to help. I wanted to get her into her house, purely for curiosity than anything else, but she couldn’t have closed the door quickly enough. Resigned to the fact she just wanted to be alone, I turned around and went home. All the kids in the village thought I caught some kind of disease from her because by coincidence, I fell ill days afterwards. Turned out it was just a sickness bug, but that didn’t stop the small minds from thinking it was more.

Every time I saw her after that I always waved, but she just smiled and turned away. At weekends when I baked cupcakes I would box some up for her with a note and leave it on her doorstep. I never bothered to wait for her to answer the door because she always ignored anyone that arrived, but she always accepted them because I used to watch, sometimes for hours, to see she got them. Then every Christmas I sent her a card, and even after I moved house I still continued with the cakes and greetings. People thought I was stupid for it because she never said thank you, but that wasn’t why I did it.

Three weeks ago I got a telephone call from my mum to tell me the old lady had passed away. She realised something was wrong when my parcel of cupcakes were still sitting outside the front door two days after they were delivered. She called the police who found her lying in bed, clutching a photograph, of what I now know was the man she loved. I still get shivers whenever I recall that conversation, but then yesterday morning I received a letter in the post which must have been found by those tidying her house. The letter read:

My Dearest Annabelle

If you are reading this then it means the inevitable has happened. You may wonder why I have chosen now for you to understand this, but I want to share it with you because I feel I owe it to you. I have watched you with much happiness over the last 10 years grow into a beautiful young lady, so caring, so kind, so thoughtful. A year before I moved to Cloverlane cottage, my husband, Walter, lost his battle with cancer. He was the love of my life, always made me smile, always cared for me, always looked after me…and always loved when I baked for him. Before he passed he made me one promise – that wherever I go, he will always be there looking after me.

I chose Cloverlane because it was a quiet area - I never thought for one moment I would create such a stir. It seems that despite the quaint village setting, it was full of some sinister and rather vicious people who refused to believe that behind the person, was an old woman; longing for the man she had lost. That was until you came along. You never judged me, never forced me to talk, but you were always there, sending me notes and leaving me gifts. I cried for hours the day I found your cupcakes on my front porch. I couldn’t believe it because you made them just the way I used to make them for Walter: vanilla sponge with white icing. I realised then he was right – he was there for me, only his spirit chose you.

You brought so much happiness back into my life, and I am so grateful. You helped me to see that despite my loss and sadness, love still surrounded me. I enjoyed so much receiving the photos of your wedding, and cried once more when you told me you are expecting your first child. Knowing you have that makes me so happy, because you deserve it. Don’t ever lose the person you are because you are beautiful and so special.

Take care my darling, and I will continue now what my Walter told me. Wherever you go, I will always be there looking after you.

All my love

Ethel

That was the first time I found out the old lady’s name. I never realised I had such an impact on her life but knowing I did has made me so happy. I attended her funeral at St Mark’s Church back in the village, along with my parents. It seemed, despite their initial attitude, seeing what I did for her made them proud of me. There weren’t many people there that day but she wouldn’t have expected there to be because despite my caring for her, she still never let anyone else in. Although I never got the chance to really get to know Ethel, since her death, I feel like I know more about her now than I did before.

Perception is a powerful thing. You never really know a person unless they let you in. I don’t know why I continued to stay in touch with Ethel, or even why I started. Perhaps on some deeper scale I was fed up with the perception that my friends and family had of her, and the thought of turning out like that scared me.

I guess what I’m trying to say to you all is don’t judge a book by its cover. Don’t be that sheep and follow the crowd, be your own person. Your future is in your hands now so don’t let it pass you by. Grab it with both hands and enjoy it. Be the strong individuals you have become, don’t succumb to gossip and rumour, and don’t be that person creating the gossip and those rumours. Love the people close to you, share the moments because there will be some incredible ones to remember, but most of all, keep a look out for that person who needs you, because somewhere along your path they will be there, and that will be your chance to really shine. I have faith in you class of 2012.

Be strong, be wise but most of all, be happy.

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Putting the piece of paper down and taking in a deep breath, I looked at my husband and could see his tears.

“What do you think?”

Standing up from his chair, he took me in his arms and kissed me.

“I love you” he said “and so will those kids when they hear that story. You are an inspiration, Mrs Andrews.”