Wednesday Write Up: In the Unlikely Event

As the sand trickled between her fingers and skimmed the polished mahogany of her father's coffin, the first thought that came to Edna was that it was soft and granular, which was unexpected; the second went along the lines of oh-crap-that's-my-father-in-there-and-he's-going-underground-soon. It occurred to her that she must have missed the eulogies and the vicar's rambling attempt at canonising a man who was widely accepted to be a jerk. Stuart had clamped her arm in his clammy hand. He seemed more distraught than she was. As she stepped forward, past the grave and into the shade of the trees, she tried to wriggle out of Stuart's embrace. Whenever he held her bicep, it felt as though he was measuring her and making mental notes about how she could get the best out of her next gym session. It was an occupational hazard for a personal trainer, this much she knew, but it made her feel inadequate. Her sister Genevieve blew her nose into her husband's hanky and the collective winced at the sound. Edna tried to hide her giggles. She hoped it would look like a body-wracking sob. The snorts didn't help. Stuart leant closer.

Short Story Sunday: If the Fates Allow

There's no way to avoid it, Jocelyn thought, as she stumbled through the crowd. All around her were people with lifeless eyes in pursuit of something. Was it happiness? A way out? She couldn't tell. But she knew that if she was to survive the ordeal, she'd have to leave soon. Except there was one more thing on her list that she needed: a gift for Mr D. She closed her eyes and steeled herself as her body and bag was jostled by passers-by, seemingly on similar, perhaps more important, missions. 

Short Story Sunday: Fear of Flying

Laura stepped aboard the Boeing and the blast of the airconditioning ruffled her hair. The man ahead of her coughed and shuddered the scent of cigarettes in her direction. She prayed he would not be sitting next to her. The welcoming committee asked for her ticket. Navigating the way to her seat was not beyond Laura, but she humoured them with a smile. 

Short Story Sunday: A Suitable Man [Part Three: The Conclusion]

Read the first two parts here and here.

Short Story Sunday: A Suitable Man [Part Two]

To read part one, click here: A Suitable Man [Part One]

Part Two continues below... 



The generator probably would have started sooner if Barbara had not insisted on supervising him. She failed to point out the handy step-by-step instructions that were on the wall and opted to fuss and point and shriek instead. It didn't go unnoticed that she made an effort to stroke his arm for no apparent reason. By the time Christopher was back in bed, nearly an hour had passed. When his head hit the pillow, as tired as he was, he could only think about Julia. 

Short Story Sunday: A Suitable Man [Part One]

The man at number seven was having his first cigarette of the day. Julia awakened to the sound of his lungs resisting the tobacco fumes. She lay still, not  wanting to disturb Franklin. After a moment, she raised her head and noticed that he was not in his usual spot at the end of the bed. Her phone beeped with the alarm. That would make it the third time this week that she was awake to turn it off. The man at number seven scraped open his kitchen window. She really ought to move.

Short Story Sunday: All the Things We Cannot Say

A car hooter sounded just as Derek closed the door. He walked around the desk and sat opposite her, drumming his fingers on his armrest.

"Do you know why I called you here today?"

She swallowed. Her mind became a roundabout of thoughts until she settled on one possibility.

"We are concerned about you, Sarah. Ever since Jack..." He cleared his throat.

"You can say it." Her voice sounded underwater to her. "Ever since Jack died."