Eyes!

For Wordless Wednesday

I took these photos in Nepal

Rosey's red dress!

Written for Short Story Slam # 19

I saw this picture today over at Short Story Slam and my mind was immediately taken back to the time my friend Rosey met up with Sue and me in our local Italian restaurant. It was just before Christmas and she was wearing a stunning bright red dress very much like the one in the painting.

The first thing I remember of that evening was Rosey trying to attract the attention of a waiter. “Scusi calamari” she called. I pointed out to her that she’d just tried to catch the eye of a squid. Anyway, the waiter looked in our direction and I seized the chance to use the only bit of Italian I've ever mastered. "Scusi cameriere" I said “Una birra per favour” Like most seasoned travellers, I know how to request a beer in every country I’ve ever visited.  So, he came across to our table to deliver some menus, take our drinks order and introduced himself as Adriano.

I’m told by those who know that particular trattoria, that he’s not really Italian at all. Apparently he’s Adrian from Aldershot, but he does pull the deception off pretty well.  He took one look at us and starting singing the Italian national anthem. Seeing our bemused looks, he pointed out that Rosey was in 'rosso', Sue was wearing 'bianco' and I had on my rather fetching (though I say it myself) bright 'verde' pullover. ”Bandiera d’Italia” he chuckled as he pointed at us. We still looked a little confused. "Red white 'n green" he chuckled "You lot look like the flag of I’aly ”,  his new accent confirming our suspicions as to his real nationality.

Sue and I ordered a couple of those wonderful Peronni beers and Rosey requested a Lemoncelo. “Would you like ice Signora?” he asked returning to his faux Italian accent. “Yes please” said Rosey “but good ice, none of that frozen rubbish” We all laughed at Rosey’s joke and  Adriano gave us a dismissive look as if to say “I maka d’ joka round 'ere”.

It has to be said that Rosey looked stunning in her red dress. All she needed was a white beard and she would have been a really popular Santa Claus with the local dads. She told us that she was wearing it the other day when she went shopping. It clearly had quite an effect on one particular shop manager who gave her more than her usual share of attention. It seems they got chatting, and as it was close to his morning break he invited her to partake of a cappuccino with him. She told us that his name was Brian Bull . Sue suggested that it was a red rag to a bull situation . I asked if he worked in a china shop and when we stopped laughing at our own jokes she said that yes he did. What’s more, when he first noticed her he bumped into a shelf displaying teetering towers of teacups and they took on something of a worrying wobble. As you know dear reader, if there’s ever a chance for Rosey to cause mayhem, she usually obliges. However, this time the tremor subsided and there were no nasty aftershocks. She hasn’t seen him since. She made corny quips like not wanting to be Bull-dozed into anything and that she had ‘bitten the Bull-et’. We weren’t sure what she meant by the last one and didn’t bother to enquire.

And so, we had our meal . Rosey had a pizza with extra buffalo mozzarella, and we settled for good old ‘spag bol’. To follow, we all had some luscious desserts. Sue said that when she was a child, she thought tiramisu was named after her. It was years before she discovered that it was an actual Italian dish and not something her mother had made especially for her.  Adriano looked after us very well feeding us not just food but the occasional witty gem like “What’s an innuendo? An Italian suppository!” and “How do you stop an Italian talking? Tie his hands behind his back” As we left he once again burst into song ; Lady in Red.

To read more of her adventures and mishaps, go and visit My Friend Rosey

To obtain a copy of My friend Rosey the book, visit Lulu Publications

Blue Moon

For Wordless Wednesday January 18th 

I took the original photo from the bank of the River Nile

Where now?

Written for Sunday Scriblings 'Tribe' and Carry On Tuesday # 140

"There are just ten of us, that’s all. None of us remembers life before the Tribe. Did we have lives before? Some of us resemble children, others adults. One of us looks older and wiser than any person I’ve ever seen before, yet like ours, his face is featureless,smooth and pale as alabaster. We are like living statues."

  

Julie and John couldn’t have children of their own. They’d long ago resigned themselves the fact. They became short term foster parents but handing back one child after another became more painful every time so they gave it up. They couldn’t understand why with so many parentless children in the world, they seemed unable to adopt one. The pain of waiting was beginning to put a strain on their relationship. One night John, unable to sleep, wandered over to the bedroom window. At first he thought he was dreaming, for there in the middle of the lawn stood ten motionless bodies attired in white hooded cloaks. The only features on their smooth white faces were laser-like eyes which dazzled him as he watched, standing there, staring. A shiver ran through his body. When he awoke in the morning he thought it must have been a dream.

"We don't sleep like Julie and John. We have no need for food. We have no need for water or any of the things those in the outside world rely on. We simply exist, and exist simply. We are sitting in a circle among the trees. It’s dark all around. A white mist is swirling between the skeletal branches over head. The Wise One slowly rises to his feet; a moonbeam shimmers over his hunched form like white water across rocks. He looks upwards. ‘Where now?’ he croaks."

Hard Arthur they called him. Never worked, at least not legally. Everyone avoided him, no one crossed him. He lived in a shadowy world where people who owe money disappear and revenge killings are said to be his speciality. He was married once. No one knows what happened to her. He was left with a child, a boy called Mark. He looked about seven years old although he may have been older. Mark, all skin and bone lived in a wheelchair; he had for as long as people could remember. Quite why he ended up unable to walk was subject of much speculation among the folk of the grim estate on which they lived. Even the Children’s Service kept well clear for fear of what might happen if they interfered. One night Arthur was slumped in a tatty old chair staring at his TV in a drunken stupor, whilst Mark was curled up in his bed crying after another beating for something he doesn't remember doing. Arthur heard a noise, a roaring sound from outside. The wind started howling and branch went rat-a-tat on a window pane. He pulled himself up and staggered unsteadily across the room to door.  As he twisted the handle the force of the gale caught the door and flung him out into the garden. Suddenly all was still. He layed there surrounded by ten ghostly figures, some small, some tall but all with the same featureless faces and piercing laser eyes. The next morning and he was found floating face down in the river. How he got here no one knows; no one cares.

 "So why am I one of the Tribe? What am I doing here? Was I once one of the others in the outside world? Did I ever know Hard Arthur? I’m not happy, but I’m not sad. I just am. One day is the same as the next but we don’t know boredom. Right now the Wise One is standing before us, arms splayed as if asking for guidance. ‘Who now?’ he mutters."

Following Hard Arthur's death, his son Mark was taken into care. He had never been happier. You would think that being consigned to a wheel chair watching his friends in the children’s home playing ball would upset him. But no, he now lives in a world where people care about him. He’s not known that before. Gone are the days when he used to sneak down in the middle of the night to find a crust of bread because he was so hungry. Now his clothes are clean and the sheets on his bed smell like flowers. One night something happened; something that was to change Mark’s life. It was like a dream, only it wasn’t. He heard the sound of an owl outside the dormitory window. It seemed to be calling him.  He pushed back the covers and slowly sat up. And then he did something he could not remember ever doing before. He stood. Slowly he put one foot in front of the other and began to totter unsteadily towards the window. He pulled back the curtain and jumped as the owl flapped in his face and flew up into the sky. Then he saw them. He rubbed his eyes with his little clenched fists expecting to see nothing when he opened them again. But they were still there. Ten people all dressed in white. Two of them were small like Mark, and their laser bright eyes looked straight into his.

 "Children in the outside world run around. They climb trees and play hide and seek. Mark, the boy we visited last night will now. The little ones in the Tribe don’t. They just sit like the adults. I'm  wondering if I’m a bit different from the rest of the Tribe. I mean, I’m sitting here and thinking. Are the others thinking? Sometimes when I’m deep in thought the rest of them turn their heads towards me and just stare as if they are trying to read my mind. Perhaps they know that I’m questioning our existence. The Wise One is on his feet again. Where now I wonder? "

It was just before Christmas. Whilst Julie and John quite enjoyed Christmas, one thing was always missing from their celebration. One night some carol singers came to their door. There before them stood twenty or so children singing their hearts out; their round cheeks flushed pink, and their little button noses red from the cold. But a glow of warmth seems to radiate from them. Julie and John hardly spoke again that evening.  The next morning Julie was to go shopping and she’d given John the task of putting up the festive decorations. Just as she was getting into her car the phone rang indoors. John answered it. It was Beth, the lady from the Children’s Service. As he talked he banged on the window and beckoned Julie to come back. The next day    Beth wanted to bring a little boy from the children's home to see them. His name was Mark.  If all went well they would at last have a chance to adopt.

"Earlier today I was left on my own. The rest of the Tribe were huddled together; I knew they were talking about me. I am beginning to feel different. I seem to be growing away from my family and starting to become more inquisitive about life on the outside. Clearly they have sensed that too. It’s Christmas Day in the other world and I’m wondering if I’m missing something that I’d enjoy, not that I understand what joy feels like. Anyway, the Wise One is about to speak."

Julie, John and Mark were sitting around the Christmas tree opening presents. Mark always knew that people unwrapped parcels today, but he’d never had one before. It was the perfect family scene. It was dark earlier than usual that afternoon. John zigzagged across the room avoiding the scattered gifts, and started to close the curtains. He thought he was imagining things because outside the window stood the same ten motionless bodies in white cloaks that he saw all those weeks ago. They stared at him with their laser-like eyes. He screwed up his eyes for a second and the room began to spin a bit; perhaps he’d had one too many glasses of wine . Just as he thought, he must have imagined them, for when he opened his eyes they’d gone. Or had he imagined them?

"I’m standing here in the woods, in the dark and the mist is wafting around me. I’m surrounded by the Tribe. One by one they raise their right arm and point at me. Their eyes begin to send sabres of light into mine. The Wise One walks toward me. ‘Your work is done here’ he whispers, ‘away you go’. 'When?’ I ask. ‘Now’ he hisses."

I was sitting half watching one of those dreary reality shows on television when the phone rang. I thought about ignoring it and letting  the answer phone take the call for me . But then I decided I’d take it myself ; after all it may have been someone suggesting we go out for a beer, and right then I was pretty bored. Blow me down if I wasn’t right. It was John. We hadn't seen each other for months and he wanted to catch up. Young Mark it seems was in bed and Julie wanted to watch something girly on the box so he’d got permission to escape to the Dog and Duck.

Well, John always did have a fertile imagination, but what he told me that night took it to another level. Men in white sheets with green eyes? I ask you ; whatever next ?

May be continued!

Just a normal January day

Written for Sunday Scribblings, Short Story Slam and, of course Carry on Tuesday.

It was a normal January day; grey, a light drizzle and a chill breeze . I sat at my usual seat in Starbucks, right by the window, my hands cradling a mug of steaming Americano . The street outside was busy. Shoppers going this way and that under a rippling canopy of dripping umbrellas . Everything perfectly normal. Then someone caught my gaze; a girl carrying a bunch of golden flowers . Above her floated a bright yellow umbrella. It was as if she was under a sun all of her own. My mind started drifting towards a palm fringed beach a million miles away from the dreary scene beyond the window. Just then I realised she was looking at me. I heard her speak, but her lips didn’t move . She held a hand out towards me. ‘Come’ she said ‘Fly with me’.

Before I knew what was happening I was standing by her side . She was looking, unblinking into my eyes; her face expressionless. My hand was held in hers and we began drifting upwards . A moment later I found myself looking down at the miserable scene below then slowly everything became a blur. I looked up and her yellow umbrella beamed sunlight down into my squinting eyes. A sense of warmth spread through my body and a smile beamed across my face . It was then I realised I’d spilt my very  hot coffee into my lap. Everything had returned to normal .

London 2012

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Winchester Cathedral Christmas market....

....in the pouring rain!

For Wordless Wednesday December 21st