....in the pouring rain!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
A fairytale
For Sunday Scribblings
A picture of innocence. A pointy pink dress of satin and lace, wrinkled sparkly white leggings and silver ballet shoes. A garland sits lop-sided atop of a stack of golden hair. With her arms going this way and that she struggles to put on a pair of translucent yellow wings.
Wriggling from side to side she heaves up her leggings then straightens her headgear. She picks up her wand, adjusts the glittery star on the end, and then she’s ready. There are spells to perform, happiness to hand out and wishes to fulfil!
Falicia the fairy tip-toes out into fairyland. Thomas the ginger tom casts a wary glance in her direction as she totters across the lawn toward him. He sits nervously as she taps him gently on the head with her wand, then bends to stroke his sun-warmed back. Little Freddy pulls a quizzical face as the fairy, who looks very much like his sister, wanders over to his play pen. She reaches into her pocket then scatters a handful of stardust over his head. Freddy cries. Felicia wanders off in search of a more appreciative audience. She was certain that when she grew up she would become a real fairy.
Twenty years have passed and Felicia is ‘something in the city’. She is successful. People come to her with their dreams of wealth and she grants their wishes. Her stardust is now loan agreements and share documents. Her fairy land is the bank.
But in those quiet moments she is still that little pink fairy from her childhood. Those quiet moments when she drifts away and imagines herself flitting from flower to flower in a magic garden. When she sleeps she wears a smile as she swings from a rainbow and plays ring-a-ring-a-roses with the butterflies.
But she knows it will never be. She tells herself she was stupid to have ever believed it. The kids that teased her were right.
A dragonfly hovered outside her office window. Felicia turned her head, smiled and winked. A dozen pink rose petals floated down from the sky.
A picture of innocence. A pointy pink dress of satin and lace, wrinkled sparkly white leggings and silver ballet shoes. A garland sits lop-sided atop of a stack of golden hair. With her arms going this way and that she struggles to put on a pair of translucent yellow wings.
Wriggling from side to side she heaves up her leggings then straightens her headgear. She picks up her wand, adjusts the glittery star on the end, and then she’s ready. There are spells to perform, happiness to hand out and wishes to fulfil!
Falicia the fairy tip-toes out into fairyland. Thomas the ginger tom casts a wary glance in her direction as she totters across the lawn toward him. He sits nervously as she taps him gently on the head with her wand, then bends to stroke his sun-warmed back. Little Freddy pulls a quizzical face as the fairy, who looks very much like his sister, wanders over to his play pen. She reaches into her pocket then scatters a handful of stardust over his head. Freddy cries. Felicia wanders off in search of a more appreciative audience. She was certain that when she grew up she would become a real fairy.
Twenty years have passed and Felicia is ‘something in the city’. She is successful. People come to her with their dreams of wealth and she grants their wishes. Her stardust is now loan agreements and share documents. Her fairy land is the bank.
But in those quiet moments she is still that little pink fairy from her childhood. Those quiet moments when she drifts away and imagines herself flitting from flower to flower in a magic garden. When she sleeps she wears a smile as she swings from a rainbow and plays ring-a-ring-a-roses with the butterflies.
But she knows it will never be. She tells herself she was stupid to have ever believed it. The kids that teased her were right.
A dragonfly hovered outside her office window. Felicia turned her head, smiled and winked. A dozen pink rose petals floated down from the sky.
Sunday, December 04, 2011
Oh Joy!
Written for Sunday Scribblings and Carry on Tuesday
Joy Grimes was shopping. She hated shopping. The day was
grey, the darkness of winter weighed heavily on her shoulders. The main street was busy; far
too busy for Joy. There were too many people, too many screaming kids and that
annoying greengrocer shouting about fruit and chestnuts and holly wreaths from behind his stall.
She mumbled and grumbled and cursed and swore under her breath. The windows in
the shops to her left and her right where a blaze of multicoloured light, and
stuffed with Christmas gifts and party frocks. Christmas should be banned
muttered Joy. Right in the middle of the street was a grotto, Santa’s grotto.
What a stupid place to put it, right in Joy’s way. As for those grinning gnomes
trying to drum up business from passing parents; words failed her.
In the distance she could hear boom boom boom. Quietly at
first but getting louder with every beat. Then the sound of screaming trumpets
and groaning tubas. How Joy hated marching bands. There was enough noise in the
street without them adding to it. Suddenly the Salvation Army band rounded the
corner and all around her stopped and watched. Why was everybody
smiling? It was loud very loud. Joy clasped
her hands over her ears. But try as she may she couldn’t blot out the sound of
the carol the band were belting out; Joy To The World. A girl dressed in a
black and red uniform topped off with a little black bonnet rushed up to Joy rattling a collecting tin.
She looked so sweet with her rosebud mouth and flushed cheeks and little red
nose; far too sweet to be a teenager. ‘What do you want?’ barked joy. ‘Bringing
you joy with our music, and joy to those less fortunate this Christmas’ the
sweet girl said.
Quite what happened to Joy that minute, I have no idea.
Perhaps it was all those references to her name. Maybe it was the look of
innocence in the sweet girls blue eyes. Possibly for the first time in her life
she got carried away by all the joy that surrounded her. Whatever it was, for the
first time in living memory Joy’s downturned mouth showed a slight glimmer of a
smile. She didn’t put any money in the tin, but she did touch the girl lightly
on her shoulder before shuffling off down the street. At that moment the darkness
of winter lifted from her shoulders as the sun broke through the clouds.
That was a year ago, and Joy died on Christmas day . A
couple of weeks later there was an article in the local paper about a large
donation having been given anonymously to the Salvation Army.
'Rest in peace Joy Grimes' said old Joe Grimes as he drank his first hot drink of the day at the drop in centre. 'You weren't such a heartless old cow after all'
'Rest in peace Joy Grimes' said old Joe Grimes as he drank his first hot drink of the day at the drop in centre. 'You weren't such a heartless old cow after all'
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