Follow by email:

Monday, 19 September 2016

First of the Month Fiction - October

Apologies to everyone - I was totally useless over the weekend - and too busy having fun. Clearly I should have shut up shop on Friday. So I'm off in the real world for the school holidays until the 10th October. Have a great time and I'll see you all on the flipside. I'll still be on Insta and Twitter, because I'm a little addicted.

Write a 100 word story exactly or one less than 30 words in the comment below, then link your blog below.

Mine is actually more than 100 words. It was my rejected story from Grieve this year. It's not very good - I knew that when I entered, but I also don't think I like it enough to improve it so in laziness, it's going here. (Newbies look at last month's for excellent offerings and examples that fit the word count)

                                    *********************************************

Mizpah
(n, Hebrew) the deep emotional bond between people, especially those separated by death.

It used to smell of his aftershave, but no more. I sit, close my eyes and try to pick up a faint scent. I know it’s not there anymore. Still each day I can’t help but try.
Not a night went by when he didn’t sit with a beer after work in that chair, talking aimlessly while I made dinner. He would be angry at a client or laughing at the stupidity of colleague. Words would pour out, unimportant yet the silence now highlights their absence. Each audible tick of the clock announces the void.
I’d never sat in his chair until the day I came home from the funeral. It was his chair, for him, and I’d always preferred to stretch out on the couch when we watched television. I was so drained that day, the formalities weighing down on me. The finality of it all hitting home as I opened my door.  The chair beckoned, offering an unknown consolation.
Now I prefer his chair. Every evening as I sink back into the leather, if I close my eyes, for a brief instant, I feel the comfort of an embrace. Enveloped in a love of all I had and all that’s lost, for a split second. A fleeting comfort stretching across time, straddling the past and the present. Then it is gone and I’m just alone in the house, sitting in a chair.
It’s small, but it’s all I have left. The moment each day that I treasure, yet can’t explain. A moment that gives me the will to get through another lonely night, and face yet another day.

              
                                                           ********************

I'll be back next month, with strict word counting...so any regulars that want to squeeze some extra words in - feel free.
Have great hols everyone!




The Pramshed

34 comments:

  1. She woke, bright and early, knowing what day it was today. She'd thought of little else for days. Preparations had been made and food readied. She ran downstairs, ready to turn 4!!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love this, great words. Have a lovely break.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Bahahahahaha! Love your sales pitch for your story 😂

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. The last 2 years I was published in the anthology but this year I wrote 4 stories but just couldn't get it right. This was the least bad, so I entered it, incase the gimmick with the hebrew word got it over the line...but I knew it was unlikely...so I can hardly talk it up when I'm not that committed to it :)

      Delete
    2. Not false modesty - My first story they published was beautiful.

      Delete
  4. I love that story. I think it's quite beautiful and I love the word mizpah too. Who am I kidding, I love the sound of Hebrew words full stop. Have an ace break - catch you on the other side.

    ReplyDelete
  5. The stream was always calming for Tilly. Feathery clouds were scattered across a sky of burnt orange.Ruby swung down from the tree she'd been climbing. 

    Evan broke the silence. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

    Ruby frowned. 

    "Some people do. Some don't." Tilly was unflappable. 

    "Mum is a ghost." Evan sounded certain.

    "There's no such thing as ghosts!" Ruby squeaked. Her fearful gaze flitted across the stream. 

    It had been Mum's favourite place. Tilly felt her presence. She said nothing.

    "We'd better go." 

    They trailed off towards home. Tilly glanced back at the purple hued water. "Bye Mum," she whispered. 


    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Lovely! (and a little unsettling). I like your more serious style too.

      Delete
  6. It is interesting how we all seem to have 'our' chairs. I didn't know that word: Mizpah. I like it. Nice work.

    ReplyDelete
  7. I love this and could relate as we near the 5th anniversary of my father's death.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, I'm sorry. I hadn't thought about triggers. Glad you enjoyed it tho, not the other...

      Delete
    2. Oh no that's fine. There will always be triggers with that sort of thing... always a reminder of some sort!

      Delete
  8. Hey, enjoy the holidays, she typed, herself desperate to call a halt to what had been a long term. Escape! No routines! Bliss.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ha, clever! And I LOVE it! That's exactly me!

      Delete
  9. Well I think it's a lovely story, thank you for sharing.

    Visiting from #teamIBOT x

    ReplyDelete
  10. I love this piece, very touching. Enjoy your break.:)

    ReplyDelete
  11. She holds her breath and hopes. Will the comment work this time? She wants to engage. To let this fellow blogger know that she loves her work and her words. Publish. (Robyna | the Mummy & the Minx)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hee hee. Everyone is being so meta this month (clever ducks!)

      Delete
  12. Happy School Holidays...

    The rain beat down fiercely on the boy’s face as he hid in the undergrowth clutching his prize. His heart beating like jungle drums in his ears, his breathing a rattling wheeze caused by the wet air and exertion of what had just happened.
    Staring through the rain he could hear their angry voices approaching, the scrub crunching under their boots. “Come back Michael, we won’t hurt you…” they sneered into the darkness. He thought he was doomed until he heard that second voice shout “Get back inside all of you and leave your brother alone!”. “But mum, he took the Wii controllers!”…

    ReplyDelete
  13. Enjoy your break. I go through stages with Twitter. You'll have to fill me in on how to use it properly.

    ReplyDelete
  14. You had me at Mizpah
    Have a great holiday
    See you on the Soc Media.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, and here's my story:

      27. The number of cats on her shelf. The number of Instagram followers. Her age when she met him. The times he hit her. 27. The date she walked away.

      Delete
    2. What a journey in so few words. That's really powerful.

      Delete
  15. Enjoy your break! :) I'm headed to the beach for a few days! :)

    ReplyDelete
  16. I think it's great! It made me a bit sad. Great writing :)

    ReplyDelete
  17. Very touching in a deep way. Great writing :-) :,)

    ReplyDelete
  18. Ah, this is so very touching. I'll link up with one of my stories from my course. Enjoy your break! x

    ReplyDelete
  19. Such a beautiful story but so bitter sweet. I can imagine the feeling of sitting in his chair by the way you write everything in such detail with beautiful imagery. Thank you for sharing your story with #StayClassyMama!

    ReplyDelete
  20. Enjoy your break!!
    Thanks for linking up to #MummyMondays

    ReplyDelete