Sunday 31 March 2013

Like Ships That Pass In The Night - Part 6

Good afternoon my dear reader (s)

Well hear we are again. So are you sitting comfortably? Good then I'll begin.

So here I'm bringing to you, my loyal follower, the sixth part of the flash fiction collection. Yes, it really is Part 6! Which given that it originally wasn't going to go beyond the first one is rather impressive I think. But you, yes you, my dear readers, wanted, nay, demanded that I carried on. So now we get to here: the penultimate episode. Thoughts always welcome on this as well

ta ta for now
 **

 
Like Ships That Pass In The Night
Part 6
“Correction”
Anthony sits on the bench on the platform. He remembers the moment. He was kissing his sister goodbye when the woman with the shy smile and skinny latte walked by with a look of sadness on her face. He had wanted to go after her and see if she had been alright. He sits staring at the floor, the cracks on the pavement and the lone piece of discarded chewing gum mere inches from his right foot.
The words of his sister come back to him, telling him to go full out for this woman. To take that chance and maybe, just maybe to grab his chance at happiness instead of watching it float away down the river of life to become just another missed opportunity. To see if she wanted that cup of coffee after all. He smiles slightly at that. She can have the coffee, he’ll have tea.
He hears the announcement that his train will be arriving at the platform followed by the motion of people jostling for position, all trying to the first on to the train thus ensuring they get an all important seat. He remembers helping her on to the train that first time and it was because they were both standing that he helped her from the train with her heavy suitcase.
The train pulls into the station and the doors slowly open. Before anyone can get on though the passengers coming here have to alight so gaps appear in the waiting crowd. It’s now that Anthony stands up and surveys the scene. People walking passed him as they make their way to the exit. He sees her walking with them. He knows he has to do it. It’s now or never. He moves over to her. She stops right in front of him and for a moment there is silence as they both look for permission to proceed.
“Hello again.” He says
“Hello” she replies
“I was going to see if you wanted that coffee but I haven’t seen you”
“I was on the night shift this week. At the hospital.”
“Oh right. Maybe some other time?”
“I’m not sure your wife would approve.”
Anthony’s brow furrows in confusion.
“My wife?” he asks
“I saw you getting out of the taxi with her and the wedding ring on her finger.”
“She’s not my wife. She’s my sister.”
Her eyes widen at the realisation of her error and she feels her face going warn through embarrassment. She breaks eye contact and looks around for anything to divert her from the mistake, to look anywhere but at him. She begins to move away from him hoping he won’t say anything.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m not married if that’s any help,” He says gently.
She looks up at his smiling face and feels herself relax. She doesn’t say anything but merely nods in understanding.
“So, maybe next week then?” He asks
“Maybe,” She replies
“I’m Anthony,” He says
“I’m Charlotte,” She replies.

Saturday 23 March 2013

I geek, therefore I am

Hello my dear reader,

Well it's Saturday night and here we are. Or to be more precise, here I am because you aren't reading this yet.  You're probably all out in some nightclub somewhere drinking and dancing the night away. Not that I'm jealous or anything. Absolutely not. *sniff*. So let's just say that when I started writing this it was Saturday evening and leave it at that.

Besides I'm writing this and you're not. And I've got Madness playing. On my ipod - they're not actually here in my house though it would be cool, if rather strange, if they were.

Anyway, earlier today I did something that I've never done before.

(Leave it! You're making your own jokes up and being rude!).

 Right where was I? Oh that's right: I ordered some stamps. Not bought you may notice. Ordered. And not any old stamps either (at this point if you're a fb friend you'll know what I'm about to say). No sir. These were a set of special Doctor Who 50th anniversary stamps.

Yes, I know your impressed!

Now before you all start to snigger and shout 'GEEK!' let me take the wind out of your sails and say 'Yes I am, but so what?"

I like science fiction. I read it, I watch it, I write it.

And

I like Doctor Who. What's not to like about a 900+ yr old alien that can change his appearance and can go anywhere and anytime in the universe. And more importantly tries to do good and right wrong doings without resorting to just blowing it up if he can help it. So why shouldn't I like it?  So why do some people seem to think that it is ok to mock other people for their interests when it more than likely is far better than some other thing that a person can be doing. Yes there are some out there who can probably name every character that spent more than five minutes on screen during the entire Peter Davison run of the show but then there are probably some out there who could not only name every goal scorer in every FA cup final but also tell you what minute the goal went in. So which of those two are the more geeky?

And really, does it matter.

Ta ta for now

Wednesday 20 March 2013

A black cross on my door

Well hello my dear readers,

Did you miss me? What you mean 'no'? How dare you. I shall be most offended by your lack of loyalty.

Just kidding. I know you missed me really. You were just messing with me. Come here and give me a hug. Please.

*sniff*
No one loves me.
*sniff*

Anyway, I bet you've been wondering why I've been absent from here for the past week so I'm going to tell you. Well, I going to tell you even if you weren't wondering so you may as well make yourself comfortable.
See, dear reader, I wasn't feeling very well. There I was ready to type some wonderful, insiteful and witty words onto this page when I was struck down by the most insidious and debilitating of germs, rending me virtually incapable of even the most basic of functions. The illness which can strike down half the population of the earth without mercy but is almost criminally misunderstood by the other half leading to slanderous accusations and hideous recrimination.

I am, of course, referring to...

MAN-FLU

Yes, my dear reader, Man-flu

It was terrible. For a moment it was touch and go. But you know what? Armed only with willpower and Beecham's capsules I pulled through. I was that man. I was that brave soldier who doesn't know when he's beaten. I went to work everyday. I refused to be beaten down. I stood tall, back straight, slightly wheezy chest out and firm jaw manfully set against a slowly waning sunset and I looked the Man-flu straight in the eye and I said "No! I refuse to stay home and watch Bargain Hunt, Loose Women and Cbeebies. I shall not yield."

And yield I did not dear reader. I struggled to work. I struggled to the pub on Friday night and I struggled to have those pints of lager.

And dear reader, I was victorious.


So now, I can say...

I'm back
It's been a long hard road and there were times when I stumbled but I never fell. Knowing you were here waiting on my words pulled me through those darkest of hours. And for that I can only say, inadequate as these words must surely be..

Thank you

*'Holding Out For a Hero' starts to play in the background. I stand tall as a single manly tear slowly rolls down my cheek*

Monday 11 March 2013

Like Ships that Pass In The Night - Part 5

And so without further ado (and no waffle as promised) here is part 5

----


Like Ships That Pass In the Night
Part 5
“Taxi”
The traffic lights turn to red and the taxi pulls up. The warm afternoon sun shines though the window onto the two passengers.
“It’s stupid I know” says the man        
“Not really,” the woman replies, “there might be a perfectly good reason why she refused the offer of a coffee.”
The lights turn from red to green and the taxi starts off again.
“What time is your train?” he asks.
“Twenty past five. And don’t change the subject.” The woman smiles as she speaks, brushing her blonde hair back over an ear.
“Give me a break,” he replies. He shuffles awkwardly in his seat and looks out of the window into the streets as the pass by. He watches as the pedestrians go about their own lives with their own hopes and dreams. How many are like his, he wonders, how many dramas are being played out at this moment thanks to a chance encounter at a train station.
“You’re not going sulk, are you Anthony?” the woman says playfully, “I shall have to tell Steven if you do.”
“You can tell my brother in law whatever you like,” Anthony says.
. The taxi drives around a corner, a little too fast and Anthony has to grab the arm rest of the door to stop himself sliding into his sister. She brings a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“You need to ask her again. You know what they say, nothing ventured and all that.”
“If I ever see her again.”
“Now don’t go all sourpuss on me little brother. That’s always been your trouble.”
“There could be any number of obstacles. She could be married. She might not like me,”
“She might just feel the same way you do,” She says leaning over, “you’ll never know unless you try.”
Anthony sees the approach to the station and a few seconds later they have arrived. He can see the amount to pay on the display above the taxi drivers head and pulls out his wallet. Handing over a ten pound note he tells the driver to keep the change. He steps out holding the door as his sister gets out after him. The door is closed as the taxi pulls away.
“Got everything?” He asks.
“It was only an afternoon trip little brother. We see too little of each other as it is.”
“Well don’t leave it so long next time. Give my love to Steven.” He takes his sister in a warm embrace and kisses her on the cheek. She is about to walk away when she sees Anthony has paused and is looking at someone. She follows his gaze and sees a woman coming out of the station carrying a coffee. She watches as he raises his hand to wave and sees the light and joy in his eyes. Then she watches as the woman pauses for a moment before hurrying off down the road and her brother’s face happiness to turn confusion.

Like Ships That Pass In The Night - Part 4

Good evening to you my lovely little reader.

Well when I say lovely I'm talking to the lovely lady readers out there. So for the blokes amongst you:

Alright mate. How's it going? Fancy a pint mate?

Right, so that's the pleasantries out of the way lets get down to business shall we? (that sounds rather naughty doesn't it? *snigger* Although if there are any ladies out there reading this I'm 37 and SINGLE).

So here for your eyes and mind is Part 4 of the flash fiction series 'Like Ships That Pass In the Night'. In the next post will be Part 5. Without all this waffle though. You'll see why I was inspired to write the two so quickly when you read them.

Enjoy!

Ta ta for now

---



Like Ships That Pass In The Night
Part 4
“Assumption”
The announcement comes over the tannoy on the train that they will shortly be arriving at the station. It’s been a long stressful week but now she knows she’ll shortly be home. Its late afternoon but not quite rush hour so the train is quiet as she hoped it would be. She could do without a full carriage, people crowded in on each other. She wonders if he will be there and is surprised to find that she hopes he will be. If only so she can return the offer of coffee. Is he thinking the same thing she wonders? They don’t even know each others name so she doubts it. The outside world, once a blur, now starts to come into focus as the train slows on approach to the station. A few people stand up and begin to put on coats and after a few moments she does the same. It is a warm afternoon so hats, scarves and gloves are not required today. She makes her way along the carriage as the train pulls up along the platform. Coming to a halt, the doors open and she steps down off the carriage onto the cold concrete floor. Without lingering she makes her way to the stairs and the exit. He’s not here on the platform anyway she thinks. Why would he be there? He won’t be waiting as he doesn’t know you’re here she tells herself. Don’t be so stupid. You don’t know anything about the man. Her heels clack on the steps as she walks up them her hand lightly trailing on the banister. She is not in a rush so walks a steady pace  along the walkway on the bridge. A whistle is blown on one of the platforms below her and the noise of a train moving off fills the air. As she starts to walk down the steps going down to the main area of the station she can see that it is, as always, busy with people. Some are now just finishing work and beginning their journeys home; others doing the opposite and beginning a night shift. Ticket in hand she makes her way through the turnstile. It is now time for a coffee she thinks and there is no queue so she makes her way over to the little shop and asks for a skinny latté. Her usual. A few minutes later coffee in hand she makes her way out of the station premises. A taxi pulls up outside and she stops and watches as he gets out. She thinks about calling out to him but stops as he holds the door open and a woman gets out, they embrace and he kisses her on the cheek. He smiles as he spots her with a coffee in her hand and sends her a quick wave. Swallowing hard she quickly walks on without noticing the now confused look on his face.

Saturday 9 March 2013

45 minutes

Hello reader(s)

And a hearty good morning to everyone! Unless you were on the ale last night in which case it will be whispered good morning to you.

Well here we are again, so it must be time for me to start typing away on this here computer thingy and make some words appear on the interweb malarky.

Now the more observant (or at least awake and not hungover) of you might be wondering why I've called this little post 45 minutes. Well it's simple really (bit like me). This post concerns something that I did last night that took, from start to finish, 45 minutes.

BEHAVE! 

Stop sniggering at the back. Really, you've all got filthy minds. Honestly. Mucky mucky muck muck. You should all be ashamed of yourselves. It was a piece of flash fiction. I have a group over in the world of fb. And one member of this group posted a piece of his own, rather incredibly excellent, flash fiction on the page and added a suggestion that we could have a go ourselves. (See, bet you're all feeling slightly guilty now for having those dirty thoughts. And so you should)

So this is my effort. From starting up my laptop to posting on the fb page took, wait, yep, you guessed it, 45 minutes.

Ta ta for now

----



4:55pm

Sally awoke slowly and gently as the sunlight warmed her face through the conservatory door. ‘I must have dozed off’ she thought ‘Wonder what time it is’. She got up out of the wicker chair and walked through the open door into the kitchen stretching her arms as she went. A radio was playing to itself on the white work top. Looking at the clock on the pale blue wallpaper she saw that it was 4:55pm. Oh blimey she said to herself, Richard will be home in a few minutes. The kitchen felt warm as the sun continued to beat down through the conservatory glass so she moved through into their living room. The room was modestly but tastefully furnished which was how they liked it. Sally saw the TV remote on the corner of the leather armchair. ‘Let’s put the news on till he arrives,’ She thought, ‘Think I’ll suggest we go out for dinner tonight. He won’t mind going out to the local pub. Probably quite enjoy it. Short walk and we can both have a couple of drinks.’
She bent down to pick up the remote and pressed the main button as she pointed it at the flat screen sitting expectantly in the corner of the room. The screen remained blank so Sally pressed it again harder. Again the television stubbornly refused to obey and stayed silent. Throwing it onto the armchair with a tut, she walked over to the unit and pressed the on switch at the base of the screen. Again nothing happened.
“What’s up with this thing? We only got it a couple of weeks ago. Dozy git didn’t unplug it did he?”
She knelt down and peered around the back of the television only to find that the plug was still sitting in the wall socket and switched on.
“Great” she said, “Bloody thing has packed in. That’s just fucking brilliant.”
Sally got back to her to feet and looked through the front window. A car was pulling up in their driveway. She watched as it disappeared from view down the side of the house and into the garage, the faint noise of the engine coming through the wall. ‘Oh well he’s here now. He can have a look at it.’ She thought.
The engine became silent and she heard the muffled sound of the driver’s door being opened and closed. Then came the opening of the door that led from the garage to the kitchen.
“You home Sal?” came the voice.
“In here,” she replied.
“Sally?”
“I said I’m in the living room. I swear you’re going deaf you know.”
She watched as Richard, briefcase in hand, ‘as always’ she thought smiling, walked into the conservatory and stooped down slightly. After a moment the briefcase dropped to the floor and she heard him cry out. In a heartbeat she was standing next to him, looking at herself, in the wicker chair as if she was still peacefully asleep.

Sunday 3 March 2013

Like Ships That Pass In The Night - Part 3

Good afternoon everyone!

(or good morning, good evening or good night depending on when and where you are reading this.)

So, yes, you read that right. This blog post is indeed the third in the series of connecting flash fiction pieces that I have started working on. I know I know, I'm just too good to you lot aren't I? It's a burden I have to carry.

Well anyway here it comes. Would be nice to know what you think of it, any improvements that can be made, either to this one or to the series as a whole. Or indeed to this blog as a whole.

Oh, and if anyone has any suggestions as to what to do with it further then let me know as well. Actually, better make that CLEAN suggestions. :-)

Ta ta for now



Like Ships That Pass In The Night
Part 3
“An Offer”
The Sun is rising over the roof of the train station, oranges and reds gradually giving way to blue and the whites of the few clouds. It is a cool, crisp sunny morning and she walks swiftly down the street, white water vapour illuminating each breath. It’s still cold enough to require the grey woollen hat and gloves but now with the promise of brighter days to come. The hat was a present from her mother several Christmases ago and now a reminder of today. What might come. No, she reminds herself, of what will come if not today, then certainly in the next couple of days. A week at the most they have told her. She must go. She doesn’t want to but she must.
Thoughts of ice cream on the lawn and make up boxes turning a young girl into a princess come to the foreground. She breathes hard to prevent the tears. For a moment she is back there in the happier days. A car horn brutally rips through the memory ordering her to get out of the way. Without noticing, lost in a sea of memories she has stepped out into road by the station and an ever busy taxi driver wants to get his fare. Sorry she mouths and hurries on her way again.
Entering the station ticket area she hurriedly arranges passage not even having time to buy her routine coffee. The gate allows passage when the ticket is produced and pushed into the slot and pops out the other side. Picking it out again she glances at the timetable a few feet above her looking for the platform that she needs. She has but a couple of minutes to get over the bridge. Walking quickly, weaving in and out of the slower people, she hears the announcement that her train is approaching the platform, sees it appear and allows herself a sigh of relief.
The platform is crowded and she makes her way through the gathered throng. All of a sudden she is bumped into by a man wearing a long black woollen coat.
“I’m terribly sorry” he says turning round.
More images fill her mind when she sees his face. A hand reaching out to help her with her suitcase and a coin rolling across the floor towards her. He smiles the same smile she saw the first time.  
“Hello again” he says
“Hello,” she replies
“The train has been delayed by about half an hour I’m afraid. And you haven’t got your coffee. Would you care to join me?” he asks
As she looks into his brown eyes she feels herself wanting to say yes.
“I’m sorry I can’t” she replies, “I’m on a different train this time.”
As her train pulls away and, catching a glimpse of him opening the door to the coffee shop on their platform, newspaper in hand and waiting for the lady with the pram go through first, she hopes he will ask again another time.