Category Love

Gossamer – Magpie Tales

freyathewriter 6 Comments

escher m c bond of union 1956

No matter the distance between us, you are always present.

You could be a solar system and a lifetime away, but you are here, with me, in me, always.

I imagine a glistening gossamer thread spanning eternity, ethereal, almost invisible.

Delicate it may be, but it is indestructible.

————

Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales. I’ve been an admire of Escher’s art since I was a teenager, so couldn’t resist putting something together this week.

Please visit Magpie Tales for more creativity – you know you want to!

Vanishing Point – VisDare

freyathewriter 1 Comment

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Sarah and Danny are watching the couples walking down the steps. Some are smiling, some are laughing, some look worried.

Sarah thinks, ‘They look complete.’

Danny thinks, ‘The men look left out.’

Sarah reaches out for Danny’s hand, but it is stuck firmly in his jeans pocket.

“That will be us soon, Danny. We’ll have our own baby son or daughter. We’ll be a proper family. I can’t wait! Can you?”

“Mmmm,” he replies.

Sarah smiles, remembering her own perfect childhood. She thinks of the bonnets, bootees and adorable little cardigans hidden at the bottom of her wardrobe.

One day.

Hopefully.

——

Here’s my latest entry to the lovely Angela’s VisDare.

I hope you enjoy this week’s tale – I’ve tied it in with my Five Sentence Fiction and Magpie Tales entries this week – find out some more about Sarah….

Please do visit VisDare for more intriguing responses to this quirky image!

 

False Lights – Magpie Tales

freyathewriter 23 Comments

boots (2)

We struggle for money, aye. It’s always hand to mouth and Mum says it was the same for her growing up, and for Granny and Grandad, and for their parents too, Old Sam Trelawney and his wife, Smiling Nell.

They called her Smiling Nell after the scar that pulled her mouth upwards into a grin. When she was just been married and carrying my Grandad in her belly, she tripped on a rope and cut her face on her filleting knife down at the wharf.

Dad didn’t want us to be short of money and didn’t see why we should just be poor. He always said that times needed to change.

Well, they have now, with him in a sailor’s uniform, firing cannon and all.

Thing is, we have even less than before – a sailor’s pay ain’t so grand, not even half he got for setting down to the shore with his men, waving his lights and pulling the boats on to the rocks. I followed them all, silent as a ghost, lying on the cliff top out of sight of the Wrecker’s Moon. Yes, he risked his life and liberty then, but the rewards were mighty fine. I still have a silk shawl to prove it – it smells of the sea.

Now he’s away, earning the King’s shilling, and he might never come back

Nan says he brought it on himself and he should be thankful he didn’t swing for it.

Nan’s not always right, just like Mum never wants to hear the truth. Wrecking is mighty exciting, I think. I’m going to be the best lady wrecker in all of Cornwall when I’m old enough.

————

Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales – I hope you enjoy it! If it feels like you’ve stepped part way into a story, you’ll be right! Here’s the first instalment submitted to VisDare, and then the second instalment submitted to Five Sentence Fiction.

This week, they are all told by the same young lady, and we are treated to her own firm but (probably) fair views on life, death, truths and falsehoods. I hope you enjoy the stories – please do visit Magpie Tales for more!