Category Writing

SoCS March 12/16 – ball

freyathewriter 1 Comment

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She’d gone and done it again, failed to keep track, heck, she’d even written the damned thing in her Filofax, diligently, neatly, in her bullet journal style that had been keeping her life organised for the past eighteen months since things had gone so awry.

But this past week had been so damned hectic – work demands, her bloody sister nagging at her to be a good aunty for a change and babysit the nephew that she really, really couldn’t bring herself to like, for all his spoiled, only-child ways, and then – Leonard. That damned man, swanning in and out of her life like a willo-the-wisp, and even harder to grasp hold of especially when she needed his presence the most.

She took to her bed for an early night, ignoring the pile of dirty laundry, ignoring the dishes soaking in greasy water, hunks of soggy tomato and flecks of ground beef, ignoring the dust bunnies gathering around the dining table legs. Tonight, it was all about her and reruns of Law & Order.

“Yo, Jen! Where the heck are you?”

Leonard. Calling from the pavement below, decked out in black tie. What the -?”

She hauled open the obstinate sash window, grasping her nightgown tightly around her neck against the chill night air. Damn. She must look like hell – no make-up, hair all mussed up, and she was sure there was a smear of chocolate ice cream across her cheek.

“We’re late babe. Why aren’t you ready?”

“For what? You’ve been out of contact for over a week. I thought you’d disappeared on me… again.”

“Don’t be a fool. Come on, glad rags on my girl, our chariot awaits!” Leonard swept an arm out and Jen followed its arc to the limousine shining under the streetlight below.

Oh hell! The ball. Tonight, tonight was The Ball.

Yes, she had forgotten.

She had dropped the ball… again.

—-

Here’s this week’s entry into Stream of Consciousness Saturday! Please head on over to Linda’s blog to read all the delicious creativity that can be found there.  I hope you enjoyed the read.

Thank you once again to Linda for creating this vibrant community!

 

SoCS Feb 27/16 -food

freyathewriter 2 Comments

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He drooled. He actually drooled.

There I was, minding my own business at my usual window seat in Mokka. Saturday morning (early, of course), this was my ritual. Large latte, pain au chocolat, a glass of water. Yes, I know, indulgent, but heck, I work hard all week. This is me time, before I head off into town, to pay bills, do the weekly shop and then return home to take Lizzy to hockey practice, collect Saul from choir practice, and dismally, if I’m lucky, sit down for ten minutes before preparing dinner. We all eat at different times now that the kids are somewhat independent. But most of my non-work life still revolves around them and their wants and needs.

But I digress. The boy was drooling. Watching every morsel and sip that passed my lips. At first, it was an annoyance, this close scrutiny. But then the fact that I was still wearing my scarf, even inside the coffee shop, that my super-insulated gloves were laid out neatly on the table and this little boy was only wearing a ratty old T-shirt and threadbare jogging trousers niggled at my conscience.

I made a quick detour to the counter and ventured outside. The little boy was trudging down the street in front of me.

“Hey!”

He turned round, his guilty look and the fear in his eyes haunted me.

“Sorry missus. Didn’t mean to…” He looked down, shuffling his feet.

I held out my hand. The triple pack of sandwiches balanced on my palm. “For you.”

He looked and frowned. “Don’t like cheese.”

I bit back the words. Ungrateful little sod! But no. He was only a boy, after all. A hungry, cold, little boy.

“Will ham do?”

“Yes, ta. Fanks.”

He wiped at his runny nose with his bare, skinny arm.  “And some chocolate? And a drink?”

We all need to survive, somehow.

—–

Here’s this week’s entry into Stream of Consciousness Saturday! Please head on over to Linda’s blog to read all the delicious creativity that can be found there. This week, it’s all about food! I love food, and it loves reminding me of its presence by clinging to my hips and tummy! So, I thought I’d take a look at those who aren’t lucky enough to enjoy it in the same way. I hope you enjoyed the read.

Thank you once again to Linda for creating this vibrant community!

Speed = Distance x Time

freyathewriter 3 Comments

Charlotte ate green peppers all day long. She was a real paragon of virtue. She went to the gym every day of the week – no excuses. She didn’t drink anything except water and camomile tea. She was a fine example of health and fitness.

And then she wasn’t. Suddenly, or so it seemed, she started filling herself with fast food – McDonald’s, Burger King, Wimpy’s – and drank gallons and gallons of Coke. She started every day with a quadruple espresso with five spoons of sugar – and early mornings were a long-forgotten dream. The gym? Pfft. Who had time for that? Certainly not Charlotte any more.

In short, she started taking up a lot of bad habits.

If asked why – and many people did – she would just wave her hand dismissively and respond in a breezy fashion that she was happier this way. Who needed goals? Certainly not Charlotte. Not any more.

Of course, life is not that simple. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

Nobody had been with Charlotte when she decided to service her clapped out old car on the August bank holiday. All her friends were out of town with family and other loved ones. She was insistent that home was where she was staying  – she had gym obligations, a marathon to train for and besides, her food preferences were so different to everyone else’s that she often ended up not eating at all, which was, of course, a very bad thing. At no point would she admit that she was lonely because of it, not even to herself. So, she busied herself attending to her car. A money saving opportunity so that she could travel to the New York Marathon – so she told herself.

The whole servicing exercise went well. It was easy – at least on a car that didn’t rely on diagnostics like modern cars. Mechanics was a new skill for her, and one that she was good at.

Not quite as good as she thought. The thing that she did to the brakes on the Honda – that was the tipping point. Careering down Lakey Hill at 60mph, the B52s blaring from the new speakers she’d wired up to the cassette deck, she couldn’t have been happier. Until she tried to brake. Nothing. Nothing but a loose pedal, a blind bend and a dry stone wall hurtling towards her.

Charlotte didn’t remember the impact. The smell of leaking brake fluid and hot metal and oil spreading across the road wiped all of that from her memory banks. But the bruise across her shoulder as the seatbelt jerked her back into her seat and the body-wide aches and pains reminded her that she was damned lucky to get out alive. The car of course was a write-off. She didn’t care about that.

Life could not be planned and controlled to the finest details. It could however be enjoyed in all its fragility.

For now, eating and drinking everything she had denied herself for years was the answer. If her friends couldn’t cope with that, well, that was their problem.

Or so she told herself.