Tag Family

Little Pitcher – VisDare

freyathewriter 2 Comments

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Aunty Vi and Uncle Roy don’t have no kids, they have a parrot. They taught it to say ‘Bad Lucy!’ and laugh. That’s me. I’m Lucy.

Mum got really angry with Aunty Vi and told her off good and proper. “Lucy’s good as gold, Violet! You’re just jealous because God decided you didn’t deserve children.”

They didn’t speak for weeks after. Christmas was spoiled and Nan wouldn’t let Mum forget how wicked she’d been, telling Aunty Vi she was being punished by God.

But I know the truth. I know that Vi didn’t want no baby. She went to see Rosie Noakes down Garrison Street and Rosie sorted her out. I know, because Dad took her there and fetched her back after, and Dad and Aunty Vi promised each other they’d never tell.

They all think they’re so clever.

They forget about me. They forget that I know everything.

——

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 entry and Magpie Tales entries this week (they’ll be up soonish).

Please do visit VisDare for more amazing flash fiction.

Mother Hen – Magpie Tales

freyathewriter 12 Comments

moths

Lor’! He were like a moth to a flame, that boy! I told him, I did, that it would come to a bad end, but would he listen? No, course he wouldn’t, he was blinded by her, that fancy piece and her airy ways!

I tell you though, he should’ve gone for my Lucy, he should. She had a steady job with prospects, she did. Safely settled at that Captain de Riviera’s town house, working hard as a lady’s maid. And most of all, she loved the bones of him, she really did.

P’shaw! Look what’s become of them all! That boy Kit wanderin’ the streets lighting lamps every night, talking to ‘isself like a madman, and that young lady, dead an’ all. She come to a bad end, she did, an’ I feel sorry for the Captain, rattlin’ around alone in that big old house of his, really I do.

But it’s my Lucy I worrit on, day and night. That boy can’t see how much she loves him. Always did an’ always will. How it hurt her to see him blinded by that fancy girl’s ways… I don’t know how she stood it all along…

————

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! I wrote two tales yesterday for VisDare and Five Sentence Fiction, and thought it would be good to round them off with this little offering.

They are told from three different perspectives – firstly, that of Kit Roberts’ mysterious admirer, next Little Mo and finally, as told here, Lucy’s mother. Did something sinister happen? You betcha! Who played a foul game? That would be telling!

Reticence – Magpie Tales

freyathewriter 30 Comments

magritte, rene, not to be reproduced 1937

Not To Be Reproduced, 1937, Rene Magritte

Christophe folded his clothes, laying them out on his bed before placing them in his suitcase, precisely and methodically. So it had ever been.

He did not need to turn from his to task for the exact layout of the room to be available to his memory. Burnished mahogany armoire to his left, ornate chest of drawers in the recess next to the fireplace and elegant sash windows to his right. The deep sash windows, each lower pane lifted precisely six inches to allow a healthy breeze to refresh the stale air, were dressed in elegant plum brocade curtains.

Nothing had changed since he had left all those years ago.

“Monsieur?” His manservant stood in the doorway, hands open in enquiry.

“Oui, Gaston. I am ready.” Christophe snapped shut his case, locked it and pocketed the key.

“Will we be returning… after, monsieur?”

“Non, Gaston. I am here to do my filial duty, that is all. We will leave as soon as the service is complete and the mourners have left. They expect nothing more, nothing less.” Christophe stared at Gaston, daring him to comment.

Gaston said nothing.

The father and son had not spoken in twenty five years, and now Monsieur Clement the elder was dead.

If they had anything to say to each other, it was too late now.

——

Here’s my latest entry to Magpie Tales. I have been fascinated with Magritte’s art since discovering him as a teenager – my step-Dad has a book of his art on the bookshelves at home. ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe’ was my favourite, partly because of the play on words. This story is certainly not reflective of my relationship with my step-Dad, thank goodness! I thought there was something mournful about this painting, hence the tone of my piece.

I hope you enjoyed this, do let me know what you think.

magpie tales statue stamp 185