Tag History

SoCS Feb. 13/16 – tire

freyathewriter 12 Comments

‘I wonder if one ever tires of living life like just this,’ he mused, stroking his beard meditatively. He glanced across at his wife, who, to all intents and purposes seemed to be basking in the sunlight pouring in from the tall, Georgian sash window just behind her. This library of his, everyone declared, was the finest in the county.

“What do you think, my dear, hmm?” he asked, as if she had heard his thoughts as clearly as if they had been uttered into the still, mahogany clad room.

“I think I’m bored to tears, Humphrey. Why on earth we have to stay here when everyone else is in St Tropez is absolutely beyond me. At least let me go, why can’t you?”

Humphrey frowned. The perils of marrying a woman twenty years his junior seemed to be thrust under his Roman nose more and more often these days. As one of the bright young things, she had been an absolute charm, but now her tone was shrill, her wants had turned into needs and he rather suspected she was beginning to tire of him and his middle-aged ways. But dammit all, he’d had enough excitement in the last shout, and if the papers were to be believed, that arrogant little man with the ridiculous moustache was spoiling for another fight sooner rather than later. No, he, Humphrey, just wanted a quiet life.

“Anything you want my dear, you shall have. Get Frensham to pack your bags and we’ll get you on old Davidson’s little plane lickety spit. Will that do you?”

She jumped up. all smiles and red lipstick. “Oh, Humphrey, you are the most darling creature, I don’t care what they say about you!”

She shimmied out of the room, calling for her maid, heels echoing on the marble as she skipped into the hall.

No. He would never tire of her, this house, this life.

Especially now that he had the place to himself for a few weeks. Just like the old times. Just the way he liked it.

——-

Here’s my first attempt at Stream of Consciousness Saturday! Please head on over to Linda’s blog to find out and to read all the delicious creativity that can be found there.

Thank you to Linda for creating this little community!

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!

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!