The Right Stuff – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - A Mixed Bag

Copyright – A Mixed Bag

– The Right Stuff –

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Alex?”

“No, why on earth would it be?”

“But you always courted attention, you were always at the centre of things! This should be perfect!”

“If you think a plaque, memorial gates and a champagne reception for the city worthies represent my life’s work, then I wasted far more time than I care to think about.”

Silence follows. Some things never change.

“Sarah. Sarah? Are you alright, dear? Are you ready to go in now?”

I look at the man – some titled chap who had taken it upon himself to ‘look after’ me, the ‘poor Mrs Albright’.

I stand, pull back my shoulders, take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, I need to cancel all of this. Alex wanted the focus to be on his causes, not him as a person. The money you have raised should go to charity, not be spent on this. I’m so sorry…”

The man takes my hand, a shockingly intimate response. I realise that I haven’t been touched by another person for weeks.

“My dear, I quite agree. Leave it with me. I will deal with the hangers-on.”

I sit down with a thump. I feel a huge relief.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The silence that follows this time is somehow comforting.

Full Circle – Alastair’s Photo Fiction

Here is my offering for Alastair’s Photo Fiction this week, inspired by the photo below.  Why not take part? And why not visit his photography and writing blog to take a look at his other photos…?

Copyright - Katerrmonran

Copyright – Kattermonran

– Full Circle –

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Oh yes. But I’m not so happy about the new colour scheme.”

I stood with Sol, mirroring his stance – arms folded, legs locked in position. He was angry. I steeled myself against the onslaught. ‘I’m not so happy’ was code for ‘Bloody angry’.

“I need to tell you something,” I scratched my cheek, feeling two days’ worth of bristles rasp against my fingernails.

Silence.

“We sourced the paint livery from the original makers. We painted her sky blue, just like you asked, but it just didn’t cover up the, the…”

“I asked you – no, told you – to get rid of the stains! Sandblast the wheel, smooth it, seal it, paint it. For God’s sake, that’s why I hired you!”

“That’s what we did, Sol.”

“And she never had a red wheel – never!”

I sighed, faked my ‘I’m sorry’ shrug and turned away. The captain’s daughter had been torn to pieces on Dixie’s maiden voyage, her skirt caught up in the paddle steamer’s big wheel. It seemed like the old girl didn’t want anyone to forget. A red-painted wheel was her way of honouring Ruby – my great-grandmother.

Sol could go swivel.