Who Can Hear You

‘Think before you speak’

On a pavement Cafe at the end of the street, two smart men took themselves a seat.

Tristan, he bragged about his car, ‘£48000 look at it gleam, Mercedes coup’e a Successful man’s dream.’

Harry said ‘I worked hard taking overtime when I could. No room for a holiday or even a siesta.’ His £17000 spent on a pepper red fiesta.

They argued together, the for and against,
compared fuel consumption the weaknesses and strengths.

Now, Mary, she sat on the ground by the door

listened to them both open mouthed … in awe.

She sat head bowed by a note that said ‘park’ To remind her to get in her box before dark.

Her mac was large came down to her feet, an excellent choice, when you lived on the street.

for underneath, was all she possesses, two pairs of gloves and four threadbare dresses.

She didn’t speak nor look in their eyes when they lit cigars and binned crusts from their pies.

Silently she sat as they said their goodbyes. Missing the quiver of her lip and the tears in her eyes.

They dropped her a pound and crossed to their cars. She could have been an alien living on Mars.

A lightbulb moment!

Let me know what you think. Would you, in your excitement of the moment have stopped and looked at Mary? I’d like to think I would have taken my discussion inside, thought about how she would feel; overhearing.

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The Colour is Christmas.

Inside the tiny house that is nestled in the suburbs of London Emma looked up at her Mum. “Mummy the sunshine in my picture, ” she said pointing to the drawing on the fridge door “it is sunshine colour, isn’t it … And the grass with Daddy and Mummy, it is grass colour isn’t it?” A frown sat on her face as she pursed her lips; waiting for an answer. Mary crouched beside her daughter and explained about colour and name, she drew her a colour chart while her little brother straddled Mary’s hip. Mary told her the colours of their clothes and the cushions on the sofa. During the day they sang colour songs and told rainbow stories, drew rainbows to add to the already crowded fridge door. Emma and Tom Carpenter, went to bed that night tired and happy, knowing that tomorrow would be Christmas.

On Christmas morning Emma skipped into the Kitchen. “What colour is today mummy?” She lifted her head, wearing a huge smile Mary looked at the five-year-old who was clutching pencils and pursing her lips. Mary’s pride shone from her face, as she wiped her forehead with the back of her flour encrusted hand and bent to her daughter’s height. “What colour do you think it is?” Emma screwed her brow and as if contemplating the world and left the room.

Mary wiggled and hummed to the music on the radio as she cut the last sausage roll and wiped her hands on the tea towel stuck in her waistband. Throughout the house, the air was thick with the scent of pastry and cinnamon and the sounds of happiness. The question forgot in the excitement of the day.

Tom crawled up the hall chasing his new train giggling as he went.
Dad burst through the front door stamped his feet and brushed a light dusting of snow from his hair. Joe’s nose was red and he rubbed his hands briskly to warm them.”Kisses” he called as he smacked his lips and waved mistletoe above his head.”Kisses I want kisses” he roared. Emma and Tom rushed to be lifted in a sloppy lip smacking embrace.
There were lanterns, twinkling lights and paper decorations dangling from every space in the little house. Carols rang out from the kitchen radio and sparks snapped against the guard on their open fire.
Dropping everything Mary ran to join Joe for a kiss; Singing as she went. Flour covered kisses ended in chuckling and tickles. With all four sat breathlessly on the floor. Emma looked up into her Mothers eyes and quietly said
” I think the colour is Christmas mummy”.

This is a story I wrote last year revamped, extended and wearing its very best party frock. I hope you like it and it gives you all you need to be put you firmly in the seasonal mood.

Do leave me a comment I love to chat.

Silence Please.

Charli at the carrot ranch has charged us with a challenge in 99 words no more or less write about something not allowed.  🔜 press here 🔙 to join in.

photos curtesy of pinterest.

She shushed me as the door slammed,

My arms full of books.

People peered above their specticles,

Gave me dirty looks..

She wagged a silent finger and 

pursed her lips tight.

When I slipped to the carpet

And toppled off the light.

My card was marked at the library door,

When a cough sent bubblegum

To skid across  the parquet floor.

Her sole was stuck fast 

As I staggered past.

just to round the debacle off

I snorted as I laughed.

Her teeth you couldn’t fail to miss

As the librarian delivered an Almighty hiss…

and pointed to the quote   

Microfiction challenge #15: Freedom.  The Beauty Of Emmeline. 

                                    

 

Emmeline took Earnest‘s hand and with a gentle tug she walked him into the surf. Holding his arm aloft as if in dance.  His face lit up, his nose twitched as he inhaled great nostrils of sea air. Each step he took brought a new experience. Each Gull he heard was to him an orchestra and so animated was he that Emmeline could hear it too. Earnest was lost for words his senses were full to bursting, the feel of sand betwixt his toes; the exhilaration of salt spray lashing his cheeks, his ears so attuned to the mighty oceans roar; he trembled.

Emmeline smiled, a tear joined the spray upon her lashes, and she knew it was worth the ruined shoes and sodden hem to see his face. Earnest threw wide his arms, ripped the fastenings from his great coat and cried. “As God be my judge, I am humbled to be a blind man, for never could a sighted man see more than I this day”. 

Emeline’s adventure paid off for once, her forwardness was not out of place. Together they would grow old knowing there was nothing that Earnest couldn’t see… including the beauty of Emmeline.

 

 

We are using one of Ilja Repin’s paintingsThis is my response to the  prompt, press  Jane Dougherty to join in, connect with many great blogs and read some super stories.

How did I do? Did you believe in Emmelines story? Leave me a note I will respond soonest; once I’ve changed from my wet shoes *wink wink*.


My Head Is In My Manuscript.

I am not going physically,

I haven’t a secret key to a special place,

but an agent wants a look at my hope for a book.

 For a while at least my work will be my feast.

 

 
 Keep your fingers crossed for me,

it’s a learning curve you see.

Giving it a go may teach me

something I don’t know.

So I thank you all for your patience, loyalty and friendship. I will give this my best shot and if, just if I am sucessfull I will celebrate with you all. If I am not we can commiserate and learn for the next time. 😇 

Precious Things.

.

This is my precious special item, you’ll think it a strange one I expect. My daughter and her husband gifted this rose bush to me. “Mother of the bride” they called. Their words made eyes leak. The rose is a gift that will remind me always of their special day, May 23rd 2015.

I counted forty two blooms yesterday and I think each one represents a kind word, and a hug from my daughter. They remind me that however far in time and miles we are from her, she still cares and loves us, as we do her.

My Husband said they look like old ladies frilly knickers… what do you say other than, “When? When did you see… no don’t answer”. They smell of honey and vanilla the roses that is, the middles are a deeper leamon than the edges; my two tone frilly nice smelling knickers!

I hope they make you happy too. Do you have a precious something you would share? I’d  love to hear your stories or see the item you find so special. Leave me a link or a comment, please do.😆😇