My 10 year old self – A short story

I am reposting this story in response to Esther Chilton’s Challenge to post a story, poem or Limerick on the subject of favourite childhood memories:

https://esthernewtonblog.wordpress.com/2018/10/18/i-challenge-you-to-36/

 

This story was written in response to the Tuesday Writing challenge posted on the Go Dog Go cafe, see link below:

Tuesday Writing Prompt Challenge July 10, 2018

It was also written in response to the Word of the Day word prompt: Deviate

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/10/deviate/

and the Three Things Challenge on the Haunted Wordsmith Blog:

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/07/10/three-things-challenge-10-july-2018/

Today’s things are: monkey, April, brick

 

Looking back on my ten year old self I have only dim and distant memories of what life was like. I remember everything was much bigger then, people in particular, but also houses, trees, brick walls and ruined castles.

I seem to remember I had a passion for climbing things. In my memories I always seem to be climbing up something, trees mostly. My Mother used to say “He’s just like a little monkey” as I would often disappear up a tree only then to re-emerge in the branches swinging from a limb.

I was also fascinated by Castles. Near to our home was a ruined castle which we used to visit and take picnics too. Only from April to September, never in Winter. I also remember at school taking part in a cross-country race from the train station to the Castle ruins and back, which would have been about 4 miles. When I never returned to the finish line, my parents were rather distraught. Then followed the planned route back to the castle only to find me climbing its walls. I was always one to deviate from my intended course as soon as something much more fun distracted me. I had completely forgotten that I was supposed to run back to the train station, I had wanted to stay in those familiar walls of stone and brick.

In my head it was my castle and I was King of it.

The End

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 10/July/2018

An early martini – A short story.

This was written in response to the Word of the Day: Deviate

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/10/deviate/

The Fandango’s One Word Challenge: Lessen

FOWC with Fandango — Lessen

and Sheryl’s Your Daily Word Prompt: Supercilious

https://onedailyprompt.wordpress.com/2018/07/10/your-daily-word-prompt-supercilious-july-10th-2018/

An Early Martini

“You Rang M’lud?” Said the butler in his usual supercilious tones.

“Yes, Burroughs, please get me a strong martini,”

“But Sir, At this hour?” Burroughs coldly asked. He was an excellent Butler and knew his worth, but it meant that he was more outspoken than many would have tolerated. The fact that it was only 9 o’clock in the morning may well have been cause enough to be a little surprised at being asked for a strong Martini, but one did not usually question a member of the House of Lords. 

Lord Halifax just snapped back” Yes Dammit, I need something to lessen the shock.”

Burroughs left the room and returned holding a tray on which a flared cocktail glass stood containing a clear liquid and an olive on a stick. 

Lord Halifax took the drink and threw the olive into the empty fireplace. He then downed the drink in one gulp.

Burroughs wasn’t one to deviate from his usual pompous butler act but seeing his master act so out of character had taken him by surprise. 

“Is anything wrong Sir?” He asked, even allowing some genuine emotion to flow through.

“Yes there is. It’s Lady Halifax. She’d Dead. Go see for yourself if you don’t believe me. Burroughs, I think you’d better telephone the police. Oh and fetch me another Martini.”

Seeing his wife laying there, with her face all blotchy had been more than he could bear. Of course, they had been estranged for years, but that didn’t prepare one for finding your spouse of thirty years clearly dead. It looked like she’d been strangled. She was still wearing the clothes she’d gone to Lady Patterson’s party in. He’d gone to his own bed early and hadn’t heard her come home. 

Sitting down on the chintz sofa, he waited for Burroughs to return with another drink to calm his nerves. 

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 10/July/2018

Woodland Adventures – A Haiku

In the Dappled Wood,

I Deviate from the paths,

then Adventure starts.

 

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 10/July/2018

Inspired by:

The Word of the Day: Deviate

https://wordofthedaychallenge.wordpress.com/2018/07/10/deviate/

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Dappled

https://ragtagcommunity.wordpress.com/2018/07/10/rdp-40-dappled/