It was his wife’s fiftieth birthday and he had managed to convince her he had forgotten all about it.
When they woke up that Saturday morning, he behaved like there was nothing special about the day ahead.
He’d got up, had a shower, fed the cats and then went to the corner shop to pick up the Saturday paper.
On his way back he quickly accosted the postman who was about to post some birthday cards through their letter box. He took the cards and put them in his coat pocket and only allowed the bills to pass through.
The postman gave him a strange look as he continued on his round.
Hiding round the side of the house he heard his wife open the inner door and pick up the few measly bills and slam the door again.
Stifling a laugh he opened the door with his key and went in.
“Has the mail been love?” he asked, how he kept a straight face, he had no idea.
“Only the gas and electric bills and a letter from the council about the drains, that’s all. I was expecting…”
“What were you expecting?” he asked as innocently as he could.
“Oh, Nothing. Nothing at all” She replied then went into the kitchen and slammed the door.
“But in the song there was a secret little inner song” – The Pearl by John Steinbeck
There is a song about the grandeur of the dome of St Pauls Cathedral. It was sung in many a London pub by voices raised over the click of beer glasses. It was sung by those filled with dreams and wishes by many who no longer called England home but longed to see it once more, but in the song there was a secret little inner song. For when viewed in dusky silhouette, the dome of St Pauls resembles something else entirely and this jolly song was a satire on the other sights seen in the quiet streets of London.
This tale was written for the 50 Word Thursday Challenge:
It was clear, when they turned up on the banks of Lock Ness, that all was not what it seemed.
They’d been told that today they would finally get to see the mythical Lock Ness Monster.
Fraser the dog had been behaving restlessly all day but he suddenly decided to run off and in desperation I called out to him but Something was going on in the borough, something sinister, and he could smell it.
He growled and started pulling at a tarpaulin that was draped over a mysterious pile in the corner of the car park. Our tour guide looked overcome with embarrassment as the tarpaulin was pulled off to reveal an inflatable monster strapped to a raft made up of smelly old beer barrels. Clearly the ruse had not gone to plan and the local economy was not going to get the boost that it so sorely needed.
This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday Challenge:
“He took a deep breath and his nostrils flared, almost as if he tried, like a hunting hound, to take my scent.” The Somnambulist and the Psychic Thief – Lisa Tuttle
I kept looking to see if there was any sign of the vehicle coming down the dusty road. All I saw was a lizard crossing the track. Mid way across he took a deep breath and his nostrils flared, almost as if he tried, like a hunting hound, to take my scent. Then it disappeared into the undergrowth.
It was impertinent but it was a family joke that he was always late. Even at his Birth he was nearly two weeks overdue. They always said he’d be late for his own funeral.
Sadly, now it turns out they were right.
This story was written for the 50 Word Thursday challenge:
Kirstie was suspicious when the guy she’d been dating asked to meet her on the Jackson bridge. It was there they’d found her sister’s shoe and a fragment of her fingernail. Her body was discovered a mile downstream. They’d said she’d jumped. Kirstie never believed it.
As she turned up, he was already there smiling, his perfect grin that had attracted her now looked sinister.
She had little doubt that she was about to suffer the same fate as Elizabeth.
Luckily, she was prepared and a blackbelt at Judo. Her attacker sailed over her head and into the canal below.
Standing on the edge of the lonely, empty graveyard, Tom drew a deep breath and remembered the advice that his grandfather had given him. His grandfather had been a brave man and always took life by the throat.
The rusty iron gates creaked eerily as he opened them and stepped onto the holy ground. He was surrounded by a garden of gravestones planted to commemorate the lives of heroes and the graves were the only flora in this particular garden.
Looking around he found the grave he was looking for as if fated, marked with the very saying his grandfather used to say.
“If you dare nothing, then when the day is over, nothing is all you will have gained.”
That’s how he knew where to dig and where the treasure his grandfather had stolen was hidden. The Old man had told him everything and now the outcome was clear.
This story was written for the 50 word thursday challenge:
Jennifer had forgotten that tonight was Halloween until Mrs Ponsomby had mentioned it. For some reason, it gave her quite a jolt, sending a shiver that she felt gradually creep down her spine. The already grim atmosphere in the house seemed to increase. Despite the fact that it was still daylight outside, she got up and turned on the lamp on a nearby table.
The additional light made her feel fractionally better. The bulb flickered and buzzed in its old-fashioned leather lampshade. moth-eaten gold tassels hung around the edge, in keeping with the general shabbiness. Most of the books lining the shelves showed the damage of the years. A damp patch on the ceiling threatened further damage to come, and this was one of the better rooms in the dilapidated old ruinous house. The sooner they tore it down the better, as far as she was concerned.
“Well, just one more night and then the money will all be ours,” she said to herself. She wasn’t by nature a particularly money oriented person but having endured one night in this godforsaken place with another one to come, she felt she’d earned it fair and square.