Category Archives: short story

A frosty reception

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Beneath the glass, her face was soft and sad. Even with preservation, she had aged slightly. It was a mask – hiding the animation and light she had possessed.

He had been travelling the world for centuries searching. Every isle had housed him for a time, as he scoured it for the signs of magic. Since his recovery, he’d known what he had been missing all along. And he knew that she had been protected by the very women who sent her his way. 

Here, he’d stumbled upon the quiet glade as he had walked through the forest. Something about the slanting light had enchanted him. 

This place had not been disturbed for a long time. A hint of the priestesses was there, in the carved steps into a gentle waterfall, the discarded pitcher by the water. Even the turtle regarding him from a rock had been placed for effect.

He’d heard the stories of Snow White and knew it had been a message to him. The poisoned apple, the description of his fair love, the magical dwarves who would have had to carry her here. He heard the message that she was ready to be saved. A directive. 

Beneath the glass, she waited for him. Her fair cheeks still blushing, lips red, dark hair in curly tangles. Unbidden, the memory of their softness and scent against his cheek made him shiver. 

His time walking had made him forget a love that was not without problems. Her indiscretion, he now knew, had been in part his error too. Leaving his wife alone to pace the turrets would destroy even the strongest of loves. His drive to be the best king, to possess that damned chalice. He only hoped that in her dreaming sleep that she would remember him fondly, with the love they once shared. He was sure he looked the brute now, with deep lines around his eyes and mouth, salt and pepper locks unkempt. He knew she would remember, regardless.

Trembling, his hands lay on the glass covering. He slowly removed her sarcophagus, taking care that it did not strike her. With great effort, he placed it on the ground. 

Hoping he had understood the messages of the priestesses, he bent slowly to her, hesitating a moment. His lips pressed hers with love, praying to all that was holy that he was the one meant to awaken her with a kiss. 

Beneath his mouth, he felt her lips moved. He stood up, watching her stretch languidly as a cat, smiling sleepily up at him. 

A second later her eyes unclouded and the rich emerald eyes pierced him with her stare. He could not distinguish which emotion reigned – hurt, distrust, aching love or confusion. 

“Arthur,” she said softy. “You came.”

Wanderer

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I had left to wander the world, as I had always said that I would. Each footstep over tranquil water, sliding beneath beautiful old bridges reminded me of you. Every moment with you was peace, you held me up and kept me safe.

For a while, I had hidden myself, tucked into my hardened shell, carrying the weight of my world. My world and the heaviest heart. I lazed on tropical beaches, basking in soothing sunlight and all I could feel was you by my side.

As I threw myself off a cliff, parachuting into the steamy, aromatic jungle, I saw your wide eyes filling with tears. It ripped the air from my lungs. In the silence over the leafy stillness, I can still hear your voice, it’s sad quietude, asking me to wait for you. But to do so would have destroyed us both. Time will heal it all.

I gave up the exotic, the strange, for places steeped in history. I climbed mountains to temples, prayed, but what I always prayed for was you. This was not what I intended.

Glumly, I reached Venice. I had planned to drink in the romance, but the buildings were dank, lacklustre, needing tenderness and care. Absorbed, I looked at the carnival masks, but their colours had leeched of brilliance.

I hiked to the Fountain di Trevi, to marvel in its brilliance. From this distance, there appeared a supplicant at its foot. Covered in a summer dress, their hair even looked like yours, twisting in a breeze.

You looked up, smiled and the sunshine came out.

You were here.

The End of a Tail

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Here is my contribution to #WeekendWriter…

When you have a child in your house that is autistic, everything revolves around them. Forget the other children, they can manage on their own. I was 16 and I had been bitter about it, but what can you do?

Apparently what you can do is almost cause a meltdown of seismic proportions.

Today, this afternoon, I killed my sister Amy’s fish. It was an accident, but it doesn’t matter. Feeding her fish is part of her routine, the thing she does when she comes home from the specialist on Saturday afternoon. What would happen is Amy, who by the way is 10 but acts a lot younger, would open her eyes wide and have a tantrum. Apparently she doesn’t care what devastation it causes. Still, someone has to hold her and sing her that stupid rubber tree song, High Hopes or whatever it’s called. Wish no one had ever sung her that song. But its words will be burnt into my brain forever. But the damage will be done. She’ll be practically catatonic for a month.

So I was having a dialogue with my mother, as it was my dad taking Amy to the doctor this week. It was my best friend Jo’s birthday party and there were going to be boys there. And for once in my frigging life, Mum took an interest. And by interest I mean stand. And by stand I mean delivered an ultimatum. I couldn’t go if there were boys. End of story. Because her parents were going to be in the house. I mean seriously. I wasn’t 14. We’d all been pashing boys for years. As for anything else, that was way too huge a step to take with all your friends listening.

I argued of course. And Mum refused to budge, then went to hang out the washing. I threw the flashlight I had been twirling in my hands at the bench, where it bounced… Right into the fish tank. CRAP!

There was a short fizzing sound and then there was the fish, belly-up. DOUBLE CRAP! I quickly removed the evidence. I yelled out to my Mum that I was cleaning the tank, to which she told me sucking up was not going to help. I barely contained my eyeroll. Tyrant.

Rushing up to my room, I picked up the learner plates we’d just bought so I could go driving. I contemplated “borrowing” the car, but knew if I got caught, I would be grounded from now through to all of eternity. I looked at my watch. I had to get to the petshop, find an identical fish, then get back in 45 minutes? Do-able, right?

I was down and out the door, savings in pocket, before Mum could notice. I practically squealed the tires on my bike in my haste. All I can say is, given some very near misses and some loud swear words, I barely made it to the petshop.

And the guy behind the counter was Max, my crush from school. Seriously. FML. I was going to be a laughing stock. Some sacrifices need to be made but.

I flopped the fish on the counter, saying, “I need a fish identical to this one.”

Max raised an eyebrow at me and took a look at the fish. “The same? Why not another one?”

“Because my sister is a freak and will lose it if this fish is not back in his bowl by the time I get home?”

Max was silent. He moved over to the siamese fighting fish display tanks. Together we looked hard, looked at them all. He turned over the lifeless fish in his hand.

“I don’t know if we have one the same.”

I just about cried. I was going to be the bad guy, all over a stupid thing I did. I hung my head, tears blurring my eyes when I saw him. A little black and blue guy in the back.

I jumped on the spot. “That one, that one!”

Matt got him into a little container for me and told me the price. 20 bucks. That was pretty much all I had. For the next 2 weeks. Ah well, small price to pay for a little peace. He even helped me tie him to the back of my bike. I hugged him, and then regretted it, because he looked stunned. I rode off, my face burning with shame.

I was back in the door with 5 minutes to spare. At least, I thought I was. I could hear the abacus Amy always played with clacking upstairs. I ran out to the laundry, where I’d left the tank. Quickly, I poured the new little guy in, topped up his water and returned him to hollow in our wall when Amy and Mum came down the stairs.

“What did I tell you?” Mum said, leaning down to Amy. “Your big sister was looking after him for you.”

Amy smiled widely and clapped her hands. I wasn’t expecting a hug, though it would have been nice. It wasn’t like that. She got the food and fed him at her appointed time.

My Mum was in the kitchen. I grabbed a glass of water and flopped on the bench. I heard my Mum’s voice in my ear.

“I know what you did Sare-bear. I know you spent all your pocket money to make sure your sister was happy. I’m proud of you- for solving a problem on your own, and caring enough to fix it. You’re growing up so fast and I’m just missing it.”

She hugged me tight, like she often forgot to do nowdays. But what she whispered in my ear was the best.

“My big girl can go to Jo’s party.”