30.12.10

Lost!

Prose


Grey mist. Grey mist all around me. Engulfing my feet. Rising. Eating me from the ground. Hands. Where are my hands? I can't see because of the mist. I touch me face. I can feel them. Slight relief.
Light. Where is the light? Where did it go? I ran away from it. Why?
What's that? A noise. Swirling around me. Just like the mist. What is that noise?
Where am I?
I see trees - no - shapes. Did it move? I don't know. The mist is still swirling. Where did it come from?
Why am I here?
I was running. What was I running from? No - I don't want to remember. It was scary.
I wanted to be safe. Am I safe? I don't feel safe. But I must be safer than I was.
Hiding. I must be hiding. From what? I don't want to know.
If I could only find the light. But no - it was too hot. It burnt me.
It was fire!
I hear a voice. Muffled. Calling my name.
Someone is touching me. Shaking me.
''No'' I scream.
''It's ok'' the voice says. ''It's ok''.
''It's just a dream.''

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

29.12.10

Itsa Pity

Poetry


This is a little ditty
about a man named, Itsa Pity,
who stubbed his toe on the office chair.

The others in the office, named,
Hadd Hee, Takin Moorecare, Deni Wood,
Knot Bein, Des Pear, looked at Itsa Pity…

And he knew exactly what they were thinking
without uttering a word!

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

28.12.10

Tom

Short Story


He would sit there at the bus stop, silently, day in - day out. His bent head and still body displaying a sense of withdrawal from all activity surrounding him. Even if someone were to speak to him, he would not respond, even look, or seem to care. He would just sit there in his own little world and perhaps dream of a time when things were different.

Perhaps he would dream of a time when his now tattered coat and shaggy hair were clean and well kept. Perhaps he would dream of a time when he had nutritious meals lovingly prepared for him and he would sit by a warm cozy fire on cold winter nights, feeling safe and loved.

Most people at the bus stop would accept his presence with slight regard. Of course, some people would turn their noses up at him and turn away as if even the sight of him were offensive. Children on the other hand did not find him uncomfortable to be around, as others did. A smile from a child was overlooked but tiny fingers stretched out to offer comfort were quickly scolded.

No one knew his name and few would care anyway, except the regular bus driver, Jack, who had silently named him, Tom. Jack had been driving the same bus run for over a year now and wouldn’t have been able to say exactly when he first noticed Tom. Tom had just appeared sitting at the bus shelter one day and he was always there after that.

One especially bitter cold morning however, Jack noticed that Tom was not there. ‘Probably even too cold for you, old fellow,’ Jack muttered to himself. 

If it hadn’t been for a child called Sarah, Jack would probably have never seen Tom again. The very next day Jack pulled up to let a passenger off when Sarah ran down the steps and out the door before anyone, except her grandmother, could respond. 

‘Sarah, Sarah, come back here now. You know I can’t run after you,’ Sarah’s grandmother yelled in fright. 

Without hesitation Jack shut the engine down and jumped down the stairs after Sarah, for Jack took pride in looking after his passengers. As Jack came running around the bus shelter hot in pursuit of Sarah he almost ran straight into her as she was kneeling on the ground. 

‘Ok, time to get back on the bus young lady’ Jack tried to say as sternly as he could. 

But Sarah didn’t move and Jack moved to the side to see what was hidden from his view.

‘Oh, old fellow, so this is where you got to, hey?’ Jack whispered to himself when he saw the stone-like body of Tom before his eyes.

‘Is he – alive?’ Sarah asked with a tremble in her voice?

Jack didn’t like the thought of upsetting Sarah but he also knew that she deserved to know the truth, and the truth was that Tom was no longer going to be the familiar sight in the bus shelter any more.

Jack bent and scooped Tom up in his arms and took him around to the bus shelter where he laid him gently on the seat. He would come back after his shift and take him home to bury in his back yard under the old apple tree. At lease he would now have a home.


By now Sarah understood that Tom had died, and taking Jack’s hand, she returned to the bus, to her grandmother's obvious relief.

‘Poor old tom cat,’ thought Jack. ‘I guess I won’t be the only one who will miss you.’

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

23.12.10

Employee From Hell

Poetry


Dear Ex Boss,

In regard to you firing me today,
I feel the need to say;

I made your coffee the way you liked best,
I just added a touch of gin to give you an hourly zest.

I answered the phone very efficiently,
Did you blame me for hanging up because the calls weren't for me?

I applied myself to typing with extra care,
I've written my latest novel while working there.

I knew the importance of relaying your messages to you straight away,
I just thought you'd find it nicer if I posted them on postcards, while on holiday.

I really liked the sound of your distinctive voice.
That's why I taped and imitated you - by choice.

I always kept confidential anything I heard behind your office door,
It's not my fault the bugging device later relayed it to 100 people on the next floor.

I always presented myself professionally,
How can I be blamed for those men propositioning me.

I always ensured the office was well equipped,
I thought you'd enjoy something different, like the mask and the whip.

And just before I go,
I think it's important you should know;

Your boss emailed, High Priority, re your order for a Kinky Toys game.
I had made sure you received the credit, by ordering in your name.

Your best friend now thinks you're a louse.
She wants to know why you sent a suggestive text to her spouse.

Your boyfriend wants to talk to you about some photos he saw on the net.
And by the way, I'm returning your mobile phone with 100 messages sent.

And don't worry, no one will see this private note.
It's been programmed to self destruct one minute from opening the envelope.

***

Note: 1st Place - Writing Prompt @ Writing.com 

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

You are My Love

Poetry:


You are my love,
you have always been part of me.

Your strength and power are unequalled,
and I feel empowered with you by my side.

Your aroma permeates the air
and rekindles fond memories.

I am entranced by the unending gifts
you bestow at my feet,
and the mysteries in your hidden depths.

I can listen to you for hours,
without speaking a word,
while you caress my soul with your song.

You are my love,
my beloved sea.

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

22.12.10

Finders Keepers!

Short Story


Sally's eyes scoured the salt and pepper coloured beach. To some, what the sea washed up overnight was nothing more then debris from the oceans depths. To Sally it was treasure.

Sea shells in all shapes and sizes, colours and textures. They would be transported home with loving care and placed carefully upon window sills, benches and scattered around the garden. As this had been her favourite pass time for over fifty years, she wondered if she might have more shells at home then in the sea.

Some days Sally would find lots, some days not many. Today didn't look to be all that bountiful, until the moment she was about to turn away. And then a glint caught her eye.

Soon an old ring greeted her gentle hand as she scooped it up curiously. 

The ring consisted of a single band, impossible in its current condition to determine if it were even silver or gold. There was an unusual clasp in the middle which would have held a single stone. Empty now. It was quite delicate in appearance overall, and Sally deducted it could easily have been an engagement ring.

Tarnished and bent, not much of a prize, but to Sally, interesting and somehow slightly familiar - especially because of the five pronged clasp. Slipping the ring on the chain around her neck for safe keeping, she turned away from the beach.

On her way home she dropped in to see George as she usually did. George was a lovely old fellow, almost eighty years old now. Such a gem. He had lived in the big rambling home up the other end of the street from Sally, ever since she could remember. Even before her mother had passed away twenty years ago. Even before her father had not come back from the war. 

George and her father had been the best of friends.  Just like Sally, George had never married or had any living family after his parents died, but as a constant visitor at their family home, he had seemed to blend in as a member of their family.

These days it was Sally who did most of the visiting as George wasn't getting around as much as he use to. In spite of his years he still retained his independence and good cheer.

'What treasures did you find today?' George asked, as Sally bent to peck George on the cheek. 

' Not that much - except something rather unusual!' responded Sally as she removed the ring from her chain and handed it to George.

George took the ring from Sally's hand. He looked at it intently, so intently that Sally was a little perplexed.

'It's only an old ring George, without a stone.' 'But I think I've seen it before somewhere.'

'Yes - you have Sal. On your mothers finger.'

Sally looked at George with a frown on her face, and George continued;

'It was a long time ago. Oh I wasn't gunna tell you. There was no need. But I guess I had better tell you now I've opened me mouth, and ha, I think you're old enough.' George attempted to lighten the mood.

Sally looked at him with raised brows.

'I might as well just blurt it out. I loved your mother Sal. I loved her from the first moment I laid eyes on her. But she was your fathers' gal. Your father was my best mate. I would never do wrong by him - not ever.'

Sally listened intently.

'Anyway Sal, when your father didn't make it back home after the war, I looked out for you and your mother as best I could....'

'I know you did George - you were wonderful,' Sally interrupted.

George continued, '....I did my best, but there is only so much a friend can do to look after a mate's wife and daughter. Well, I got to thinking that maybe, just maybe, your mother might have some feelings for me too. And that she just might marry me - at the least it would make life a lot easier for you.'

'Ah - so that's where I remembered that clasp from...' Sally began to say.

'Yes - your mother accepted my proposal and wore the ring awhile, but then things started happening.'

'What things George. What happened?'

'Well - times were different then Sal. People didn't look at life the same way they do today. The town started chin waggin and your mother felt bad. She loved your father very much and the attitudes of some would have made it so very hard for us.'

'I remember the day she came back from town, tears streaming down her face. She raced down the street past here a hundred miles an hour. I called out to her and tried to catch up to her, but it was no good.'

'She reached the beach and flung the ring as far as she could.'

'I understood Sal. There was nothing that could be done.'

Sally sat stone still trying to absorb everything that George had just told her.

Finally she said, 'George...I'm so sorry.'

George stood up and put his arm on Sally's shoulder.

'There's no need Sal. I loved your mother, and I've always loved you. Ha - even though you're not my daughter - you are - here in my heart. I've lived up the street from you all your life and I get to see you nearly every day - even now.'

'You hang on to that George,' Sally said as George attempted to give her back the ring.

'Now that wouldn't be very fair would it Sal.  Remember what you use to say when you were little. Finders keepers! Ha!'

'Oh George, you really are my greatest treasure.'

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.