Monday, 17 June 2013

The Marble Church Ghost

My 200 word short Story

The Marble Church stood dramatically against the early grey of the morning sky.  The confetti still fluttered around the pathways from the weekend weddings when beautiful brides had stood smiling with their new husbands. The faint reminder of babies cries from the Sunday Christenings, and the smell of flowers on the well loved graves, made this a family place, a monument to lives lived and those lost.

The three teenage boys had spent a cold frightening night in the Lawson family crypt. This long forgotten, overgrown crypt in the corner of the graveyard had been their own private den. The place they drank cider and read girlie mags, smoked dope and fantasised about their futures. Filling them with models and fast cars, bank accounts stuffed with cash, and travel to the beaches of free love.

Cathy Lawson had listened to their young tales with interest and fascination she liked the way their eyes twinkled with excitement and their laughter.

Cathy`s coffin sat unnoticed on the shelf in the musty tomb, the boys had wondered at her fathers coffin when they first entered the crypt but not hers. She sat lonely on the shelf much like she had in life.

As the boys drank and talked, listened to their music and shared their last cigarette's.  Cathy moved the stones in the graveyard.  Cathy would keep these boys just for herself, she would listen to their stories, hopes and dreams, until they joined her on the shelf.

Saturday, 15 June 2013

Magical Snowdonia (short story)

Mount Snowdonia
200 word short story

Magical Snowdonia

Brian cried as he walked over the heather washed hills towards Mount Snowdon. The world could be a cruel and lonely place but the mountains had always offered refuge to his heavy heart. Today was different the streams seems simply cold  and the sky oppressive as it hid the tip of Snowdon in its curtain of grey.

The rabbits scurrying from the buzzards circling overhead and hill ponies gossiped under the low trees ignoring Brian. The rocks slippy with moss made the walk difficult and Brian`s calf's began to burn with effort. He was surprised to feel anything at all today even the cold biting through his flimsy jacket.

The whiskey bottle was waiting for him, it would warm his soul when he reached the top, it would make the day seem warm and alive.

Brian sat at the summit and looked down into the clouds he felt his heart beat faster, the swirling mists lapping at his boots. Lying back to look at the sky he wanted to stay there forever, no more heartbreak, no more fear, a quick dive off the edge and it all ends.

Brian drank a tot of whiskey, breathed the frosty air, and tighten his boot laces. He began the slow decent back towards home. The mountains had once again worked their magic on Brian. He knew without doubt he could never willingly give them up.

Thursday, 13 June 2013

Charlies Ghost

Thought is was time I revived my blog so I am setting myself a challenge to write 200 word short stories.

I will be posting a photo and then attempting to write something imaginative around the photo theme.

I have just written this one here

Steam Fair
Charlies Ghost

The flags blew gently in the breeze as the fairground prepared to open once more on the village green. The chains of the swings have been checked for any weakness and the big wheels safety bars screwed  tighter.  No-one was going to be hurt this time the rides spun, no ghost train roof would collapse or children disappear.

The noise of laughter grew louder and pink candy floss stuck to little fingers. The waltzers blasted out music and teenagers hid their illicit cigarettes in cupped hands. Fathers won teddybears by throwing darts and little girls giggled in the hall of mirrors. The sun shone warmly while clowns threw cartwheels beside a stripped tent full of sawdust and ponies.

Then the fog rose slowly over the wet grass wrapping ankles then knees in its misty thickness. Minutes later and it is hard to see at all, rides stopped and stumbling crowds followed the colourful lights towards the exit gates. 

No-one notices that Helen was gone.  The stairway to the Helter Skelter had been filled with people and Helen had just taken her turn on the spiral slide. Only the old fairground hands knew the Charlies ghost had stuck again.