Just a few words...

Saturday Night Soldiers

2011-08-07T16:36:00.002+01:00

..............He thought again of him and Wilf as lads - and the other boys - though most of them he now realised, had gone to meet their maker. Some of them, like his brothers, he thought sadly, had never got beyond their youth. Their lives snuffed out like candles during the retreat from Dunkirk.

No-one had expected another war. He and Wilf hadn't known what they'd let themselves in for when, together, they'd joined the 'Territorials'.

'Saturday Night Soldiers' people had called them. Generally, people who were better off; those who nothing of what a difference joining up had made to the lives of boys such as them.

It wasn't the little bit of money they got - helpful though it was - it was the pride of belonging to something: the weekly drills, the rifle range on Sundays, the two weeks under canvas in the summer... and the suit...

Only those who had barely enough clothes to wear, let alone keep warm in - and who had long abandoned thoughts of ever hoping to look smart, could know just what it felt like to put on a uniform. The first suit that any of them had ever owned...................

The Nearby Tree

2010-07-05T11:05:00.001+01:00

So far they'd just been rumours which Matthew had heard. Perhaps the stories had just grown in the telling - no-one quite knew… After a while everyone got bored with talking about it - everyone except Matthew, that is…

He'd never stopped thinking about that magical tree in the storybooks he'd been read as a child; so when he heard a whisper that there might be something similar happening closer to home, that was something he just couldn't dismiss easily.

The talk was that those original stories really had been based on fact - about a place that the author herself had actually visited. That, of the myriad of fruits the magical tree had grown, it had once produced acorns that she had collected and saved.

IN FULL! 'Timeless' A Christmas Ghost Story

2009-12-15T16:55:00.002Z

Jolting herself out of her daydream, Vera couldn’t help thinking that one Christmas seemed much like another these days.

It had begun to feel as if there had always been a war on; hard to recall a time when they’d not suffered shortages or even the luxury of an undisturbed nights sleep. How tired she felt… it was an effort to think straight and even the events of the past few weeks seemed little more than a blur.

It was the same for everyone though and at least Shirley and carol were good kids; such a comfort to her.

Then there was Bert… she still couldn’t believe the good fortune which had caused him to be granted leave - although she tried to put from her mind that it meant he would probably soon be going overseas…

Just fancy… today they would all be sitting around the table together. Yes… she would count her blessings for she was lucky to have all her family together under one roof and it was up to her to make it a day they would all remember forever. Hard though it was, she would put all her worries to one side and not even think about the future. It was Christmas morning and this year she was determined to enjoy every busy moment of it…

A busy, but happy, day it certainly was. Like her, the girls were overjoyed at Bert’s unexpected arrival and it seemed that never before had the house been filled with so much laughter and joy. All agreed it had been the best Christmas dinner they had ever eaten and even poor old Tibby - used to surviving on scraps - was allowed the luxury of some meat from the chicken.

How quickly the afternoon seemed to pass as, together, they played board games and sat listening to the wireless. Then, as the light dimmed into dusk, they say around the fire and, as they’d done before the war, they told each other ghost stories - each trying to make theirs a little more scary.

Only Vera found it hard to think up a story but then, as she jokingly said in her defence, she didn’t believe in ghosts anyway - and certainly not the idea that events could echo down the years like the re-runs of old films…

Much later as they lay warm and comfortable in bed, all having agreed that tonight they were most definitely not going down the shelter, Vera allowed her mind to travel back over the events of the day and the happiness they had all felt..

As she snuggled up to Bert, her last conscious thought before the bomb hit, was that she wished every day could be as happy as the one they had just experienced….

It was daybreak when Lisa and Dave heard the noises start in the empty property which adjoined theirs. They had heard stories and had quickly realised that no-one lived there for long… but …well… who believed in ghosts?

Next door, jolting herself out of her daydream, Vera couldn’t help thinking that one Christmas seemed much like another these days…

Echoes

2009-10-03T11:02:00.000+01:00

It was a warm spring day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing with joyful abandon. Everywhere was permeated with the freshness that heralds the start of a new cycle of life.

For nature it was a time of new beginnings - and perhaps for me also, although mine could only start through the process of self discovery and awareness. A painful prospect and one which necessitated my going back in time. A journey that was to begin - of all places - in the churchyard...

I couldn’t be certain I’d be able to break the ties which bound me to the past, but perhaps I could learn to come to terms with them and, in so doing, accept my weakness’ and insecurities whose seeds had been sown in those early years of my childhood...

Practice makes perfect

2009-08-12T23:38:00.000+01:00

With painstaking precision, I teased my fringe down to the level of my eyelids. Then, reaching for the lacquer, I finished sealing the mass of back combing into a structure as rigid as steel wool. "There... finished!"

Catching sight of the almost empty spray bottle, I reminded myself that I would soon need to buy another 1/- refill from Woolworth. Such a pity that it was so hard to remove - so much so that it required soaking hair in water containing a bath cube...

Now my friend Shirley had no such problems removing her hairspray. Though that’s not to say that the sugar water didn’t present other difficulties. Not only did her hair resemble melting candy floss, but outings on hot summer days took on a nightmarish quality as we were often pursued by swarms of over excited wasps...

Never a swan

2009-08-09T14:50:00.000+01:00

P****** was pretty - and I hated her...

She was, I suppose, a step-cousin; just one of an army of relatives who had been thrust upon me by my father’s remarriage. Most were nice, some weren’t, whilst one - the aforementioned P****** - was a thorn in my side!

Even to my jaundiced eyes she was physically perfect. Fair haired, with clear skin and delicate features; she was also endowed with feminine curves. Curves that amply filled the rose budded brassieres that I was so envious of. Any hint of fullness around my chest area came only from the bulkiness of my liberty bodice. I was painfully skinny - a condition which was not enhanced by my short, tightly permed hair and pink, plastic rimmed spectacles.

Buried Fears

2009-02-27T19:59:00.000Z

A wave of pain hit her; and forced her back to full consciousness.

For a brief moment Ellen felt confusion, then as the smell of soot and cinders wafted through the blackness, she remembered...

It had all happened without warning. One moment the monotonous, jolting motion of the speeding train; the next, the horror of being tossed and battered in the twisting cocoon that once had been a railway carriage. All the while hearing the creaking sound of crushing metal and the breaking of glass. Then, in the swirling, stifling dust... Silence.

It was the silence which was now so unbearable. Even before the air had settled and breathing had become easier, Ellen had tried shouting - feeling certain that there must be someone nearby to answer her. However, no comforting words called back. Once she had heard faint moans and sobs; but now even they had ceased.

How long ago had that been? She was no longer able to judge the passage of time - there was nothing to measure it by...

Waiting

2009-02-19T13:26:00.000Z

Moving the cup slightly to one side, she noticed the damask cloth was beginning to look less than white and rather threadbare these days.

Once this would have disturbed her and would have led to her guiltily recalling her mother’s pride in keeping a clean and tidy house.

"Costs nothing to be clean" she’d regularly remarked to young Doris- and to, not so young Doris too, as the years began to envelope them.

Mother had long gone though and only her sayings remained; etched into Doris’ mind and echoing through the ether, so that at any given time, an appropriate homily could rise up to suit the occasion.

It was almost like still having her around - although quite a bit easier.

Doris sat motionless in the chair by the table... waiting.

Hidden

2009-02-18T19:34:00.000Z

In darkness we glided silently; melting into shadows until entering the crypt where more of the devout lay in wait.

We all risked death - torturous death; for no mercy would be shown if we were to be discovered... Some were fellow brothers; others craftsmen. Men whose life’s work had been given to the glorification of the building, though now their skills were needed to disguise the spaces once dazzlingly occupied.

Soon others would come... hastening to desecrate and destroy the hallowed remains of one despised and even feared. So little time to remove so few of the jewels from the casket the canopy jealously guarded. Reverently placed in leather bags, we concealed them under our garments.

Others though had a more perilous task - entrusted to replace the remains with those of another. The final resting place of the bones known only to them...unless...