The gargoyle.

DSC_2137.JPG

He sits quietly in a laurel bush, watching, seeing who enters the garden. The stone gargoyle. Winged, large ears turned to listen. How did he get there? Did he climb or fly? How does he stay there, no nails or glue support him. Does he protect or reject visitors to His garden? Stone carved and muscular. Is he hiding from gargoyle hunters, who stalk the suburbs and smash his unsuspecting siblings?

What are you, fiend from a nightmare or friend from a mediaeval church? Like an escaped pigeon, sitting in the laurel bush, waiting for his lost love.

Janus

IMG_20190630_233027_optimized

He was always two faced she said. He does one thing and says the opposite. When he said he was going to cut down the tree I knew he wouldn’t.

Yes, said her friend, he tells you things that can’t be true. I don’t know why he does it.

The two women continued chatting while the man they were talking about stood in the shadows of the trees and listened. He knew they were right, but they had never asked why.

He had been ill for years, not visibly, but inside, the kind of thing that you didn’t talk about. A depression that had encompassed his whole adult life.

He felt compelled to cut down the tree now. He’d said he would but the birds were nesting. He was going to wait for a few weeks till they had flown the nest. But the women’s words had stung him.

He was found the next morning under a limb of the tree. Crushed and battered. No one went to his funeral, except one middle aged woman. She remembered their life together when they were young. She stood and walked away as the coffin disappeared behind the crematorium curtains. His tale would never now be told, she thought.

The lake.

DSC_0339

The lake looked inviting, the sun was breaking through the clouds and the water was still. Gentle ripples from the slight breeze disturbed the surface.

No one else was around. She had been sitting on the sun terrace and had fallen asleep in the hot sun. Now she was awake and hot. A paddle in the water would be nice and cooling. There was a sloping beach at one end of the lake. She put on her sandles and walked round the edge of the lake.

Walking over pebbles the water rose round her ankles then her knees. Blissful cool water lapped around her.

She stood quietly for a while then started to splash the water up to cool her face, arms and body. It felt so good that she slipped down into the water. Kicking off her sandles she started a slow breast stroke out towards a wooded island a few meters off in the distance. She knew there was a bench in the shade there. Her thin skirt billowed out behind her and she felt relaxed and like she was floating in space.

Then it happened. The skirt snagged on something, weeds? She was a strong swimmer and didn’t think it was a problem. She swung round to pull at her skirt. A hand grasped her wrist and she felt herself being pulled down…..

A hat full of stones

_20190803_160425

You daft ‘aipath! What you doin’ collectin’ stones in yer at?

I wanted em fer th’garden. Twill make a nice dressin’ ont top of the pots.

Yer an owd idiot Mon! Yer ed’s full o’ gravel dust now don’t yer know?

Yer ed’ must be rattlin’ like an old stone path being walked on, yer numpty.

Oo you callin’ a numpty? If tha’dud na like me, why dids’t tha marry me?

Becowse I luved yer. An thays the  truth o’it.

Trying to write in some sort of dialect. Apologies for it.

Light through clouds

DSC_2252

In the forest it was gloomy, rain had been falling all day, and a grey swirling cap of clouds seemed to sit just above the treetops.

As she walked into the clearing she looked up. No sign of sunshine. It was almost as dark there as under the trees. At least there was a pool which looked clear. She had got a camping stove and would soon be able to make a hot drink. This then would be her camping spot for the night. Only another 20 miles to her destination.

Then as she prepared her evening meal, the clouds started to part and light streamed into the glade.

The light seemed to trigger movement. All around her the ground seemed to lift up into humps which turned into writhing figures in human form. They had been held down by green tendrils of leaves. The green men. An ancient myth. She screamed as she realised they were surrounding her, mirroring the surrounding trees. Tendrils reaching out and pinning her to the ground. She had realised too late that they were carnivorous plants.

Time hopping

Time snuck up on her. She had been waiting for a bus, minding her own business, when.

It was half an hour later. She was still standing by the bus stop but the town hall clock was now striking 7.

She looked at her watch, 6.30? What was happening. Well despite her watch it was too late to get the bus so she started the long trudge up the hill and out of the town.

She was so tired after her walk that she went for a soak in the bath, grabbed a sandwich and went upstairs to bed. She checked the alarm clock, it was half an hour ahead of her watch, so she reset it. She lay her head on her pillow and fell asleep…

Two minutes later it seemed the alarm went off. It must be right as daylight was streaming through the window. She stared at her watch. 10…but was that morning or evening. She looked at the electric clock, 8.30am….what the hell is going on?, she thought.

She felt sick and rang the doctors. As the time arrived for the appointment she hurried up to the surgery. But when she spoke to the receptionist she was told that she was an hour late. She would have to wait until the end of the mornings appointments to see if the doctor had time.

When they finally called her she did not answer. She was sitting there, perfectly still, not moving, not breathing, eyes wide open, staring into space…..

The clarity of sea and sky

clarity

Sue Vincent’s challenge.

The clarity of my memory was funny, it came and went, but I felt certain that I had been on this beach, in this bay, before.

Perhaps it was the scent of the sea, seaweed, and the aromatic plants on the shore that took me back. Or the azure water, the sandy beach or the dark craggy rocks that caught in the folds of my memory.

Yes, the island in the far distance, in my memory I clearly saw a lighthouse there. Not visible here, but as you sailed out beyond the headland it would come into view, built of the hard stone that makes up the coast. On stormy nights it saved many a sailor, and its booming voice could be heard on foggy days and nights.

Now I remember with clarity why I was there. There is a cave just beyond the tideline. I’d been snorkeling in the bay and found a small chest, iron clad and rusted shut. The cave had seemed a good place to hide it. I was only eleven and it was exciting to hide a treasure chest. Plus my brother would have claimed it if I’d shown it him.

Now it was thirty years later, was it still there?

…….

The dubloons had bought me my yatch. Now I am free to visit the bay any time I want.

Tears

IMG_20190717_004626_494

She cries quietly in a corner, there is no violence, no words to cut, no cruelty to endure. But she can see the changes. She can see the hesitation in his words, the slight tremor in his voice. Age is wearing him away more quickly than they had hoped. She was almost a decade younger than him. Would she retire and be able to spend quality time with him, or would it be too late to have a life. One where they could be together like they once were, reading each others thoughts, finishing each others words.

It’s been a few years, but each day he has drifted into his own mind and out of reality. Falling deeper into despair and dragging her down too.

That’s why she cried.

Out of the rain.

sketch-1562881113654

The storm blew in from the North like a runaway train. The wind threw water against the houses. Cars were lifted up by the flood and were caught on the top of the neat hedges that lined the sides of the street. Out of the maelstrom came a figure of a small man dressed in a black raincoat. Water streamed from him, it flowed out of his sleeves and trouser legs. Tears streamed in rivers from his eyes, nose, mouth and even from his ears.

He was called Beck and he was from the North. He was a water god and he had decided to show mankind his might because of the way the World was being treated. He was angry and the storm was growing into a tornado. He had seen the way forests were being cut back, cars clogging roads, ships travelling half way across the world to deliver the cheapest sweatshop goods.

Beck lifted his arms, words bubbled up from his mouth.

Learn or die! He screamed in a high voice. Learn, or, die !

Zombie cat

FB_IMG_1561937386332

His figure appeared in the doorway, upright, paws out, head tilted to one side. A zombie cat? Lurching towards her out of the dark. Not the sprightly pounce and jump, but a shambling gait past the books on the landing. She thought of running past him out of the bedroom, but he was to tall to jump over and she would have fallen down the stairs. Instead she backed away and stood on the old armchair. He stumbled as he entered the room, sounding a vicious growl as his back paws twisted sideways. She lept from the chair, caught the handrail and ran and jumped downstairs….

She hadn’t considered there might be zombie mice in the lounge

…..