Candle light

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The candle flickered and guttered as the front door opened. Jim entered the room with a flurry of snow. The cold air made a hole in the warmth.

‘You OK’ he asked? ‘Yes just about’ , said Sarah. ‘I kept the wood stove burning all day, but the power went out half an hour ago so I lit a candle ‘.

The weather had been mad since the 20’s. Global temperatures had continued to increase, but this winter had been wild. Snow had fallen for three months now. Sometimes they managed to get out to the shops, but they had to walk down the hill over the fields because the lane was full up with snow. It was one of those deep lanes which had been worn away over the centuries. The land around it was about 6 foot higher. In this snow it was impossible to get along because of the drifts.

‘So how many tablets have you got left?’ asked Jim. ‘Five’ she said. ‘I will have to get down to the village soon’ he thought for a second. ‘What about the weather?’

‘I heard the report before the power went off – bad for two days, then it might break?’

Jim looked at his wife, pale and thin. She was shivering with cold. ‘I’ll fetch you a blanket’ .

Later as they lay on a mattress infront of the wood burner, he looked at the ceiling and watched the last glimmers of the candle. He listened to her uneven breathing, a harsh rattle sometimes breaking into the rhythm of sleeping breath. ‘ Oh lord ‘ he thought, ‘let the snow stop, let me get her medicine, let things get better’ .

Three weeks later as the snow turned to rain, and the land flooded, the local police came looking for them. Inside the living room they found their bodies..

A note was on the table under a burnt down candle. ‘I can’t live without her’ was the simple message he had left.

Berador

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Berador, wind wraith, fourth brother of the Vars. The clan of the elements.

Brother to Shenth, Earth wraith, Strunt, fire wraith and Flonda, water wraith.

Berador had been seperated from his brothers in the War of Merenda. He was now lost in the great forest where his breath beat against the leaves and branches, tearing at them, and yet he could not escape.

It had been three months since the war ended and they had left him here thinking him dead. But the breeze in him still trembled the trees and sparse grasses. He knew Autumn was coming, then he would have a chance.

As the season turned the Forest grew orange and golden and mauve in the cooling air. Now Berador could push his breath against the leaves and they started to fall, curling and flying away. They fell in drifts on the ground that he struggled through. But he could see his way now. Beyond the edges of the trees lay their old haunt, Skreelt Castle.

In days he would be home, in days his brothers would celebrate his return. His breath would sustain him until his homecoming. He knew it would not be long now.

 

 

Ancient stares

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The ancients, they look on through time. They see the world now and remember what it was like then. They are in the gargoyles, in statues, in faces in stone. They are hidden where they could find space. They may be thousands of years old but they do not last forever. As age wears them the ancient spirit wears away too. Look at that old stone head on the corner of the wall. It’s spirit is washing away with every bit of grit the rain wears away. See that old stone face on the plinth? Hands rub its bald head and gradually it dwindles.

Ancient memories dwindle too. Now there are moments of sunshine seen six hundred years ago which will not last much longer. There a remembrance of a lost husband or wife that was once strong but now veiled. Ancients seeing the world now are amazed at the destruction and damage. Trees that they have lived with cur down in an instant. Buildings they became part of ripped apart and turned to rubble.

Now the ancients share with younger spirits. To be a homeless ancient is to gradually disperse into the air and blow away on the wind. Long forgotten, never to be seen again.

What’s happening?

sketch-1552651184350It was a quiet autumn day and nothing much was happening. She had been out shopping and was starting to put stuff away in the fridge. Suddenly there was a huge gust of wind which rattled all the windows and blew lots of leaves along the path. It started to rain and the sky grew grey and then black. The kitchen was so dark that she had to put the light on. She thought she saw a figure outside, but when she tried to look through the window the glare from the electric light reflected back and made it impossible to see out.

She continued to put things away. Then entered the living room. She heard a knock coming from the front door, “hang on” she called, fumbling to find the light switch, ” I will be there in a sec.”

She turned the key in the door and gasped as she opened it. A very short person dressed all in black and wearing a plastic skull mask stood by her front door….

“Trick or treat!” screamed the child loudly over the sound of the gale.

In the morning

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In the morning her hair had turned white. She didn’t know why. It had been a normal evening, nothing out of the ordinary. Bed at a reasonable time. Nothing had woken her until her normal waking time at 7am.

And yet, her hair had turned white overnight? It was meant to happen if you were scared or had a shock. Something she never understood as there is no blood supply to hair. It’s dead, it’s colour is created as it grows and as you get older grey or white hair gradually takes over. But overnight? What could have happened?

She had had a shower…… Oh.. …

Peroxide! She had used the wrong shampoo. Her daughter used it normally…. .

The steps

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A light from the sky settled gently on to the field at the back of the housing estate. The sound was muted. No one would have heard it if they had been more than 50 metres away.

But on that night Sam had been looking up at the sky from a corner of the field on the local footpath. She had been struck by the beauty of the Milky Way and the clarity of the night on this chilly evening. She had been about to leave when she saw the light from the corner of her eye. A meteor? Too slow. A plane? The flashing lights were not there, just one spotlight. A helicopter? No sound …. She stood still as it landed. The classic ufo shape that she had seen on many old black and white films.

She was surprised at how calm she felt. She didn’t know whether to move toward the object or run away. Finally she noticed a yellow ramp with steps lowering down to the ground.

Why not be the first? Why not make contact? She walked slowly up the slope of the field and came to the base of the steps……

Giant metal frog

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Am I on Earth or an alien planet? I thought. I was walking around the lake, the ground was wet. In the distance I could see a metal spike rising up from the ground, with something sticking out, attached to it.

I got closer, the thing was clearly metallic, greenish copper coloured.

It was a sculpture of a frog, feet wrapped around the spike. It seemed to be looking at me? How? Its metal isn’t it?

Then it moved! One arm came up, it rubbed its eye in that odd way frogs do. It opened its mouth. .. The last thing I remember was its tongue flashing out, catching me round the neck. . The world faded.

A lesson

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The old school walls were damp and the paint was peeling off them. There were holes where ceiling tiles had fallen down and sunshine had broken through the roof.

She walked between discarded chairs, the tables were stacked against the walls. At the front of the classroom stood one of those rotating chalkboards. Grey with layers of chalk.

She reached out and pulled on the join between the boards but the thing was jammed up, no movement.

She remembered the first day she had taught here. Registration followed by the history of the celts. Teaching about Boudicca and the ancient Britons.

Nowadays children didn’t come to school. They were all home schooled, isolated, plugged in. Teaching was easy. Link to the local computer by an imput in the cranium. Download all the information, sit in a chair and learn the curriculum.

She remembered the sweet feeling of imparting knowledge  The look of wonder when a pupil understood a new concept. Ideas flying from lips to ears to brains.

No more, no enthusiasm, just imput, data, no fun.

She sighed, closed the door to the classroom. She walked home.

Cycling home

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“I used to be fit.” The old timer said as he looked down sadly at his old bike. “I could ride up to the lake district, round Windermere and back home in a day. Now look at me, my knees are wrecked, my back aches and my balance makes me wobble all over the place.”

“You need to keep cycling though, I said, I know it’s tough, but if you stop now you will probably stop for good.”

“I’ll ride to Scotland and back he said, no doubt it will take some time.”

“But you don’t know the way. Why not try cycling on canal towpaths?” I suggested.

That was two weeks ago. I haven’t seen him since. Though I did get a post card from John o’Groats saying “in Scotland, can’t find the canal!”

 

Almost midnight

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The green glow outside had intensified and was visible in her living room now. It was almost midnight and she knew if anything was going to happen it would be soon. He heart was pounding and she felt sweat trickle down the side of her nose. All she could do was hide.

She stepped into the old oak cupboard, pulled the door shut and hung on to the catch.

Suddenly the rushing noise outside was everywhere. She stuffed her hand in her mouth to stop screaming.

Gradually the noise calmed down, it quietened  there was a moment of a shrill scream and then silence.

In the morning it was on the news, her neighbour dead of a heart attack.

She never saw the green glow again…..