flash fiction

Tuesday Tiny Tale – My Best Friend

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 34 Comments

Who would have imagined meeting Francis would change my life?

I was walking to work along my usual route when I saw Pat coming towards me, in my direction, not turning down the next corner, not crossing over. Coming towards me on the narrowest stretch of pavement. What should I say? Hello, talk about the weather? Don’t look at the pavement, look at her.

‘Hello Kimberly, on the way to work?’

‘Yes.’

She’s stopping, not passing, think of conversation.

‘Is it going okay?’

‘Yes.’

No, I mean I don’t actually get paid and I’m not using my brain… but what shall I say…

‘Em, okay, but I have applied for a better job.’

‘Excellent, I’m sure you are wasted where you are with your brains. Anyway, say hello to your mother, bye.’

‘Bye.’

Should I have said ‘Have a nice day?’ but I don’t know where she is going or what she is planning to do and it might not be nice…

Why did I say that. I haven’t applied for a new job, despite hints from Mum. I was just searching for something to say. Now I can just see her chatting to Mum ‘Oh I hear Kimberly has applied for a new job.’ Now I’ll have to apply for one.

When I arrived at The Centre Jo greeted me with great excitement.

‘I want you to come and meet Francis, you two are going to get along, I just know it.’

That seemed unlikely as I did not get along with many people. I followed silently as Jo chattered on, at least her incessant talking meant I did not need to fill in the gaps.

‘Did you have a good weekend, we went to see that new film, the relaxed showing. Your mother would love it as well as you. Come along, Francis is looking forward to meeting you, ah here he is. Francis, meet Kimberly.’

I looked straight into his eyes and held his gaze. I did not look down at the ground. Instantly I knew I would be comfortable in his company. By the end of the day we were good friends, as if we had known each other for ever. At last they had found me the right support worker.

Frankie was a good companion in every way, from carrying heavy shopping for me to enjoying country walks, we both liked to get away to peace and quiet. He never criticised, only encouraged and so I found the courage to apply for a challenging mainstream job.

I completed the thorough on line application, lots of hard technical questions, but at least I did not have to talk to anyone. I was delighted to soon get an email saying I had been shortlisted, having passed the technical assessment with flying colours.

Now I had to face the interview. The formal letter assured me that the company was inclusive and supportive and had a policy of nurturing young talent. Mum was over the moon. I tried to keep everything low key. I had no idea how many others were going to be interviewed.

On the day, Frankie accompanied me to the impressive riverside building. Mum insisted on coming too and said she and Frankie would wait in the riverside gardens till I texted to say the interview was over.

The three people behind the long desk were almost smiling, but the big  desk made it hard to understand their expressions. I tried to sit up straight and look at whoever was talking to me.

‘These results in the tech tests are excellent and you are au fait with the new XYZ system?’

‘Yes… I was lucky to get on the training course at the centre.’

‘Not lucky, according to your references your aptitude secured you a place.’

He then put on what I called a cosy voice.

‘Now tell us a bit about yourself.’

The part I dreaded.

‘We want our staff to feel comfortable working here, with all the help they might need.’

My mouth went dry, I looked down at the desk. Without Frankie at my side I had lost my voice.

‘Perhaps you could start with any questions you have about the job.’

‘Can my support worker come to work with me?’

‘Yes, yes of course, several of our staff have extra support.’

I was glad to get back out in the sunshine and walked briskly down to the river.

‘Good news Frankie, you can come with me.’

Melody, Kimberly’s new team leader, was waiting in the foyer to greet her and organise two ID cards. She glanced at the clock, expecting Kimberly to come through the revolving door at any moment, but there seemed to be a bit of a commotion out on the pavement. The security man spun through the door and addressed Melody.

‘Your new staff member, has she got clearance… er, um approval to bring her support donkey to work?

Friday Flash Fiction 900 -Morning Jog

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 28 Comments

Gabriella tied back her springy blond hair and trotted down the stairs.

‘Gabby, surely you are not going out dressed like that, you’ll freeze.’

‘Muuum, this is my jogging outfit, I’ll soon warm up running.’

‘Do be careful and don’t go into the woods.’

‘But the woods will be perfect on a morning like this, sunny and frosty.’

‘Not now they have started that new scheme.’

‘Don’t believe everything you read on Facebook.’

‘… and I do wish you would have breakfast before going out on a cold morning.’

It was a beautiful morning as Gabby trotted off down the road and took the footpath into the National Trust woodland. They were so lucky to live near a forest. She waved to a couple of joggers she knew by sight as they passed by.

‘Lovely morning, happy new year.’

‘Same to you…’

Further along Gabby glanced at her Fit Bit, she was doing a good time, maybe she would go in for the local half marathon and then who knew what next. She took the right fork for the first time to increase the length of her circuit. It was a pretty path but more challenging with an incline and rougher going. Gabby began to wonder how much further this was than her normal route. Then she began to wonder when she would come across a familiar path. After a while she began to feel hungry and a bit light headed. Perhaps she should have had a yoghurt or banana before setting out. Still, she must keep going and not lose her rhythm. Her aim now was not preparing for a marathon but to get home and persuade her mother to cook her a nice breakfast.

In the distance she could see a shape, a cottage, a run down cottage? Strange, nobody was supposed to live in these woods, that’s why they were perfect for the rewilding project. Probably abandoned decades ago, but why could she detect the delightful scent of wood smoke? As Gabby drew closer she could see smoke gently spiralling up in the cold air. Must be some poor homeless person, sensible to make a cosy home for himself, better than sleeping on the pavement.

The path led close by the ramshackle cottage and she felt like an intruder. Should she rush past or take a diversion? No she must stick to the path, the trees were really thick here and she didn’t want to get further lost than she was already. As she ran round to the other side, she noticed the door was open and there was the unmistakeable smell of porridge. She realised just how hungry she was now and wished she was back home eating porridge and watching breakfast TV. But despite her misgivings she could not resist having a peep inside.

To her surprise it looked clean and homely and on a wooden table stood three bowls of steaming porridge. There was no sign of the occupants. Now she was so hungry she thought if she took a spoonful out of each bowl, nobody would notice. It tasted divine, the fresh cold morning air had given her an appetite.

The cottage was silent, she took a few more spoonfuls, just enough to boost her energy so she could get away before the mystery occupants returned. But as she took her phone off her belt, thinking of looking at Google maps to get her location, she had an idea. She must take a few quick snaps to show her friends and put on Instagram and it would be a shame not to take a quick shot upstairs.

The old worn wooden steps creaked as she crept up and came straight out into a single room with a sloping roof, just big enough for three beds. With their clean fresh duvets it all looked unlikely to be a hidey hole for a homeless person or someone on the run from the police. As Gabby stared she realised how cold she had become since she stopped running. It would  be a sensible idea to climb under the duvet and warm her limbs up for a few minutes, as long as she did not fall asleep.

The next thing she knew she was startled by a noise, a lot of noises, loud men’s voices in a strange language. All she could do was hide under the duvet and hope they would sit down and eat their porridge and not come upstairs. Her hands were shaking as she tried to look at her phone, but who should she call?

At that moment she felt a heavy hand press down on her shoulder. She let out a muffled scream and somehow managed to scramble out of the bed and stumble down the stairs. Her nimbleness getting out of the door was her only advantage against the two very large figures downstairs.

At the Reursinement headquarters several people were observing all the monitors.

‘Any sign of them?’

‘No, but that’s only to be expected, we can’t have CCTV all over the forest.’

‘What about the tracking devices?’

‘They stopped working days ago.’

‘So are you saying we have no idea where they are?’

‘Yes, no, surely the idea of rewilding is just that, letting them get on with their own lives, looking after their young without us intruding and they should be hibernating by now.’

‘Hopefully, but do rescued circus bears actually know how to hibernate?’

Tuesday Tiny Tale – The Letter

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 26 Comments

If you are reading this I am probably dead. I wonder who found me? A police officer, the neighbours… did my solicitor pass the letter on to you?

Of course, it may be that you yourself called in unexpectedly and got a shock. But this is not a suicide note. I have no idea as I write this when or how I might die. I am fit and well, but it is the elderly well living alone who are prone to dropping dead suddenly, a nice way to go for the deceased, maybe not for anyone else involved, so best to be prepared. Hopefully my departure will be dignified, tucked up in bed or sitting in my recliner with a good book in my lap, not the way your poor father went.

I could be a skeleton, preferable to a less advanced state of decomposition. Perhaps if you had phoned more often, or at all, I would not have reached that state. Scooped up by the council for a pauper’s funeral.

There is no need to contact my solicitor; no money, no house to sell, I did one of those release your capital schemes. I had a great time spending it on myself, or rather working out how best to spend it on myself. Tried a cruise, but that was full of old people, too depressing, though it livened up when a chap fell overboard. You wouldn’t believe how long it takes a floating tower block to stop, let alone turn around. Of course there was no chance of finding him. His wife apologised for us missing our next port and urged the captain to get underway. We reassured her that she might as well enjoy the rest of the cruise.

Where was I, oh yes, in the end I decided to buy an art gallery and exhibit the entire collection of my art. The young man next door got down those larger paintings you put in the loft. I am having a good deal of success under my pseudonym. I also have an adjacent studio, exploring my third age creativity and inviting young artists to share the space.  If you came across my gallery you would be unlikely to recognise it as mine as you never looked at any of my paintings or sculptures.

Well Michael, it was good while it lasted, until you were about ten. Enjoy the rest of your life.

                            Mother

‘Amelia, Mrs Haversham, can you hear me, I’m a doctor, you’re in hospital. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me, you have been in a coma for three months, you had a stroke. Your son is here. …Talk to her Michael… ‘

‘Hello Mother, I got your letter.’

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Old Photos

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 19 Comments

‘Hey, look what I’ve found.’

‘A book, who still reads books?’

‘This is a special book – CHRISTMAS 2025 OUR FAMILY’

‘Old photos, who wants to look at old photos?’

‘I do, they must have lived in this house.’

‘Ha ha, look at what they are wearing.’

‘The garden has changed a lot since then, rather cute, flowers all different colours.’

‘Boring, turn over…. Yuk, what is that?’

‘A baby, what some people used to have instead of cats.’

‘Why?’

‘Not sure, maybe all will be revealed if we keep turning the pages.’

‘Why are they sitting on the ground looking at water?’

‘I’ll do a historic data check…. Sea side, that’s what a beach looks like…’

‘Boring, turn to the next page. That baby thingy seems to be getting bigger.’

‘I’ll data check… it’s growing.’

‘Why?’

‘It doesn’t say, just that they grow quickly.’

‘Keep going, oh it’s standing up, I wouldn’t want one of those things clinging to my leg.’

‘Look, here’s the front of our house, more flowers, lots more people, wonder how many lived here?’

‘Strange clothes, next page… they have put those baby things in boxes with wheels, our cats wouldn’t put up with that. Last page, what on earth is that great big green thing? I’ll data check… a Christmas tree, a tree chopped down and put indoors, no wonder there aren’t any trees left outside.’

‘Right, it’s time we went to check if the cats have finished playing with the humans.’

‘Shall we show this book to the humans?’

No.. no I don’t think so, it might upset them.

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Hidden

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 15 Comments

The front door slammed and she sighed with relief, that was everyone gone to work and school and she could have a good tidy up. She switched the radio on, what rubbish had they been listening to? She turned over to Radio 4, bound to be someone talking about something clever. At least they had put the dishwasher on, but what was that letter doing on the counter top? Just rubbish by the look of it, recycling box.

She drifted into the hall where a bright pink glove lay on the floor, Evie’s, her hands would be cold, it was frosty out.  Car keys just dropped in that dish, don’t they ever think about security? Mason’s scarf left on the stairs, probably deliberately, he always insists he won’t be cold. She picked the scarf up and carried on up the stairs.

The bedrooms were a complete mess as usual, well making beds was not on her agenda. On the landing she tried to straighten up the ghastly picture, but it fell off the wall, hook fallen out. Dan would have to fix that, it was about time he improved his DIY skills. Someone was going to trip over that toy truck, put it away safely. She could do with a cup of coffee, pity she wasn’t drinking it any more. £20 note just lying on top of the dresser, put that in the money pot, see if anyone missed it.

She looked out of the front bedroom window, new people moving in across the road, how many times had that place changed hands? Library book on the floor, hmm due back tomorrow, better put it by the front door …and reading glasses on the floor, they could go safely in that drawer.

Was that the time already, end of the peace and quiet…

‘Don’t leave your school bags on the floor… no not till you have got changed and done your homework….. I can hear voices in the kitchen! Wait in the hall. It’s okay, the radio was on, but I’m sure I switched if off and I never listen to Radio Four…   I’m coming upstairs to make sure you’re getting changed and not playing with… hey who knocked Grandma’s painting down.’

‘Not me it was Evie.’

‘No it wasn’t, it was Mason.’

Hello Darling, hello kids.’

‘Dan, can you fetch my reading glasses down, they’re by the bed. I need to read the instructions on this packet.’

‘Who knocked the picture down, I only put it up last week. Couldn’t see your glasses.’

‘They are with my library book.’

‘Just give me the packet, I’ll read it out to you… See what you mean about the tiny writing, well whatever you are supposed to do you have to do it for five minutes. Now where is that letter I got yesterday, I left it in the kitchen so I would not forget to phone them.’

‘Mummy, where’s my new truck?’

‘I don’t know, where did you leave it, surely it’s too big to lose.’

‘I can’t find my reading glasses anywhere and I can’t find the library book. It’s book club tomorrow and I still have two more chapters to go.’

‘Why do you have to read in bed anyway?’

‘I always read in bed.’

‘Borrow my Kindle, you can just make the writing big, now that’s funny, when did I last have my Kindle?’

‘How am I supposed to know?’

‘Evie, did you find your other glove? Mason will you put your scarf on, there’s a cold wind. What do you mean you can’t find it? Not on the coat hook or in your school bag? Look it’s getting late, I think we’d better go in the car.  That’s funny, where are the car keys?’

‘Hello Darling, how was your day?’

‘Don’t ask… Dan, do you think I’m going through the perimenopause?’

‘The peri what?’

‘Brain fog, I keep losing things, or at least forgetting where I’ve put them.’

‘Everyone mislays things. You wanted a nice big house, but it’s easier to lose things than when we were in the flat. Either that or it’s haunted, like on that programme ha ha.’

‘Dan, you don’t really think… the neighbours reckon we got this place cheaper because some old lady died here and her family wanted to sell quickly.’

‘Cos they needed the money probably. Well it was our luck.’

‘Certainly was and all clean and tidy when we viewed it, not like we were expecting, good thing she can’t see it now.’

Friday Flash Faction – Moving On

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 20 Comments

Someone’s on the move, who is it this time?

Tom again, another investigation. If they had just listened to him this could all be avoided.

Yup, he has been trying for years to tell them what really happened.

When Mary sees all this activity we’ll have to hear for the umpteenth time how she was moved from Saint Pancras.

Do you remember last year, the whole evening spoilt when Judith’s family decided it was time she moved closer to them? Wonder how she’s getting on. The last thing she wanted was to be reunited with her husband. She was so glad to come here and have some peace.

So what are we going to do this year then? We never plan early enough then it creeps up on us.

We must do something to cheer Tom up. All this investigating is going to bring back the bad memories.

Hmmm just when he was coming to terms with his situation.

Let’s all go into town, Tom won’t have to leave till the morning hopefully.

Yes a change of scenery is what we all need. Wonder if there will be much going on in town this year?

There will be by the time we’ve stirred things up, giving that Danny Robins more than enough material for his next series.

But we’ll have to start off in Mary Junior’s pub…

…and have to listen to her going on about the year with no summer and how she got the inspiration for her novel?

Yes and then she’ll get all sentimental and beg Percy to recite one of his poems.

… and one will lead to a dozen.

…and he will drift into melancholy and declare his heart always belonged to Mary and England.

At which point we will move on and see what’s happening elsewhere in town.

‘I don’t think October 31st is a very good night for doing this Boss.’

‘It’s a perfect night for exhuming a body, the locals will be keeping away from the graveyard, even if they claim not to believe in all that stuff.’

‘Why are we digging him up?’

‘His family still want answers so he can rest in peace, though he’s not getting much peace if we keep digging him up. Poor chap, last time there was no DNA, not sure what they hope to find in his bones, but that’s not our job. Ah here comes the vicar, no cracking jokes, this is hallowed ground.

 ‘I’m not laughing I’m feeling sick.’

‘You will have to toughen up if you want to be a grave digger.’

‘I did not want to be a gravedigger, couldn’t find another job. And I thought I would be burying people, not unburying them.’

‘Half the people in this churchyard have been moved from elsewhere, someone has to do it. Evening Vicar.’

‘Boss, did you hear voices?’

‘Nah just get on with digging.’

‘Vicar, did you hear that voice?’

‘Well um, that’s why I am here, to pray for any unquiet spirits.’

‘Such as poor Tom who was viciously murdered?’

‘But at peace now…’

Footnotes

‘Mary Wollstonecraft was buried at St Pancras old churchyard with an epitaph reading ‘Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, Author of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman: Born 27 April 1759: Died 10 September 1797.’

‘Famously, Mary Shelley spent many hours in the graveyard that held her mother’s remains and was said to have professed her love for Percy Shelley, her future husband, there.’

 ‘Wollstonecraft and her husband William Godwin’s remains were moved in 1851 upon the request of their grandson Percy Florence Shelley, thanks to the imminent railway works across St Pancras.’

‘Today, their remains can be visited at St Peter’s churchyard in Bournemouth, where the family tomb holds the remains of William Godwin, Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, grandson Percy Florence Shelley and his wife Jane Shelley (1820 -1899).’

Is this tale true?

 ‘Percy drowned while sailing his boat, the Don Juan, through a summer storm across the Gulf of Spezia in Italy. When his remains were found a few days later by friend and novelist Edward John Trelawny, a fire was built on the beach and he was cremated. To Trelawney’s surprise, however, Percy’s heart would not succumb to the flames. The hardened remains of Percy’s heart were plucked from the ashes and, after an argument over who would keep the remains, were eventually given over to Percy’s wife, Mary Shelley.’

Is his heart in the family tomb?

Back to the 21st century  Danny Robbins presents ‘Uncanny’  BBC radio series, TV series and podcasts investigating many strange occurrences…

Back in Time

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 34 Comments

With real humans visiting I have not spent much time in the blogosphere, but luckily I have an extra hour this weekend… and time for a tiny tale…

Back in Time

   It was Edward’s second favourite night of the year, staying up till 2am to watch the changes and do the alterations. An ancient ceremony to be revered, conducted for over one hundred years.

Edward’s home was analogue and digital, flashing on the cooker, ticking on the wall; a grandfather clock and his grandfather’s pocket watch he used to joke and promised he would leave his grandson the first digital watch he saved up £50 to buy…

Watching the time on his iPhone change, alert to see if this time it would change at 01.59 or 02.01 but it never let him down. Clambering up the folding steps in several rooms… adieu BST welcome back GMT. His son said he did not need a clock at all, let alone his horology collection. After all, he had the time on his smart phone and Fitbit, so he did not need to risk life and limb, especially to reach the grandmother clock high up in the stair well.

The night the clocks went back, changing from British Summer Time to Greenwich Mean Time, would be no fun without his beloved clocks. He was never ready for sleep after all the excitement and anyway, everyone was getting an extra hour in bed. He would go on the computer and check the time in other European countries changing their clocks.

He could not lie in for long in the morning as he always went round to his sister’s house for breakfast; more clambering on wobbly steps to change her clocks and the all important reconfiguring in her bedroom. He had bought her one of the first digital radio alarm clocks and after all these years she still had not figured out how to change the time.

Of course Edward’s favourite night of the year was when the clocks went forward in spring.

Facetiming is tricky at this time of year when you are talking to other countries, even other states, let alone other hemispheres. Some change, some don’t, not all choose the same weekend. If and when are you changing your clocks? More importantly, are you gruntled or disgruntled with the whole procedure?

Silly Saturday Serial – Singing in the Rain

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 15 Comments

This is part three of Tuesday’s Tiny Tale. You can see part two in Thursday’s Tinier Tale.

https://tidalscribe.com/2025/10/16/thursday-tinier-tale-a-drop-of-rain/

Flora and Jim had reached a high point in the valley and looked down to see just a glimpse of the red roof of their cottage. The rain was even heavier, if that was possible. They could hardly see the screens of their phones to check if they had any signal or any text messages.

‘It’s certainly exhilarating up here’ said Jim.

‘And so quiet, we haven’t seen a soul’ Flora struggled to make her voice heard above the wind and rain.

‘No one else is mad enough to come out in this rain. I think we’ll have to try our phones tomorrow when the weather has cleared. Best thing we can do is go back and get that fire lit.’

‘Whaaat, I can’t hear you.’

Jim signed to Flora to head back down the narrow steep track, clinging to her as he nearly slipped. The foot path had turned into a muddy stream, but they were still in good spirits enjoying their adventure. The sound of rushing water guided them back to the river, though it was hard to recognise how far they were from their cottage as they were on a part of the river that had no path beside it. Talking was impossible with the wind and rushing water and they could not see the river properly with the rain driving in their faces. The white shape of the cottage suddenly loomed out of the gloom, nearer to the river than they recalled.

‘Have you got the key Flora?’ Jim yelled.

‘No you put it in your anorak pocket.’

Flora paddled through puddles to grab at the front door in the hope they had forgotten to lock it, then remembered putting the key in her back pack. She could hardly undo the zip with her cold wet hands.

‘Unlock the door while I start fetching the wood.’

Jim slithered round the corner to where logs were stacked against the wall and was disconcerted to see water pouring down the hillside and swirling round the bottom of the wood pile. He thought of the cosy pub in the nearest town where they had enjoyed a hearty meal after first viewing the cottage. The best thing they could do was walk along the river the other way and take the gravel track that led up to the road and the bus stop. Was it quarter to or quarter past the hour that the hourly bus came along? Well they could always hitch hike.

The rain showed no sign of easing up and they were glad to get to the road.

‘Oh that’s funny, wonder why they have barriers across the road?’

‘Jim, it will be getting dark soon.’

‘When a car comes along it will have to stop at the barrier and we can ask for a lift.’

At Upper Seven Valley police station the late shift were coordinating with the fire brigade and the Coastguard and RAF. It was turning out to be an even worse evening than with last year’s flood.

‘As far as we know most locals heeded the red weather warnings, they are checking names at the community centre now. We can’t account for any visitors staying or hiking in the area. The coastguard helicopter was only flying for fifteen minutes before it was grounded at 17.00 hours due to dangerous flying conditions. With the poor visibility they could not be certain there were no persons clinging to roofs or needing rescuing. We got the road blocks up early, so there should be no vehicles in the flood area.’

Thursday Tinier Tale – A Drop of Rain

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 13 Comments

Tonight’s tale follows on from Tuesday’s Tiny Tale

https://tidalscribe.com/2025/10/14/tuesday-tiny-tale-the-writing-on-the-wall

Rain lashed the windows of their little cottage, but Flora and Jim did not mind.

‘It’s lovely being all cosy inside. What weather does your phone say Jim?’

‘Still no reception, but I don’t need to look at my phone to see what the weather is.’

‘No weather forecast, but it is rather liberating not having a television. Dad says we can have his old laptop to stream stuff.’

‘Once we’re on the internet. In the meantime we can go exploring and find a spot where we can get reception, just in case of emergency.’

‘I can’t imagine us having any emergencies, except not being able to order pizza!’

‘Come on, walking in the rain will be fun and when we get back I’ll have a go at lighting the fire.’

‘Great idea, but won’t the firewood have got wet in the rain?’

‘I’ll just pull logs out from the bottom of the pile, like Jenga.’

‘Looks like a real river now Flora, don’t get too near the edge, it must be at least two foot deep, ha ha. Let’s see how far along the river this little path goes.’

At Upper Seven Valley police station the late shift were coming on duty.

‘There is an amber alert coming into force at 15.00.’

‘Not like last year surely Sir, not after the dry summer we’ve had.’

‘We’re not taking any chances after what happened last year.’

‘At least the survivors moved out of that cottage down in the valley, can’t imagine they would have managed to sell it.’

‘Well it’s still standing, we hiked that way in the summer.’

‘Why are you playing with your phone Evans?’

‘Just looking it up on Rightmove Sir… Believe it or not it was bought last month, knock down price.’

‘Let’s hope they have been following the weather reports then. Right, we have got other problems to sort out in town, so let’s hope this rain eases off.’

Tuesday Tiny Tale – The Writing on the Wall

~ tidalscribe.com ~ 25 Comments

Flora and Jim loved their new riverside cottage and could not believe their luck getting such an ideal spot in their price range. Even the name was quaint, Little Nile. Jim joked that it was just as well it had not been named Little Amazon.

‘People would think we were living in a warehouse!’

The little river that trickled past their tiny garden was actually called ‘The Seven’, not to be confused with The Severn, the longest river in Great Britain.

As they sat in the cosy sitting room enjoying a leisurely Sunday morning Flora sighed with delight

‘…and we did not even have to do any work on it. All newly decorated.’

‘Hmm, I don’t think I could live with that dreadful wallpaper for long’ replied Jim.

‘But it would be a waste to rip it off.’

‘What’s that mark on the wall?’

‘Just part of the pattern.’

‘No, it’s some sort of stain, bigger than yesterday. Perhaps there is a body hidden behind there, it is a very old cottage.’

‘You’re giving me the creeps.’

‘There is a corner peeling off by the ceiling, I could just have a peep…’

To their surprise the paper fell off in one strip revealing writing on the wall.

‘Oh how sweet, a height chart, we could keep that as a feature’ trilled Flora. ‘Five feet ten inches, 2024, some lanky teenager, we don’t know who was last to live here do we, the estate agent didn’t say.’

‘2022, five foot one inch, he must have had a growth spurt.’

‘2019, four foot six inches, a child back then.’

‘2010, four foot 2 inches, must have been very young then, how tall is your nephew?’

‘Doesn’t make sense, in nine years they must have grown more than that, unless that was a different child, pity they did not write their names. We must write their names when we do that with ours.’

‘Our what?’

‘Babies of course.’

‘1995 must have been a baby, two foot one inch, 1980 one foot six inches, must have been the seven dwarves living here, of course, hence the name of the river.’

‘Look down the bottom, can hardly read the writing, 1895, one foot one inch, The Great Flood. What’s that all about, look it up.’

‘I can’t find any great flood for that year and can’t imagine our tiny river flooding, what a hoot.’

‘We certainly would not want a foot of water in here.’

‘No chance after the hot dry summer we’ve had.’