rural life

Tuesday Tiny Tale -Writing Exercise

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The Ham Hub writers had decided to have something new to focus on, an exercise for fun, creating a fictional community. Each writer to bring along two or three characters and let them interact with each other. The setting to be remote and rural, between the wars so they would have no mobile phones or ready means of communicating with the outside world.

Charlotte enjoyed the task, a break from writing her novel about Lottie. She tried not to make it anything like Hambourne, though she couldn’t resist adding water. When it was suggested she go first she thought that would be easy, her plot could not clash with anyone else’s if they had not been revealed.

Ellie decided to take the towpath back to the farm, relishing the peace and freedom before returning to all her chores at home. Ellie was happy to volunteer to take newly laid eggs and milk to old Widow Brown in her tumbledown cottage. Mother said they had to be nice to her as she had lost both her sons in the war. It had been a busy morning as she had also taken a hearty breakfast to Tommy One Arm in the barn. Her father took pity on any tramps who had been soldiers in the war, especially those maimed or disfigured and unlikely to find work. Father called them all Tommy; there had been One-Eyed Tommy, he was a bit scary till you got used to him. Tommy One Leg had been a joker and popular locally as he could fix anything. Tommy One Arm was very quiet except when he was having a funny turn, which Father said was shell shock. He wore a hat and scarf all the time, only Mother and Father had seen his face properly as Tommy was very good at reading the difficult dusty old books that had been great grandfather’s. He read to their parents after the children were all in bed. Ellie hoped this Tommy would stay. Father never made them move on, but they often got restless and there would come a morning when the barn was empty. Ellie felt sorry for this Tommy, he wouldn’t be able to get married if he had to keep his face covered all the time and he didn’t seem to have any relatives to go and live with.

It was such a lovely morning Ellie skipped along the tow path…

‘Hang on, is that by the river or a canal?’

I don’t know, that’s why I just put tow path.

…thinking how good it was to be fourteen and never have to go to school again. She had not thought beyond leaving, though of course her parents had. Going to work as a maid at a big house far away

‘Hang on, in mine, it’s The Big House nearby so the characters can be tenant farmers.’

‘and have somewhere to work’ added someone else.

Okay, no problem, at the Big House nearby or to be a shop girl in town…

‘What town, thought they were isolated.’

That’s why she doesn’t want to work in town, too far away.

…were suggested, but she did not want to leave home and why should she when her big brother stayed on the farm. She had quickly found out that working at home was a lot harder than school. Helping her mother with the endless cooking and looking after the little ones, feeding the pigs and hens and milking the cows. But Father had promised her she could take the pony and trap to market. She loved Lucky the best in the family. He was called Lucky because he had been a colt when the war came and was not taken away to go to France. Ellie and Lucky had grown up together.

As Ellie wandered along picking spring flowers and watching out for the Kingfisher she was startled to hear a man’s voice.

‘I thought we were setting it in winter?’

‘No, it was autumn.’

‘It was definitely spring as it is spring now, we’ll be in the right mood’ Charlotte decided to be a bit assertive for a change.

‘Morning Miss.’

She looked up to see a young man standing on the bow of a colourful narrow boat. A new boat at the old mooring that hadn’t been used for years. Ellie knew all the river folk and he was definitely a stranger, so she was not sure if she should talk to him.

‘Thought you didn’t know if it was a river or canal?’

Well spotted, easy to change and we have to hear everyone’s story before we set details.

His smile crinkled up to his dark eyes and he had gleaming white teeth. If her father saw that mop of curly black hair he would have him sent off to the barbers or got her mother to get her clippers out, like she did with her brothers. He was taller than her big brother.

‘Oh I like him, watch out Ellie, my girl will be after him.’

‘This is a pretty sight on a spring morning.’

Ellie looked around to see what the pretty sight was.

‘Oh yes, this is the prettiest part of the river.’

‘That’s why I decided to moor up here yesterday evening and what a surprise to meet a pretty local girl so soon.’

Ellie looked around to see if a pretty girl had appeared

‘May I ask your name? I’m Jack, Jack of all trades.’

‘Hey, I’ve got a Jack.’

‘So have I, head gardener at the big house.’

‘And I’ve got a Tommy, who seduces the scullery maid.’

‘How long since the First World War War then, still got old soldiers wandering? ‘

‘Great War, they didn’t know there was going to be a second one.’

‘1928 I thought we said last week.‘

‘No, it’s going to be in the middle of the Great Depression’

‘When was that then?’

Do you go to a writing group? Do you enjoy doing exercises?

Friday Flash Fiction -A Shot Rings Out

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This week, flash fiction from an occasional guest blogger; my sister from down under takes you into the Australian Bush.

 

A shot rings out, a sharp pure crack across the cold night air. It is impossible to tell how far it has travelled, but I know it must be from somewhere within the bush conservation reserve only a paddock’s width away; somewhere within its 3,000 acres. I don’t know how to feel. Glad that someone has killed one of the wild pigs that root around the delicate orchids sheltering beneath the carpet of she-oak needles? Angry that someone has shot a kangaroo, going about its rightful business? Or scared? I have always said I felt safe alone in the shed.  A big shed, a home from home, lined with straw bales and furnished with beds and comfortable chairs. It was so isolated, why would anyone come down this road? But they have. They are near and I know nothing about them. Him? It will be a him, I’m sure. Not a her. Just him, or was he with friends? A disturbing thought. No, I’m letting my imagination run away with me. It’s probably just a local farmer, after foxes.

Another shot cracks the air, reverberating through the darkness. Stay calm, of course it’s a farmer. It all goes quiet and stays quiet. Ten minutes go by, nothing to worry about. Go back to sleep I tell myself, and I do.

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Then, suddenly, I am awakened by the sound of tyres on gravel, not just driving, but ripping into the gravel, tearing around a corner and onto the road, my road, and coming nearer. I hear whooping, with the wildness of the inebriated, a sound that confirms my worst fears. This is no farmer, this is a group of men, and they are drunk. The most frightening animal on the planet, the human male, drunk and hunting in a pack. I lay still, like a frightened rabbit, as if they might hear me if I move. I tell myself to not be stupid. All the lights are out, they won’t be able to see the shed on this moonless night. Or so I thought, but the sound of the revving, roaring engine comes ever nearer, too near to be on the road; they have turned into my driveway. I remember the solar powered garden lights that line the long driveway, like runway lights, guiding a plane in to land. And now it is guiding them inexorably towards me, until I see another light splitting the darkness, the spot light fixed to the roof of the car, the spot light they use to dazzle their prey. Then the skid on the gravel as the car comes to a halt. They spill out with raucous laughter and joking.  One.  Two.  Three voices.

‘Here’s a place to stay!’  one shouts, and then the final act that completes my terror. The door handle moves. They are here. And I have no escape.

by Kate Doswell