He struggled to match her stride as they approached the imposing entrance. ‘University don’t teach you useful stuff. It'll just be your funny maths problems.’
‘I know’
‘The church is booked for the end of term. You do still love me?’
‘Course.’ She swerved his gaze. ‘Goodbye John.’ #WriteCBC
‘This seat’s taken,’ she shifts her jacket from the velvet upholstery.
‘Sorry, your brother said this was free’.
‘If you must,’ she sighs, sitting straighter.
The theatre lights dim.
‘I love a good panto, don’t you?’
‘Meh.’ The bells on her Christmas jumper jingle as she shrugs.
#WriteCBC
The breeze echoed with distant children's laughter as it crept through the frame of the disused ferris wheel, each pod filled with crisp packets and stagnant water. The torn seat of an upturned bumper car still wreaked with the acrid scent of burnt popcorn as the mist descended. #WriteCBC
‘40 years gone and still on the bestseller list!’She threw down the paper.The world still clamoured for his work, even the clumsy poems jotted in margins.Imagine what they'd give for the novel tucked beneath her socks and handcream. Did a 40 year old promise bind as tightly as a fresh one?#WriteCBC
Like an overpopulated fish tank, the museum teems with visitors, their discussions of Renaissance and Reformation are beyond me.I hang back, watching the aquarium of academics, waiting for a glimpse of my father.There he is.His watery blue eyes find me and we both smile. The past forgotten #WriteCBC
A gust slams the door against the wall. Lit by moonlight, he stands in the doorway, red hair swirling. What he says is lost to the wind but his eyes meet mine. I take the spade from his mud-encrusted fingers and know that it’s done. Relief washes over me. But is it over? #WriteCBC
The Coronation bugle sounds. Every guest in the Abbey stands. The velvet cloak drags behind as he makes his way to the throne. Wafts of warm candle wax mix with the crackle of history in the air. She alone sees it, the birthmark peeking from beneath the crown. The birthmark of his brother. #WriteCBC
The breath turns hot, searing my flesh. I’m bolt upright, the black heat besieging my nostrils forcing my mouth open. Darkness crackles on my tongue, bitingly metallic. Then I see it in the corner. I feel it. Its magnetism pulls at my skin, drawing me in. #WriteCBC
Squabbling fruit bats wake me. Bare feet slapping on the teak floorboards,I reach for the mango overhanging the veranda, its fruit so juicy I wipe my chin.My tinkle on the keys of the grand piano echo through the chateau as I catch sight of myself in the gilt mirror, so utterly out of place#WriteCBC
The door gets away from me. It swings open, punching a cloud of dust motes backwards. They swirl and tumble, lit by a chink in the curtains. I shiver despite the heat, it’s exactly as I remember. The coir doormat crunches beneath my feet and grates at my nerves. This time will be different #WriteCBC
Frozen solid, Ella saw her mother stricken on the carpet. A fire of rage ignited in her. Like lava it bubbled to the surface, her hot skin melting the ice. Her mother deserved a perfect Christmas and she would fight Jack Frost to the death to stop him #5ActFestiveStory
Toes numb, the suitcase banged against Ella’s leg as the pair waded down the snowy alley. Church bells pealed as the scent of gingerbread filled the air. Before turning the corner, Ella looked back. An inky silhouette stood, framed against the pristine snow. #5ActFestiveStory
Before she could reply, there was a pounding on the door. Ella’s mother sprang from her chair and snatched the star from the top of the Christmas tree. ‘Hide it Ella! They must not find it. What’s inside has the power to change everything’. #5ActFestiveStory
Arwen looked from the red suit hanging limply on the hook to the pile of unfinished presents and whacked her palm against the emergency button. Above blaring sirens she addressed the congregating elves. ‘I need volunteers to round up Father Christmas. He’s gone rogue again’. #5ActFestiveStory