By rights, this should have been #1, but, never mind 🙂
It was written as a flash for my writing group, and first published here Lou's Writing News, Cues and Reviews (louviewsnewscues.blogspot.com) December 15th 2022
Noelle
‘Now, Joanna,’ Maureen (her boss at the elderly complex) had said, ‘some – but not all – of our guests like their flat to be trimmed up for Christmas. It is not for you to judge, only to listen and do. If they want an olive-green bauble covered in cobwebs to be hung on a wonky tree, then so be it. If their pride and joy is a bald doll with a torn doily for a dress, and bent tin-foil wings, you tell them it’s beautiful and stick it on top of their tree. Got it? Good. Number eleven first.’
Number eleven: Doula’s flat. Doula was like a riddle Jo couldn’t crack. The idea she wanted her flat festooned contrasted wonderfully with the always dark, and sometimes horrifying, stories she told Jo.
‘That one round the back, girl, where I don’t have to look at it.’ Doula had managed to make decorating the tree an ordeal, berating her every time she picked up a threadbare bauble or battered cracker. Now, only the angel remained.
‘Handle her with care,’ Doula said, in a gentle voice, ‘she’s special.’
Indeed, she was. Her tin-foil wings bent, paper-doily dress (held on with yellowing tape) torn, and on top of a tangle of yellow hair clung a shining halo.
Jo lifted the angel up for a closer look, and gasped. ‘Oh, it’s a tiny bangle! How lovely. Whose was it?’
Doula stared, entranced, at the little angel, as Jo placed her carefully atop the wonky tree. ‘Was Noelle’s,’ she replied, and reached up and touched the angel. ‘She was due on Christmas. Born still Jan third. Never got the chance to wear it, so the angel does. Like she’s still here. Just life,’ she said to Jo, who was busy blinking back tears, ‘just life.’
Also first published here Lou's Writing News, Cues and Reviews: Drabbling: The results of the Twenty-Twenty Club Drabble Competition 2023 (louviewsnewscues.blogspot.com) on March 6th 2023
Tiddles
I loved you from the moment I saw you lying upside-down in your litter tray. Eighteen months old and mad, you were meant for me. Nobody else could cuddle you; your pointy black face and moss-green eyes staring up at me in bewilderment. Always.
We removed the wallpaper because you kept climbing it, got used to mopping up puddles of water, puddles of wee when you started to forget, when you went blind.
Now, I hold you to my chest like a new-born, so you can feel my heart beating as your own runs out. I love you. Always.
I wrote Sometimes Even Tina for a 100 words Drabble competition from my writing group. It's about how easy it is to lose your identity when your name seems to be an afterthought.
It was first published on March 6th 2023 here Lou's Writing News, Cues and Reviews: Drabbling: The results of the Twenty-Twenty Club Drabble Competition 2023 (louviewsnewscues.blogspot.com)
Caterina was dull. Everyone who met her as a babe remarked that she was ‘no trouble at all,’ which translated as ‘she doesn’t do much, does she?’ By the time she started school, everyone had forgotten Caterina’s name. She answered to all sorts, sometimes even Tina. She didn’t know to correct them, so she didn’t. Everyone who met her remarked how ‘clean and quiet’ she was, which translated as ‘she’ll never leave her mark.’ So, it was rather ironic that when Caterina disappeared that day, everyone finally looked for her. But by then it was too late.
Book two of 2024 read, and, bloody hell, that was shattering ☹️ I thought I had a pretty good idea what had gone on with @britne...
