All posts tagged: short story

Fiction Friday: Full long version of short story “Roadside”

  Hello All- I’m posting this Australian fiction short story in its entirety, so feel free to skip this post if that’s not yer thing obviously. Make a cuppa and spend five minutes with Lucy and Eris, as several readers commented that they’d prefer a longer read, to sink into it, so I decided to post the full story. This piece won tiny accolades in several small writing competitions here, although it’s a few years old now. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks so much for reading. In gratitude for words, G xO    “Roadside”- (c) bone&silver 2018 Lucy’s silver waterfall hair tilts when she moves. The tiny peace badge on her jumper glints. She leans like a rusty hinge to stroke the cat, book forgotten. Elegant fingers smooth the purring animal. She always wears gloves when gardening, and marinates in moisturiser every night. Like Cleopatra, she wishes she could bathe in milk. She knows she looks good for her age, but still bristles against seeming ‘invisible’ to anyone under thirty. She can remember …

Fiction Friday: Final part of short story “Roadside”

Hello All, time for the final part, yay. It’s Fiction, so feel free to skip this post if that’s not yer thing! This piece won tiny accolades in several small writing competitions here in Australia, although it’s a few years old now. PART ONE is here, and PART TWO here, so please read first. A few readers commented that they’d prefer a longer read, to sink into it, so I decided to post a long one, rather than make it another two posts… I hope you enjoy it, and thanks so much for reading! In gratitude for words, G xO    “Roadside”- Final part ‘I can’t believe we have to find a way to live through this.’ She pulls at leaves that want to tickle her shoulder. ‘And I am a nightmare.’ A twig is snapped. ’You don’t deserve this.’ A cluster of leaves is wrenched and dropped, with fresh tears. Around their homemade seat, the plants in her garden push back attempts to contain them. A palette of colours ramble. Daisies nudge native grasses, …

Fiction Friday: Part Two of short story “Roadside”

  Hello All, time for Part Two, yay. It’s Fiction, so feel free to skip this post if that’s not yer thing! This piece won tiny accolades in several small writing competitions here in Australia, although it’s a few years old now. PART ONE is here, so please read it first. Then let me know what you think, G xO    “Roadside”- Part Two ‘Don’t touch him! And don’t touch me! I hate you!’ Blowing the lid off her temper, Lucy pushes past Eris. She shoves open the kitchen screen door, and slams out into the garden. Her exit seems trailed by black vapour that sucks energy out of her husband. ‘I can’t fucking believe you’re hassling me about this. Isn’t it hard enough already?’ she yells from the lawn. He can hear the tears catching round her words, and hurries with arthritic knees toward the door. ‘Stay away from me, Eris, I mean it. Leave me alone.’ Her command whips between strands of hair as she runs out the garden gate. ‘I’m a nightmare.’ …

Fiction Friday/Me Monday combined: Part One of short story “Roadside”

Hello Everyone, I hope you had a lovely relaxing weekend? I’m offering you some Fiction here, so feel free to skip this post if that’s not yer thing! This piece won tiny accolades in several small writing competitions here in Australia, although it’s a few years old now. It’s too long for a single post though, so I’m going to split it into parts, then link them together each week. Let me know what you think, G xO    “Roadside”- Part One Lucy’s silver waterfall hair tilts when she moves. The tiny peace badge on her jumper glints. She leans like a rusty hinge to stroke the cat, book forgotten. Elegant fingers smooth the purring animal. She always wears gloves when gardening, and marinates in moisturiser every night. Like Cleopatra, she wishes she could bathe in milk. She knows she looks good for her age, but still bristles against seeming ‘invisible’ to anyone under thirty. She can remember wearing miniskirts, and going braless to parties, brave and ready for the freedoms the new birth control …

Me Mondays: Blood Into Ink #MeToo Writing Contest Honorable Mention: bone&silver/#MeToo

Originally posted on Whisper and the Roar:
Why had my cousin rung me 5 times in thirty minutes? I returned my phone to airplane mode, and pushed open the classroom door. But during the lesson, my attention kept being pulled back to the call record, even while I taught; why was my stomach knotting? The one hour dragged like mud, then I pressed redial. ‘It’s your Dad. He had a heart attack in Hawaii and…’ And is in hospital. Is fine. Will be fine. Or confined to a wheelchair at worst. ‘… and he died. I’m so sorry.’ Who took my knees away and punched me in the gut? Can I just curl up here and die on the street too? A passing cyclist wobbles and stops. ‘Are you OK?’ No. Yes. No. I can’t share this pain with you, leave me alone! Lying in bed that night, alone at home, with a silent waterfall streaming out of my eyes, drowning all those childhood snaps of kids on bikes, throwing snowballs, cuddling dogs. A black…