Shorty short story

The Mediterranean Sea plays a soothing sun drenched lullabye, rippling around the tattered collection of old wooden fishing boats that shelter haphazardly in the small cove, sending them bobbing gently like apples.

A woman lies basking on a miniature pier that stretches over the tranquil water. She lies on a towel that only partially protects her from the splinters that spike out of the weather-worn planks of the deck.

An apologetic phantom of a better time, the pier hints at a bygone era of prosperity. Now the cove possesses a reassuringly relaxing sense of neglect; the perfect spot to let the sun massage away any remnants of work day tension.

A battered paperback book lies un-touched next to her as she lets her mind drift to a place with no thoughts, no deadline and no worries. She finally achieves the complete absence of conscious thought that she has battled vainly to achieve in the weekly meditation classes she shoe-horns in between meetings.

Giggles, shrieks and splashes bring her thoughts crashing back to the cove. Tentatively opening her eyes she peers out at the sea through her over-sized sunglasses. A small group of children are playing in the water. Diving, squirming and dunking, they are finding joy in everything around them. A small boy with the dark colouring of a local is standing on one of the boats, sending it rocking from side to side with hoots of exultant laughter.

Idly the woman thinks about telling him to get off the boat, as it’s dangerous, but it’s a half hearted thought that quickly dissipates. Around the boat the other children dive as sleek and cheeky as sea lions, darting glances towards their leader balancing on the boat, eager for any crumbs of approval.

Feeling a bold sense of invisibility the woman watches the playful display. The blond and sun pinked children of tourists mix effortlessly with the dark haired local kids. The universal language of childhood banishing any need to understand each other’s spoken tongues.

A young voice causes the woman to visibly jump and she looks down to find one of the fair haired little sea lions hanging on the side of the pier. She feels slightly flustered, as if she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

“Hello, don’t I know you?” the girl repeats, looking at her as if she’s the slow kid in class.

“I don’t think so” she replies, trying to imbue as much adult authority as she can in to those 4 words.

“Aren’t you Hannah’s mum?” the girl insists undeterred

“No” the woman replies wishing the girl would go back to playing with the other kids. The intensity of her questioning is making her uncomfortable

“Take off your sunglasses” the girl orders in a tone that hints at Christmas trees sheltering her entire Santa wish-list. The woman obliges without a second thought. “Oh you’re right you’re not Hannah’s mum. Where are your children?”

The woman feels inexplicable guilt, as if she has somehow let this strange child down by not being able to supply additional playmates.

“I don’t have any children”

“Oh” the girl responds, releasing the deck and splashing back into the water. Without a “good-bye” or backward glance she is quickly back, another set of thrashing limbs in the spontaneously created marine playground.

The woman watches for a few more seconds, absently slipping the sun glasses back on her nose. She lies back down on the towel, determined to regain her meditative calm. But try as she might she continues to feel unsettled. She wants the strange emotions to go away. She wants to ignore the strange aching sensation in her womb.

Lying on the pier she turns her mind to her deadlines, her obligations and the to-do list that will inevitably be waiting for her when she gets back to the office. Slowly the reassuring knot of stress returns, burying any unwelcome emotions emanating from her lonely womb.

Sonnet for My Grandmother

I wrote the following poem many years ago after my grandmother died. She meant the world to me:

In memory of Krystyna Markiewicz

Are the gates of heaven a wonder to behold
Worth all the pain and suffering of this world?
Or is death as the unbelievers have foretold,
An end to all existence young or old?
Blank silence echoes my softly spoken question.
Perhaps this stillness is your bleak reply.
And yet my soul rejects this harsh conclusion
As I'll hug your essence to me 'til I die.
For in my life your life has ressurection
And in all people that your spirit touched.
They all remember you with deep affection
And in their memories you're never lost.
When I with tearful eyes your portrait see
I see the goodness I long to be in me.

Lovely Louis Lizard Catcher

Just a quick post update as I am supposed to be house cleaning & I keep coming up with reasons not to. Bad bad me!

Here is a photo of my lovely Louis, he looks like such a little angel in this shot. Ha! If only! He caught two lizards today and I managed to rescue both (but sadly not their tails) before he could kill them. Pretty good day except I have lizard tail blood trails on my cleaning up list. Those disembodied tails really do wriggle up a storm for ages.


I can not believe just how lazy I have been this weekend. Saying that, with a nasty stomach bug last week, maybe I needed to just keel over this weekend. I do feel more human now.


Really loving the twitter phenomenon, especially having discovered so many writers that I really admire are regular tweeters. Now I have daily doses of inspiration, which is all really helping with my creative endeavours.


I am working on a fantasy book that I started when I was a teenager. Saying that I am not really picking up where I left off. The characters have been fermenting in the back of my mind. They have always been lurking there and it feels really good to be actively spending time with them. It probably sounds nutty but they are very real to me. Before you call for the men in white coats, I know they aren't "actually" real, but they are great company. So I am starting that all over again.


There are another two stories I am also going to be developing. One is a kids story and the other is for adults. Both are set in real world but with magical dimensions to them. I have issues dealing with real + real. Too much real for me. My imagination doesn't work that way. I need to let it run.


Well I feel better for posting about my writing projects. Now that Louis & I aren't the only ones that know about them, it gives them more substance. What is it about writing that is just so magical? I hope that I always feel the magic in it.


Signing off for now.

Oops

Well so much for weekly updates, but I am getting back to blogging now and I really mean it. I had good reasons for the not blogging over the last 9 months. However, no excuses now and it will be a good place to talk about my writing. I've been writing up a storm recently and I've been loving it!

I have gone back to the novel idea I had almost 20 years ago (if you look up procrastination in the dictionary, there might be a picture of me, obviously depending on how recently you bought your dictionary). It is wonderful though as the characters have grown with me. I think I am ready to do them justice now. Mainly though, I'm writing for the sheer enjoyment of it.

Sometimes I feel stiffled by the lack of creativity in my day to day life, but surely I'm the one who is supposed to be putting it there? So here goes. I have the support of fabulous friends, a loving family and the devoted affection of my lovely cats (only 1 lives with me in Aus, but I know that Daisy & Jojo are happy with my Mum in London and I see them via Skype).

Plus living in the Lucky Country, it is amazing how anything seems possible. Maybe all the sunshine has gone to my head. Whatever it is, I like it!

Well that's my start for now. I will give updates on my writing, life, the universe and cute things Louis has done as & when they happen.

I have to go now as Louis is giving me a flirty look and I think that means that he wants me to blow a raspberry on this tummy. He's a very tolerant cat.