All The Pretty Things

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

‘One second,’ Wendy shouted. She pulled up her leggings, slipped on a Black Sabbath t-shirt and ran downstairs, quickly regretting not putting on a bra, her face just about surviving the ordeal.

              She opened the door ready to berate a couple of Jehovah’s witnesses, but was left speechless at the size of the bouquet hovering before her. A tiny woman popped her head around the flowers, ‘I believe these are for you,’ she handed them to Wendy, ‘you lucky thing.’

             A warm feeling came over Wendy, threatening her usually robust character. The only flowers she’d ever received were a tired bunch of dandelions she’d won in a wet t-shirt competition. In the absence of a vase, she filled a pint glass with water, and squeezed the flowers into their new home. They certainly brightened up the faded walls and tatty brown carpet.

             With sparkling eyes, she opened the accompanying envelope, but felt a sense of betrayal as soon as she started reading, ‘My dear Imelda, someone like you deserves all the pretty things. All my love, Jimmy.’

              Wendy let out a heavy sigh. Of course the flowers weren’t for her. Only pretty people deserved pretty things. Still, they looked nice, ‘sorry Imelda,’ she said to the flowers, ‘they’re mine now.’

              An hour later, the door knocked again. Wendy tutted because she’d been napping. She was going to a gig in a few hours and she wanted to be fully conscious for it. She stuck her feet into bat shaped slippers and stomped to the door, flinging it open with more force than she’d meant.

             ‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ said the hairy 6ft bloke standing before her, ‘but I believe some flowers were delivered here that were meant for someone else. You wouldn’t happen to know what I’m talking about, would you?’

              Typical, thought Wendy, ‘one second.’ She pushed the door to, and when she returned she shoved the pint of flowers into the hands of her unexpected guest, ‘they’re too good for me anyway.’

              He gave her a quizzical look, ‘why would you say that? a hot chick like you should have all the pretty things of this world.’

              She couldn’t help but smile, with the right words, he’d broken down her usually hard to scale defences. ‘Don’t you have a girlfriend, Jimmy?’ She rocked back on her heels, ‘Imelda, isn’t it?’

              ‘Imelda’s my ex-mother-in-law,’ he chuckled, ‘she not been well and…’

              ‘Sorry,’ Wendy blushed, ‘I’m good at putting my foot in it.’

              ‘Easy mistake I guess. How did you know my name?’

              ‘I read the card.’

             He nodded to her t-shirt, ‘Sabbath fan, hey? Hold these a minute.’ He gave the flowers back to Wendy and opened his jacket, revealing his own Sabbath shirt. ‘They’re playing tonight.’

              ‘I’m going,’ she said.

              ‘Me too, perhaps I’ll see you there?’

              She handed back the flowers, he put up his hand, ‘keep them,’ he winked, ‘there’s more than one person in this world who deserves pretty things.’

              Wendy smiled.

Surprise

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

‘What’s this?’ Eddie returned the Christmas decorations to the loft and picked up an unwrapped present he’d found tucked away in a corner. He blew off the dust and coughed. There was no name on it, just a ‘K’, which meant it must have been for his wife, Kayla, the only ‘K’ in the family.

         Obviously he’d forgotten about it. Had it meant to be for this year, or a past Christmas? The dust suggested it had been there for a long time.

              He had form for buying early gifts and forgetting about them. A few years ago he found a present in his boot that hadn’t even been wrapped, but it had worked in his favour. It turns out women don’t appreciate anti-wrinkle products as gifts because a few days later, an advert for an anti-wrinkle cream came on, she’d pinched her eyebrows together and said, ‘Imagine receiving that for Christmas.’ Eddie shuddered at the thought of his close call with that one.  

              December sun shone through the landing window, making visible the dust particles drifting like snow. He squinted at the sudden brightness.

              ‘Kayla,’ he said, bounding down the stairs. He paused at the bottom to catch his breath, he wasn’t getting any younger. ‘I’ve got something for you.’ He couldn’t remember what he’d brought her, but it had all the feels of a lovely piece of jewellery. Kayla would love it when she saw it, and it was bound to give him a few brownie points.

              ‘The answer’s no,’ came the short sharp reply of his attentive wife. ‘I’m too busy and I’m too tired.’

              He found her in the kitchen in her apron and rubber gloves, washing the dishes, bubbles spilling over the bowl. He leaned against the breakfast bar, arms out in front of him, ‘I think you’ll like this.’

              She turned around and saw him holding a present, a rare smile spreading across her face. ‘What is it?’ She pulled off the gloves and wiped her hands down her apron.

                He let out a loud breath and handed her the present, ‘open it and you’ll find out.’

              ‘Looks like something special,’ she said, bouncing from foot to foot. ‘Shall we dim the lights and sit by the fire?’ Her eyes sparkled.

              He felt a tingling in his limbs, he was definitely on a promise. They shared a look as she gently pulled the wrapping from the package, eyes wide as she lifted the lid. ‘Oh,’ she said, frowning as she picked up a note. Eddie rubbed his chin, his mouth suddenly dry.

              What had she opened?  

              Kayla read out loud, ‘Katrina my naughty little minx, someone as beautiful as you deserves something beautiful to wear.’ She pulled a beautiful red heart on a golden chain from the box, her gazed fixed on her husband, ‘you’ve spelt my name wrong.’

              Eddie gasped.

The ‘K’ was for Katrina, how could he have forgotten? His heart raced as he remembered his affair with the buxom blonde with skin so fair, almost ghost like. It happened so long ago, he’d put her out of his mind completely and yet here she was, back from the past, haunting him. ‘It was…I, a…’

              A tear dripped down Kayla’s face. He reached out for her but she pulled back, her sparkling eyes now red. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, besides, what would he say? Sorry didn’t seem enough. But he had to say something, the truth perhaps?  He swallowed hard, ‘honey, there’s something I need to tell you.’

Believe and Become

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

When Christina Mathers stepped inside the church for the first time in her life, she wasn’t expecting to feel…what was that feeling? Hopeful.

            She was only there to watch her friend’s daughter Holly perform in the Christmas nativity. Holly was a Christmas star and was waving frantically at her mother, Dee, who waved back as Christina’s gaze wandered to the stained glass windows and glistening fairy lights. Her nose twitched as she breathed in the scent of burning candles.

              She’d never been excited by the Christmas season, just couldn’t see the point. Being single and never having had children of her own gave her even less reason to celebrate. She had family, and although she loved her sister, she struggled with her passive aggressive manner that could only be managed in small doses. And her parents argued about the same things every year, how the tree should be decorated, how the turkey should be cooked, who made it on to the Christmas card list. She felt like she didn’t belong.

              Christina hated Christmas traditions altogether. They were stupid and pointless, but the one she hated the most was these blasted nativity plays where children dress up to act out something they probably didn’t believe in.

              No amount of mulled wine, mince pies or carolling could put her in the festive mood. Christmas day was just another day, and she couldn’t wait for it to be over. She slouched in the pew with her arms folded, and sighed.

              ‘Cheer up, you’re going to love it, I bet by the end you’ll be smiling.’

              ‘Dee, I love you, that’s why I’m here, but telling someone to cheer up has never cheered anyone up.’

              The vicar, who looked about 98, stood at the front and hushed everyone as the play was about to start. Around 30 children in various costumes broke into an interesting rendition of Oh Little Town of Bethlehem. Christina shut her eyes and yawned, but was quickly elbowed awake by Dee. ‘Ouch,’ she said rubbing her arm. Sitting up straight, she watched as Mary and Joseph took to the stage.

              ‘The time came for Mary to give birth,’ narrated Miss Cain.

              But no one could find the baby Jesus.

              Mary glared at Joseph with her hands on her hips and mouthed something to him. Joseph glanced around the church before raising his arms and shrugging. Mary stamped her foot, Miss Cain released a heavy sigh and everyone laughed, including Christina who found herself intrigued by the whole thing.

              ‘Everybody look for the baby Jesus,’ Miss Cain said through clenched teeth.

              And that’s when chaos erupted.

            Children ran around like little wound up toys all bumping into each other. Two angels knocked heads, the donkey skidded on some hay knocking over a king in his wake. A little girl cried, another shouted, ‘I need a wee,’ over and over again. Holly was still waving, ‘hello mummy,’ she called over the chaos.  

            Miss Cain hurried around the altar, hair stuck to her sweaty forehead, trying to calm her students, and she was regaining control, until a shepherd and an angel shouted out, ‘I found the baby Jesus,’ at the same time.

            ‘No I did,’ said the angel.

            ‘I found him’ said the shepherd.

            They tugged at the doll, pulling and stretching its arms and legs till eventually they both let go and the baby Jesus went flying up in the air.   

            The congregation broke into laughter and despite herself, Christina laughed too. ‘Is it always like this?’

              ‘Every year,’ said Dee, ‘told you you’d smile.’

              ‘Back to your places,’ shouted Miss Cain, her voice rising in pitch.

              The laughter continued, but speaking out amongst the clamour, a little boy with red cheeks and a squeaky voice said, ‘everyone who believes that Jesus is the Christ has become a child of God.’

            The play continued as if no one had heard it, but Christina had. Wow! She didn’t understand why she felt a stirring in her heart or a tingle over her skin. She felt stuck in a moment while the rest of the play moved on until finally, her bubble was broken by the sound of Away in A Manger. Even Christina knew this one, and she was pretty sure the lyric wasn’t “no crisps for a bed.”

            The children had a very forgiving audience and received a standing ovation. Christina remained in her seat, the words still on her mind, believe and become. It sounded like a good deal. Amongst the mistakes and the mayhem, her best friend at her side, she could suddenly see a meaning to the season, and it was a meaning she felt she could get on board with. Perhaps there was somewhere she belonged after all.

Teddy

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

It was too good to be true. Zara hadn’t had a successful trip out since Emily realised she could say words and get out of her pushchair. And today was no different. It was going well right up until they passed a dirty old teddy in the middle of the road. Zara had planned to walk straight past it but of course Emily had spotted it. ‘Teddy,’ she said.

            ‘That’s right,’ Zara agreed, ‘teddy.’

            She walked on hoping that that was the end of it, but Emily was a strong-willed little girl. Like mother like daughter. And deep down she knew where this was going.

            ‘Teddy, Mama, teddy,’ Emily said more urgently.

            ‘I know Emily, but it’s not yours, we must leave it here in case the owner comes back for it.’

            ‘Mine. Teddy mine.’ Emily arched her back and tried to free her arms from the constraints of the straps. Zara stopped and pushed her back down. An Emily tantrum was imminent. Zara had seen this many times before but she was never prepared. She was about to move again when Emily let out the most ear-piercing scream Zara had ever heard. She was sure that Emily’s screams went up few decibels with each new tantrum. It echoed down the cobbled street. It bounced off the walls and off the ground and spread across the rooftops. The whole town had probably heard the commotion. ‘My teddy, Mama. My teddy.’

            Emily kicked her legs and thrashed her arms; the pushchair shook from side to side. Tears rolled from her eyes and into her little mouth. Zara gave in as she so often did; anything for a quiet life. She walked back to the teddy and picked it up, wincing at the thought of all the germs that had probably made a home in its fur. She shook it off and gave it a wipe with her sleeve. The teddy’s face was familiar. Didn’t Emily have one like this? Didn’t it have a missing eye though? Then the label caught her eye because Emily’s name was written on it. Zara couldn’t believe it, this was Emily’s teddy. She lost it a few weeks ago on this very route. She’d spent ages retracing her steps to find it but it was lost, and now here it was. She’d forgotten all about it. Poor Emily she thought; now riddled with guilt that she hadn’t listened to her daughter. No wonder she was so upset. She handed the teddy to Emily whose tantrum had now reduced to a sniffle, but she was smiling. ‘My teddy,’ she said as she squeezed him tight.

            Zara was relieved it was all over, another tantrum she could tick off the list. But as she was about to move off she felt a tap on her shoulder.

            ‘Um, excuse me.’ Zara turned to see a woman standing in front of her, she was holding a little girls hand. ‘I think you’ve picked up my daughter’s teddy, thank you for finding it.’

            Zara looked from the woman, to the teddy, to Emily and imagined the shit storm that was about to occur; and she ran.

Flash Fiction – The Edge

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

It’s been hard. His life is almost over now, but mine has been over since he got the diagnosis. I can’t do it anymore. ‘Come on, love,’ I say, ‘let’s get you wrapped up; we’re going for a drive.’

            I tighten his scarf, put a blanket over his lap and tuck him in tight. All these little things I do for him that he never remembers. I thought I could cope, and when I couldn’t cope I thought I’d just get used to it. But none of those things have happened. He hasn’t known me for the last two years. Everyday I’m a stranger. It’s not fair on either of us. I wipe a tear from my cheek and cringe at the lines under my fingers. I don’t remember getting them, it’s like one day nothing, and then they were there.

            I push his chair into the back of the car and drive to our favourite place. ‘Where are you taking me,’ he says.

            ‘Nearly there, love.’

            We always loved it at the top of this hill. There’s a bench near the edge that looks out to sea. We used to sit here and listen to the waves crashing against the rocks below. He points at the bench as though he’s remembering something, but it will be gone again in a moment. This is where it all started, our first date, our first kiss, where he proposed and where it will end. The wind tries to steal his scarf; I tuck it into his coat. He shivers.

            ‘Home,’ he says.

            ‘Not yet, love.’

            I push his chair toward the bench but this time I don’t sit, I walk straight past until his chair rests on the brink. I wipe away another tear, ‘I love you,’ I whisper as I push him over the edge.

Flash Fiction – Desperate Measures

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

Liam wasn’t sure how it had come to this. One minute he was hosting a meeting with his colleagues, the next he had his hands around Andy’s throat. It took precisely one second for him to vacate his chair, punch Andy to the floor and pin him down. Everyone agreed that this was unusual behaviour for Liam, he was always so calm.

            Of course he regretted it as soon as he did it, but he needed that money. He looked at his colleagues pleadingly, hoping they would step in and stop this lunacy but they just sat there, jaws hanging, staring. Liam tried to move his hands but it was as though they were stuck with glue. Any longer, Andy would be dead; he’d be a murderer, and then what? But Andy’s knee collided with Liam’s privates knocking him back and rolling onto the floor holding his crown jewels.

            Andy stood and straightened his tie, ‘what the hell’s wrong with you?’ he said, ‘I’m calling the police.’ He stormed out of the room.

            What was wrong with him? He knew he’d over-reacted, but desperate times call for desperate measures, before he could stop himself he shouted, ‘if I see you again, I’ll kill you.’

            He pulled himself up and swiped his hand across his forehead and looked up to find a whole audience had entered the room while he’d been possessed. And then another thought crossed his mind; witnesses. ‘Fuck,’ is all he said.

            The crowd parted as his director approached. ‘It’s probably best if you go home.’

            Liam took a slow walk of shame out of the door. The cold air hit him like a slap in the face. He felt the first drops of rain that would soon be a storm. He lifted his head to the sky and thought about what had just happened, the news there would be no bonus, the fight, the witnesses. Would Andy call the police? A worse thought crossed his mind; he had to tell his wife that the money was gone.

He made his way home.  

Flash Fiction – Broken

Posted on by Marie Lott - Writer

‘What are you arguing about?’ asked Lilly. She’d noticed it a lot lately. One minute they were a happy family, and then it seemed her parents didn’t like each other anymore.

            ‘We’re not arguing,’ her father had said. He pulled her in for a cuddle. Lilly loved cuddles with her dad; it was warm and cosy, her safe space. It never usually lasted this long though. When he released her he held her hands and looked into her eyes, Lilly wondered if he was starting a staring contest. ‘I love you, Lilly, don’t ever forget that.’

            Lilly giggled, ‘I know, you tell me everyday, Daddy.’

            She let go of his hands and ignoring her mother, she ran out to the garden. Unlike the atmosphere inside, the garden welcomed her; the flowers smiled, the trees waved, the insects kept her company. Outside, she felt wanted.

She sat cross legged on the grass and hummed a tune while she busied herself making daisy chains. For a moment the only sounds were the breeze and a little blackbird calling out for some attention. Then she heard her mother shout, making Lilly jump.

            ‘If you’re going to leave then go, we don’t need you, me and Lilly will be fine without you.’

            Leave? Lilly didn’t understand. Her mother was wrong, Lilly wouldn’t be fine without him, she needed him. She left her daisy chain and marched up the garden path, she had to make them see. A door slammed and she knew it was too late. Her walk turned into a sprint and then words came out of her mouth that she hadn’t planned on saying, ‘Daddy,’ she called as she entered the house, ‘don’t go. Mummy’s wrong, I do need you Daddy.’ But he had gone.

Tears escaped from her eyes and she turned to her mother for comfort, but her mother had none to offer. She was sat at the table with an opened bottle of wine. Lilly recognised it as the drink that made her parents happy. She’d never seen them drink it at breakfast though. Her mother picked up the glass and Lilly said, ‘I hope you feel better after that, Mummy.’ Her mother looked at her as she pressed the glass to her lips.