@jillsted
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Congratulations, Sandra. Loved your entry, which captured the mind and voice of that little girl so well. Look forward to your May competition challenge!
Thank you for the kind comment on my own entry.
Thank you, Terrie for setting this challenge which stretched creativity to meet the four word inclusion criteria.
Thank you, too, for your thoughtful comments on both entries.
METAMORPHOSIS
Vulnerable, estranged from her family, unexpectedly out of work and living in poverty in Aberdeen, the Granite City, it was easy for her to understand now why she had been taken in by him. He was extremely charming and persuasive. She’d moved into his luxury apartment soon after their first chance meeting.
The first time he hit her then apologised profusely, blaming stag party drink, she forgave him, desperate to make the relationship work. The second time, she managed to come to her senses, recognising that he had been particularly subtle in his coercive control. She had, after all, studied Psychology at university and had been working in a hostel with victims until the funding had been cut. She should have known better.
‘What a fool I’ve been,’ Vanessa thought ruefully. ‘I’m definitely worth more than this.’
The next time he came home worse for wear, she waited until he was deep in a drunken stupor and silently packed a bag. She hesitated before opening the drawer in which he kept cash. She was not proud, but tried to justify her actions thinking of all he had put her through.
Walking through the grey, rainy streets in the early hours towards the train station, the guilt lingered, but she needed to escape to somewhere he could not easily find her. London seemed the best option. It should be simple to remain anonymous, find menial work and some basic accommodation until she could get her head and life together again.
As the train hurtled towards the capital, she sat back and took a deep breath, feeling safe at last. She delved into her bag for the card which showed the ‘portrait‘ of Psyche. Her friend had sent it to congratulate her on her degree. It had become her talisman. She loved that Psyche’s name meant both ‘a breath’ and ‘butterfly‘, whimsically feeling some sort of spiritual connection, as her own name also meant butterfly.
She fingered the card now, trusting that it would bring her luck eventually in finding a new position in the field of psychology. She had been wasting her talents and had almost wasted her life with that man.
Putting the card back into her bag, she felt another card and pulled it out. It was the one he had sent her after their first meeting. Florid words and yet seemingly so sincere, making her feel loved and important to someone again.
How wrong she had been. She decided that, at the first opportunity, she would safely ignite it; a ritual symbolising her new beginning: her own metamorphosis.
433 words
Thank you, Janette for stepping in and for your kind comments. (Only bit of reality in mine is that we did get married on The Ides of March a very long time ago and are still here to tell the tale!)
All the other entries were so imaginative, well written and enjoyable to read.
Congratulations, Terrie – yours was very clever and truly mad! Wonder if the April theme is going to be equally mad … Jill
Madness on the Ides of March
493 words excluding title
All those years ago she had been teased relentlessly by friends about her wedding date, the Ides of March. ‘Beware!’ they had warned her. ‘You must be mad,’ they said, laughing.
But here the happy couple of that March day were, celebrating a Big O anniversary and enjoying a holiday in the Caribbean. They had arrived a fortnight previously and she thought again that she must be quite mad, as she was not a strong swimmer and a little afraid of the sea.
However, she had joined her husband each morning taking Scuba diving lessons ready for today. Their small group of beginners was going to be escorted down to a shipwreck quite a long way from the shore.
The lessons had given her some confidence it was true, but she still shivered at the thought. They were waiting at a beach cafe in the hot sunshine drinking coffee. She felt her heart beat quicken when her husband spoke.
‘Time to get going, so drink up.’
He was incredibly eager and not at all fearful. She envied him his gung ho attitude and his enjoyment of a few extreme sports back home. But she had promised; had taken up his dare when he reassured her it would be a wonderful way to celebrate and that she would never regret it.
All kitted up and having listened intently to the safety guidance, the group was guided towards and deep down to the shipwreck. It was rotting, but she could see that it had been a magnificent vessel and hoped that the sailors had survived. The colourful fish and other marine life teemed around the wreckage and the sight was more wondrous that she could ever have imagined.
Briefly, a thought crossed her mind that sometimes the maddest of ideas could lead to the most wonderful of experiences.
Back on dry land later that day and refreshed from a siesta, the couple sat imbibing pre-dinner champagne. The sunset was particularly brilliant on that Ides of March and they sat in silence soaking up the view.
Her husband gave a contented sigh. ‘So, my idea was a good one?’
‘Oh! Yes. I thought I was mad to agree, with my poor swimming skills and my fears, but I didn’t want to disappoint you and I am really grateful that I’ve had that once in a lifetime experience alongside you.’
He raised a quizzical eyebrow, ‘Once in a lifetime? You mean that you don’t want to repeat this on our next anniversary; here or somewhere else equally exotic?’
She noticed the grin he was trying to suppress and just batted his arm playfully.
After a special anniversary dinner, they were sitting on their balcony looking out at the moonlit sea when her husband took her hand and suggested that, if not more Scuba diving then perhaps she might like to try water skiing with him next year.
She laughed. ‘Now that really is a mad idea!’
Congratulations, Athelstone – well deserved. Peeked at your March challenge and looking forward to meeting it. Sandra, I loved your intriguing extract from what I presume is a finished novel or one in progress? Thank you Libby for the February competition which I enjoyed entering and for your kind comments. Very interested in your interpretation of the ending, which seems to have added an unintended intrigue to my work! In my mind, Lydia was doing everything with love and a with a sadness of heart because her mother had only a short time left to live, but I can see where you are coming from! Jill x
LOVE
399 words
Isabel woke from her nap to be greeted by the sweet scent of freesias. Sunlight was flooding into the bedroom she now occupied in her daughter’s home. Isabel was very old and frail, but still mentally astute and the scent of the delicate flowers which she had always loved set off a raft of thoughts about love.
She associated freesias with love because they had been her flowers of choice for her wedding bouquet and headdress. These on her bedside table were golden yellow, just as those had been. Lydia was such a thoughtful person. Isabel was long widowed and missed the golden freesias her husband gave on their anniversaries.
She mused on how lucky she was to always have had a loving family around her since birth. That mutual love had sustained her through many of life’s troubles and bereavements and she knew it would do so until the end.
She had been an introspective child and suddenly remembered standing one evening looking up at the sky and wondering what was the purpose of life. An inner voice told her it was Love and she had kept this belief. Love was an important emotion in all its forms and Isabel liked the way the Ancient Greek Philosophers had so many words to describe it.
She considered now that Agape/Unconditional Love might be the most important when it came to family relationships and friendships. She giggled softly, reflecting that Eros/Romantic Love had felt the most important in those heady, early days of courtship and marriage.
Then came the deep maternal love as she held her firstborn in her arms after a lengthy labour.
‘I must lighten up’, she silently chided herself. ‘I don’t want Lydia coming in to find me crying.’ So she shuffled herself upright and began to think of all the things she had often said ‘I love…” about.
‘I love chocolate; my baby doll; our new puppy; reading; writing; swimming in the sea; gardening; walking…’ the list was endless, but the last three which entered her head reminded her that she could no longer participate in these activities and made her sad.
Just then, saving tears from flowing, Lydia entered her room with her medications.
She smiled and told her mother once more just how much she loved her before administering the drugs to make her more comfortable.
Isabel smiled contentedly.
Congratulations, Libby – I, too, winced but enjoyed the humour in your story. I enjoyed Sandra’s offering also and even picked up a discarded copy of Anna Karenina after the mention, but could not get into it I fear. Thank you,Terrie for setting the challenge and for the kind comments. Mine was fiction but did have echos of much earlier life experiences and it was nice to remember as I wrote. Now looking forward to the February challenge. Jillx
Winds of Change 460 words
The New Year came in accompanied by a furious gale. Undeterred, Eva wrapped up warm and left her husband sleeping off the New Year’s Eve excesses.
She sat on the bench up on the hill which overlooked the northern town where she had lived all her life to this point. As she mused upon all the happy and sadder times, a flutter within caused her to lay a gentle hand upon her stomach. She smiled to herself.
‘Winds of change,’ she murmured and closed her eyes, needing to capture this moment; this place firmly in her mind’s eye. Tomorrow, she and Danny would lock up their small terraced house and venture forth upon the first stage of their new adventure – a nondescript chain hotel near to the airport.
The hotel on the Mediterranean island was, in complete contrast, a riot of colour and festivity and the couple relaxed in the sunshine looking out over the blue sea and talked of the opportunities this next phase in their life together would bring. After a week, they moved into the bungalow the company had provided as part of Danny’s prestigious promotion package. They set about nest building.
A few months later, a glass of sparkling water by her side, Eva lay back in her chair on the bungalow’s terrace and let out a contented sigh. After the heat of the day, the balmy breeze was very welcome.
‘Winds of change,’ she mused once more as the image of that northern hillside came unbidden into her mind. As if in agreement, her unborn baby stirred vigorously.
‘Not long now, baby, before we meet you and begin yet another chapter,’ she whispered.
Danny called to her as he returned home from work. ‘Come on, lazybones! Time to get changed or we will be late for the company’s gala dinner.’
Reluctantly, Eva roused herself and went inside to shower and change.
Since arriving, although Danny worked hard at his new job and she had occupied herself making the bungalow into a real home for them and their unborn child, her life had seemed one long round of formal dinners, dances and wifely excursions to the beach for group picnics and to historical sites to gain insights into present and past culture of the island. She was feeling exhausted, even though she had help from a motherly local woman with the household chores. She sometimes longed for the quieter pace of life they had lived in England and hoped that, when the baby arrived, she would be able to excuse herself honourably from some of the events at least.
One month later, Eva and Danny stood hand in hand, smiling down at newborn Dawn, as a warm breeze filtered in through the patio doors of the bungalow.
Well done,Terrie. Look forward to your challenge for January. Enjoyed each entry very much. Thank you, Athelstone for your kind comment on my contribution, which was fun to create! Wishing you all a Very Happy and Healthy, Creative New Year. Jill x
Nativity Mystery – A lighthearted tale
540 words excluding title
Miss Farthing sighed wearily and then screamed ‘Be quiet!’ She could stand it no longer. This was the last rehearsal of the Nativity play at Priory Primary School before the performance in front of parents and governors and it was utter chaos. Some children had swapped costumes. Now shepherds were wise men and vice versa. Joseph and Mary had exchanged head dresses as a joke. No-one was keeping to their designated places and there was much giggling. The supposedly sensible narrator – a boy in his final year – was nowhere to be seen.
The shock of hearing the usually calm Miss Farthing shouting so loudly did bring quiet to the assembly and a shame faced narrator from behind a side curtain.
The teacher adopted her sternest voice to bring them to order. She almost pleaded, but not quite, even though she had been near to tears. They took a break to calm down and to give the mis-dressers time to change into their own costumes. The narrator managed to stop his hiccups which had been brought on by his stifled laughter.
Finally, all were back on stage and this time the dress rehearsal went smoothly and Miss Farthing regained hope that all would be well on the afternoon.
All was to go well with the play itself, but Miss Farthing could not have foreseen the strange happening at the end of the afternoon.
Parents, governors and teachers filed into the hall on Friday afternoon, the last day of school before the holidays. They took their seats – rather hard wooden chairs – and settled down, anticipating an uplifting performance.
Behind the curtains Miss Farthing was giving a pep talk as the children took their allotted places. The baby doll was nestled in the wooden crib. Joseph stood proudly beside a seated Mary, who wore a beatific smile quite different from her usual impish demeanour.
Miss Farthing exited into the wings as the curtains went up. There was a round of quiet applause from the audience, because the scene on stage was indeed enchanting.
All went splendidly and there was great applause as the Nativity play came to an end. Then Miss Farthing stepped forward to the front of the stage and invited the audience to join in a Christmas carol to end the afternoon on a jolly note. The lyric sheets for Jingle Bells were under their chairs.
The children stood up, Mary cradling the doll in her arms. The music began – Mrs Lovatt at the piano and Mr Grimes wielding bells to ring at the appropriate moments.
More applause and laughter before a moment of silence into which a baby’s cry penetrated. The school head had requested that only adults should attend. Miss Farthing scratched her head. The crying was coming from behind her. She turned and there in the crib was a baby.
She lifted the tiny boy to show everyone and, from the back of the hall came a cry of astonishment.
‘That’s my little Henry! How did he get there? I left him at home with my mother!’
She dashed forward to retrieve the child.
No-one could answer her question, but all agreed it was a Christmas Miracle or perhaps just a Christmas Mystery which would remain unsolved.
Congratulations, Athelstone. I look forward to your December challenge. I enjoyed the other two November fireside tales very much too. Thank you, Terrie for setting an interesting challenge, which brought out the Grandma in me, although I have grandsons not a granddaughter! Jill x
Forest Adventure
Grandma lifted a pyjama clad Ellie onto her lap and they both warmed their hands by the roaring log fire for a few moments. Grandma smiled down at Ellie and asked if she was sitting comfortably. Ellie nodded and snuggled into her Grandma’s warm, plump body a little closer.
‘Then I’ll begin,’ said Grandma in the time honoured tradition of the storyteller.
‘Once upon a time, on the edge of the Great Forest lived a little girl named Eliza in a cottage she shared with her mother and her father, who was a charcoal maker. He would leave each day to work somewhere in the middle of the forest.’
Ellie asked ‘Is charcoal like the coal we sometimes use on this fire?’
‘It’s similar, dear.’ Ellie seemed satisfied with this reply and so Grandma carried on with her story.
‘Eliza was not yet of school age and so she stayed at home helping her mother. But Eliza had no friends nearby to play with and, one day while her mother took a nap, she ventured into the forest to find her father to watch him work.
The trees were tall and looming and Eliza was feeling nervous in the gloom. Nevertheless, she carried on with determination. She decided to turn left, hoping there would be some clue as to where her father worked; the smell of smoke maybe. Suddenly, the trees thinned out and she saw ahead a sunlit glade. Exhausted, she threw herself down onto the soft grass and fell asleep.
Eliza was woken by the sound of tinkling laughter. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. There surrounding her; looking at her with curiosity were six tiny fairies, who were exactly like those in one of her picture books. She gasped and the fairies laughed again. Without speaking the six fairies took hold of Eliza’s arms and legs and pulled her up. She towered above them, so the fairies cast a spell. Eliza shrank to their size. She was alarmed, but then remembered Alice in Wonderland shrinking and having adventures.
Soon, Eliza and the six fairies were dancing and playing games. It seemed to last forever. She felt so happy with her new friends.
But she must find her father who would take her back home. Her mother would be worried to find Eliza gone. Somehow, the fairies knew what Eliza needed. They lifted her up and flew above the trees to where Eliza’s father worked. They cast another spell to restore her to her normal size. Then they flew away.
Startled to see his daughter, but knowing better than to upset her by asking questions, he took her gently by the hand and led her safely back to the cottage and her mother. The three hugged warmly and Eliza vowed never to venture alone into the forest again.’
Ellie yawned and in a sleepy voice said, ‘I love a happy ending Grandma.’
‘And I love you, darling Ellie.’
498 words excluding title.
I enjoyed all of my co writers’ Halloween offerings and congratulate you all. Special congratulations to Terrie for her spine chilling story – a worthy winner. And thank you, Terrie for the new November challenge which is apt for the season and I think will be enjoyable to try to rise to!
Thanks, also, to Libby for your considered and comprehensive judgement. Jill x
(Apologies – my weak attempt at humour!)
HALLOWEEN IN NEVERSAY VILLAGE
395 words including title.
Every 31st October the Neversay villagers put on a grand Halloween party complete with disco, buffet, games and treats for the children. It saved, they decided long ago, being bothered in their homes by naughty trick and treaters and the children loved being allowed to stay up until after midnight.
Every 31st October in Neversay at midnight the lights were dimmed in the village hall and the atmosphere grew eerie with only the candlelight from the pumpkin lanterns casting shadows everywhere. It was then that the villagers wondered aloud whether this was the year they would see the ghostly figure of The Lady in Grey who was rumoured to wander the village at the onset of All Saints Day. They never had.
She, so the story went, had been the Lady of the Manor and was a virtuous benefactress, sometimes taking orphans into the Manor House, much to her husband’s displeasure. One Halloween, he lost his temper completely and murdered her. The villagers in those far off days were appalled and gave her the best funeral they could with cash mustered up between them from their meagre incomes. Meanwhile, the Lord languished in a grim jail in the nearby town and would until his execution.
Now, at noon, the ladies were busy putting the final touches to the decorations. Work complete, the team left for lunch.
The party that evening went without mishaps and was enjoyed by all. The usual whispers went around at midnight in the shadows cast by the lanterns. Even the very tired children joined in the speculation. Finally, the party goers left to wend their way home through the still gas lit narrow streets. Most were disappointed that for yet another year The Lady in Grey proved elusive and, they had to admit, just a myth.
However, old Tom and his wife Mabel were trailing behind everyone and stopped to rest on a bench. They gasped, for before them, gliding as if on air, was the spectre of The Lady in Grey. The vision lasted for only a few moments before she disappeared in the direction of the Manor House.
Tom was a bit of a wag. He turned to Mabel. ‘Well, my dear, we must never say never in Neversay!’
Laughing heartily, they continued on their way nurturing an eerie tale to tell their great-grandchildren.
1st October 2025 and results time. Thank you Libby, Knicks and Athelstone for your beautifully written and atmospheric entries, such a pleasure to read. All worthy winners which immersed me in the diverse scenarios completely. It has been hard to choose one winner to take over the baton and set us a challenge for this new month.
Libby, as a writer living on the edge of The Fens, your first paragraph really resonated with me and I loved the scientific details and your later incorporation of cultural issues (Sanskrit/India). So true, too, about the ‘switch to Autumn is a turn towards words’, as is your last sentence. A clever and interesting essay.
Knicks, you took me into a quite different world which was intriguing from the offset and continued on to be a perfect portrayal of the character’s feelings and of the situation he was in. You covered Imposter Syndrome, writing, music and celebrity so well. I was pleased that the ending promised a happier and improved existence for him once he had experienced the unexpected kindness.
Athelstone, I could almost feel that icy wind! A third well written, atmospheric piece where I became immersed in the fictional Wexton and the glimpse into the lives of the two likeable characters. The Artist, so pragmatic and wise who was obviously still living life to the fullest, helping others produce art. The Walker, so sympathetic and yet, in the end, I sensed, very willing to take The Artist’s advice and make his own new start.
Well done all of you. As I said the choice was difficult, but I am going to hand the baton over to Libby, as I hope all we fellow writers will be turning to words more and more as we begin Autumn and have our own new beginnings, whilst looking forward to Spring!
Congratulations, Libby. I wonder what writing challenge for October you are going to create for us? Jill x
Hello fellow writers. Gentle reminder of ‘New Beginnings’ challenge for September 2025! Now over half of month has passed and no entries. I do so look forward to reading your excellent writing… If you wish, the challenge could just be ‘Beginning’ or ‘The Beginning of…’ Jill x
Goodness! When I was eventually allowed to log in! I came here fully expecting Janette’s entry to be declared the winner and so was surprised that I have been declared. Thank you Sandra. Yes, our paths in life do seem to have some parallels… Congratulations to Janette too, as I loved the way she told her story and the title!
Now to work out how to set the competition for September and, more importantly, to think of a theme that might appeal … Bear with me! Jill x
UNION: An account just touching upon rivalry.
This is a tale of two halves: two families from which the son of one and a daughter of the other meet, fall in love and marry, thus acquiring Mothers-in-Law and Fathers-in-Law.
This is part of my own life story and that of my husband of fifty-six years; David.
Our relationship began as a teenage romance; I was seventeen and he a year older. It was on a blind date that we first met, introduced by mutual friends. So young and yet we intuited that ours would be a life partnership.
This was in the Sixties, a decade of many cultural changes and technological advances. Mini skirts, flared trousers, Beatlemania and the first man on the moon. It was a decade of hope and we embraced it and held hope for our future.
If my memory serves me correctly, the first time I met my future Mother-in-Law and Father-in-Law was at a small family gathering in David’s home, which was a modest terraced house in a city. Here, his Welsh parents had moved before his birth with their first born child: a daughter. I was later to learn of their previous hardship days and was humbled.
However, on this particular day, I felt more daunted to meet them and several other family members all at once. The youngest was just a baby and I was relieved that she took the role of centre of attention.
I need not have been nervous, for my future In-Laws were friendly and welcoming and seemed to like me. David and I were not engaged at that point, but were ‘going steady’ and I think it was assumed that we would marry.
His father I found to be a quiet, unassuming man, whilst his mother was talkative and very sociable. After this first meeting, we began to form a close relationship.
Like all relationships it would have its moments of frustration and irritation!
Time to go back to my own family home, and as David drove me the several miles, we both agreed that the afternoon had gone well.
Forgive poetic license, because the meeting I am about to describe, David with his future Father-in-Law was not actually the first for he had met my parents previously. This was the occasion of the then traditional formal asking of a daughter’s hand in marriage and was definitely a daunting ritual for my now husband. It was a necessity though before a formal engagement could be announced.
My father, as is evident, agreed and he and my mother expressed their happiness. David was to become like a son to them.
However, I sensed that my lovely father was upset that the second of his three daughters was soon not to be ‘his alone’.
Birds fly the nest; time flies by; families grow; losses and troubles occur. Life is not a bed of roses. But those first meetings proved a strong foundation for our union within an extended family.
492 words excluding title.
Ok ~ think I have posted my congratulations and comments and thanks on Seagreen’s wall. Silly me! However, all heartfelt, so thanks for prompt and excellent entries from fellow Denizens…
On another personal note regarding positivity, (forgive me) my consultant had
good news this week as a scan had shown that the treatment is doing its job. He and we are delighted and he agreed that positivity helps the body help itself so to speak. Thank you for the previous good wishes from Denizens. Jill x
I began this blog by citing how Positivity is helping me at the present time and now I would like to explain why I believe and sincerely hope that it is helping my immune system be as strong as it can be in the light of the fact that chemo does temporarily compromise the immune system.
The physiology of positivity is interesting. I quote from an article read online as it explains the phenomenon well I think.
”The physiology of positivity encompasses the biological and physical changes in the body associated with positive emotions and thoughts. These changes involve the nervous system, endocrine system and immune system leading to various health benefits.”
The article goes on to detail more fully the physiological aspects of positivity, but it is the immune system that is my subject here. “Studies suggest that positive emotions can have a positive impact on the immune system, potentially leading to better immune function and reduced risk of illness…
…They may also contribute to faster recovery from illness or injury.”
I believe positive thoughts/emotions would have been a more apt description here.
Of course there is much more to this subject than quoted here and I find it fascinating. It has come to the forefront of my mind this week as I was reminded that in India the July full moon is special and linked to honouring those who instil positivity into others, such as parents (if one is fortunate) or gurus.
The July full moon was on Thursday night and is therefore now waning, but I am still enjoying its beauty and the feeling of serenity each night.
Yes, Athelstone I read all about him on Wikipedia and he was a very interesting and talented, intelligent man. Also related to the Henry James’s.
Hope your day and writing going well. Jill 😊
Happened upon a little book of quotes on my heaving bookshelf 😊
William James (? Do not know of him) considers that “There is but one cause of human failure and that is man’s lack of faith in his true Self.”
Eileen Caddy in The Dawn of Change says “A soul without a high aim is like a ship without a rudder.”
This I think mirrors one of Athelstone’s comments on positivity?
Finally, Ursula Le Guin counsels in The Left Hand of Darkness that “It is good to have an end to journey towards, but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”
Thoughts to ponder… In a positive way?
THE VESTAL VIRGIN
Background History
(Some data courtesy of Wikipedia)
This is the story of Lucia and her parents who lived in Ancient Rome. Lucia was prepubescent and had been chosen to be enrolled in The Virgin Goddess Vespa’s College of Six Priestesses.
This is the story of a young girl chosen to help protect Rome’s Sacred Hearth and its flame.
The Priestesses vowed to serve Vesta for at least thirty years. The acolytes all studied and practiced her sacred rites in service of the Roman State and maintained their chastity throughout. In return they garnered special privileges.
BUT this is a personal story and one which embraces the sacredness of tears, as quoted by Washington Irving.
SO let us begin.
In Ancient Rome Lucia the beloved only child of Marcus and Aurelia, sat on the edge of her bed in the family villa. She was pondering her future seriously, not knowing whether to smile or cry. She had been given privilege and honour and should be proud and grateful.
However, a single tear belied her doubts about being “free from any legal ties and obligations to her birth family”. To this sensitive young girl thirty years seemed like a lifetime and she was to leave home the next morning.
Her parents, Marcus and Aurelia sat on the edge of their own bed in the next room, their arms tightly entwined. Their loving marriage had been greatly enriched by the birth of Lucia.
Tears were rolling down their cheeks.
Marcus stirred, sniffed away tears and released his wife. What was he thinking? He must be the strong partner; support and comfort Aurelia in her grief. He reached for a cloth and tenderly wiped away her tears.
He began to utter his thoughts, but Aurelia knew him so well and hushed him with a slender finger to his lips. She was wise and knew that he too must allow himself to grieve the loss of their precious daughter.
They looked into each other’s still glistening eyes: into their souls, but withdrew as they heard the door open and Lucia tiptoe towards them.
In the spontaneous family hug, the tears of Marcus, Aurelia and Lucia flowed copiously and mingled, releasing a myriad of unspoken emotions.
378 words including title
Thank you, Athelstone for setting the thought provoking theme and now for your considered and kind comments in judgement. I enjoyed each of my fellow writers’ entries and it is a good feeling to be amongst such talented people once more.
Last but not least (sorry!) I extend huge congratulations to the worthy winner, Seagreen.
The Last Divided Island (approx 300 words)
The mini heatwave in England in June slowed down Stella’s physical activities and afforded her more time for reflection and remembrance. Almost fifiy-one years previously she and her parents had been forced to flee to London from their Cypriot home amid the mayhem and sufferings of war.
The woman she was today carried inside the mental and emotional scars of that traumatic time, when she was ten years old and impressionable. Stella knew that she was not alone in this.
But life goes on. Back then, like other Cypriots, her parents built a successful restaurant business and Stella had benefited by attendance at the best school which her parents could afford. She did not waste her opportunities and her academic success finally led her to a career within the judicial system. She had won renown for her strong beliefs in the true meaning of justice: “the ethical, philosophical idea that people are to be treated impartially, fairly, properly and reasonably by the law…”.
Stella had never married, valuing her independence and during a sabbatical year she had travelled for the first time back to her divided homeland. The sadness in her heart she experienced on this pilgrimage made her vow never to return until a solution to the Cyprus Problem was found.
Ever the dreamer, this scorching June she sat in her favourite chair and began to imagine a miracle, as the anniversary of the Invasion once more loomed.
A crack of thunder startled Stella from her reveries and she wiped perspiration from her brow, sighing.
Dreams can come true, she believed, but halfway through the year 2025 Cyprus remained The Last Divided Island.