Vanessa Rigg

Thank you, Sea, for the challenge and for the kind words. Congratulations, Sandra, your words clearly came from the heart and made you a worthy winner.

The Last Sense

Curse my tears, dissolving my bold exterior to expose the raw feeling beneath. How dare they come at a time when I needed to show courage? To offer a united support when Mum’s strength had finally crumbled?

And see how the foundations of mine gave way, leaving the sturdier ones to put on the brave faces; carry the weak link of…[Read more]

The First Steps and the Last

‘Come on, Mum, two more steps and you’re there. I’ve got you …’

Why was she raising her voice? I wasn’t deaf.

My mind wasn’t the disabled part of me. And what was the rush?

Hold your tongue, old lass. It’s all said through care, not to mention a familiar tone of worry that she might slip or let go.

It took me…[Read more]

Ps, yes, thank you all for your brilliant entries, I meant to say- sorry if this didn’t come across in my summary.

Five great stories this month, making my decision oh-so difficult and changeable.

Sandra – Lyrical Determination (thin on legend)
Smartly-penned descriptives throughout, giving vivid imagery of Fran lying prose on the attic bed, having decided to give her virginity to Ivo (having been inspired by the words of John Martyn).  Love that she bathes…[Read more]

Heck, I did not expect that. Thank you for such an awesome feedback, Libby, and for a competition prompt which challenged my writerly boundaries. Also well done to Sea and Sandra for their excellent stories.
I have nothing in mind for the next topic – a walk is in order to mull it over, not that I need and excuse to set out in this wonderful sunshine.

<u>Parsnip Wine

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Our back-facing neighbours were the first to acknowledge our arrival. Each time I looked out, the ever-preened woman was at her bay window, dog-in-hand (at least I think the explosion of fur was of canine origin). Gerald supposed she were sun-worshipping, her glances only polite curiosity – then he always did see the good i…[Read more]

The Prophecy

You will mistake the gulls
for the screaming of a girl
and run out of your flat
to an empty landing

This dark prophecy will forever haunt me.
An old neighbour uttered it; a self-proclaimed psychic, who called by to pass on the warning. Such a pathetic attempt, I thought, to scare me from moving to the new flats offered to tempt…[Read more]

This is my second attempt – lesson learned in posting too hastily without allowing time to edit (not that this one fared much better). Please feel free to disqualify if this is outside of the rules.

Snuffle and the Tylwith Teg

Brittle scales fell from his body as he staggered to the edge of hanging rock. Laughter rang out all around, but I…[Read more]