How? A Mother’s Tale.

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How can I love you more?

I gazed in wonder at your ten tiny fingers, your ten tiny toes and I knew that I was hopelessly, irrevocably lost.

How can I love you more?

Your first smile made my heart swell, your first illness sliced me to the core.

How can I love you more?

The memory of your first day at school etched forever on my mind as your tiny hand slipped from mine and you took the first faltering steps towards independence.

How can I love you more?

Standing tall, and proud on your first day at work, no longer a boy but a man.

How can I love you more?

It is incomprehensible that I could and yet with every second, every minute, every hour, I do.

 

This post was written for the Saturday Streams of Consciousness challenge hosted by Linda G. Hill. Write the first thing that comes to mind following a prompt and post. No editing allowed. This week’s prompt was ‘begin your post with how.’

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Writing to deadlines (aka waking in the middle of the night)

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Writing my debut novel, The Sister, was a joy. Even now I remember waking up in the middle of the night, stomach churning with excitement as I thought of a new plot twist. Each day, after work, I couldn’t wait to open my manuscript and get stuck in. I dreamed of being published of course, but never really thought it would happen to me.  I was writing for fun. For me. With no time pressures and no deadlines.

My second psychological thriller, The Gift, is now available to pre-order, and this time I’m writing knowing it will be published as I was lucky enough to sign a three-book deal earlier this year. I’m still waking in the middle of the night, stomach churning, but this time with nerves. Will it The Gift as successful as The Sister? What if readers hate it? Will I finish the edits on time? My deadline is the first thing I think of when I fall into bed and it pops into my mind as soon as I wake.

Naively, I never really thought of publishing as a business, more a collaboration of creative people who share a love of books, and the structure is something I am still getting used to.

Once I sit at my desk however, I lose myself completely in my manuscript, and all my fears evaporate. When I’m writing, nothing else matters and I feel utterly at peace. Writing brings a sense of home, wherever I am.

 

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Written for Streams of Consciousness Saturday hosted by Linda G Hill. Write the first thing that comes to mind following the prompt and post – no editing allowed. The prompt for this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday is: “bus.” Use it as it is, or find a word with the letters “bus” in it. 

Flash Fiction – I’ll never tell

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I’ve made a horrible, horrible mistake, and the realisation there’s no going back stings sour at the back of my throat as I swallow down the lies I’m now forced to tell.
I want to scream, and sometimes I do, burying my face in my pillow and howling out my frustration.
Your key scrapes the lock and I plaster on a smile as we fall into our daily script. I ask you how your day was and listen intently as if it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever heard. A semblance of normality, even though it won’t last. We both know what’s coming but nobody else would ever guess the horror that goes on behind these close doors, and how could they?
I’ll never tell.

 

Written for Linda G Hill’s Streams of Consciousness Saturday – write the first thing that springs to mind following a prompt and post – no editing allowed. This weeks prompt is real – use as it is or with a prefix or suffix.

These characters came to me so fully formed their story is definitely one I’ll be exploring further, they make even make my next novel… 

 

 

 

Flash Fiction – It’s time

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It’s another day. Seconds. Minutes. Hours. You wish time would slow and stop, or the hands on the clock would speed and spin and it would be tomorrow, the day after, next week, and you’d still be here. Still be alive.

You can’t get out of bed. Your legs are heavy with fright You’re surrounded by the stench of your own fear.

A clatter. A thud.

It’s only the postman and you ball your fists tight and press them against your chest as if you can slow your heart.

You know he’ll come. How could he not? His first day out and you’ll be on his mind. Not in his heart. Not anymore. Not after your betrayal.

Is it the morning or the afternoon they claim their plastic bags full of possessions and step blinking into the almost forgotten sunlight? You really don’t want to know.

The shattering of glass. Footsteps thud on the stairs.

It’s time.

You screw your eyes tightly shut and pray it will be over soon. In a way, it will be a relief.

 

 

Written for Streams of Consciousness Saturday hosted by the lovely Linda G Hill. Write the first thing that comes to mind following a prompt and post – no editing allowed. Check out the other entries or join in. This weeks prompt is ‘an’ – use either as a word on it’s own or as part of another word.

 

 

 

The Memory Store

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There’s a hidden box inside my mind, I call my memory store,

When days seem dull, I’m feeling blue, I revisit times before,

A kindness I’ve forgotten, an adventure, a good book,

Remind me that life’s full of colour; if you only look.

 

 

Written for Streams of Consciousness Saturday. Write the first thing that springs to mind following a prompt and post. No editing allowed. This weeks post is ‘store.’

Six Word Story – Gone

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The blood clot moved; he’s gone.

 

I’ve been wanting to create some six word stories and when I read that this week’s Stream of Consciousness prompt is ‘use a word containing the letters CLO’, this sprang to mind. It’s a bit grim for a Saturday – sorry!

Peanuts!

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There are lots of things I miss about childhood; the sense of euphoria on the last day of term, as endless balmy summer days stretched before me; the ability to bend and twist my body into any conceivable shape and hurl myself down hills without fear, waking on Christmas morning, stomach lurching, eyes straining in the dark, has Santa been? Snoopy.

The peanuts gang were a huge and much loved part of my life. Even now, as an adult, as a mother, I’m not ashamed to admit whenever I feel life get on top of me and I feel like giving up, I channel my inner Charlie Brown. As much as I felt his frustration every time Lucy pulled the football away I admired his determination to try again, the quiet hope that this time could be different. This time he could succeed.

I did a little snoopy happy dance when I checked the cinema listings and saw the Peanuts movie is out today. Shoes are on, tickets booked, three hours to go. I am so excited.

Written for Streams of Consciousness Saturday. Write the first thing that comes to mind following a prompt and post. No editing allowed. This weeks prompt is ‘miss.’ Read the other entries here.

 

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