18 April 2012

A Short Story

Now, I'm going to go out on a limb here.  Given that this blog has about one and a half readers (and no followers) I'm going to treat it as my own little space and post something a bit weird. Just because I can.

This is a short story written today in response to a heartfelt wish to see the sea.  The garden is looking beautiful, but right now I feel in the need of a Cornish beach.

There are some things that need explaining first ... the protagonist in this story is ‘Witchy’. I like to think of her as my alter ego because she does what she wants and doesn’t give a hoot for anyone else’s feelings. Unlike nicely obliging me (though my hubby might disagree with that last point).

I visualise her wearing the archetypal witch’s clothes of pointy hat and black dress.  I think the dress has a bustle, but definitely a corset.  Her boots are laced up to mid calf, and obviously there are black stockings.  When she gardens she more sensibly wears Hunter wellies.

Her garden is fantastic, stuffed with all the flowers and herbs you would wish for in a dream garden.  There is a walled vegetable garden, and maybe parklands with huge cypress trees.

She lives in an Elizabeth mansion – all beams and leaded windows, but she is not stingy with the domestic appliances.  There is a top of the range Smeg fridge and an Aga.

Of my writing I can only apologise for the ‘passive voice’ and the too liberal use of adjective and adverb – I do like a bit of description.  This story I’ve just whipped up.  It needs a damn good editing, but as I say, who is going to read it anyway?

If you find yourself the sole reader and get lost in the detail, feel free to comment or email me.  I’ll do my best to apologise some more.

I’ve uploaded it to Scribd.    Again, let me  know if it doesn’t work.

In Which Witchy Has A Thrill