Story anyone?

[Gemini]

Do any of our talented writers have a story to tell us?
I am writing one, but I can't work out how it will end yet!

[Daisy]

Gem - it would be lovely to have some more stories! We've got some very talented writers and poets, and we'd love to hear from you.

I've hit a total blank wall for inspiration. I've often got the germ of an idea buzzing around, but not at the moment. Good luck with finding an end for yours, Gem - I look forward to reading it.

[Oma]

I have had an idea in my head for a long time but its very long and I cant find a way to shorten it for it to make sense,
I think when I come home I will write it out and see if I can make it less complicated

[Daisy]

Oma - long stories are just as welcome as short ones. Some ideas need more words/pages to unfold properly.

[Daisy]

Here's one inspired by the nesting birds in the garden.


LEAVING THE NEST


“It’s getting a bit crowded in here” Bolthoff thought to himself. He shuffled round and tried to shove his sister, Angelina, into a rather dark corner. Angelina, being the eldest, was having none of it and jabbed at him hard, where it hurt. Bolthoff squawked his annoyance. Cedric and Dulce looked at each other and shuffled a bit further out of their way. They knew their places in the pecking order!

Just then Mum appeared with a beak full of goodies. “Me!” “Me!” “Me!” “Me!” All their huge bright yellow beaks gaped wide open as they jostled for the goodies. Mum carefully deposited a juicy worm in Dulce’s open mouth, and a tasty insect in Cedric’s. Angelina, seeing herself as the most important, most deserving and definitely the hungriest was outraged. “Me, Me, Me!” she screeched ever louder and louder. Mum’s patience was wearing thin. This brood had been impossible - self-opinionated, noisy, bossy and, if she was honest, not very likeable.

With a stamp of her outstretched claw she clamped Angelina to the floor and shoved a very small, unidentified crumb into her tiresome eldest. “Just you wait till your dad gets home. He’ll have something to say to you, Miss Bossy Boots”.

Bolthoff was outraged. Where was his lunch? Where! The last crumb had disappeared down the ungrateful neck of his big sister. Bolthoff was hungry. No, more than that, he was starving! He drew himself up to his full height, took a deep breath and opened his beak very wide, ready to broadcast his anger at the unfairness of life in this crowded home.

The arrival of his Dad stopped him in his tracks. Dad would have brought food. He was hungry. He hadn’t been fed yet. But Dad’s beak was empty. Not a worm, not an insect, not a crumb in sight. He flapped his wings to show his irritation.

Dad looked round the nest. Angelina was sulking after the meagre crumb, Cedric was enjoying his insect, Dulce was devouring her juicy worm, and Bolthoff was flapping about, taking up far more than his fair share of space.

“Come on, lad”, said Dad. “Follow me”. Dad hopped onto the very edge of the twiggy nest. “Over here, where I can see you”. Suddenly Bolthoff knew he’d chosen a bad time to sound off. “Hurry up, lad.” Dad was getting impatient. Bolthoff hopped awkwardly a bit nearer his Dad. Hurriedly Mum gave him a quick groom, pushing his straggly baby feathers this way and that to prepare him for his big moment.

Mum and Dad nodded at each other, and suddenly Bolthoff found his flapping baby wings were free of the constraints of the nest. “Help” he squawked, “Help! Help! I’m falling.”

“Flap, flap, really hard” shouted Mum and Dad. “I can’t” he yelled in terror. “Yes you can”. Bolthoff saw Dad fly past him, down to a nice grassy area at the base of the tree. Bolthoff landed awkwardly, with a bit of a bump next to his Dad.

“Well done, lad”, said Dad. “That’s not a bad first landing for such a mouthy kid”.

Bolthoff looked round him in wonder. He looked up but couldn’t see his Mum or the only home he’d ever known in the high branches of the tree. Still flapping wildly, he turned back to his Dad, and as he opened his beak his Dad popped in the fattest, biggest worm he’d ever seen.

“That’s to give you the energy to get back up there”, Dad chuckled. “Follow me”. Dad took off and Bolthoff found himself doing the same. He flew a victory circle round the tree and back to his Mum in the nest. Bolthoff was a grown up at last, and couldn’t wait for more adventures, and more tasty morsels of fresh worm. Best of all, he could boast to his bossy sister that he’d flown the nest first.

[Plantaholic]

Great Daisy

[Gemini]

Lovely Daisy. What a great idea for a story

[Daisy]

Plant and Gem - thank you, you're very kind.

Angelina's Story next!

[Gemini]

Order

Julia liked order. She liked things to stay the same and always be just as she expected them to be.
Each morning she woke at 7 am. Just as she had done when her alarm woke her for work, or getting the children off to school. For several years when the children were babies and toddlers she was often awake long before that time of course, but generally 7 am was her time.
Julia was fine with waking a little earlier or later, but more than ten minutes or so put her out of sorts for the day. Something her daughter could not understand. ‘Good Lord mum, I long for the day when no alarms wake me and I and I get up to suit myself!’
‘I do get up to suit myself, Jane‘, was Julia’s reply.

Routines. Yoga on Tuesday, Grandchildren every Wednesday, Aqua on Thursday afternoon , coffee with her friends Ruth and Hilary on Friday morning, ironing in the afternoon. On Saturday afternoons she collected little Jess from Baby Ballet, then spent the rest of the afternoon at her daughter's house. She invariably then stayed overnight to babysit. Sunday was either lunch at her son Will and his partner Max’s house or a walk and pub lunch with her walking group. Once a month she had all the family to her for Sunday lunch. As regular as clockwork.
The week came back round to Monday again, which Julia earmarked for housework and shopping.

If these plans altered at all, Julia was not happy. A change of instructor at her classes, her friends wanting to meet on a different day or time, Jane and Andy not wanting to go out on Saturday night. These unsettled her.
She wished she could be more laid back and casual, the type of person to say ‘No worries!’ when plans had to change, but she couldn’t be that person. It wasn't in her make up.
Friends were secretly amazed that Julia and Rob’s marriage lasted as long as it had! Her routines and especially her dislike of anything changing must have been very hard to live with. They were still friends, but Rob had a much less rigid life now they had divorced. He was happier for it. Jane and Will could see that their father was a more contented person these days.

Tidy and organised was how Julia liked her life. Her home was proof of this. As clean and neat as a new pin. No drooping flower, dusty shelf or bin with anything actually in it in her home. Oh no! It was a standing joke amongst family and friends that books had to be arranged alphabetically.
She had downsized after the divorce, and the smaller home was just as precise and perfect as the large family one has been.

To the amazement of her family, once her grandchildren came along different rules seemed to apply – to them only.
When Jane arrived to collect Luke and Jessica from their Grandma’s house each Wednesday after work, toys would cover the living room floor, playdough and crayons litter the kitchen table, and crumbs decorate various areas of the dining room.
Jane knew full well that within minutes of them driving off the Dyson, duster and dishcloth would be put to work. and all toys tidied away into the cupboard, but she loved that her Mum was able to relax her rules for the grandchildren.

If her week ran smoothly to it’s rightful rhythm and routine Julia was a happy woman. Mostly in fact it did, and when it didn't she coped, because that was life but she only felt right when things returned to what was normal in her life.
Then one morning, a Friday morning, as she was getting ready to go out to meet Ruth and Hilary, the post arrived. Julia preferred it to arrive between 11 and 12.30, the usual time, but here it was at 9.45!
There amongst the bills and junk mail was an envelope addressed to Mrs J E Anderson, in unfamiliar handwriting.
She opened it standing at the kitchen work top, where she was packing her bag to go out.

“Dear Mrs Anderson,
I am writing to inform you that your late Uncle, Reginald Mayberry has made a bequest to you in his will.
As his executor is down it to me to contact you to tell you that it would be in your interests to meet with me as soon as possible.
Yours sincerely,

James Walton.”


Stuffing the letter in her bag, Julia set off to meet her friends. She thought abut the letter all the way to town. Her uncle was her father’s younger brother. She vaguely remembered him from her childhood. The brothers argued bitterly – Julia never knew about what, and stopped all contact when Julia was around 10 years old. That was the last she heard, or really thought about Uncle Reg.
She presumed he would have married and had children and probably grandchildren, of his own, so it was puzzling that he would leave anything to a niece he hadn't seen for over 50 years!

Hilary and Ruth were very excited and intrigued by this, of course, as Julia showed them the letter and told them about her uncle, as much as she could remember. ‘Julia, how ever could you leave it ? I would have been on the phone as soon as I read that letter!’ exclaimed Hilary.
Julia looked at her. ‘It’s Friday morning. I had to meet you two’ The two women looked at each other with raised eyebrows. Their friend was hopeless!
Julia promised them she would phone the executor as soon as she got home. ‘BEFORE you do the ironing!!!’ Urged Ruth.

On Monday evening Julia sat down with a large glass of wine. The TV was on, but her mind wasn't on the screen.
'Mr Mayberry wanted me to talk to you in person, he didn’t want you to hear this by any other means…….’
The executors words echoed through Julia’s mind. Only now, several hours later, could she really take it all in.

Reginald and her mother had had a very brief, soon regretted fling, many years ago. Julia had been born months later. Her mother swore that her husband could just as easily be the father of the baby as Reginald could. They told no one, but Reg always believed and hoped that he was Julia's father.
When Julia was 10 years old the affair came to light. Julia's father wanted nothing more to do with his brother, and they never spoke again.

Julia thought of her parents, happily married for so long, and passing away 5 years ago, within 8 months of each other. They obviously moved past what happened in those early days and made a go of their marriage. She thought of her lovely, messy, lovable dad. Knowing for so many years that he may not be her biological father, but loving her just same.
She shed a small tear “Oh Dad!’. He loved her and she loved him, Julia supposed that was the important thing, and nothing could be changed now.


She looked over the letter given to her by Mr Walton once he had explained everything to her.

Whether Julia Elizabeth Anderson (nee Mayberry) is my daughter or my niece, she is my next of kin, and everything I own goes to her.
I have regretted not being in her life and seeing her grow up, but through family friends I have had the pleasure of hearing of her and knowing that she has a good life, with children and grandchildren.
I doubt she will want to live in my house, so far away from her family. This can be sold or rented out, as she chooses.
The whole of my estate goes to her.
My only proviso is that she doesn't sell my collection of rare antiquarian books, but takes care of them. They are precious to me, and valuable in monetary terms too.
They need to be displayed alphabetically, out of direct sunlight, and dusted daily.
I’m not a fussy man, but I need order.


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ +++++++++++++++++++++++++

[Daisy]

Gem - I love that. I genuinely didn't see the end coming, and it was very neat. Whatever plotting problems you had you clearly resolved them very well.

[Gemini]

Thank you Daisy!

I had Julia's character and lifestyle, but didn't know where to go with it!
My first thought was something to overcome her habits, then I thought of inheriting from a distant relative, then suddenly Reg was her father.

[Plantaholic]

Well done Gemini, lovely short story and a good twist at the end. You and Daisy are so talented.

[Daisy]

Plant - it's fun having a go at making up characters and putting them into a story.

[Daisy]

The nesting wars continue ....

ANGELINA’S STORY

Angelina looked at her smug brother in disgust. Why had he got a fat juicy worm for being a loud mouth, when all she’d had was a crumb! Bolthoff glared back at her. “Well, you could jump out of the nest like I did and get your own if you weren’t such a scaredy-cat.”

“You didn’t find your own worm - Dad got it for you,” she retorted crossly. Mum looked at her two warring chicks and sighed! For all she loved and cared for them, she wouldn’t be sorry when they both left home.

Cedric and Dulcie looked on bemused and sleepy after their yummy meals of a worm and a lovely crunchy insect. Their big sister and brother were a bit of a pain, always squabbling and giving Mum and Dad a hard time.

Mum looked back on the day Angelina had arrived. Her first-born this season, she had pecked her way determinedly out of her lovely warm shell, and emerged bedraggled and angry. Mum had gently preened her as her feathers dried. Dad brought nutritious, tasty food back to calm the hungry chick, but she devoured everything in sight and always demanded more. Poor Mum remembered the sleepless nights, gently turning the remaining three eggs and keeping them warm after long days of trying to feed their cuckoo in the nest.

Mum remembered her own mum telling her about cuckoos and how they hatched and pushed out the other eggs and demanded all of their foster parents’ attention. But Angelina definitely wasn’t a cuckoo - she was just an opinionated pain. The arrival of her brother Bolthoff didn’t help at all. She hated him and pecked him every time Mum’s back was turned. She screeched alarmingly when he was fed and at first frightened him. But Bolthoff was no wimp. He soon learned to stand up for himself and war was declared between the two siblings.

Mum, worn out with them hardly registered Cedric and Dulcie arriving within a couple of hours of each other. She was so glad they’d chosen names in advance, using alphabetical order as they always did to make it easier to tell which chick should be at which stage of growth.

Cedric and Dulcie learned to keep out of the way of their warring siblings. They ate, slept and were model chicks. Mum and Dad were very, very thankful.

Angelina returned to the fray. “Dad, it’s not fair, get me a big worm as well,” she demanded.

Dad, totally fed up, told her to go and get her own worm. Angelina’s feathers, all fluffed up with indignation, drooped. “I, I can’t,” she whimpered, “I don’t know how to fly.”

Suddenly all the fight had gone out of her and Mum and Dad’s kind hearts melted. Even Bolthoff was subdued.

“Come with me,” Dad said softly. Bolthoff offered to help. The three birds stood together on the edge of the nest, Dad and Bolthoff either side of the trembling Angelina. “One, two, three - and JUMP, ” said Dad. With lots of frantic flapping Angelina launched herself off and landed in the same grassy spot as her brother had.

“I did it, I did it, I did it!” Angelina was gleeful. “Well done, sis,” grinned Bolthoff. She devoured her fresh, plump worm hungrily, while Bolthoff caught a passing tasty insect.

It was a different chick who returned happily to the family nest, and peace fell on the little family as they all snuggled down together.

[Plantaholic]

Great story telling Daisy, do you tell your GC about your stories