Dear all,
Here’s another short story entry I can now blog. To
see the competition’s winner and more information so you can try yourself next
time please go to: Listowel Writers’ Week Originals Competitions http://writersweek.ie/competitions/ Short
Story (maximum word count 1,500).
I
can’t remember this entry exactly, I think it was a short piece I had that at
some point I was going to develop but then decided against it and kept it aside
until an opportunity arose. It is a third of the required length so I have a
feeling I entered this one because I didn’t want to waste it rather than
thinking it was any good!
***
Driven Away
I’m not sure
about this. I can’t even remember her name: Sarah, Shelley, Susy? This is just
the sort of situation I hate. I’m so good at hiding it, she think it’s shyness.
Instinct: be nice. How long before dad realises I’m gone? Is that enough for
him to catch up?
Samantha is
somewhere around fifty years of age and is walking up to George as if she has
known him her whole life. Old buddies. Georgey and Sammy. She has a big wide
smile, open pleading eyes and is flapping her hand at him in that come-with-me
motion mothers use with toddlers. She is the third woman that month to pay a
visit to the house and all of them had been the same: Put on a good show! What
a good mother! Friends!
“We’ll
only be five minutes,” Samantha says. George looks up to the bathroom window
and sees the silhouette of his dad moving back and forth. Maybe he’s shaving,
George thinks. If he’s shaving, that takes five minutes, maybe a few minutes
more. Keep her talking.
“Where
do you live?” George asks.
“Oh
come on, that doesn’t matter. I’ve told you already anyway, weren’t you
listening?”
Not-so-little-anymore
George backs away from Samantha and moves towards the football. They are in
George’s dad’s back garden and it’s a bright, clear Saturday summer morning.
It’s George’s weekend to visit and he feels free and unembarrassed. This woman,
a total stranger to George, has arrived and made herself at home. Apparently,
they are going to the cinema. It’s the first George has heard of it. He thought
he was going with his dad to the park and having a kickabout.
“If
we go now, we’ll be back before your dad’s down,” Samantha says. George drops
his head and starts to pass the ball between his feet.
I should tell
dad. This doesn’t feel right. I don’t want to go with you. You shouldn’t be
forcing me to do something I don’t want to do. I’m fine where I am. I was
having a good time before you turned up. I don’t want you here. Leave me alone.
The promise of
chocolate and a magazine doesn’t make George flinch and Samantha isn’t very
pleased. She thinks it’s a grand gesture. She thinks she’s being friendly and
making herself look better than her competition. She thinks he should be more
grateful and supportive. He’s not quite what she had been led to believe. As
Samantha walks over the dry grass she stumbles and has to drop to one knee to
save herself from falling onto her side. The heel of her right shoe pierced the
ground so cleanly it wedged in and resisted her next stride. She very nearly
loses her temper but doesn’t let on. She feels it is too early in the morning
to play games. This is the third time she has agreed to date George’s dad and
at their age and situation she isn’t in the mood to waste energy on
pleasantries.
“My car’s by the garage, we’ll pop
down to the petrol station, fill it up and get you some goodies at the same
time! What do you say?” Samantha is smiling like it’s a capital offence not to.
I’ll go with
her and then if anything happens dad will get the blame then he’ll never do
this again. No more strangers and no more messing around with my weekend.
***
Have a great
weekend all,
R.G Rankine
