A short one that I've had in mind for a while - one day I intend to turn this into the framing device for a fuller story, but for now here is the short version. Not strictly speaking a fairy tale, but a tale about a fairy. And a cat. Those with a cat will know the feeling well. You hear the flap open and close and then sense, more than you see or hear, that the cat is there, watching you, and is pleased with itself. Inwardly, you sigh – it means that it has brought you a present which you’ll now need to deal with. A mouse, a small bird, it could be anything. It might be alive, dying or actually dead. Each gift was a new adventure. I pushed myself back from my desk, the wheels of the chair squeaking slightly. It was poor timing – I was writing a new story, and it was just starting to flow. However, I knew that if I didn’t deal with this, didn’t acknowledge the gift immediately, Jack, the cat in question, would make sure I did. Even more distractingly. I stood from the chair, turned and immediately crouched down before the tribute to see what it was. The first thing I saw were the drooping wings which covered the rest of the creature, though they were diaphanous and almost transparent, rather than feathered. I leaned forward to see more, suddenly actively curious. Jack backed away, purring in satisfaction that I was accepting the gift. I took one wing delicately between my fingers and lifted it, terrified that it might tear, it seemed so slender and fragile. As the wing moved back and the light accessed the creature beneath, it shied back a little. It was alive! I continued to move the wing, needing to know what it was. What it was, was a tiny girl as far as I could tell. Perhaps 3 inches from the top of her head to her feet, and the wings came from her shoulder blades. She was clearly hurt – even as small as she was, I could make out the cuts and bruises on her skin, which was an odd shade of very pale green, a much darker shade where she had bled. Her clothes, a simple tunic, seemed to be sewn from leaves. It seemed the cat had, somehow, managed to catch a fairy. For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to do, but with Jack looking expectantly at me, I couldn’t do nothing. I pulled a clean sheet of paper from my desk and, after placing it next to her on the floor, I tried to gently roll her onto it. She made quiet noises as she moved – clearly her wounds were causing her pain. I then used the paper to lift her up onto my desk, where I could look at her more closely. Her wounds looked like tiny cuts, though she had bled profusely. They looked to be too small to have been caused by Jack, and my storyteller’s mind couldn’t help but to start wondering and imagining what might have caused them. I mean, if fairies were real, then what else might be? Of course, I had no idea of how to treat an injured fairy – anything I could find online would likely be contradictory and useless. Even if there were others who had encountered one before, how could I identify them from the copious accounts that would be entirely fictional? I decided that, lacking any better idea and not knowing how to get one, to default to basics. The fairy had lost blood (albeit dark green blood), and that suggested that she might need fluids. I filled a bowl with water, added some sugar, and then used the end of a teaspoon to bring a few drops to her lips. I couldn’t tell if she was healthy enough to respond, or if it was a reflex, but the tiny creature took in some of the liquid. I repeated the operation a few more times until it seemed that she had slipped from unconsciousness to sleep and I replaced the spoon. What could I do next? Her wounds were far too small for me to try to stitch, even if I had any idea how to do it. The sheer different scale between us made any kind of direct intervention implausible. In the end, I place her (still on her piece of paper) on the windowsill. She had green skin, which I hoped meant that part of her physiology included chlorophyll, which might mean that sunlight would help. That done, I went back to my writing, to hope that she would recover, and that Jack would leave her alone. As it happened, my gritty crime drama went absolutely nowhere for the rest of the day – I simply couldn’t get back into it after trying to nurse a fairy back to health. I kept checking on her, and every sound made me look around to ensure that Jack hadn’t returned to torment her further. Each time, I thought that her colour had improved a little – though it was almost certainly my imagination and my fervent hope – I assumed that her skin should be a deeper shade of green, rather than a lighter one, but had no way to be sure. Occasionally, she stirred. At these times, I would offer some more of the sugar solution, and sometimes she took a little before settling again. By evening, I was sure that her colour had changed, becoming a deeper green and much closer to the colour of her blood, which had begun to stain the paper. Her breathing also seemed more regular and less shallow. When it came time to go to bed, I placed her on a fresh sheet of paper and carried her to my bedroom. Unusually, I shut the door, wanting to keep Jack out – he rarely visited whilst I slept, but he was normally welcome to. Once I woke, my first thought was to check on her again – firstly to ensure that the previous day had not been a dream, and secondly to see if she had changed. Again, she seemed better, but was still not awake. I carried her paper over to the windowsill and opened the curtains, allowing the dawn’s light to flood in. At the touch of the sun on her skin, she started to stir, and, for the first time, I saw her eyes open. As those eyes, brilliant green but with the form of those of a cat, opened she saw me and jerked upright. She shuddered in pain, but it seemed that her wounds had closed, and she did not bleed further. I held out a hand, fully aware of how much larger than her it was but knowing of no other way to indicate that I wouldn’t harm her. She huddled back against the windowsill, her eyes darting up and, seemingly, acknowledging that the window was closed and so she was trapped. She raised her own hand in response, breathing deeply, small feet firm against the floor as if she were ready to flee if it were necessary or the opportunity presented itself. “Are you alright?” I asked the question hesitantly and quietly – I wasn’t sure if she would understand, or if my voice might scare her further. Her eyes widened, and I repeated the question. “I have been injured,” the fairy answered, also sounding hesitant. Her voice was light and reminded me of the sound of a babbling brook. I nodded to her. “I tried to help you,” I said, still keeping my voice low. “I wasn’t sure what to do.” She stood up tall, the effort only be slightly spoiled by her grimace of pain. Once upright, she dropped into a curtsey. “Then it would seem that I owe to you a debt. How might I address my saviour?” I truly wasn’t sure how to react and so I answered her question. “My name is Thomas,” I said. “Thomas Havers.” She raised herself back out of the curtsey. “Then I, Fern of the Court of Meadowdown, acknowledge my debt to thee, Sir Thomas.” I shook my head at her and waved my hands. “No, no – I’m no sir. And there is no debt – I just tried to take care of you.” Fern looked at me in surprise. “Is it not knightly to care for those in need? To my mind, and to that of my brethren, it very much is. If you are not formally a knight of your own realm, then that is their loss, and I shall acknowledge your virtue as much as I acknowledge my debt.” It was my own turn to be surprised as such eloquence. I wasn’t sure what I had expected from her, but this was not it. Nor the mention of a court – that suggested that not only were there many more of her kind, but that they were organised, seemingly into some kind of feudal structure. “Now, Sir Thomas,” she continued. “We must establish how I might repay my debt.” She raised her hand as I was about to object to the concept of a debt again. “Neh, sir – I have a debt and I will repay it – to do otherwise would be shameful in the extreme. I expect there is little that I can offer one of your stature but if there is aught, you have but to name it – on my honour as a bard of the Court of Meadowdown.” I pulled over a chair and sat down, which placed us on a much more even level, and thought about what Fern was saying. I didn’t want to take advantage of her sense of obligation, but I also didn’t want to, as she had said, shame her. Thinking back to the stories that I had heard of the faerie folk, many of them centred on favours and debts and how they would not want to be in a debt any longer than necessary – perhaps some of them were actually true. “You are a bard?” I asked. Fern nodded. “Indeed, Sir Thomas. I am a teller of stories, a singer of songs, and a teacher of lessons.” I smiled at her. “Then, perhaps, whilst you are here and being restored to strength, you might share some stories or songs of your people with me? I am also a teller of stories, for my people.” She smiled at me. “Then, in exchange for my life and your continued care, I shall speak to you of my people, tell you their tales, and teach you of our customs.” I nodded to her in acknowledgement. “Deal,” I said, hoping there wasn’t some custom I was supposed to follow for this. She sat down again with a smile on her face, clearly enjoying the sunlight on her back. “May I ask of you, Sir Thomas, how you came to discover me? My folk are generally too small for your own people to pay us much mind.” “My cat, Jack, brought you to me,” I replied. “I think it was after you’d been hurt though – the cuts looked too small to have been caused by him.” She nodded. “Then, it seems, that I must also offer to repay my debt to him.” I smiled. “Can you not simply say that your paying me back counts for him too? He is my pet, after all.” She looked shocked at the idea. “Of course not. A cat has no liege but himself.” I had to admit – she had a point.
0 Comments
A quick cyberpunk. Not something I've read much of, but the idea struck, and I felt I had to run with it. I'm pleased with how it turned out. Tina held her hood to her head, fighting against the wind that wanted to push it away so that she could be even more the victim of the merciless rain. It was cold, and the night was dark with few stars in the sky, though the neon landscape meant that it was never completely dark.
She looked down at the streets, her rifle on the rooftop next to her. The rest of her team should have checked in by now – they were late. There hadn’t been any kind of alarm yet, but that didn’t stop her worry. She was tired, the concentration of staring through the rain taking its toll, and the later they got, the slower she was going to get if they needed her. Her phone vibrated and she risked taking a look. She had it blocked to all contacts outside her team, so any message must be from one of them. It wasn’t. She narrowed her eyes as she saw the screen: 1 new message – unknown sender. This should be impossible. She put the phone back in her pocket. It wasn’t her team, so it could wait. A minute passed. It vibrated again. She pulled it out and looked. 2 new messages – unknown sender. How was this happening? She pressed the screen, looking at the messages. “jooR T34M 12 1n TROU8L3. h3Lp tH3M.” “p4Y 4tt3NT1On. 1’M try1N’ TO h3lP U.” Tina quickly translated the Cityspeak messages, used frequently by runner crews as algorithms and artificial intelligences struggled to understand them. Could these it be true? Was her team in trouble? If so, why hadn’t they managed to get a message to her themselves, and who had managed to contact her? A third vibration. “7h15 15 7He C17Y.” Tina blinked and reread the message. The City? How was the City texting her? Another vibration. “s70p d4wdl1nG. 17 D0e2'n7 m477er. W0rRy 480U7 17 l47er, 4Nd gE7 M0V1nG.” She shook her head and wiped the rain from the screen of her phone. She didn’t like this. She didn’t understand what was happening. However, they were late. Not very late yet – there were always complications on jobs like this. She couldn’t deny that she’d already had a bad feeling about this, even before the strange messages though. She put her phone in her pocket and picked up the rifle, quickly folding it to be more surreptitious. Without waiting to let herself second-guess, she stepped off the building and fell to the street below. As she landed, splashing in the omnipresent puddles, her leg-gear bent and absorbed the shock. She set off running as quickly as her enhanced legs could carry her. She knew where her team had planned their entry point, so she would follow them in. Whilst she’d been guarding the intended exit, if they hadn’t managed to leave, she probably couldn’t enter that way. She turned through streets, largely ignored by the other people on them, all wrapped up in their own problems. She entered the alley where she knew she would find an old sewer entrance and was surprised to find somebody waiting there. He was big – and not naturally big. He looked like he’d been beefed up – and not with equipment, but with drugs. He was also covered in weapons, from a long knife and machete at his hips, a large underslung gun being balance by one hand, and a bandolier of grenades. She could see another couple of gun handles sticking out over his shoulders. Perhaps this guy was the trouble. Her phone buzzed again, and she saw from the man’s reactions that his must have done so too. Gingerly, neither wanting to trust the other too far, they both reached for the devices and looked. One new message – unknown sender. She clicked it open. “7H12 12 D02Er. j00 k4n 7rU57 h1m.” Tina looked back at the large man – Dozer – before her. He was looking back at her. “You Eagle-eye?” he asked, putting his phone back in his pocket. She nodded. “You must be Dozer?” He nodded. “I’m here to help you.” Tina raised an eyebrow. “Why? You don’t know me.” He shrugged. “The City asked, and I owe it a few. This way.” He moved out of the alley, back to the streets, away from the sewer entrance that Tina had planned to use, but she followed him. Once they were out on the streets, Tina saw that the rain seemed to slide from him. He clearly did have some tech, and good tech. Personal forceshields were expensive! “You often get texts from the City?” Tina asked as they moved, her enhanced legs easily able to keep up with Dozer’s longer gait. “All the time. You don’t?” Tina shook her head. “Well, let me be the first to welcome you to a whole new world, then.” “I don’t understand,” Tina answered. “What do you mean?” “Don’t worry – I know it takes some getting used to. Hell, I remember what it was like when I got my first message. If we walk away from this, I’ll try to explain it all. Just in case I don’t, all you need to know for now is that you’ve been invited to join the Network, and the City has our backs. Always.” Tina shook her head but forced herself to keep moving. For all of her frustration, if her team were in trouble, which she was starting to believe was the case, she didn’t have the time to stop and try to force more information from Dozer. If she even could. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Back to Halcyon,” Dozer answered. “Your team don’t have time for you to go crawling through sewers. They’re outmanned, and outgunned, and if Halcyon’s security goons find the thumb drive they’re using to give your hacker access… well, you know what will happen then.” Tina gulped. She did indeed know what would happen then. Halcyon was very security conscious – to the point that they didn’t have their main networks connected to the outside world. The only way for Drift, her team’s hacker, to get in had been for Alibi, their face, to sneak in and insert a thumb drive to act as a temporary wireless entry point. But if that was removed before Drift was out of the system, his mind would be permanently disconnected from his body. “So, what’s the plan? We can’t get in the front door.” She didn’t care anymore if this was some kind of trick, or trap. The threat to Drift was far greater than death – she’d risk her own life to protect him from that. Dozer led her round to the side of the building, away from the streets. “The old-fashioned way. Get ready.” As Dozer removed one of the explosives from his bandolier and attached it to the wall, Tina widened her eyes, stepped back as far as she could, and drew out her rifle, extending it into shotgun rather than her preferred longer-range option. This was going to need the work to be much more up-close and personal. Dozer stepped back from the explosive and smiled at her. She found herself smiling back. This did have a refreshing simplicity to it. A few seconds later, she saw the explosive flash and looked away for the actual detonation. The loud noise would soon draw problems – Halcyon’s security and, probably, city police. She looked back at the wall and found that a large chunk of it wasn’t there anymore. Dozer was already stepping through, his largest gun ready to fire when necessary. “You get any messages, let me know to cover you and answer them,” he said. “The City might need to update us.” As Tina followed him, her phone buzzed again and, giving Dozer the head’s up, she checked it. “1 k4N K33P 73H p0L1C3 4w4Y PH0r 20 m1Nu73S. 1'm s3Nd1n' j00 4 M4p - PH0ll0W 17.” She looked and a map had, as promised, downloaded. She checked it and saw a layout of the Halcyon building, with directions to take. She looked up, trying to marry up the room that she could see with the layout now on her phone screen. She saw the door they needed to take and was about to point it out to Dozer when a different door opened, and Halcyon’s goons rushed in. There were four of them, each wearing the typical helmets and vests of low-value rent-a-cops. Dozer looked at them and opened fire – they had probably fallen before they even realised what they were up against. “This way,” Tina said, moving towards the door that she had already identified. He nodded, following her backwards to keep an eye on the room behind them. More cheap goons appeared from corridors, but Tina’s reflexes were quick, and her shotgun shells took them down in quick order. She knew that they couldn’t keep this up though – eventually, Halcyon would send in their big guns. Tina followed the map, ending up at a room filled with computer screens and databanks. She looked round, wondering why they were here. Dozer took up position in the doorway, giving her time to investigate. Nothing sensitive would be in a room like this – it wasn’t even close to sufficiently guarded. Similarly, she very much doubted that she would be able to deactivate security or anything else useful either. She picked up her phone, feeling it vibrate in her hand. “su8R0Utin32 3Ss3ntI4l pH0r iC3 rUn tHr0u9H H3r3. D3sTr0y tH3M.” She read the message again, certain that she’d made a mistake. Surely, a corporation like Halcyon, as security conscious as they were, would have access to their ICE software so easily accessed. She risked a reply to the text – just a short one. “h3R3?” Her phone buzzed as the reply came in. “y32. 1'V3 K0n74C73D dr1F7. H3 H42 m4d3 S0m3 ch4N932 PHR0m 1nS1D3.” “What’s the hold up?” Dozer asked over his shoulder. “The messages say that the ICE subroutines run through here,” she replied. “That if we destroy these machines, it will all fail, which should let my hacker get out.” “ICE?” he asked, still not looking into the room. “Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics.” He nodded. “Take my place then Eagle-eye. I’ll light the room up.” She nodded back, moving into the doorway. Dozer’s explosives would be far more efficient than anything she had for this. As she moved into position, she saw a couple more guards running towards them. Quickly. No longer the cheaper security they’d faced already, these two were clearly enhanced. One was running along a wall towards them, and the other made Dozer look small as he charged down the middle of the corridor. She gulped. She might be able to take the smaller one, but she didn’t think her shotgun was going to do much to the larger one. She had to stay in the doorway though. Tina opened fire, aiming for the wallrunner. If she could take him out, that might at least give the bigger one pause. However, he moved too quickly, shifting between walls and ceiling and avoiding her shots. She took a moment to look behind her, taking one of the grenades from Dozer’s bandolier whilst he worked on setting up the explosives for the room. Tina leapt into the air, letting her powerful legs rocket her to the ceiling. She might not be able to stick to it as her opponent could, but her rapid movement still clearly caused both of them to be surprised. She fired at the wallrunners feet, causing him to jump. That was when he was vulnerable – more used to being connected to something than being in mid-air, he now couldn’t manoeuvre. She fired again, shells hitting him directly in the chest and forcing him to the floor where he lay still. Tina kept up her leap, angling in the air to push off again from a wall where she set the explosive and then, landing behind the larger guard, stuck it to his back. She dove back, and the twin explosions of both her grenade and the room sounded together. When the smoke cleared, both guards were down and Dozer was walking out of the ruined room. She checked her phone, expecting a message and wasn’t surprised. “goOD work. dr1Ft 12 OUt. phOlLoW T3H m4p TO R35CU3 4l181 4ND tW1n5hot.” She swiped and saw that the map had updated. The phone buzzed again as another message came through. “8e reaDY. 7hey R P1nNed d0wN.” “OK,” she said, looking between Dozer and the map in her hand. “We’re done here. Be ready – apparently my last two friends are pinned down.” Dozer smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Eagle-eye. I’m always ready. Let’s move.” The two of them ran through corridors, alarms blaring around them. Clearly the defeat of the guards and the disruption of the ICE software had set something off. They barrelled into a room and dove for cover behind an upturned desk. Tina risked a look out. She could see where her two friends were pinned down, and from the blood pooling around their cover, it looked like at least one of them was hit. Dozer got her attention and pointed towards where the guards crouched and pushed a medpack into her hand. Tina nodded in understanding and held up three fingers. As she finished the countdown, Dozer opened fire, drawing the attention of the guards whilst Tina ran for Alibi and Twinshot. She dove behind the desk, seeing that it was Alibi that was on the ground bleeding. She flashed Twinshot a smile and started to remove equipment from the medpack. “What are you doing in here?” Twinshot asked, pausing only for a moment before shooting back at the guards again. “And who is your friend?” Tine tore off some RegenBand with her teeth, giving a grunt. Starting to apply it to Alibi’s wounds, she looked up at Twinshot again. “I got a tip off that you were in trouble. Don’t worry about where it was from – I’ll explain later. He’s Dozer – he’s giving me a hand.” Twinshot nodded, never one to question good fortune. Alibi’s wound was severe, but he was still breathing, and so the RegenBand should quickly fix him up. She crushed some Bloodflow pills and poured the powder onto his tongue, encouraging his body to replace the blood it had lost. This was an impressive medpack, but Tina realised that she shouldn’t be surprised. Dozer was clearly a wealthy man to have the gear she’d seen – this was just one more example. With that, the noise stopped. Dozer was walking over, guns lowered to appear less of a threat – as if he could ever appear not to be a threat. All of the guards were down. She checked her phone. They’d used twelve of their twenty minutes. The map had already updated itself. Dozer glanced at her handiwork at tending to Alibi, and then looked at Twinshot, offering a hand to shake. “Dozer,” Tina said, scanning the room for the appropriate exit again. “Can you carry Alibi?” The big man nodded and picked up her injured friend. “This way!” She ran off, leaving Twinshot and Dozer to follow her. They moved through a circuitous route, and Tina started to worry. They didn’t have long to run around Halcyon’s building, but it seemed that whoever was handling the map knew what they were doing. They managed to avoid all guards – she suspected that all of them had either fled or routed towards the areas where they had set off explosions – and they reached their original exit point with a couple of minutes to spare. The four of them disappeared into the alleyways and were long gone before the police arrived. Later, when the police response had died down, Alibi had recovered, and they’d had a chance to check on Drift, they all met up in Dexter’s, one of their preferred bars. “As I said to Eagle-eye earlier,” Dozer started, once they all had their drinks, “welcome to the Network. Before you ask, I have no idea who sends the messages.” Tina had taken the time to explain to her crew what had happened, and they’d been just as confused as her. Drift had taken the time to do some research. “I’ve read around the ‘net,” Drift said, sipping at his drink. “All that I can find is people saying that the City has their back.” Dozer smiled and raised his glass. “And that’s all you’ll find. Sometimes the City helps us out. Sometimes it asks for us to repay it. The important thing to know is that it’s on our side. The City always has our backs.” A short little story about a first date - or, really, the lead up to that date. It's a competition entry with the brief of the first date, and it had to include Merlot. Content Warning - the story features postnatal depression. When Terry awoke, he knew it was going to be a difficult day – Valentine’s Day had been for the last few years. He lay in bed, listening to the radio play, trying to forget the date and enjoying the last few minutes that he would have to himself.
Surely enough, the bedroom door opened, and Chelsea padded in. He looked over at his six-year-old daughter and smiled. She ran over, jumping on the bed and throwing her arms around his neck in a massive hug. He hugged her back and they wished each other a good morning. Chelsea slipped down onto the bed beside him and reached for the TV remote. Terry smiled at her and helped, passing it to her, before getting up to make coffee. He brought it back to bed, by which time Chelsea had chosen something to watch. He could ignore whatever it was. They settled in to watch, but before too long the doorbell rang. Chelsea moved to pause the TV, but Terry waved to her that it wasn’t necessary, and he went to answer the door. Stood a few paces back was a deliveryman, mask in place, and taking a photograph to confirm that he’d done his job. He gave Terry a quick wave, and then rushed back to his van. Terry looked down at the doorstep and picked up the box that was there. He took it to the kitchen, in no great rush to return to the TV upstairs. Opening it, he was surprised to find a bottle of wine – Merlot, his favourite. Confused, Terry looked through the packaging but was unable to find any indication of who had sent it. He checked the delivery address and confirmed that he was the correct recipient. He smiled and put it to the side for later, at the end of the day when Chelsea was back in bed. He tapped out a quick query on his social media accounts, asking if any friends had sent it and returned to his bedroom. Soon, the two of them would need to get up and start their day. There was precious little to do. Most of the activities that he would normally take Chelsea out to do were closed due to the pandemic, but he’d worked hard to find things to keep her occupied. They drove out to some nearby woods and spent a few hours walking, talking about nothing, and playing Pooh Sticks when they came to bridges. A picnic in the woods made an excellent lunch for the young girl, followed by play in the park. Chelsea had an active imagination, and Terry followed her lead for play. It was exhausting for him to keep up with her, but he had to keep her busy. He couldn’t face the question again, that day of all days, about why she couldn’t see her mother anymore. She’d asked before, and Terry had tried to answer. It had been difficult, and he’d not been able to do so fully. How could you tell a three-year-old that her mother had left because looking after that three-year-old had been too difficult? Postnatal depression had hit Judith hard and, despite his attempts to help, she had eventually walked out of their lives. He didn’t know where she had gone – her parents had refused to tell him. He missed her every day. He hadn’t been able to explain that to a four-year-old or a five-year-old either, and he was dreading the day the six-year-old would ask again. By the time they returned home, Chelsea was exhausted, and Terry put her in the bath. Whilst she played in the water, he checked his social media. Nobody was admitting to having sent the Merlot, but it made him smile to think that somebody was thinking of him. It was quite nice to have received an anonymous Valentine’s present – it made him feel like a teenager again. He went to put a pizza in the oven for Chelsea’s dinner, and then went to help her wash her hair and get her out of the bath. He was going to worry about his dinner after she was in bed – and he’d now have the wine to enjoy with it. By the time that he had Chelsea in bed, Terry was as tired as she was, and he was very glad that his evening plans included an easy takeaway rather than cooking. He went to open the wine so that it could breathe and picked up his phone to choose a meal, and there was a knock on the door. Surprised, he went to answer it to find another delivery – this time a meal from a local restaurant. Terry queried the delivery with the driver but, like the wine, it was correct. He waved a thank you to the driver and took it to the kitchen. His phone rang and he picked it up, looking at the screen and almost dropping it in surprise. It showed Judith’s face – a face that he hadn’t seen in more than three years. Nervously, almost reverently, he touched the screen to answer the videocall and her face, looking much as it always had, smiled at him and waved. Judith didn’t say anything. Terry didn’t say anything. Moments passed. “Has the meal arrived?” Terry was shocked into response by the sudden sound. “The meal?” Judith nodded. “I sent you dinner. It was supposed to arrive at eight.” Terry nodded back. “Yes. Dinner arrived. Thanks?” “And the wine?” Judith raised a glass, showing a red wine and, over her shoulder in the picture, he could see a similar bottle of Merlot to the one that he had received earlier that day. “That was from you too?” Terry sat down. Judith nodded, but then they both fell silent again. “It’s good to see you.” Again, Judith was the first to break the silence. “You too,” Terry replied. “This is… something of a surprise.” “I know,” Judith said, looking down rather than at him. “I’m sorry to spring this on you, but I was really nervous about calling you.” “That’s ok,” Terry said. “I can understand that. You’re looking good.” It was true – she looked rested, which was probably the biggest change from how he remembered her. She’d had trouble sleeping since the day Chelsea had been borne. At first, they’d simply put it down to Chelsea crying in the night and needing feeding, but even as the nights had calmed down, Judith had still never managed to sleep enough. Terry wasn’t sure over the phone screen, but he thought that she’d put makeup on as well. “Thanks.” Judith smiled and raised her eyes to look at him again. “I wanted to apologise to you. Not just for surprising you today, but for the last few years. I… well… I think you know how hard I was finding everything, and, at the end, I didn’t feel like I had a choice. I know that I shouldn’t have just left, but, at the time, I couldn’t do anything else. I hope you understand.” Terry nodded to her, slowly. “I’ve been getting help,” Judith continued. “I’m feeling much better than I was, and I wanted to talk to you. So, I sent you dinner and wine – I hope I remembered what you like! If you don’t want to, I’ll completely understand – you can just enjoy a good meal on me. But, if you’d like to talk… well, I’d like to think of this as a new first date, so that we can get to know each other again. I’ve changed over the last few years, and I’m sure you have.” “A first date?” Terry asked. “You want to get back together?” Judith nodded to him, and her eyes glistened on the screen. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or if it was just the glare of a light. “I’m not pushing anything,” Judith insisted. “I have no right to. But I miss you, and I miss Chelsea, but I don’t want to get her hopes up if things aren’t going to work out, and I didn’t know if you might have already moved on, or the two of you might hate me for leaving you… I just wanted to reach out and see if there could be a chance.” Terry smiled at her, and felt tears fill his own eyes. “It’s a date. I’m going to hang up so I can go freshen up, and then call you back from my laptop.” Judith smiled at him, looking so much as she used to that it almost broke his heart. Whatever help she’d been getting had turned her around. He gave her a wave and ended the call. Ten minutes later, Terry was freshly shaved, had changed into a shirt, had warmed his meal up and had poured himself a glass of the Merlot. He pressed the necessary controls on his laptop to call Judith back, and she answered within a couple of rings. She looked just as she had before, though tears had smudged her makeup. She was smiling though, and the smile reached her eyes. He raised his glass to her and saw her do the same. “To new beginnings,” he said. “To new beginnings,” she echoed and moved her glass towards the screen, as if to toast over the miles of distance between them. “I’m sure there is lots you’d like to know about the last few years. First though – please – how is Chelsea? I miss her so much.” |
Flash FictionSome shorter fiction, usually based on some kind of challenge. Archives
October 2021
Categories |