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Chrissie for Dan

“It was not my choice that you and I should mesh.
You crept in slowly and your presence grew;
With every day that you came close,
A gradual understanding of my need gained
Trust.

A new dimension seemed to open wide,
Beliefs were questioned, where before was bleak
Hopelessness and hurt, long harboured,
Slowly banished by your gentle calm; came
Hope.”

Dan for himself

“In the end how do we ever really know those whom we love? I fell in love with Anne all those years ago, and my love in the beginning was  an expression of faith.  We once visited this place where I now sit alone looking at the magnificent view. I would just try to see it through her eyes.  Did we both see the same things in the same way? I wanted to be able to read her thoughts and spend the rest of our relationship trying to make Anne understand why this was what I imagined love really was. It transcended mortality, and a true meeting of minds could only be achieved after death.

It ended badly, of course, but two years was something of a record for me, which is why she held a special place in my memory.  It was my first serious relationship, full of promises and hope, but it failed in the end.  She wasn’t prepared to take the final step.  Our romance ended here on this island where the Troodos mountains meet the sea.  In this secluded villa on the edge of the point  with nothing else for miles, she said no.  I had  been too young then to know why she ended it all. I’d been to this villa many times over the years since my parents bought it for our family holidays. The name, they say, is a rough translation from the Greek – The Villa at the Edge of the World   It seemed to be then more like the villa at the end of my world. “

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Lady Lucy Fanshaw

Shedding Light on a Dark Era_ Baroque, Cavalier, and Puritan Fashions

“Courage is the mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty. Bravery is the quality that allows someone to do things that are dangerous or frightening.”

So wrote Lady Lucy Fanshaw in her diary which she left for her sons to discover in the library at the manor house near Norwich. In the proceeding years before her death, she was obliged to make many decisions which tested her bravery and her courage. To seek a haven of safety where few existed, to remind herself that it was her duty to protect their lives, their freedoms, and their honour. The estate, and her diary, were passed on to future generations.
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No pressure then?

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“Because I could not stop for death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves and immortality.”

Emily Dickinson

Arthur Bliss was intrigued by the prospect of immortality so he devoted a huge slice of his accumulated wealth on funding research into Cryonics. With advancements in medical science transforming the world, his primary strategy for living through the 22nd century and beyond, was not to die. Should this happen his back up plan was to buy a Cryonics company which theoretically ensured that some time in the future his frozen remains could be defrosted and brought back to life.

A week after the company, renamed Eternal Bliss, had been acquired, his personal transporter crashed on one of his routine trips to the moon. His remains, unfortunately scattered across the crash site, were problematic to retrieve but his head luckily remained largely intact. It was dispatched to Eternal Bliss according to his wishes, and placed in the freezer. Arthur was aged 70. His only living relative, his niece Mildred, inherited his fortune.

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Melissa

I open to the door to our quarters. Melissa sits on the floor. She’s cradling the baby in her arms, and he’s holding on to her finger as he gazes into her eyes. She’s talking softly and smiling back at him. I can’t help it, but it’s wrong. It’s just going to be so much harder when they take him to The Nursery.  She will never be able to hold him again. She looks over to me and I know she knows what I’m thinking. She stays where she is, thank goodness, she knows better than to touch me at the moment.  It’s not to be encouraged, and emotional relationships with others, even family members detracts from our duty and responsibilities towards the Brotherhood and the continuance of our society.  Melissa ignores this, much of the time, although I do my best to discourage her. She frequently sails much too close to the wind in private.

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The church bells stopped ringing. It was the signal that the coast was clear so Monty marched down the path towards the back kitchen door speaking into his Acorn MB* radio.

“They should all be in church. Now approaching the kitchen door door. Over.”

“Over what?” squeaked a voice in his ear.

“Never mind.” Monty sighed, “are you all ready?”

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Home for Christmas

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She was having trouble with her memory these days, not to mention her arthritis, so she was so  grateful that this year, the Christmas Day meal was being cooked by Beatrice her daughter. Bless her, she had also organised all the shopping and bringing it with her. The house looked a treat, thanks to Mrs Thomas from the village, who came in to clean. She’d managed to decorate the tree too, and on the coffee table were the games she’d found and Beatrice’s favourite Christmas story book, “Santa and His Little Helpers. She hoped the children would enjoy them.

Where on earth were they all?

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Just Deserts?

1024px-Commons_Division_2012Two months before their fortieth wedding anniversary he left.  Jill was in shock and found she couldn’t focus on practical details. Her eldest son cancelled all the party arrangements and arranged an appointment with the solicitor.

She refused to attend.  The reality of the situation was something she chose to ignore however much her children urged her to protect her own interests. She ignored phone calls from her husband, and flatly declined to discuss the situation with her friends or family. She snubbed the press, and likewise, increasingly frantic communications from the PM’s Office.

It was a frustrating time for all of them but every time they visited their mother, she was pottering around as usual in the garden or walking the dogs.  She was not in the slightest bit curious to know where he was or what he was doing. After years of ignoring his various infidelities and petty cruelties she simply carried on as normal.  Of course, she was on some level aware that her life would change in the future, but she wanted to face that in her own time, and at her own pace.

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A Match made in Heaven

Scene One: Castel Sant’Angelo, the Library.

Edward looked at Simon, his elbows resting on the other side of the desk, his head in his hands.

What the hell are you going to do, Simon? It’s make your mind up time, I need some sleep. Are you going to marry her or what? Frankly, it’s a bit bloody late in the day to be having this conversation. We’re supposed to be at the church in precisely seven hours.

Ed, I just wanted to be normal, you know, not the target for bigoted nutters. Jesus, I haven’t done it since I was seventeen. You what that feels like, always hiding, pretending to be something I’m not. Look, Edward, just give me the bloody key; this may be my last chance to do it.”

Edward shook his head sadly as Simon just groaned again and poured himself another brandy. Edward took the key from the desk, opening the windows and raising his eyebrows, stood clear, and tried again to get through to his brother.

“Who was it said ‘The one charm about marriage is that it makes a life of deception absolutely necessary for both parties? Just don’t do anything stupid. But I really think you confess to Kate if you are determined to go through with this. It’s her life too, you know.”

“Oscar Wilde?” Simon responded automatically. But it didn’t distract him from his anguish.

“No, I can’t live without her, but how can I tell her?  What a bloody mess.”

Simon hurled the glass in the direction of the fireplace , unfurled his wings and flew slightly unsteadily out of the open window. Continue Reading »

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Belinda shuffled her way along the pavement. She had no particular destination in mind. A walk would pass the time. To the casual observer, she looked elderly and frail, her clothes nondescript and threadbare. She veered towards the curb and suddenly her arm was gripped tightly as she was firmly guided through the busy traffic to the other side of the street. She didn’t actually want to cross but thanked the young woman politely after explaining this. Belinda raised her hand to protest as her now irritated helper slipped back into the traffic. She lowered it, then raised it to her mouth in shock as the young woman was hit by a speeding motorbike.

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Pas de Deux

“But is it art?” she paused, peering through narrowed eyes at the abstract in front of her.

“Do you like it?” I countered, knowing where this was going. She took a step forward and examined the price tag.

“Not at that price, or any price.” She moved on to the next painting.

“Now this one is more promising.” She took a step backwards and continued to gaze.
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