A Story – Reflectors

She couldn’t remember when she had first noticed the totem pole. She had just looked up from her dark lonely thoughts one day while walking down the street and seen it. Every day for the next month she had noticed that more items had been added. She didn’t know who was doing this, or when, as she had never seen anyone attaching anything to the lamp post, or even taking much notice of it. It was almost as if she was the only person to see it.

Today was her day, though. She had planned it for a week and finally plucked up courage.
As she twisted the blue beads into the wire she held her breath guiltily.

“Hello,” said a soft voice from behind her, ” I wondered when you were going to add something of your own…”

170607_Reflectors

~Richard

 

 

A Story – Keyhole Figures

It was only a brief vision, but it left him stone cold nonetheless. They had said that early in the morning, when the place was quiet that strange things happened near that door. He had been doing his regular rounds but was a little delayed when he passed the space. Maybe only ten minutes but it made all the difference. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and and a deadening silence as he passed. Glancing over his left shoulder as he walked down the incline he saw the figures quite clearly. A young woman in a shawl and a small boy. They just stared at him as if they were expecting him to be someone else. Their gazes bored into him with longing. He blinked and they were gone, but he shivered and quickened his pace. He made up the ten minutes by the time he reached the end of his rounds. He would definitely not be late again…

170422_KeyholeDoorStory

~Richard

A Story – Taken

They’d left him only for a few minutes. He said he was tired so he sat on the old dentist’s chair to have a rest. They continued to search nearby but had spread out either side of the corridor so no-one could get him. Then there was the scream. They rushed back to find the chair empty and torn and piles of dust and plaster ripped from the walls. It had taken all of 10 seconds at the most and there was no sign of him whatsoever. Now they were only four of them left. Would they ever get out of this place and back to the sunlight?

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~Richard

Santa Claus Story

The old man sat very still on the park bench, just as he had been requested. Although it was cold with the snow falling he wasn’t too bothered. After all the well spoken gentlemen had said he could keep the coat and the hat as long as they could capture his likeness on their photographic equipment. To be honest, he was grateful for a little attention too, although it was the clothing and the dime they had given him that was sure to help get through the next day or two.

They had seen him sitting there shivering and remarked about his beard and his blue eyes. He thought they were a little odd but then he wasn’t sure how the younger generation really acted any more. It had all been so different when he was their age.

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He remained in his position for about 20 minutes while the young men fiddled about with their contraption, moving large plates of glass in wooden frames back and forth in a serious manner. His stomach was rumbling now, but he sat like a statue, as he had promised. There was no way he was going to jeopardize this offer. Finally, they thanked him and he slowly rose, stamped his feet and headed through the snow to where he knew he could get a warm meal and a hot drink on this cold day.

© Richard Reeve, 2015

Short Story – Shattered View

Shattered View

It’s been over 6 months since I shared a photo related to the 52 week photography challenge but I didn’t share the short story I wrote to accompany the photo on my website. As it has been a while since I have shared a story on this blog I thought I would post it now in its entirety:

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He looked out at the tops of the houses through the shattered window. The town was quiet now that it was daylight, although even the sun seemed to begrudge showing itself this morning. The battle had been unexpected, extremely violent but thankfully localized. Oh, and weird, to say the least. When the biker gang had ridden into town like some cowboy gangsters they hadn’t expected much resistance. They’d been before and got what they wanted without much trouble from the townsfolk. They hadn’t figured on the resentment that had been building up all year in anticipation of this day and so were totally taken by surprise when the doors of the convent burst open. The looks on their stunned faces were priceless, especially from their evil tattooed leader. He thought he was tough, but when faced with shotgun-wielding nuns screaming obscenities he, like the rest, was momentarily paralyzed with confusion. That’s all that was needed, as Mother Superior had predicted. The invaders had only managed one reflexive shot in response and it went high and broke the window up in the tower. And this gray morning the gravedigger was busy digging twelve holes…

© Richard Reeve, 2016

Catching Sunbeams

The old man worked his way methodically through the meadow, his long cloak brushing through the tall summer grasses. It was almost dusk and he still had a lot of work to do before the Solstice was over. On this, the longest day, he had been up before dawn setting out his traps along the ley line than from the ancient gnarled oak and down the hill towards the brook. It was a pattern he had repeated twice each year for longer than he could remember. It had been well over a hundred and fifty times by his reckoning. Although the summer had always been easier than the winter, these last few years were really taking their toll on him. His joints ached but he would soon be finished. He recalled how, all those years ago, as a young boy, he had bounded through the fields, full of enthusiasm as he had learned his trade from his predecessor. How he had been scolded and told to slow down and feel the rods to make sure they were placed perfectly and had done their deed.

He had thought the tradition would continue forever, and be passed down for generations to come, but he was wrong. First, the Great War had taken so many from the village and then the revolution that brought technology had relegated so many of the old ways to mere folklore. He was truly amazed at the speed of the change. He had no apprentice, and over the last few years he had resigned himself to being the last Collector.

As he reached the final rod he carefully unfastened the iron jar from his belt, traced his forefinger over the runes on the lid and removed it. With a clockwise twisting motion he extracted the iron rod from the ground and gently tilted the hoop over the mouth of the jar with practiced, steady hands. He muttered his short incantation and gently tapped the hoop, watching as the sunbeams slowly, almost reluctantly, drifted into the jar. Replacing the lid, he added the final rod to the quiver on his back and turned to watch the sunset.

This had been another good harvest.

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~ Richard

© 2016, Richard Reeve

 

6 sentence story – War of the Worlds Redux

They had never really understood our true nature.Had it really never occurred to them that the attackers in the tripods were merely doing our bidding? The seeming ease of their conquest should have warned them, but their pious arrogance precluded further analyses.

By the time our Martian hosts had expired we had already moved on – initially hibernating and then carefully molding our genes as we adapted to the new environment.Our new hosts were smaller but much more robust and so varied.

And we now have  all the time in the World!

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~Richard

6 sentence story – The camera never lies?

At first he was sure there had been a mistake.  When he opened the pack of developed photographs fresh from the store his initial thought was that they had given him someone else’s film. But as he flipped through the prints he saw that they were, in fact the shots he had taken; or rather the compositions were the same. The actual subjects had changed though – the faces were different, the clothes dated. He thought that was all, but when he looked closer, even the background was wrong – trees smaller and a missing house.  This must be some kind of joke, he thought, but if so it was an elaborate one, and who would do such a thing…?

160407_Gardening

~Richard

Norman is an Island

Norman works for the Royal Bahamas Police and takes his job very seriously. So do the drivers when they set off at the lights on Bay Street, Nassau. Officer Norman stands proudly in the center of the road as an island of calm and gives you the eye. You had better do as he tells you or there will be consequences…

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~ Richard

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