Silkie outgrew the pond.

Once again, under cover both of night and of the tarpaulin over the wheelbarrow, we bumped him down to the sloping sand.

Clouds opened the sky and a grey head appeared in the black mirror waves.

Silkie swam towards the moon, not looking back this time.

The Sunday kick about

Here! Here!
To me! Me!
Go on, chase it down!
Oh, at least undo your coat, man!
But it’s pouring!
To you! You!
I didn’t see it!
Well, you shouldn’t be smoking….
And the over-50s Sunday kickabout continues as it always does, until – GOOOAAALLL! He aeroplanes away, raincoat over head.

Bluebell bit Foxy

Bluebell bit Foxy. Or vice versa.
The fizzy drink he threw over the snarling dogs splashed her white dress.
He should not be allowed in the park, let alone his wicked dog.
She should, well, she should….
They dragged their dogs in opposite directions, still snapping.
Later though, they smiled.

The battlements quaked

The battlements quaked. In the bedchamber the physician’s long hat quivered in the falling dust. He scratched the curled words, hurriedly, carefully, desperate to carry his thoughts, his steely will,  through his arm and quill. With the last word he shivered. The queen’s eyes softly opened and the world stilled.

Haunted heart

Jay’s hand was warm on Kelly’s shoulder. She looked in the mirror and he was there, smiling. Like this it wasn’t so bad, she thought. She’d thought it would be worse to have a haunted heart. Jay’s hand tightened and her breath came quicker. Then slowed. And stopped.

A waterslide in the desert

“You’re as much use as a waterslide in the desert!”
“Oh, don’t start.”
“Well, you make me so angry!”
“Well….” (He grins.)
“It’s not funny.” (But she smiles.)
“Well…. In the desert….” (He grins again.)
“Stop it! I’m fluming – fuming….” (She tries not to laugh.)
(They kiss. They make up.)