Violets are Violet, Letters are Read


20 (more) little extracts from my new blog.

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Deeply absorbed in my lunch at Olive’s, I heard my smartphone buzz with a message. ‘Please bring October figures to the Saudi meeting. Vernon.’
Damn! I’d forgotten it’d been rescheduled; I had just ten minutes! I ran outside to a nearby taxi rank, ominously vacant.
Hopping impatiently, I saw one approaching. As it stopped, someone with orange hair, a bowler hat and striped tights pushed past.
“Oi, I was here first!” I protested. – A Night on the Clown (200 words)
Neither Jan or Jen, my workmates, believed me. “Look you guys, I overheard Ahmed on the phone, talking about dimethyl mercury and something about roses.”
Jan raised her painted eyebrows. “What’s that then?”
“I looked it up, it’s a deadly poison.”
“You must have misheard!” Jen laughed as the phone rang. “Hello, Indigo Flowers. Yes, we do sunflowers…” – Adrenalin Junkie (200 words)
Later, I entered a surreal landscape, castle after vibrantly coloured castle – red, yellow, purple…
A young woman with short blonde hair and huge circular earrings appeared.
“Hello, I phoned about the disco dome,” I said.
“Oh yes, come this way please.” – Bouncers (200 words)
“Vulgarity is the poor man’s religion!” said Sheldrake, battling against the loud chatter and raucous laughter of the Crown and Anchor’s early evening trade.
“Who said that?”
“Oscar Wilde.”
“No he didn’t!”
Sheldrake banged the table. “Well he should’ve done!” – Chivvers’ Foibles (200 words)
Hannah smiled at her reflection, realizing that she could see herself for the first time when having her hair cut. With embarrassment she noticed a touch of silver along the parting of her straight black bob. She winked and admired her vibrant grey eyes in the mirror. – Copperwood (500 words)
“World domination’s never actually been my bag dear boy,” said Charles, striding across his study in a purple dressing gown and paisley cravat. “And there’s my bad back and dicky heart to think of, you know.”
It was the summer of 1943 and sultry in his spacious Piccadilly flat. – Double Trouble (200 words)
Sheldon paddled nonchalantly, maintaining his favoured position in the middle of the pool. He watched the other ducks near the bank scrabbling for bread with disdain – his mother had always told him that he had superior intelligence.
He missed his mother. The others intimated that she’d “gone visiting” but he knew better. – Duck Surprise (200 words)
Eighteen hundred hours. OK, go, go, go!
Twenty metres away across the moonless sand, a lone sentry stood. Behind me, black parachutes, like water holes in the desert.
Orders were ‘no shooting’ – ours not to reason why! – Femme Fatal (100 words)
I took a short cut through the adjoining park, passing along a walkway, bounded by burgeoning shrubs, to a fountain, sparkling amongst pink rosebushes. A statue of Pan stood nearby.
I enjoyed the gentle sound of water. Then, something black loomed, I looked up and saw two nuns. Their countenances were grim and masculine.
I smiled and said, “this fountain’s so pretty, isn’t it?”
Silently they circled around either side of the fountain and grasped me forcefully by the elbows. –  Get in the Habit! (500 words)
He led her to a lift and all three descended several stories before entering a laboratory. Huge transformers hummed, switchboards blinked, relays clacked…
A door slid back revealing a small chamber.
”What year did you require?”
“2031.” – Inventions Я Us (300 words)
I felt myself to be in a soft, warm place where I was happy. Then I noticed a bright light above and in front of me. I focused on it and saw it was a naked light bulb hanging down on a cable. The room jolted into view and I saw it was bare except for a desk strewn with papers, a stool and a couple of battered filing cabinets. A peeling radiator pumped unnecessary heat into the room.
I made to stand up and to my horror discovered that I was bound to the chair; my arms and legs both strapped down. The door opened and a familiar figure entered. – Bound in Morocco (7224 words)
On the other side of a burnished desk, a grey-suited young man (“just call me Steven”) fingered his blond ponytail. “We’re speaking the same language, yes?”
“Well, assassination’s from twenty thousand for domestics, fifty to five hundred for politicals and by negotiation for HOS.”
“Heads of State,” Steven replied drily. – Little Pricks in the Night (200 words)
Aspects of my death were interesting.
I’d gone to my granddaughter’s pub for a pint at lunchtime. “‘Ello ‘Enry,” says old Malcolm, a ‘regular’, whilst discussing spade design.
Soon I felt unusually tired. “Sorry Malcolm, I need a lie-down.” – Marley’s Spirit (200 words)
“Let’s stop at Thaxby, I want a wee!” my partner Saffron had giggled.
We’d been out to dinner, where we’d discussed my forthcoming sex change, and taken a backroad home. Normally moths sparkled in the headlights and sometimes hares ran on the road. Tonight, nothing moved save wraiths of hovering grey-white mist. – Mementoes (200 words)
Growing vegetables was old Tom’s passion. In the valley below Tillyvelyn he would work the rich black loam. On summer evenings he would sit, smoking and gazing up at the ruins of Glebe farm, high in the valley.
Sometimes he’d see lights up there. Some said it was elves, others, teenagers fooling around. Once he’d climbed there with Scott, his collie, but Scott had whined, refusing to budge. Tom proceeded alone amongst tumbled chimneys and abandoned rooms, open to the sky. No-one there save sheep grazing in the dusk. – Orwyn’s Ring (200 words)
“Wigan’s the place for podiums!” said Sue, waving her baton at an imaginary orchestra.
“What about Amazon?” her sister Shirley replied.
“I want to go to the podium shop!” The baton flew across the room hitting the cat, Dr. Evil, on the head. – Peer’s of Wigan (200 words)
Inventions, the new play by Bella Dalton was showing at the Garrick theatre and Bella sat in the audience incognito, the play about to begin.
The audience hushed and the curtain opened. A woman sat at a table drinking Blossom Hill chardonnay and reading a letter. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, standing up and bursting into tears.
A door opened and a teenage girl dressed in torn jeans entered. “Mum, I need twenty quid!” – Play with Emotions (200 words)
Goddamit! The president recalled the previous evening when he and the First Lady had hunkered after a chicken curry. An aide had been sent out for a native Indian dish, returning with something aromatic and fiery. Very fiery.
“OK, …I need the rest room…”
The president tried not to run. Once inside he braced his knobbly brown legs and gripped the towel rail tightly. – Rest Room (200 words)
It was on a bleak February morning in Woking, whilst waiting for a number six bus, that I had the top of my head taken off. I remember a young couple arguing heatedly opposite the stop, absorbing me in their altercation so that I lost awareness of the bus pulling in. The vehicle’s wing mirror and my head collided and I came off worst. – Saint Teresa of Woking (1167 words)
Violets are violet, letters are read.
A lover’s words, preserved blindly, best left unsaid.
Envelopes bundled, tied with a band.
Numberless bundles, like grains of sands.
Love, Let Us! (acrostic poem, 62 words)

Don’t forget to check out some of the other stories on my blog. There are over 100! 


If you are interested in joining a fortnightly 300 word story group please contact me and I’ll send details.

4 thoughts on “Violets are Violet, Letters are Read

  1. Hi Simon,
    I met you in the Community Pool where you indicated you are a new blogger. Congratulations on recently starting your blog. I help new bloggers at my site. Tips for engaging readers and increasing traffic are waiting for you. For example, I explained how to get 1,406 page views in less than one day
    I also host 12 networking events each month where you could meet new readers.

    1. Hi Janice, thank you for that information. There is much food for thought there, a lot of which is new to me. I will try to implement some of those strategies over time. Best wishes, Simon.

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