Stowe Landscape Gardens

Flash Fiction: What can you hear?

/ Claire Fuller / 52 Comments

claire-fuller-3

“Draw the curtains,” said a voice from the bed, papery with age and illness.

Viv rose from her chair and pulled aside the heavy cloth. Sunlight flooded into the room and for the first time she saw him properly: sheet-thin skin laid over bone, the surface mottled like a boulder which had tumbled from a mountain and lain for years in the wind and the weather.

“Window,” he whispered.

With an effort Viv lifted the sash.

“Shh, listen,” he said. “Can you hear it?” Viv caught the far-away slap of the sea. “The carpenter’s plane,” he said. “He’s making the coffin outside the window.”

*

Top marks for those who get my literary reference this week. Maybe it’s really obvious, especially for any American readers.I’ve had a few comments so far, none of which knew what I was going on about, so I’ve changed ‘Making the box’ to ‘He’s making the coffin’.

I’m delighted this week that Rochelle has chosen one of my pictures. It’s one of a series of statues in Stowe Landscape gardens – a wonderful place to wander around, owned by the National Trust and full of odd folies. More information here.

For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Each story is only about 100 words long, so why not read a few others: click here to read some more or to join in.

And please comment below with any suggestions on mine, or just to show you’ve visited.

Short story: enlightment

/ Claire Fuller / 44 Comments

lvbydawne_2As he drove his car up the drive, Rex saw that every light in the house had been lit, making the windows glow like a wall of old masters in mahogany frames: shabby sitting room piled with books, bedrooms showing unmade beds and in the kitchen, the silhouettes of his grown-up daughters, arguing. He could imagine the conversation:

“I’m going to call the police.”
“No! That’s what he wants. The attention.”
“But he might be dead, in a ditch somewhere.”
“Then let him stay there. Teach him a lesson.”
“Margaret!”
“I mean it.”

Rex put his car into reverse.

***

This week my story was also inspired by a long weekend I spent in the Gothic Temple in Stowe Landscape gardens, which my husband organised for my birthday. This magnificent building can be rented from the Landmark Trust. On Sunday night we put all the lights on and went out into the dark. It looked amazing.

gothic temple

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For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture (this time supplied by Dawn M. Miller) is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click here to read other people’s amazing stories or to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.