It was hard to believe that there was danger beyond the fence. But there was.
People crossed over and didn’t return. Vanished. Gone.
It became a shunned place.
A place where after consuming enough beers you dared each other to go beyond the broken fence.
The fence itself was a warning. Bent and broken from the fury of families who had lost loved ones.
We sent a drone over the fence, high above filming the area.
There was nothing but bush and scrub, but on occasion articles of clothing could be seen hanging from branches. That was small compensation for the families.
More so was the feeling that as the drone circled it was being watched and even worse was the feeling that as we watched, whatever was down there was watching us.
We took a collective breath of air and decided to leave well enough alone, for now.
I once heard that mistakes were what made the world go round.
I don’t I was one; at least I don’t recall my mother telling me that I was.
It wasn’t until I became a father that I began to understand and appreciate what I had.
There were moments, usually at 2am on a work night when walking the floor that I wondered what I had gotten myself into. I could certainly say that none of my children were mistakes, as such. Rather when asked why I had so many my cheeky response was to say, “Well they just kept turning up and I didn’t have the heart to turn them away.”
I would say there were times when I was upset that some came too close to the previous one. That was definitely a challenge. I felt I’d just sorted out number 2 when number three burst into the world and it felt like I was starting all over again. Initially that was frustrating and I recall a feeling of resentment about the arrival of a third child as we drove to the hospital to give birth.
But as with every baby, suddenly there is a tiny living person in your arms, and you look down to see her looking into you eyes and instantly you fall in love with her. It was like she sensed that I was apprehensive about her birth and was assuring me that everything was going to be ok.
As it turned out, compared to her older brother, she was a dream of a child.
I would never use the word mistake in reference to my children, ‘inconvenience’ was more my call. Only because each child put a strain on our financial situation. Basically we were permanently poor, and when we did buy a house, big enough to house them, we lived with a mortgage that seemed to increase rather than decrease.
Then as a parent I made more than my fair share of mistakes. In my day, like with most new parents, I thought I knew everything. There were no books to read on parenting, our role models were our parents and they made mistakes with us. We plodded along, reacting more often than not.
Later when they became teenagers and developed intelligence far out reaching my own, so they thought, they made mistakes, and hopefully learnt from those mistakes.
Somehow or other, despite all the mistakes, so clearly seen in hindsight, we have all turned into reasonable people, we still talk with each other, our past mistakes forgotten, forgiven or put down as ‘He didn’t know any better.”
He’d been sitting there a while before he realized there was someone beside him.
It was a girl, dark haired, nose ring, heavy eye makeup and like him looking down.
“Where did you come from?” he asked.
“Through the window, same as I imagine you did.”
He sat there and continued to look down. He had enough on his mind without the distraction of person out there with him.
“It’s a long way down,” she said, ‘won’t be much of you when you hit the ground.”
“That’s the idea,” he replied. “I’m not much now so what difference will it make?”
“Hmm, but what if you get halfway and decide you don’t want to hit the bottom. I mean it would be a difficult position to be in. I can’t imagine you’d be in any position to get off, so to speak.”
“I’m not changing my mind. I’ll be doing a lot of people a giant favour. And what’s it to you? Are you gonna jump too?”
She was quiet for some time, her legs dangling over the edge like mine.
“You know what I find particularly sad?” she asked. “When it’s over, they will most likely scrape me up, cart me away and some poor police officer will go my mum’s and tell her what I’ve done. She’ll cry when she hears the news, and then she’ll sit real still and that’s when she’ll start to wonder who I was. She go to my room and find my note, then she’ll cry some more and then she’ll close my bedroom door and most likely never open it again. Out of mind out of sight.”
“Mine’s a similar story, I’m the black sheep of my family so they won’t be missing me, more likely relieved, and my mum will break the news to the family and they will be quiet for a time before life will return to its chaotic self.”
“It’s getting cold isn’t it. How about a coffee to warm us up?” she asked.
He thought for a second before looking at her and agreed. Together they climbed back through the window and caught the lift to the bottom floor where the café promised warmth and comfort.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2021/10/12/photo-challenge-386/
Yes, it’s hard to believe I know. When I was young and my hormones were raging.
You have a list of them?
Oh yes, I was once in love with Gus Low. He lived on the farm next door. He had his own plane and all that. I was young and fickle and so I decided to show Gus how much I thought of him. We had an old cart and with our our draught horse, Nelly, we scoured our creeks finding stones to create a love heart. I built it on top of Sugarloaf Hill where I knew Gus would be flying over.
How did it go? Was Gus impressed?
I’ve no idea. Dad made me return the rocks, said I was using up valuable grazing land, so that was the end of that.
I would have been impressed if I saw it.
No, you wouldn’t, you’ve hardly a romantic bone in your body.
Marge had heard I had been unwell and turned up with a box of donuts. My blood sugars had been raging of late and the doctor had warned me that too many highs could be disastrous for me.
So here I was confronted by a smiling neighbor, gift in hand and so concerned for my well fare that she thought a box of poison would be just the thing to cheer me up.
I smiled back, politeness was always my go too with my neighbours.
She meant well and I appreciated the gesture but I didn’t have the heart to tell her my situation.
I nibbled at one before putting it down saying I was feeling much like eating when in truth my body was craving the sugar hit.
She was okay with that and said she’d be going and I ushered her out the door.
I returned to find the donuts just where I had left them.
In temptations way.
I had to get rid of them as the desire to eat them was fast becoming overwhelming. Such a waste I thought.
Maybe one would be okay but I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist just one.
No, I picked them up and threw them into the backyard where the magpies had a right royal feast.
I felt pleased with myself for my actions and at the same time disappointed I hadn’t at least eaten one.
So, it was back to bland for me as I cut up some low-fat cheese and got out the low salt low carb crackers.
Written for: https://lifeafter50forwomen.com/2021/10/11/what-do-you-see-103-october-11-2021/
I was walking along our street eating an ice-cream and when I finished I dropped the wrapping on the path not thinking as always about littering and so forth.
“Would mind picking that up please?” said a voice. I looked around but saw no one and moved on. Sometimes I do hear voices in my head but this time it sounded like just the other side of the hedge.
‘Please pick it up, we keep a clean and tidy place around here and you are just making our job all that bit harder.”
I stopped and began to think I wasn’t hearing a voice, but there was an actual voice, not my consciousness playing up on me.
I looked over the hedge and then saw the source of the voice.
“My goodness but what are you?” I asked. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.
“I’m a Gurglepf,’ it said, “I like to keep things tidy and you are not helping me at all.”
“A Gurglepf? I exclaimed, ‘what’s a Gurglepf when he’s at home?”
“Well I am glad you asked. We Gurglepfs have been around a long time, mostly we keep to ourselves and you don’t notice us. We don’t always come across as the most glamourous of creatures but we are very clean. So, pick up your rubbish!”
I was struck dumb by what I was seeing and hearing. I looked around and suddenly everything appeared very unfamiliar. Home I knew was just along the street but the street was not as I remembered it.
“I think I might be lost,” I said to the Gurglepf, “I’m sure home is just along the way.”
“Oh dear,” replied the Gurglepf, “I was hoping that might not happen. People who meet us do have that phenomime occur to them. You’ll have to breathe in deeply three times and turn around. Sounds silly I know but it works. Why? I don’t know.”
I felt a pang of panic as I sucked in the breathes and turned around.
I closed my eyes as I knew if I didn’t nothing might happen.
I opened them with a jolt as I looked around.
I was in my bed, the blankets wrapped around me, and my singlet soaked from perspiration.
It was a dream I thought with great relief.
The next time I walked past the hedge I was careful not to drop anything though as I passed I was sure there was a rustle from inside it.
August 5, 2021, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about an open door. It can be literal or metaphorical. What is behind the door? Who is seeking and why? As the writer, how will you manage the discovery? Go where the prompt leads!
Freedom! That’s what lay beyond the opened door.
If only I could be brave enough to take that step.
The shackles that bound me were growing tighter, pulling me into a dark abyss I knew would be my end.
I had long harboured the desire to escape, find my own way. Threats kept me in my place. Financial ruin, public humiliation, alienation from my family.
So, I labored within the confines I allowed to be imposed on me.
But one day, the shackles fell, the door opened, I turned my back on misery and looked into a new world.
Morpethroad 