Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 51: Bait and Switch

This is the 51st a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

The Bleeding Heart, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 21st January 2012

Word count: 950

Theme: lost cause, grief, road less travelled, determination, love, serendipity

The story:

I was hoping, almost beyond hope, that my luck would change.

I was having the most crap of weeks, and it was hard to see how it could get worse, which is a silly thing to think. I should also point out that I had no idea how it could improve either. I’m not sure if I was an optimist, or a pessimist, I guess it’s academic now.

I guess I should give you the rundown, here goes, in one week:

  • I got made redundant, (and told the company was folding so no redundancy payments)
  • Broke up with my girlfriend of three years, (she didn’t want to be tied to someone she needed to financially support, I kid you not, her genuine words)
  • My car died, (and it’s going to cost a grand to fix)
  • My favourite television show was cancelled, (okay by orders of magnitude this is minor, but it all adds to the pain)

The list goes on and on, every little thing seemed against me. Let me tell you, it sucked the proverbial donkey nut, and then some.

But hey, for once in my life, I didn’t take it lying down, I decided, actually made a decision, to pick myself and get out there. After two days wasting away in my flat of course.

My indulgence of repeats of my show, served as grieving for the show itself, but for the way my life had suddenly gone as well.

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 43: The Snow Angel

This is the 43rd in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.

The Snow Angel, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 13th January 2012

Word count: 594

Theme: family, father, loss, joy, pride, growing young, snow, winter, love

The story:

“It’s here, it’s here!” the little boy shouted with such joy.

“Calm down, calm down,” his mother urged him, “it’s too late to be going outside. Besides it’ll be better when you awake in the morning, trust me. Now get to bed.”

“Okay mummy,” the boy acquiesced. He climbed the stairs and went to his room, looked out the window once more with a smile and crawled into bed, eager for the hours of the night to vanish and for it to be morning.

Early the next morning, the boy was woken up by his mothers gentle rocking, and her whispered urgent words to wake up, “Come on Timmy, come see.”

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Daily Flash Fiction Challenge 13: For Her, Anything

This is the eighth in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing from 2nd December 2012 until the 1st December 2013. It’s intent is to keep me writing throughout the year, and not just in November. you can find out more about the challenge here.

For Her, Anything, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 14th December 2012

Word count: 991

Theme: end of the work. unknown apocalypse, apocalypse, love, survival, violence, humanity

The story:

Dear Sarah,

Are you out there? Are you well? I worry about you and miss you. I was in London when it happened, I was going to bring you something nice. It’s five months later, five months moving from one wretched town to another, always making my way back home.

When the attack happened it hit central London first. I managed to evacuate. The following day, I broke away from the thousand of refugees, I don’t know why I went a different route, I just did. As did several others, dozens of us, guess it just seemed easier than being shepherded by the army to no one knows where.

Whimsy saved my life, you always said by random decision making would be the death of me, it nearly has three times since then, but that time, it saved me. The attack happened at mid-afternoon, we saw it on the horizon. All those refugees.

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A poem very close to my heart…

This morning, I couldn’t sleep and went for a walk. Up the slanting street I went, and found myself by the field behind Osmondthorpe Lane, facing the bridge I’d climbed up after I came back from hospital, the night my Granddad died.

I wrote a poem for him after that, I’d intended on reading it at the funeral – I messed up though, it was the first funeral I’d ever been to, and I left it at home, and even though I’d practiced it, I didn’t dare stand up and read it, in case I spoiled it.

By no means is technically a great poem, but it’s a poem that means more to me than any other. Since I ended up at the bridge, and the memories and chain of thoughts led me to rekindle my blog, I thought it was fitting I put it out there once more.

One of the last great heroes has gone

One of the last great heroes has gone,
A warrior of sea and life,
Lost to us, but for memory,
And love in our hearts,
He will be there for us in the strife,
And always too when life is merry.

But on that sorrowed night I prayed,
Just for two minutes,
Two minutes, to say my love,
To share my heart,
He had given his all to life’s fight,
And from his body he flew, released like a dove.

I wish I could have said more in the time we had,
How much we all cared for the tailor,
I know, I hope,
With all my heart,
That we loved with out failure,
Only with that faith could I cope.

By Jonathan Lawrence, 5th April 2003