I’ve decided I will be writing a few short stories into the blog occasionally, just now and then. This one was borne out of one of the daily prompts.
via Daily Prompt: Final
She could not explain why it felt so final.
As she prepared to go on her journey, the moment that she booked the ticket, what he had said, he talked of if she didn’t come back to them. Is that what he thought? Surely not. Where on earth would she go, she did not wish to be anywhere else. She did not even wish to go back in the first place. To leave them at all. What a funny thing to say, she thought to herself as she booked the ticket. So off he went shopping alone, gathering foodstuffs for a single man. There would be no meals cooked whilst she was gone, would he survive on sandwiches and pies, chocolate and biscuits. No chance of a staple diet, she worried about him.
They would be alright, he promised not to do anything silly in her absence, nothing that would cause him damage, he would rest, he said. A friend was taking her to the station, they would not be there to bid her farewell, the kisses and hugs would have to be had before the short journey to the train.
It was only going to be a few days. So why was he speaking as though she would not be back? She did not understand, but hoped that the paranoia would not overtake sensible thought even for a moment.
But it sounded so final.
As she left for the return journey the conversation of the night before with someone else played on her mind. The words still rang in her head. “You must get there and not come back!” It seemed as though she belonged in neither place at the time. But she knew that she was right. This was no longer right for her. So much had changed in such a short time. Almost as though it was like she blinked and missed it, some altered state making her unaware of the when and how.
So, I finally have it. The collection of Poems, some of which are here on the blog and others which are yet to be seen which are all neatly assembled into my book.
It will be called The Sentimental Journey – Poetic Stories Vol 1 by India Blue
Poetic Stories since that seems to be the form that I have found my poems often take. I am hoping to self publish it very soon that is after a few choice people have read it for me and given me their harshest feedback of course. With a bit of Luck, it will be available on Amazon Kindle, pending any more subsequent edits and I have re-scheduled my launch until November 2016.
Who knows, if I make the date without having to delay it due to the other things which have been going on lately and people actually read it and like it, then there may even be a Poetic Stories Volume 2, after all I have so many more poetic stories to share with you.
It feels as though progress has been slow, I finished it some time ago, but Life has got in the way somewhat since then and everyone seems to suffer with self-doubt and wondering if they are actually doing the right thing.
Now it’s time for me to get back on track and to write some more, watch this space…
Oh, and Wish Me Luck!
The promise that my partner gets to read it first has been achieved, finally! He has taken the time on our trip to read it cover to cover and given me his opinions. Now that’s out of the way, a last tweak on the edit and I feel as though I can go ahead and get it out there at last.
A trip out to the Library was where it all began.
Imagination fired once more, mind running off again.
I looked at rows of books and piled some on the floor.
Hoped for peace and quiet, from ladies starting to jaw.
But I sat there and persisted, blocking out all other noise.
Although futile I resisted, children playing with the toys.
Wrapped up in a book or two, whilst they began to play.
There’s still a story to get lost, and while away the day.
Old books have been “Withdrawn” and are on sale by the door,
Pick a book not knowing, what it has in store.
Whether factual or a thriller, there’s so much there to choose.
A lover or a killer at only 20p, what have you got to lose?
Carpets torn and tattered, bookshelves empty and bare.
It’s hard to get excited, when there’s hardly any there.
But as you search among them and seize upon your choice,
You’ve finally seen one which matches your own voice.
There seems to be a moment, in which you dare to hope.
That when finding inspiration, there is always scope.
Take a moment get stuck in, spirited far away,
To other places far and wide, in corners of your day.
And as you are transported, off to another world,
You think of tales and they as they became unfurled.
What people are in there and their stories to be told,
Fact or fiction in this space, you’ll surely find pure gold.
This was inspired by my research trip to the library the other day. See In the name of Research, The Library and Books of Poetry Photos: Morguefile.com