I Spy

Billy Thomas and gang set out their new mission – their eyes lit up – to catch a spy. Now that was exciting. Billy had twice seen the foreign man who had moved into a house on the edge of the village passing a rolled-up newspaper to a shifty little man. Once he’d seen the shifty man hand him money 

A rota was set up. Huw Parry would watch in the morning as his parents went to work early. Billy would watch after school till teatime. Gwyn Griffiths would then take over, as his parents went to the club most nights and his brother let him go where he wanted. Huw Parry had an army uniform they could share to hide in the woods. Gwyn Griffiths borrowed his da’s binoculars to keep watch.

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Midnight

My mission had been to submit my story by the deadline.  I was failing fast.

I had to write something. My head was stuffed with a myriad of ideas, but none of them seemed to work.  I sighed as I looked at the pile of screwed up papers overflowing the waste bin.

I reread all the other submissions for what seemed like the tenth time.  What did they have that mine lacked?  Even my analytic powers seemed to have deserted me.

I tried some displacement activities to look for inspiration elsewhere.  My e-mails and You Tube displayed the same as when I had looked before. I came up with no fresh ideas for the story.

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An Abbreviation of Love

What struck Julian were the silvered eyebrows half-way down an oblong face. Most people’s eyebrows are a third of the way down. This displacement, together with a high hairline, left a disconcertingly blank expanse of forehead skin, broken only by a stray wisp of hair escaping diagonally from an oiled and groomed coif to gently caress the outer arch of the right brow.

They had met in Drawing Class five years previously. A common love of philately and the search for the missing, presumed stolen, “Inverted Jennies.” -so named because the stamps’ bi-planes had been printed upside-down, -had propelled an initial halting comradeship into friendship, to them sharing a flat together, then more.

Shane was ostensibly the more extrovert. A favourite entertainment for both was him regaling Julian with colourful yarns of adventures with his “alternative” friends; the “Famous Five” he called them. Sometimes, without warning, “You go out and enjoy yourself. Come back any time after 10.30pm.” Shane would say in his appeasing voice, letting Julian know he had to be out that evening and what time he was permitted to return. Shane would shower, apply aftershave, don his grey and pink checked, 3 piece suit, and complete the “look” so carefully cultivated with a fedora. Julian guessed these evening assignations were with the “Famous Five”, either singly or in various combinations. Him meeting any was out of the question. Not permitted.

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Mission Accomplished

It isn’t the kind of building you’d notice on Google Maps. A red brick set amidst terraces of red brick. The Mission is a working, sleeves-rolled-up place, somewhat larger than the surrounding houses, but no more ornate.  Like many of its type, set in poorer streets across the land, it is loved with a rough, unsentimental familiarity and relied on to do its work.

In past times, the Mission performed its original purpose as a non-denominational meeting- house with both religious and educational aims. Working children were sent to Sunday school there and, after a modest lunch, spent afternoons struggling with reading, writing and adding-up.  

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The Maze

They interlocked like two jigsaw pieces, she believed. He started a sentence, she completed it. She began to form an idea, he developed it. Brick and mortar, wood and nail.

            Phil was tall, dark-haired, good-looking, otter-sleek. And busy around the university campaigning, a missionary for environmental change. Strong feelings, high ideals. Hers too, and they went about together, she the shadow to his light.

            Frieda knew she wasn’t attractive like him. Plumpish, plain face and brown hair, a reclusive fieldmouse, shy, to his out-there eager-beaverness. But they were solid, and she wanted him desperately.

            One night they slept together. Fully locked. This was it. She would never feel incomplete again, no longer believe she was a solitary piece of a puzzle. But in the morning he just said, ‘That was nice. We’re still friends?’ And then he was off with his right-on, committed chums, busy-busy, no time for her for days. She asked him eventually had it just been a one-off?

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A Mermaid’s Mission

Man and Mermaid

‘Happy birthday, sis!’ Rae thrust a present into Eva’s hand.

Eva tore into the shimmering fish-skinned wrapping paper.

‘A Mother-of-Pearl travel hairbrush! Thanks!’

‘A must-have for your upcoming mission!’ Rae’s smile was as wide and bright as the pearl gift she’d bestowed upon her sister.

‘You’re more excited than me,’ said Eva.

Rae, a year older, had just completed her mission. She’d been so immersed in it that Eva had barely seen her. Strangely, she’d hardly spoken about it.

Missions were set by the elders when mermaids turned eighteen. Rae had been tasked with collecting discarded plastic.

‘Let’s see what your mission is!’

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The Mish

            Bob inhaled the ends of the spliff and flicked the roach into the pearly twinkles of a little stream that ran beside their path. ‘Hell of a walk. Everything’s a mission when you’re stoned, isn’t it?’

            Eddy looked up at the black canvas sky. ‘But I do love a good mish. I love being outside when I’m high.’ Smiling stars streaked speckles of glitter across the universe and a thousand cosmic eyes winked at him. The moon bathed the world in a pure lunar glow and painted every surface, tree top and roof with luminary magic. It shimmered on leaves and spritzed through a silvery drew dropped spider web that hung from the droopy arm of a wise old willow tree.

            ‘How far is the shop?’

            ‘We’re nearly there.’

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The Mission Statement

“We exist to progressively leverage existing world-class total linkage in order that we may efficiently develop low-risk, high-yield e-business with 100% on-time delivery.”

Bernard Brightman, acting sales manager for Hayter Hair Products, held up a plaque to his staff. “What do you think?”

Emily popped her bubble-gum and walked out muttering. The remaining employees just looked at each other. Silence descended on the staff room.

“Well?” Bernard eyed them, his face slowly hang-dogging. “Does anyone have anything to say? This is important, guys. Mister Hayter is visiting to sign this off.”

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