No groom? No worry

At the crossroads on the outskirts of town is the shop. A grey-haired woman, hesitant at its door, whispers on entering, ‘I’m Mabel Bennett.’

            Mrs Griffiths mentally notes: this one is nervous.

            The shop is small from the street but its inside is capacious. Mabel’s first impression is of a greenhouse, pregnant with blooming white flowers. Closer inspection reveals racks where the gowns huddle silently, each awaiting a body to fill them, to walk and twirl in them, display them to a crowd – though just one human might suffice.

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The Seed and the Shell

Dimitri walked the beaten path from his small town in Hostre, to the familiar fields of grain that he’d admired since childhood. The fresh dew sat lackadaisically on a blade of grass; its slumber abruptly disturbed by the compression of Dimitri’s leather bound foot. His impact paled in comparison to the indelible impression bestowed upon the wider area. During the previous season, the land had been disturbed by heavy machinery, the earth turned over and upon itself, revealing the darker soil below.

“Big machines, operated by large men, led by those with gargantuan egos.” He pondered aloud.

 His fixation upon his outer surroundings caused a momentary lapse in perception. Dimitri’s foot discovered a deep puddle, which had been considerately filled with fresh rainwater. His right foot and shin now completely submerged and subsequently sodden.

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Commitment to the Cause

Light from the hallway shone through the glass of the door.  A signal to say it wasn’t safe.  She turned away straining to stay calm when time was running out.  The next place was easily a mile away.   Not too far in daylight, but in the dark and with what she carried under her cape it would be difficult.  Nudging the weight into a different position, she cautiously moved on, her arm numb.  The road was quiet, but sensing danger, she slid into the shadow of the wood.  It wasn’t much safer.  If she was caught it would be said that a woman alone at night was asking for trouble. 

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A stranger

A faceless man stands with the universe behind him

It was a ghastly sight, twisted and unnatural. To look upon it was to feel your brain revolt as some deep-rooted and primal instinct urged you to turn away.

And Jamie, against all judgement, stood his ground, wincing in terror and disgust as the figure, no eyes, no hair, no nose or lips, but a smooth spherical face, stood opposite him.

This white matchstick seemed to move with a faux gracefulness, well maintained of course but never suggesting anything close to a homo sapiens, nothing close to organic in truth. Instead, its motions recalled a marionette’s imitation of life.

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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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Resolutions

Resolutions? Don’t we all think of that in the start of a new year?

And, don’t we all fall by the wayside about three minutes later.

Stop drinking, stop smoking, eat less, exercise more……. That covers every resolution ever thought of, I think.

What about a new resolution then? Its quite simple really.

Its just “be kind”.

Our planet is in dire straits, and as the song goes, “a little less conversation a little more action”.

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