So, my internet status is still pretty much up in the air, I'm afraid.
In that light, here's a few more stories, from my Accord Hospice 100-story challenge blog ( www.nbgolash.blogspot.com/ ), in random order:
STORY#3:
The Garden
They were working in the garden, as they had for the past fifty-four years. Sam was pruning his wife’s roses. Suddenly, Anne stumbled, looking pale and wan. “You alright?” He asked. “No,” she whispered, “I feel weak.”
“It’s your heart.” The doctor said, “You’ve not long to live.” Four weeks later, Sam sat on what was their wedding bed. He held Anne’s cold hand, tears coursing down his cheeks. “I wish I could see our garden,” she whispered. “I brought it to you,” He said, placing a red rose in her hand. She smiled, closed her eyes, and Sam wept.
STORY #98
The Last Scout
Moses Walker served with the 5th Cavalry in the heart of the Dakota Territory. Soon, he would retire, but now he was on scout for the patrol sent out to protect the gold miners. He halted on a knoll--when a band of Sioux appeared! Screaming, they began chasing him.
Moses suddenly found himself in a box canyon. He leapt down, back to the rocks, firing over his horse--when his bullets ran out. Just then, an arrow found him, and Moses knew it was the end. He smiled. “Eh, didn’t want to retire, anyway,” he murmured as he died.
STORY #87
Gypsy Dancer
Wallace rose from the poorhouse, to become one of the wealthiest men of the age, thanks to an invention he’d made. He was living in one of the grandest homes in all the shires. But, he was alone. The peerage shunned him, his peers thought him above them, so Wallace kept to himself.
He spent his evenings, staring at a painting he’d bought in Venice: a life-size portrait of a gypsy dancer. Standing there, he whispered sadly, “I wish you were real.” As he turned, and slowly walked away, a tiny teardrop fell from a corner of the gypsy’s eye.
STORY #36
Doctor Who: Nothing to Brag About
The lady was galloping her mare, leaving the lords behind. She stopped, waiting for the others to catch up. Meanwhile, in the Tardis, the Doctor was busy bragging to his latest companion, Donna. Gleefully he shouted, “Oh! I know! Let’s go back to Merrie Olde England!”
The Tardis appeared, wheezing like a dysfunctional church organ--right in front of the lady’s mare! She reared, dumping the lady on her bottom, right into a steaming pile of manure. The Doctor stepped outside--and stared at Queen Elisabeth I, sitting on the ground. Raising an eyebrow, he said, “Ah. That's what happened!”
STORY # 51
The Battle of Verity Gap
George kept down, lying in the mud of a shell hole. The bullets were flying overhead, so thick; they actually were stripping the bark from the trees. “Fire that rifle, soldier!” The lieutenant shouted. But there was nothing to fire at---everyone was wisely keeping his head down--except certain young officers.
The lieutenant went down, shot through the head. Just then, George spied a woman in black, riding hell-bent across the battlefield. The bullets slowly ceased, as she leaped off her horse, and cradled a dead man in her arms--the widow who stopped the battle of Verity Gap.
STORY #67
Born to Buy
It wasn’t a very large village. But, it did have a store/post office. The store, Wilson’s, carried a little bit of everything. It was a fine day, and, with his wife sitting nearby, holding their new baby, Mr. Wilson put the finishing touches on a new sign: “Wilson and Son.”
Wiping the gold paint from his hands, he looked on proudly as his wife softly crooned a lullaby: “By-low, my baby, by-low…” Mr. Wilson chortled, “That’s right, love! You teach him to buy low, I’ll teach him to sell high, and together we’ll make a great shopkeeper out of him!”
STORY 23
Lover's Farewell
Elisabeth stared out the open window, at the roses in her garden--but wasn’t seeing them. Her mind was on a far-flung battlefield. One day, she’d been pruning her roses, when something made her look up. There he was, Blane Gordon, astride a handsome bay mare, resplendent in his uniform.
They waltzed the springtime away, even had a favourite tune: Lover’s Farewell. Sighing, she picked up his photograph--suddenly, the tall clock in the hall struck midnight. But, strangely, it was only ten. Then, on the soft breeze, Elisabeth heard their tune--and sobbing, she knew--her lover had died.
Story #14
The Lumberman's Last Dime
Winter was over, the log drives done. Melva was pleased, for the lumbermen would come and stay at her parent’s lodging house. She was fond of Jim. All summer, he courted her, taking her dancing. When winter came again, he promised marriage, on his return.
“Here, Mel,” he cried as he left on the stage, “keep this to remember me.” He threw her his last dime. “If you don’t come back, I’ll use this to buy a bucket of beer and drown myself.” Jim was later killed, and Mel, she bought herself a beer, and drowned herself in one swallow.
STORY #71
Writer's Block
The writer sat hunched over his keyboard, massaging his temples. He’d just written a movie, called “Day of the Animated Cadavers,” and now the studio was at him to make a sequel. Trouble was, he had writer’s block.
Deciding to go for a walk to clear his head, the writer headed out into the countryside. His stroll took him past a churchyard. Tired, he sat, leaning against a mouldery, tilted, marble headstone--and it moved slightly. A hand reached out from the grave…slowly, towards the unsuspecting writer. There was to be a sequel after all, but it wasn’t a movie.
(NOTE: Ihese stories were written in honour of the patients of Accord Hospice and in memory of Mrs. Helen MacDonald. The stories were written to raise funds for a hospice in Scotland Thanks. )
