A Lifelong Urge

Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Kyle Gregory Devaras on Unsplash

I remember the day I wrote my first ever piece of fiction as though it were yesterday. I was around eight years old, I’d just finished watching a The Flintstones episode where the gang visits Count Dracula’s castle, and the Count himself becomes infatuated with Wilma and tries to woo her away from her oath of a husband, Fred*. Now, my love of the spook was nothing new to me by that stage of my life, but this episode stirred something in me, and for the first time that I can recall, I felt that overwhelming urge to write. Now, this was back in the 80’s and those Choose Your Own Adventure books were huge then, so I wrote my own vampire version of that. For hours I poured over my words, plot and accompanying illustrations and once I was happy, I presented the finished product to my mother and step-father. Their responses were what you’d expect from any well meaning parent, though not any over the top ‘My god you’re brilliant!’ praise either, and satisfied I had scratched my creative itch, I got back to my neglected barbie dolls, not giving writing a second thought. …


Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Mitchell Orr on Unsplash

I’m collecting firewood out in the yard when I spot him, though I don’t see him until I’m practically on top of him. I stop dead in my tracks. He stays frozen to the spot, right by my fence, pretending not to see me. I stand there, firewood in hand, and look at him. He appears to avoid my stare, though his black, beady eyes give little away. I’m surprisingly calm, which is not like me. Normally I’d run for the hills when confronted like this, but not today. I know better than to give into my fear and run. Fear leads to stupid decisions. …


Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Mink Mingle on Unsplash

Entering the sliding doors of the motor registry, I sigh inwardly as I take in the miserable faces before me. I am there to renew my license, a simple task, but looking at the queue before me, I can see this is going to chew well into my lunch hour. Serves me right for leaving this menial task for a Friday afternoon.

Taking my number from the machine, I take the only vacant seat available, and smile at the elderly lady next to me. I am instantly taken by how well dressed she is. A white blouse buttoned up to her neck, a lemon pencil skirt, matching lemon clutch and shiny kitten heels. Her grey hair is wrapped behind her head in an immaculate bun. Her face free from make up, except for red lipstick that makes her porcelain skin glow. She is glowing. Whatever her secret is, she should bottle it and sell it. She’d make a fortune. I notice her left leg is shaking and her hands squeeze the handle of her clutch repeatedly, the colour changing from red to white like a strobe light as she squeezes and releases her grip. She looks over at me and beams, “It’s a big day for me, today is.” I’m instantly smitten. As a kid, did you ever imagine your perfect grandma, like the ones in the movies? She’d bake pies, make you clothes and mend your scrapes? Well, this is what she’d sound like. …


Revenge From the Bottom Up

Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Elijah O’Donell on Unsplash

The huge kitchen was a flurry of excitement and women’s laughter. The Annual Women of the Country Cake Bakeoff was nearly underway and as Audrey stopped at her designated cooking station, she saw she was placed next to her. She entered this competition every year, and every year she came in second to the ever popular Jody. With her perfect cakes and perfect bosom that was always on display in low cut dresses, Audrey always felt second best around her.

“Oh hey, Audrey, how wonderful to see you again,” Jody coos as she blows an air kiss her way, “I see you’re cooking next to me this year. Good for you really, you need to see how a winner does it. You may even pick up a tip or two. I’m the talk of the town you know.”
“Good to see you too, Jody,” Audrey smiles back, her hand fidgeting with the item in her pocket, not quite believing her luck, “Yes, I’m sure I’ll be able to pick up a tip or two.’”
Looking her up and down Jody sniggers, “Well, you can certainly pick up some fashion tips. Audrey, just because we’re in a country bake off doesn’t mean you have to dress like a country bumpkin. My god, I’m so embarrassed for you.” Audrey felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she put her head down, looking at the dress with the full skirt she’d picked out especially for the day. …


Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Javier Ramos on Unsplash

Feeling nostalgic the other day, I was leafing through an old photo album when I came across some photo’s from my eighteenth birthday family gathering a few moons ago. As I looked through the photos of me with various relatives, smiling the stock standard smile we all reserve for these occasions, something became very clear. My lips were curled in the right direction of a smile, but my eyes told a totally different story.

A sad story.

I saw a girl who was sad, insecure, hated herself and felt utterly worthless.I saw a girl who was overweight, who had a gap in her front teeth, had a few acne scars, was cursed with hair that, though long, was thick and dry. I saw a girl who was not one of the beautiful people and thanks to years of being picked on at school, damn well knew it. …


A Short Story

Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Osman Rana on Unsplash

“Sir! You’ve dropped this! Sir!” I cry, running through the peak hour crowd, who pretend not to see me, blocking my path. I had been making my way home after an uneventful Wednesday at work, when I saw his wallet fall out as he was pulling his bus pass out of his back pocket. He climbed the bus stars, oblivious to his loss, and filed down the back of the bus with all the other commuters who just wanted to get home. …


The Ball Never Lies

Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Wyron A on Unsplash

Liz held the magic eight ball in her hands, closed her eyes and shook it. Meg sat opposite her, rolling her eyes at her gullible client. Meg was the kind of girl that gave real psychics a bad name. She didn’t have a telepathic bone in her body, but that didn’t stop her pretending she did. Laid off from yet another job, Meg was desperate. She had her greedy, boozy mouth to feed and rent to pay. She couldn’t do that on the measly amount she was getting from unemployment per week.

Education or bettering herself had never been a priority for her — she barely finished high school — so she drifted from one dead-end job to the other, blaming everyone else for her problems. It was the world’s fault her life was so lousy and she scoffed at the words ‘self help’; that was never going to happen. So, when she was laid off from this latest gig, she was desperate. She was running out of options and good references. She needed money — good money, not the pittance she had been earning — and fast. …


A Short Story

Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Jeffery Wong on Unsplash

Hiss.

Renee was busy unpacking her kitchen when she heard it. Thinking it might be a burst pipe of some kind, she put down the plate in her hand and went outside to find the source of the noise only to find once she got outside, the hissing stopped. Before she could even question it, something in the corner caught her eye. It was a plant and it looked like it was on its last legs. Walking over to it, she thought it may have been a Venus fly trap plant, just different. This looked darker, almost black, with one big trap as well as many small traps all over its body. It was nearly covered in them. Instead of being repulsed, Renee was intrigued by this hideous specimen. …


Sugar for Breakfast

Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Jessica Castro on Unsplash

Recently, I was sick with a cold/flu thing that really knocked it out of me. Along with the fevers, aches and fatigue, a cough hit and this thing would not quit. What started as a little cough here and there, grew into an all consuming, breath taking coughing fit that just rolled from one attack to the next. This thing had claws, and oh boy, were they were digging in.

It was a Friday night and I had been sick most of the week by this stage, though I still tried to carry on as normal. …


Exercise #2 (but really #1 for me, but that’s our little secret)

Image for post
Image for post
Photo by Brittney Burnett on Unsplash

1) Today is Friday the 13th. My spooky senses are tingling on this day that shouldn’t be feared – it should be embraced – for all its freaky glory. I’m grateful that a few friends said they thought of me the minute they realised what the date was. I love that and I love the fact that whenever there is anything spooky happening, some people think of me. That means I’ve had a little impact somewhere, people know what I love and remember it. I’m loving that I get to let my spook loving flag fly a little higher today.🦇

2) I’m grateful that I have a three day weekend coming up. I’m tired, and I need a big ol’ sleep in. …

About

Belinda B

Lifelong lover of words, music, travel and all things spooky. Sure, the story has been told before, but not the way I’ll tell it....

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store