Jane Buckley's Blog: Is Self-Publishing a failure? - Posts Tagged "writingcommunity"
A Short "Love" Story
One night I was sitting lazily on the sofa, bored and eating lots of chocolate, when I came across a writing experiment online. The challenge was to write a short story of 500 words about love, and the catch? You weren’t allowed to use the word “love” or any other phrases or words associated with it.
I’ve always had a fascination and admiration for those who fought in the Great War. My Great Grandfather sadly died in the trenches when the British used mustard gas for the first time and the wind changed, blowing the poison straight back to the young soldiers. Given both Catholics and Protestants fought in World War I and II, I felt it appropriate when writing a short story that they should ALL be remembered.
Anyway! I thought it’d make a nice change from the endless hours of watching Netflix to see if I could rise to the challenge. Thus half an hour or so later, this is what I came up with! I hope you enjoy. J.
THEY KNEW....
He stared down into her brimming, hazel grey eyes, pulled a strand of hair away from her face and held her hand caressing its palm tenderly with only his index finger. They paid no attention to the noise and mayhem on the platform or the many other couples like them, who stood sad, nervous and afraid.
Adjusting his army cap he inhaled deeply and whispered into her lavender scented hair, “Look after Mammy for me. Okay? She’s not been the same since me Da you know.”
She nodded slowly, her heart pounding. She’d been here before, standing in the very same spot on this very same platform, looking at him in the very same way. Her body vibrated and shivered, filled with terror at the images and horrors she knew were facing him. She’d heard what it was really like and it overwhelmed her.
He’d tried his best not to talk about it, but she’d watched him change, little by little, bit by bit when he’d return. Inevitably he always left a piece of him behind in that foreign and faraway hell-hole. She’d sworn last time she wouldn’t come to the station to say goodbye but she’d failed. She had to be with him, just for those last sweet, painful moments.
“Are you listening Aileen?” He asked gravely. He shivered, it was so bloody damp and cold. His long army coat was thin and well-worn. He sighed thinking of the mudbanks, rats and explosions that awaited his return. He hated and dreaded leaving her. It broke his heart into thousands of tiny, punishing, slivers that relentlessly gnawed at his very being. He remembered being trapped, caught and tangled in that godforsaken wire, for those endless hours when he’d thought only of her. The cruel piercing barbed wire felt kinder to his aching soul over the idea of never seeing her again. He’d survived for her.
He noticed a giant uniformed man running in their direction followed by a blonde, heavily pregnant woman. It was Eamon his cousin and his wife Emily. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel were Aileen pregnant. The thought of leaving her like that was too great as he protectively placed his arm around her.
When the pair reached them, Emily breathlessly hugged Aileen hard, she then pulled away to study her friend with pity. Poor Aileen, she thought, she’d be left behind in that old rickety farm with that bitter and spiteful woman. Emily thanked God, Eamonn’s mam looked out for her.
They all talked together until the whistle blew and each couple moved back seeking privacy. Aileen looked at her husband with sorrow and half-smiled. He kissed her, reluctantly stepped away and climbed onto the train. As he quickly glanced back, their eyes met and said it all, words weren’t needed…they knew.
I’ve always had a fascination and admiration for those who fought in the Great War. My Great Grandfather sadly died in the trenches when the British used mustard gas for the first time and the wind changed, blowing the poison straight back to the young soldiers. Given both Catholics and Protestants fought in World War I and II, I felt it appropriate when writing a short story that they should ALL be remembered.
Anyway! I thought it’d make a nice change from the endless hours of watching Netflix to see if I could rise to the challenge. Thus half an hour or so later, this is what I came up with! I hope you enjoy. J.
THEY KNEW....
He stared down into her brimming, hazel grey eyes, pulled a strand of hair away from her face and held her hand caressing its palm tenderly with only his index finger. They paid no attention to the noise and mayhem on the platform or the many other couples like them, who stood sad, nervous and afraid.
Adjusting his army cap he inhaled deeply and whispered into her lavender scented hair, “Look after Mammy for me. Okay? She’s not been the same since me Da you know.”
She nodded slowly, her heart pounding. She’d been here before, standing in the very same spot on this very same platform, looking at him in the very same way. Her body vibrated and shivered, filled with terror at the images and horrors she knew were facing him. She’d heard what it was really like and it overwhelmed her.
He’d tried his best not to talk about it, but she’d watched him change, little by little, bit by bit when he’d return. Inevitably he always left a piece of him behind in that foreign and faraway hell-hole. She’d sworn last time she wouldn’t come to the station to say goodbye but she’d failed. She had to be with him, just for those last sweet, painful moments.
“Are you listening Aileen?” He asked gravely. He shivered, it was so bloody damp and cold. His long army coat was thin and well-worn. He sighed thinking of the mudbanks, rats and explosions that awaited his return. He hated and dreaded leaving her. It broke his heart into thousands of tiny, punishing, slivers that relentlessly gnawed at his very being. He remembered being trapped, caught and tangled in that godforsaken wire, for those endless hours when he’d thought only of her. The cruel piercing barbed wire felt kinder to his aching soul over the idea of never seeing her again. He’d survived for her.
He noticed a giant uniformed man running in their direction followed by a blonde, heavily pregnant woman. It was Eamon his cousin and his wife Emily. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel were Aileen pregnant. The thought of leaving her like that was too great as he protectively placed his arm around her.
When the pair reached them, Emily breathlessly hugged Aileen hard, she then pulled away to study her friend with pity. Poor Aileen, she thought, she’d be left behind in that old rickety farm with that bitter and spiteful woman. Emily thanked God, Eamonn’s mam looked out for her.
They all talked together until the whistle blew and each couple moved back seeking privacy. Aileen looked at her husband with sorrow and half-smiled. He kissed her, reluctantly stepped away and climbed onto the train. As he quickly glanced back, their eyes met and said it all, words weren’t needed…they knew.
Is Self-Publishing a failure?
The short answer is no, but it sure feels like it. Those horrible rejections one after the other. You read so many articles and advice books telling you not to take rejection personally, but by heck y
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